Read The Prettiest Woman Online

Authors: Lena Skye

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #United States, #African American, #Romance, #Urban, #Genre Fiction, #Short Stories, #Multicultural & Interracial

The Prettiest Woman (2 page)

 

“Are you okay?” Jessica asked.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just that seeing you will all of this stuff just depresses me.”

 

“Don’t feel like that babe.” she said with a pout, “I got you something!”

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“Yep, I got you a wonderful pair of red bottoms. I already had a pair but I looked at that them anyway so that I could give them to you. Wearing the same shoe size has its benefits.” she said as she extended bag to me.

 

“Are you kidding?”

 

“Nope, take them they’re yours.”

 

“Oh my god, Thank you Jess. I wish that I could meet a guy like the one you met. I know that sounds superficial but I could really use a break. I’m tired of worrying about bills.”

 

Jessica gave a sneaky smile, “Are you sure that’s something you want?”

 

“Why does he have a friend?”

 

“Not exactly.”

 

“A brother?”

 

“Then what?”

 

“Promise not tell anyone? I met Steve on a website.”

 

“You’re on eHarmony?”

 

“No, I’m on a sugar daddy dating site. All I have to do is date older rich men and in return they give me money and gifts.”

 

“Get the hell out of here, you can’t be serious.”

 

“I’m very serious. Don’t knock it till you’ve tried.” she said as she motioned towards her shopping bags.

 

I was a little disgusted with her, “I don’t know girl, that sounds a bit sleazy. I mean doesn’t that make you a prostitute?”

 

“I don’t have to have sex with them. I don’t have sex with most of them. You just string the guys along and get as much as you can. They will give you gifts and cash. I’m not going lie, they want sex but you make them wait. Sometimes they’ll give you even more because they’re hoping to get laid. That is the stage that poor ole’ Steve is going through right now.”

 

“So how long have you been doing this?”

 

“About a year.”

 

“A year!! Where have you been hiding your stuff?”

 

“Well, I was taking a lot of my stuff to storage and banking the rest. I didn’t want to just show up with a bunch of shit and have you asking questions. I was a little embarrassed at first but now I don’t care. I’m happy.”

 

“How long do you date these men?”

 

“It really varies; some longer, others shorter. Eventually, they get bored but that’s fine because there’s always another man to take to the cleaners. I just get taken out to a nice restaurant, get the VIP treatment, laugh at their boring jokes and twirl my hair, and then they give me my money. Some of these men even give monthly allowances. I mean like up to 10k a month just for one date per week! I’m still trying to snag one of those.”

 

I was shocked and appalled. My friend was pretty much whoring herself out for gifts. It was going on right beneath my nose and I’d had no clue. I doubted our friendship a little because she was able to keep that from me for an entire year and we lived together.

 

“Stop looking like that.” Jessica scolded.

 

“Stop looking like what?”

 

“Like you’re hurt. I already know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking “how could she keep this from me? I don’t know her at all.” Just cut it out. We’re still best friends and I still love you. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner.”

 

“You think you know me.”

 

“I do know you.”

 

“That just doesn’t sound like the type of thing that I would want to do. Although I must admit I’m curious. Are the guys even cute?”

 

“Some of them can be cute. Steve reminds me of George Clooney, that man is sexy. But honestly, it’s not the norm.”

 

“So have you slept with any of the guys yet?”

 

“Don’t ask questions that you’re not prepared to hear the answers for. But I will tell you that I’m making Steve wait until I’m ready.”

 

“So you’re going to sleep with him.”

 

She shrugs, “Maybe.”

 

I shook my head, “I don’t know about this. I’m not trying to fuck for cash.”

 

“You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to. So don’t stress out about it.”

 

“Hmmm, I’ll give it some thought.”

 

“Yay! I’m going to give you the web address and you better sign up. We can be a team. It sure beats working at that crappy restaurant for minimum wage. We’re better than that and we deserve more.”

 

“Do they even like black girls there?”

 

“Umm hello. I’m black.”

 

“You know what I mean. 100% black women.”

 

“First of all honey, this is America, no one is 100% anything and yes they’ll love you.”

 

“You think so?”

 

“Girl get up and come here.” she walked to the full-length mirror we had at our front door.

 

I got up to meet her. She had me stand in front of the mirror and stood behind me.

 

“Okay what?” I asked.

 

“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.”

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