The Boy Next Door (42 page)

“Of course I am.  I have self-respect.  And when I go out, I make sure it’s all about my lady.”

“You sound like a player to me,” Thelma said folding her arms.  “I have self-respect too.  And I don’t treat dating so casually.”

“I am a man of great desire.  I don’t hesitate and I go after what I want.  I tell you one thing.  Every single woman I’ve ever dated chased after me first.”

“Really?”

“It’s the element of danger.  It’s a turn on.  It’s the next best thing to being a celebrity.  I have money.  I have power.  And I have momma’s disapproval.  Oh yeah and the fact that I’m black is just the icing on the cake.”  He winked.

“I’ve never understood that, you know,” Thelma said, leaning in and resting her chin on her hand.  “As soon as a black man succeeds in life he’s got to marry a white woman.”

“Boys will be boys,” he said with a snicker.  “But if it gets to be a
thing
then that nigga just have low self-esteem.”

“See, now why you always gotta say the N word?”

“It’s our word, that’s why.  We took it back.  I grew up watching Richard Pryor on television.  He was my hero.  Told the world where to stick it.  He had no fear.  Or to put it another way, he never let anyone talk down to him.  Whether it was a white nightclub bouncer or the host of a talk show.”

“You have a lot of anger, don’t you?” she said, looking into his intense eyes, which were constantly staring at her.

“I have passion.  Is it a bit of a roller coaster to be part of my life?  Of course.  But the quality of life is not determined by how long we stay alive.  It’s about creating good memories.  Memories of love, compassion, and yes, sometimes it’s about sex.  The kind of intense and mind blowing sex that we accidentally experience once in a lifetime.”

Thelma flinched and crossed her legs.

“I’m not going to get to heaven for my abstinence,” he laughed.  “So I try to be extra kind to people.  You feel me?”

“I get it,” she said, silenced and in deep thought.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.  I just find your lifestyle so opposite to my own.”

“Opposites attract.”

“Not always.”

“Are you attracted to me?”

“No.”

“Liar,” he said with a grin.  “I can sense when a woman wants me.”

“Oh really?  You have a lot of nerve, don’t you?”

“No.  I’m just an expert at reading people.”

“Oh, well it just so happens I am too.  I studied body language in college.”

“So you can read my thoughts?”

“Sure, I could if I wanted to.”

“And what am I thinking now?” he asked with a sneer.

“I really don’t care to know…”

“Sure you do.  I’m thinking you’re a beautiful woman and I’m happy that you’ve brought joy to my dark world of mayhem and treachery.  Now, let’s dance shall we?”

“I thought this was a classy place?  No dancing or…”

“It is a classy place.  Classy dancing.  Slow dancing.  Come on, Miss Grayson.  I won’t move too fast.”

“Yeah…like I believe that,” she said with a guarded smile.  She eventually accepted the offer and joined him on the dance floor.  It was a quick dance before dinner but it did give the two opposites some time to feel the attraction.

Whatever it was, it felt real.  Polar opposites forced to reconcile and compromise, all the while envying the other person with desperation.  She admired his power to get things done.  He admired her class and position of prominence, legitimized gangsta shit he called all this talk of politics.

Of course, as the night progressed they hit upon the stubborn reality of their respective worlds.

“So, you are involved in organized crime?”

He smiled and took a drink.  “Two opposite trains, my lady.  The real difference between us, between all successful black families and a bunch of ghetto niggas is that we fight for different teams.  It’s like the play offs or like your favorite Marvel Comics superhero. Except in the adult world, in that harsh, cruel world of motherfuckers with no souls, it’s all about which gang you choose.”

He peered into her eyes with a smile that would tickle the devil.  “If you’re a kid from the ghetto then your only chance is to make peace with the Crips or the Bloods.  But if you got clout, if you come from a rich black family, then you have options.  You can join the better gang of the U.S. military.  Once you graduate and prove yourself, you can join the bigger gang of the Democratic or Republican parties.  And when you prove yourself a real gangster nigga that nobody wants to fuck with, you become President Barack Obama, H.N.I.C.”

Thelma nodded and scoffed.  “You have a very cynical view of the world.”

“War is in our nature, Miss Grayson.  Nobody’s going to get out of this game alive.  What matters is that you don’t abandon your team.  You are kind to the orphans and widows.  You stick up for the people who can’t fight back.”

“That sounds…confusing,” she said.  “That’s exactly what I intend to do.”

“I know.  What did I say?”

“But…you break the law.”

“Would you ever bend the rules if it meant helping one homeless person out?  One ghetto kid sentenced to die in a drive by or liquor store robbery?  Would you offer him nothing but prayer?  Or would you offer him protection.”

Thelma shut her mouth and resisted talking.  It was hard to argue with the man’s logic even if he was a tad theatrical.  Finally she took a drink, giving herself the extra oomph to ask another question.  “Do you kill people?”

“Does the president order troops to go into Afghanistan?  What are we doing to fight ISIS, Miss Grayson?”

“Well…”

“Now what if ISIS was located in your own city.  Only instead of a towel head coming after you, you got fifty other niggas with automatic shotguns who want to see you dead.  Because of something your brother said to his sister.  Bullshit is what it is.  But trying to negotiate with men who want to kill you?  A lost cause.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“I’m sorry that the world is what it is.  But who else is going to help the projects?  Who’s fighting for the ghetto?  All we do is give them hope.  Saying they can rise up out of the ghetto if they really will it to be.  But we hardly lift a finger to help them.  If the government looks at my track record, they will see that they have murdered more innocent men than I have.  I take care of my boys.  I am Robin Hood.  Luke Cage in the flesh.  I operate outside the law and I answer to no one.  But no one can tell me that I’m immoral.  If I had the opportunities you had, Miss Grayson, maybe we would have been soul mates.”

