A Rich Man's Baby (4 page)

I
was short with all my patients all day. Weeks later, I was still upset about the breakup with Kyle. No, he wasn't the best thing. I knew I could do better. And no, he wasn't my forever, but I wanted him to be my right now. He could have been my stand-in until my real man came. I said fuck him, my four hundred dollars, and my diet. I ate whatever I wanted to.

At lunch, I walked across the street to the lunch trucks. I was about to order everything on the menu when I saw this guy from billing wave at me.

“Hey, Jeremy.”

“What you been up to?” he asked.

“Nothing, really,” I said as I stared at the menu, deciding what I wanted.
The cheesesteak or the cheese-burger?
I just wanted something with lots of grease and fat.

“What are you doing later on?”

“I haven't decided yet. Probably just going in the house. Why?”

“Going in the house on a Friday night? You need to go with me and have some drinks,” he said, rubbing his chin.

“No, that's okay.”

“Won't you give me your number? Maybe some other time we can go out. I can call you.”

I looked at him. He was short and not that attractive, but he was very confident and well dressed. I was a nurse, and I wasn't about to talk to or date somebody in billing. Stacey and I made jokes about women in the hospital dating men in environmental services, deliverymen, or cafeteria workers. He wasn't exactly a janitor, but he still wasn't on my level. After Kyle I was so not going to date anyone who made less than I did. I ordered my lunch and gave him my number. Hopefully, he wouldn't use it.

 

My shift was almost over and thank God. The balls of my feet were hurting from standing up all day. I looked down at my watch. I had only a half hour more of this shit, I thought as I heard the nurse call button ping. I didn't even have to look to see who it was. It was room 807 again. It was the third time they had pulled that damn cord. The bad thing was, it wasn't even my patient who was asking for stuff. It was his annoying friends. There were four people by his bed at all times. But what did I expect? It never failed; people always wanted to bother me when I was trying to leave. The only reason I didn't cuss 807 out was that the patient was an eighteen-year-old kid. He was accidentally shot in his knee. So I felt so sorry for him.

“Yes, how can I help you?” I asked as I entered the room.

“Can my man get some medicine?” the patient's friend asked.

He had braids going to his back and was wearing a black T-shirt and very long, loose-fitting shorts. He had his made-in-China silver chain hanging over his chest. I read his chart and went to go get him his medicine. When I returned, the same boy was still trying to flirt with me. I pulled the separator so the sixty-something man next to him could get some privacy.

The young man slid the separator back, and I tried not to laugh in his face when he said, “I like you. You pretty.”

I said thanks and ignored him.

Then, before I got all the way out of the room, he said, “I wanted to ask you if I can take you out.”

“No, thank you.”

“I'm not eighteen like him; I'm twenty one.”

“Thanks, but no, thanks.”

“What, you like doctors? I got just as much as money as any of them do,” he said as he reached in his pocket and pulled out a stack of twenties.

His friend yelled out, “Man, she don't want you.”

And he was right. I was not that desperate yet.

After work, I couldn't wait to get home. On the way there, my mother asked me if I could watch my grandfather for her. I didn't have anything to do. I was off for the next few days. She could leave him home by himself, but he might not be there when she returned. Last summer, he went missing for eight hours. My mom sat him out on the porch to get air, and he took a two-hour walk downtown. They finally found him on a park bench, and he couldn't remember his name or where he lived.

“What's up, Pops?” I asked as I entered the house.

He gave me his usual unchanged glance and turned his attention back to the television. All he ever did was watch television. Every now and then, he would ask me a question like, “What year is it, Adrienne?”

I'd answer him. And then he'd wait ten minutes and ask me the same question. Then other nights he'd talk about when he met my grandmother or when he was a boy.

My mother whizzed past me, trying to put her shoes on while walking out the door. She said she would be back soon and left for her date. I poured myself iced tea and asked, “Pops, you want anything?”

He shook his head no.

I then kicked my shoes off and stretched out. I sat in the lounge chair on the opposite end of the room from him and closed my eyes. I wished for a better life and placed my jacket over me and got comfortable. I was home on Friday night with my pops. This was not how I envisioned spending my twenties.

 

My phone rang. I didn't feel like reaching for it. No one important had my number. I looked down at it, and it was Jeremy calling.

“You really home? Where your boyfriend at?” he asked.

“I don't have one of them.”

