The Prettiest Woman Page 2

  “What man wouldn’t want to tap that?” She laughed, “Look at those hips, that waistline, and those tits.”

  “You’re so dumb!”

  “I’m serious. And you’re pretty.”

  “I’m more than my body and my looks.”

  “But we aren’t talking about your big brain right now honey. Look at yourself, really look at yourself, those rich men are going to be falling all over you just like the broke ones.” she laughed.

  “Well, I am cute.” I grinned. I still looked pretty good in my pink pajamas. I was a size four, but my curves were prominent and my C cups were nice and perky. My naturally long black hair was in disarray around my shoulders. I got my high cheekbones and doe eyes from my mother. I got my bow lips and slender nose from my father. I also got my skin color from my dad. He’s “piss colored." That’s what they call light skinned people in the hood. So I got made fun of a lot. My mom is a deep chocolate and so is my sister. People never think that my mom and my sister are my family. I’ve always hated that. I remember wishing that I could be darker when I was younger.

  “You’re more than cute, you’re drop dead gorgeous. So don’t let me hear you talking crazy again.”

  “Whatever.”

  “So does this mean that you’re going to join the site?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.”

  She smacked her lips, “You’re so difficult.”

  #Chapter3

  I arrived at the assisted living facility. My sister Penelope met me in the lobby with my adorable two-year-old niece, Bianca. I don’t know where we get our names. My mom was determined to name her children as oddly as possible. When was the last time you met a black Roxanne or Penelope?

  “Hey beautiful.” my sister said before she started kissing me on the cheek.

  “Hey hun. Now give me my niece.”

  “Auntie Roxie!!” My niece exclaimed as she jumped into my arms. My heart swelled with happiness as I gave her a huge hug and kiss.

  “Oh wow, I guess I’m chopped liver.”

  “You know I love you, boo.” I said before I kissed her again on the cheek.

  “Don’t try to suck up to me now. You can take miss Bianca home with you and the both of you can live together.”

  I laughed, “You’re so petty. You’ll have a fit if Bianca spends the weekend at my place. You’d miss your baby too much.”

  “That’s true, I love my baby.”

  I shook my head, “Let’s get upstairs before everyone starts talking to us. You know these folks can talk and we’ll be down here for hours.”

  “You’re right, I really don’t have the time or patience today.”

  We signed in and took the elevator up to my mom’s floor. “Knock on the door Bianca.” I said.

  My niece gave the door her all. Her little hands slapped against the door and it was more than enough to get my mom’s attention.

  “My girls.” my mom smiled weakly when she opened the door.

  I knew from the smile that it wasn’t a good day for her. She’d just had a chemo session three days before and it seemed like she was sicker in the days that followed but my mom always smiled through her pain. She was always too busy trying to comfort us, even when we should have been comforting her.

  “How are you feeling?” Penelope asked as we came inside and sat down.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re lying.” I said quickly.

  She frowned at me, “Little girl, watch your mouth. But you’re right; I am lying. I don’t feel too good.”

  “I’m sorry momma, I just get tired of telling you that you don’t have to front for us. We’re not guests, we’re your girls.”

  She sighed, “I know, baby. It’s just that I don’t want you to get upset just because I’m not feeling well.”

  “I’ll admit that I don’t like it when you’re not feeling good but I don’t want you to gloss over it. We can deal with it.” Penelope said as she placed a kiss on our mom’s forehead.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Good.” my sister and me said in unison.

  “I swear the two of you think you run everything.”

  “I wonder where we learned that from.” I laughed.

  “Me of course.” she smiled.

  I looked around at my mom’s apartment. It was furnished decently but I wanted more for her. There were so many things I wanted to do for her but I was barely keeping my head above water. My mother was a proud woman and she usually always kept her hair and nails done. But that was an expense she couldn’t afford. Her hair looked fine and her nails were well kept but she would get them professionally done, and I at least wanted to make things like that happen for her. I wanted to get her beautiful wigs, pretty scarves, and gorgeous hats to go over her now bald head.

  “How is school going, babe?” My mom asked.

  “The same way that it was going two days ago.” I responded, “Busy but good.”

  “You know that I just have to make sure that you’re doing what you’re supposed to do.”

  “Really, mom. I’m twenty-one not twelve. You want to check my homework, too?”

  “If I knew what the hell I was looking at, I would.” she laughed.

  “Girl you know we don’t know what the hell your homework is talking about.” Penelope said.

  “Sometimes I don’t know what the hell my homework is talking about, either.” I laughed.

