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."