“You lying, a beautiful woman like you. Keep it real, somebody tries to talk to you at least three time a day.”

“No, not at all. I just kind of broke up with someone.”

“You broke up with him or he broke up with you?”

I didn't respond quickly enough, so he assumed correctly that I was broken up with. “I don't know what's wrong with him. You are beautiful and successful. A lot of men are either afraid of successful women or they want a woman to take care of them. And you have to commend yourself for not bending on what you want.”

“You right.”

“So don't beat yourself up,” he said.

“It's hard,” I said as I felt myself getting emotional. We talked a little more; then I told him I'd talk to him later. I closed the phone, turned my ringer off, and shut my eyes.

After talking to Jeremy, I felt a little better. He was right. I couldn't be mad at myself.

 

Jeremy caught me coming out of a patient's room.

“Hey, beautiful.” He smiled.

“Hi,” I said, as I kept walking toward the nurse's station.

He looked good—white shirt, gray oxford sweater, and black slacks, and his shoes were brown and polished.

“I just came up to tell you I'm taking you out tonight.”

“Oh, really?” I laughed.

“Yeah, I want you to see that not all men are bad.”

“Thanks, but I don't date people I work with.”

“You don't work with me. I work downstairs, and you are all the way up here. I need your address so I can come pick you up.”

 

Jeremy took me to this Brazilian restaurant. I had wanted to try the place for a while. I was impressed that he knew how to pronounce the food on the menu and made suggestions for me to order. He was only in medical billing, but he was charismatic and worldly. If I didn't know better, I would think he was gay. He kept fixing the collar of his shirt and trying to get me to notice his True Religion jeans. Then he began telling me what might look good on me and told me to stop hiding my shape.

After our date was over, I wanted to continue talking to him. It was still early, only ten. I called his cell just to hear his voice once more.

“I just wanted to say thank you, Jeremy.”

“You're welcome. I don't have a problem treating a woman like a woman.”

“What are you doing now?” I asked.

“About to go in the house. Why, what's up?”

“Nothing. I wanted to see if you wanted to get a cocktail.”

I pulled out my martini glasses and made two apple martinis. I turned the radio on and patted my hair into place. I heard a car pull up. It was him; he was already here. His car was an Acura and it was nice, put me in mind of a BMW. He came up and sipped the martini with me.

We were having a good time in the middle of my living room, blasting the radio and laughing with each other, dancing like we were in a club. We sat down and talked some more until four in the morning. I fell onto his lap, and he just began stroking my hair. I felt like a baby. I really needed someone to take care of me.
I need to be a baby,
I thought when he cupped my neck. Each one of his fingers delicately kneaded my spine to the back of my skull. His hands went from my hairline to the middle of my vertebrae.

He sat me up and said, “You are so beautiful and smart. He is a damn fool to hurt you.”

I knew he was right, and hearing someone else say it validated me. Jeremy pulled me into his arms and just held me. He made me feel so secure, so wanted. I turned to him, looked him in his eyes, and began kissing him on his mouth. I let my kisses trail from his neck to his ears. He told me to stop. His hesitancy made me want him even more. I knew I was fresh out of heartbreak, but it was okay. This was what I wanted. I wanted him because he was making me feel better about me right now.

He finally began to give in to my kisses and partaking in my seduction. I kissed his back. It was perfect, no bumps or marks. His stomach wasn't cut up like Kyle's, but it was flat enough. Moments later, Jeremy had my head hanging off the sofa. I started it, but I wasn't ready for the way his massive stroke was finishing it. His dick was delightfully good. I screamed as my head almost hit the floor, and he slid me back up the sofa. He complimented me the entire ride, telling me how beautiful and special I was. He literally wore my body out. My insides hadn't felt like that since I was like eighteen.

 

When I passed Jeremy in the hall, I acted super-regular. I just did a short wave and kept walking. I really wanted to pull him into a corner and ask him when he was coming over again. I didn't want Jeremy to know he had been on my mind since he left my apartment Friday night. Jeremy wasn't my forever either, but he was most definitely my right now. Everything was great except he worked at my job. I mean, if I wanted to continue to see him, nobody at the job would have to know. Right?

 

Jeremy called me a few times while I was at work. I missed his calls and dialed him as I was leaving the hospital.

“Sorry I missed your call. Somebody had called out and I had so much going on.”

“It's cool. I just wanted to see you before I left,” he said.