  *

  That evening I went to work and I had to share the gossip with Jaime. It was wrong of me to spread Jessica’s business in that way but it was too juicy not to share. I had to tell someone to see what they thought, especially since I was debating about looking into it myself. All I could think about was having financial freedom. That was worth a few dates with rich men.

  “I’m not surprised to hear that she would do something like that.” Jaime said, “She seems like the type.”

  “What does that supposed to mean?” I asked.

  “It just seems like she fucks for cash.”

  I rolled my eyes, “No need to get nasty.”

  I wasn’t all that surprised by Jaime’s critique. It was no secret that she didn’t like Jessica. For some reason, their personalities didn’t mesh. The two of them reminded me of oil and vinegar. I understood them both and loved them both.

  Jessica had the knack for rubbing most women the wrong way. Most women are apologetic for being sexy and beautiful. Jessica revels in it and flaunts it. That gets under people’s skin but to me, I think it’s amazing. More women should be that way. Well not with the bitchy part.

  “I’m not the one getting nasty.” she said with a grin.

  “Stop it because I’m thinking of trying it. Come on you have to admit that the idea is pretty intriguing. Dating a rich guy and he pays you, it sounds bad but I’m interested. What do I have to lose?”

  “Hmm what about your life. There are some fuckin’ wierdos on the internet.”

  “Everyone is on the internet now. So I don’t think those same rules apply anymore.”

  “I would try it but I’m too scared to do something like that. But I do have a friend that did something similar and married the guy. She didn’t meet him on a sugar daddy website but he was really rich and they set up an arrangement. I’m surprised that they’re still together and happy. So it’s rare, but it could work.”

  “I’m not trying to meet my husband there. I’m not about to marry some 60-year-old dude, I don’t care how much money he has. I want my children to have a father that doesn’t need a sponge bath.”

  “You never know. Sometimes money talks and you end up connecting with someone that you never expected.”

  “I guess we’ll just have to see about that.”

  After that talk, I was sold on at least trying the website. I was already imagining meeting a man that looked like George Clooney or Richard Gere. If I were lucky, I would meet a Denzel Washington. Don’t judge me, a girl can dream, right?


  “Well, just let me know how it goes and be careful.”

  “I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Oh and be warned. Usually only white men frequent sites like that, so you may not find your usual type.”

  “No worries, money crosses cultural boundaries.”

  “Ack! Just be careful.”

  I laughed, “Okay I will. I promise.”

  I sounded more certain than I felt. My stomach felt like it was tied in knots just thinking about putting up a profile. What if someone I knew saw me there? Would my profile be found on Google? Oooh, if my mom found out she would go bat shit crazy.

  Jaime and me headed back to work and I focused on trying to get through the rest of my shift. Before the end of my shift, a customer complained that I brought her the wrong order. She didn’t tell me about it, she took her complaint straight to Georgia. I swear to you, I brought her what she asked for. The problem is, she had wanted to substitute her order but we don’t allow substitutions.

  Instead of backing me up the way a manager should, Georgia yelled at me directly in front of the customer, “Were you paying attention to anything that she actually wanted or were you too busy doing something else?”

  “No, of course not. I did my best to provide her with what she wanted.”

  “Your best isn’t good enough! The food that was wasted is coming out of your check.”

  “Wait but…”

  “I’m sorry for the inconvenience ma’am.” Georgia said to the customer. My face was flushed red and the customer looked at me with sympathy. I wanted to slap the sympathetic look off of her face. She had the nerve to feel sorry for me after she lied on me and fucked with my money.

  That’s the one thing that I don’t play about. Incidents like that prevent me from being able to pay my bills. I needed all of my money.

  I walked away because I didn’t want to argue with my manager while on the floor. Georgia followed me to the back, “Do we have a problem?”

  “Yes we have a problem.” I said, “She’s lying. She got exactly what she ordered so I don’t understand why I have to eat the cost for this.”

  “Because the customer is always right.”

  “The policy is…”

  “I don’t care what the policy is. It was your job to create an option that would work for her. We’re all about customer service here. I don’t know what kind of places you’ve worked at before but here the customers come first.”

  “But the last time I asked you about a substitution, you damned near bit my head off because of the policy.”

  “Are you arguing with me?” She asked.

  “I’m not arguing, I’m just stating facts.”

  “Well the fact is that we have an unhappy customer out there and I have to make it right with her. You know what, just go home for the rest of the day. You’re not needed.”

  “Wait, I need to work.”

  “You should have thought about that before you mouthed off. Maybe you’ll be in a better mood for your next shift.”

