Indebted:Part 1(4)

"I dunno, I just had other priorities so I mostly just twisted it up. Anyway, thank you."



"We aren't done yet. You still need some make-up. Get your ass back in the chair."



I sigh but do as I'm told. How can anyone do this every single day? It's exhausting.



After another hour, I'm finally made up to her satisfaction. After  painting, lining, tweezing and god knows what else, I spring free from  the chair to take another look in her large mirror.



"Wow."



I search the beautiful face blinking back at me for some sign of  recognition. Make-up is another one of those things I've never had time  for. But seeing is believing, and I believe I might start.



Brianna is looking at me like I'm her newborn child. I notice the lime  green numbers on her microwave warning me that I need to get moving. "Is  that time right?" I can feel the panic rising in my chest as I point  over her shoulder to the 3:35 beaming at us from the kitchen.



"Yeah, pretty close anyway."



"I've gotta go! His driver is meeting me at my place at 5."



Scrambling, I make a mad dash so I can catch the next bus. Where is my  purse? I say a quick goodbye to Brianna and rush out the door. The bus  screeches its overburdened breaks, stopping in front of her building  just as I get to the curb. As my heart returns to a normal beat, I find a  seat, realizing that I'll have enough time to finish getting ready.



You ever get that feeling that someone is staring a hole through you?  When I look up, there are guys checking me out in every direction. I try  not to notice, but they're making it difficult when it's so blatant.  This must be what every day is like for girls like Brianna. Truth be  told, it's a little unnerving. But I can see how a girl could get used  to it.



Here's my stop. I can't get off the bus and away from all those hungry  stares quick enough. Yet, I can't help but give my hips a little shake  as I make my way into my apartment.



I dash toward my room and strip out of my plain clothes right away.  Brianna's luxurious dress clings to my normally hidden curves, lightly  caressing my breasts and hugging my waist. I've never felt so beautiful  in my entire life, not that any of this would likely impress Mr.  Blackwell. Men with his kind of money take fancy clothes and perfect  hair for granted. Not to mention women.



What if this is shabby by his standard? His suit flashes through my  mind, how the fabric looked like it was hand stitched over every muscle  in his body, accentuating his impeccable form. Why did I agree to this  stupid date? I can never measure up to the models I'm sure he's used to  dangling off his arms that are as interchangeable as his expensive  watches. Is it too late to back out?



You are a gift in this world, honey. Anyone who can't see that is a fool. Remember, don't ever let a fool kiss you …



"And don't let a kiss fool you," I tell my reflection, finishing one of  mama's favorite quotes. Sadness clamps my heart as I find myself in  another situation that I wish she was here for. With her jobs and the  quick, greasy meals she usually ate on the run, we didn't think her  blood pressure was anything to worry about at first. Until the chest  pains started. I remember the doctors telling her something had to give  or her heart would, but she was too damned stubborn to listen. Her heart  gave up right after my high school graduation, when she was 43. She had  been so proud of me when I got my diploma. When the acceptance letters  started rolling in for the colleges I applied for, she cried tears of  joy. I still try to make her proud, knowing that she's looking down over  me.         

     



 



I check the time on my phone. It's already 4:45! I need to start paying  more attention to the time. I slip my plain, patent leather heels on and  scurry out the door. Sure enough, there's a sleek, silver limo parked  outside the front door. I can't help but feel self-conscious walking out  to meet the driver, I'm sure everyone in my neighborhood is craning  their necks, trying to steal peeks of who is emerging from the car. They  must be scratching their heads to see me being seated inside by the  chauffeur.





Chapter 3: The Fundraiser



I focus on the city sliding by my window, watching the buildings blur  and melt and then compose themselves, standing strong as we idle in a  crimson pool of brake lights. I'm trying not to focus on the cavernous  backseat of the limo. After my initial awe of sitting in a car that  looks like a small lounge, I feel wasteful to be riding in such a large  vehicle by myself. With a bar, television, and seats that you melt into  like butter, it's difficult not to be impressed.