“That would have been nice. What are you doing now?” I asked, hoping we could meet up. He didn't say anything, so I asked him again. He then rudely told me to hold on.

“Mom, I'll be right there. Hold on a second.”

I heard movement and a woman's voice say thank you. He came back to the line.

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“What are you doing? Is your mom over?” I asked.

“No, my mom and my dad are my roommates.”

“What? You live with your parents?” I almost gagged. I didn't know why I had just automatically assumed he lived alone.

“I guess you can say that to a degree we share a house. It's a big house. I'm just saving up to buy a house in a few months. I'm waiting on some money to go through from my lawyer. I looked in a few areas. I'm not sure yet.”

I was shocked. He was so well put together. I would never have imagined that he still lived at home. I didn't even bother to ask. When we talked on the phone, it was always quiet. He was a very nice person, so I wasn't going to hold it against him. At least he was in the process of buying a house.

 

Jeremy came to my apartment with a bottle of wine. He brought a flower arrangement in a green see-through vase. He set it on the table and said we should go out and get a piece of artwork for my wall. He said my life needed more color in it, and I agreed.

I liked Jeremy. He was very nice and cool to hang out with. However, I think the fact that he made way less money than me bothered me. I was hesitant to let people know we were even dating. I just didn't want anyone all up in my business. But he silently let people know we were an item by coming up to my floor every break, even though I had asked him to stop. In this hospital, there was a one-man-to-every-twenty-bitches ratio. That meant grown women thought it was cute and funny to give him a bunch of attention now that they assumed I was dating him.

S
tacey's bridal shower was like nothing I had ever seen in my life. We were doing a bar crawl to ten bars. We were only on the fourth bar, and I didn't know how much more I could take. There were nine of us, and three were acting like they were straight out of a
Girls Gone Wild
commercial. They were flashing their breasts at people and sticking their tongues out at any man looking. Stacey was walking around with a black dress and wearing a bride-to-be tiara with a long, sheer white train attached. We were doing shots of tequila. There was a lot of “woohoos,” stumbles, and partying going on. We were all so drunk, and Stacey had her head out the top of the limo screaming, “I'm about to get married.”

During all the excitement, I noticed I had a text message. It was Jeremy; he asked where I was and said he missed me.

I texted,

 

I'M AT THE BRIDAL SHOWER
.

 

A few seconds later, I received another text that read,

 

I NEED YOU
.

 

I thought that was so sweet. I wrote,

 

BE HOME SOON
.

 

He typed back,

 

HURRY
.

 

At the next stop, I had to go to the bathroom and I began to have my own photo shoot in the stall. I closed the seat, put one leg up in the air, stretched the camera as far as I could away from my body, and began snapping. I posed side-to-side, blowing kisses. Then I took a picture of my ass. I lifted my shirt and snapped my breasts as I squeezed them together with one hand. Then I typed,

 

HOPE THIS WILL KEEP YOU UNTIL I GET HOME
.

 

OOH, COME HOME NOW
, he typed back before I left the bathroom.

I typed that I couldn't leave yet and would meet him at my apartment by two-thirty. I went back out on the dance floor and took two more shots of tequila and danced with Stacey and the girls.

I drove home very intoxicated. I rolled down my window, hoping the cool air would wake me up. It was two twenty-six. I parked and wondered whether Jeremy really was coming, and to my surprise, he was already parked in front of my door. I ran up to his car. He opened his car door and I just began kissing all over him.

“You was waiting for me?”

“Yeah, I couldn't wait for you to get here,” he said as pushed me up against the car.

“You was out too?”

“Yeah, I got a couple of drinks with a few of my boys I hadn't seen in a while,” he said as he hit the alarm on his car.

I opened my apartment door. I was so happy he was with me and I wasn't coming into the apartment alone. I took his hand and led him up my apartment steps. We couldn't even make it into my apartment before we began our session right in the middle of the hallway. My body was throbbing for him. He pulled my pant leg down and plunged his manhood into me. I hoped my neighbors weren't up, because we weren't quiet. By round two I had stumbled into my living room, where he slid my other pant leg down, and all I could see was his eyes and the top of his nose staring up at me. The rest of his face was lost somewhere in the middle of my legs. His tongue was moving up and down erratically in my moistness. I felt my body shake at least four times. I kept trying to get him to come up, but he wouldn't.

When I awoke, he was asleep on my thigh. I had no clothes on and a very big hangover.