“I know who Luke Cage is,” Thelma said with a smirk.

“Really?  Comic book geek?”

“When I was younger, my father let me read some of his collection.”

“Niiiice.  Gotta love a woman who knows her superheroes.”

“And is that what you consider yourself, Anton?  A superhero?”

“I like that.  Never thought of it that way, but that sure puts a nice spin on it.”

Thelma laughed hard.  Over the course of dinner, she had a few glasses of wine, all on the house of course, as Anton considered himself the perfect gentleman, even if he did have the sex drive of a restless street mutt.

“I love the way you laugh.  You’re so pretty when you let loose a little bit.”

“Mmm-mmm, I’m not a loose kind of girl.”

“Why’s that?  Got a reputation to uphold?”

“It’s not that, it’s just that I’m not that easy.”

“The way I see it, women deserve the respect to be passionate just like men do.  I think it’s a damned shame that a man can enjoy himself with the company of many fine women and not hear one word from a brother, but a woman’s got to wait to fall in love before she can party.  What kind of bullshit is that?  Life is short and the more love we have to give, the more we’re going to enjoy it.  You know?”

“I agree with that…in theory…”

“So what do you do, in theory…when you’re attracted to a man and he’s attracted to you?  Suppress what you feel or see what happens?”

She laughed.  Funny you say that…my friend just told me at this ridiculous party that I should let loose sometimes.  And fool around before I get elected into public office.”

Anton laughed heartily.  “Well, it’s better you get that shit over with now than when you become the next Colin Powell, know what I’m saying?”

She laughed, a little too tipsy for her own comfort.  “Well, this has been an interesting night, Anton.”

“Whoah, why you disappearing on me?”

“I just…”

“What?” he said, stroking her hand.  “Talk to me.”

She giggled and cooed.  “I think I’ve had a little too much to drink.”

“Why do girls always say that, anyway?  Does that mean you’re drunk or that you’re just enjoying yourself and thinking of following your heart and not your head?”

“It means I don’t trust myself with you, right now…” she said, a bit too honestly.  She quickly lost his tight eye contact and prepared to stand.

“Hey, Thelma.”

“Yes?”

“You know sleeping with a criminal is not against the law.”

She shook her head and stood up.  “Excuse me…I got to go to the little girl’s room.”

“Take your time…”

She smiled weakly, giving him one last look of “I can’t feel this way.”  But her mind was captivated and her body was tripping—all tingly inside, comfortable in his presence and yet nervous about the possibility of feeling anything more intense.

Anton took his time and finished his drink.  He could feel the tangible attraction developing though she was trying hard to fight it.  He also knew that given her type, the upper middle class good girl trying to stay strong, there was no way she was going to make the first move… so Anton told a little fib.

He waited until he saw her coming out of the bathroom and then went to meet her.  The bathroom was right down a corridor, a bit out of the way and perfect to make an unexpected play.

He smiled and immediately noticed she seemed flush in the face, and short of breath.

“What?  What’s wrong?”

“I just came to see if you needed anything.”

“No…

“Well I need something.  I need you to kiss me.”

“What?!”

“The curiosity…it’s killing me.  Just let me know if you feel what I feel, or if it’s all in my imagination.  If not, we go on.  But if there’s something…”  He smiled.

“There’s nothing…It’s in your imagination…”

She said this just as Anton leaned toward her and put his lips on hers.  Much to her regret, there was nothing imaginary about the energy they shared.  She was on fire for him, though she tried her damndest to deny it.  His kisses were impassioned, powerful, wordless art, just as outspoken as his voice, his opinions and his reputation.  He pinned her to the wall, raising her hands above her head as he continued the kiss.

When he released, she replied in a heaving sigh.  “What are you doing?”

“What do you feel?”

“Anton…this is crazy!”

“I can’t help it.  I’m very attracted to you.  And I don’t know how to wait…”

“Look, this was all very hot in high school, OK, when we had nothing but time but…”

“All we have is time,” he said, moving his lips down to her neck and softly kissing her. 

“But…”

“Don’t think…”

He hungrily caressed her neck with his lips, losing himself in the moment.

“We can’t do this here, can we?”

“What do you mean by
this
?” he said, kissing a trail of soft pecks down to her shoulder.

She breathed heavily and fought her rising feelings of carelessness and selfish longing.  He was the opposite of everything she needed and wanted…so why was his presence so powerful?  Why were his lips so fiery?

“I know people here.  Ain’t nobody going to stop us.”

He slowly reached behind her head and unhooked the back strap.  Thelma looked over nervously to see if anyone was coming.  The rush she felt was blinding.  His scent and his strong firm arms were too hard to resist.  It had been so long since she had been intimate with anybody.  But never before had she been with a dangerous man—and the tension he brought with him was electrifying.

“I don’t normally do this…” she said, frazzled by the wine but even more enamored with his soulful eyes.

“I know…that’s what makes it good.”

He lifted her dress over, noticing Thelma was wearing a black lace bra, which she quickly covered with her hands.  He took her hands gently and moved them to her side, treating himself to a view of her bosom.  She dressed sexy all right, but was it just for him or was it because she was a secret dynamo in the sack?

The hungry man kissed her cleavage fervently, planting his lips on her burning skin as he sampled the taste of her body.  Her heart raced and she shut her eyes in surrender, unwilling to let go of his soft touches.  His lips raced all over her bosom, as he became consumed with her body’s texture.