Even still, it's hard to silence my inner skeptic, the one who won't  stop nagging me that this is all too much. My only ‘limo' experiences  have been the cramped 40 foot city bus I've taken since I was a child. I  can't believe that this is just as common for some people.



I can't believe I'm doing this! There are so many more important things I  should be working on right now. I can't stop scolding myself. I'm so  close to finishing my masters. I need to be focusing on that right now,  not some rich pretty-boy. I should turn back, focus on the finish line,  and not run around with some man who sees me as his weekly challenge. Or  daily for that matter. My thoughts are scattered. I want to make my  mama proud. After how hard she worked for us, I know I owe her more than  just good grades. My eyes sting with tears as I remember how I wasn't  always so grateful.



"Kendra, baby, we just don't have the money. I'm sorry, but that's not  who we are. I'm doing my best, but I can't afford $100 for summer camp.  You can go to the summer camp at the Y, like you always do. When I was  young, I never went to any summer camps at all."



"When you were young, you were on welfare! And we aren't living much  better than that. You can't ever pay for anything good, and you work  three jobs. What's the point? I don't want to go to the Y this year. I  want to do the Dance Diva camp with Kellis and Trish."



"I work hard to make sure you have a nice apartment, instead of the  projects, where I grew up. You don't ever have the police running  through this building all hours of the night and day. You don't need to  worry about walking down the street as soon as the sun goes down, and  you've always got food in your belly."



"Yeah, welfare food."



"I don't have time for this. Listen, you can go to the Y, or you can  find a summer job and start paying for your own things if I ain't doing  good enough for you. It's your choice. I've gotta get to work. I'm gonna  be late."



I never thought about how hard she was working just to keep the four of  us fed, clothed and in school. Like most 13-years-olds, I was only  thinking about myself and my friends. I was a brat.



I cringe when I remember how hurt she was when she came home. She told  that she could take on some extra shifts and get me into a better  program. It would still be at the Y, but she assured me it would be  nicer than the glorified daycare I usually went to. By then I was sullen  and sulky though and threw her good intentions in her face like the  ingrate I was. I decided to pick up a job babysitting some kids in my  building like she suggested, and I was none too pleasant about it.



"I got a job. I don't want to go to any cheap programs at the Y anymore anyway. I'm sick of being broke all the time."



I knew I hurt her. I had meant to at the time. Like most teenagers, I  wasn't always nice to my mama. I just didn't understand how damn hard  she worked to give us the little we had. It wasn't until it was too late  that I was grateful for all she had done for me.



Lost in my thoughts, I didn't even notice us pull up to the intimidating  building until the driver actually opened my door. I snap back into the  moment, a moment I'm dreading and looking forward to in equal measure.  Matthew is standing at the large entryway looking unbelievably handsome  in a navy blue tux. I can see how the color has made his eyes sparkle  from here, and we're still fifteen feet away from each other. Here goes  nothing, I guess.         

     



 



I just get out of the limo, and Matthew is by my side, wow he's quick!  Stealthy too. Sure enough, his eyes are not just gleaming but hypnotic  when he's this close. I barely remember that I wanted to tell him  something. If you asked me my name, I would struggle to give you the  answer right now. You'd never know that I'm on the Dean's List in a  prestigious masters program from the way I'm staring at him, slack-jawed  right now. With effort, I manage to close my mouth. I don't want this  guy thinking I'm another one of his fan-girls.



"You look perfect." His eyes travel over me. "Shall we?" Matthew extends his hand.



Before I know it, I'm in an elevator heading up to the roof of the  building, hand-in-hand with my sexy billionaire date. I don't say a word  the entire way up. I think he should be the one to break the ice since  he's the one who insisted on this date. Yet, the only sound is the  floors whirring by us on our way upward.