  I clenched my jaw and took off my apron. Tears welled in my eyes and I bit my tongue. I didn’t speak to anyone on my way out. I headed straight to my car and cried. I made a resolution to go home and sign up for the website as soon as possible. I was willing to do anything to get away from that job. Even if it meant going against my morals.

  #Chapter4

  The next day I checked my emails and was surprised at the lack of interest. I’d signed up for dating sites before and my inbox was always full. I didn’t respond to a lot of them but it was a huge self-esteem boost knowing men wanted to talk to me. My damned near empty inbox was a bit of a blow to my ego. It had to be because they didn’t like black girls.

  I only had two messages in my inbox. I went to Jessica’s room and woke her up.

  “Seriously? You’re going to plop on my bed at like six in the morning?”

  “It’s 10 o’clock.”

  “Same thing.” she said groggily.

  “I need to know what’s going on. I only got two messages since I put my profile up. I don’t think they like me.”

  “You can’t expect them to approach you. You have to approach them in this setting. Since they have the money, they’re the ones holding the cards in the beginning.”

  “Ugh, I don’t want to do that.”

  “Tough, get over it. Now get out so that I can sleep.”

  “You suck.” I mumbled as I walked out of her room.

  I hated approaching men, but I went and scrolled though the profiles as I remembered the events at the restaurant from last night. The men left a lot to be desired in the looks department and most of them were over fifty. I guess that made sense because rich, good-looking men generally didn’t have to go looking for women on the internet. They probably couldn’t keep the women off of them.

  A few hours later I got an email from a “Chris” who was forty and he looked alright from his photos. He was white and in decent shape. He said that he liked my profile and wanted to meet for coffee to see if we connected. I sent him an email to ask when, and he wanted to meet the following day and said that he could give me a gift of $100.

  “Holy shit.” I exclaimed, knowing that I would need to work almost a day and half to make that kind of money. Now I was going to make it from sitting for coffee. It seemed like pretty easy work so I took his number and agreed to meet him.

  I hoped everything would be smooth sailing. I was about to make the money back that I’d lost from having to leave work early.

  *

  “See I told you that the fish would bite eventually. You already have your first date.” Jessica said at the breakfast table. She looked really pleased with herself.

  “I know, I’m trying not to be nervous.” I admitted.

  “Girl, you have nothing to be nervous about. Wear something really cute because men love eye candy and turn on that charm.” she suggested as she guzzled her coffee and got up from the table. She was fully dressed at eight in the morning.

  “Where in the hell are you going so early? I know it isn’t for work.”

  “Ha, ha, very funny. I’m on my way to meet Steve for breakfast.” she said.

  “But you already ate.”

  “I had to girl. He’s always taking me to fancy ass places. I don’t want eggs Benedict, it’s fuckin’ disgusting. But I grin and bear it.”

  “Oh yeah, you 'bare' it alright.” I said as I looked at her sheer top.

  “Shut up and stop judging me. He likes it and that’s all that matters.”

  “If you say so. But you’re walking around looking like a woman of the night in the daytime.”

  She laughed, “I swear that your mom dropped you on your head when you were a baby.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if she did. Have a great time.”

  “You too.” she said before she left.

  I breathed slowly and tried to calm the tension in my stomach. What if the guy that I was meeting was horrible? I wasn’t in the mood for a bad date. In the middle of my thoughts, my phone rang. It was from a number I didn’t recognize but it was local. I answered it.

  “Hello”

  “Hi is Roxie available?”

  “This is she.”

  “Hey, this is Chris.”

  It was the guy that I was supposed to meet for coffee later. I was almost tempted to make fun of the way that he spoke. ‘Hey this is Chris’ he sounded so uptight and stereotypically white. What in the hell was I doing?

  “Hi Chris, it’s nice to speak to you.”

  “I’m looking forward to seeing you today.” he said in more of a relaxed tone.

  “Same here.”

  “I’m just looking to confirm the location and time.”

  We confirmed all of the details and talked for a bit. I was a little more relaxed because he seemed pretty normal. Then again, I guess most weirdos seem normal at first. I checked the clock and saw that I had quite some time before I had to meet him. I had a two and a half hour class at eleven
and we were meeting down the street from my school.

  I went to my closet and sighed. I hated dressing for dates. I never knew what to wear. I wanted to be cute but I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard. I pulled out damned near all of my clothes from my closet and looked at them with sadness. I needed more clothes.

  I sifted through my selection and settled on a pair of shorts, with a beaded tank, and a pair of heels. I headed to the bathroom to do my hair and makeup.