A Rich Man's Baby. Daaimah S. Poole
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.
Chapter 9
Adrienne
Monday morning came, and Jeremy and I left for work together. I made us breakfast, and we dropped our clothes off at the dry cleaner on the same ticket like a real couple. But whenever something is going too good for me, something bad is bound to happen. I wasn’t jinxing myself, but I was waiting. But there was no sign in sight. Maybe he was the real deal. I stopped working a bunch of doubles and worked more day hours.
We parked the car and took the elevator up to my floor. I told him I would see him at lunch.
“I’ll see you after work. I have to run and go see my attorney at lunch,” he said as he blew me a kiss.
At the end of the day, Jeremy was waiting by my car. I was so happy to see him. He was smiling when he said, “Guess what, I got some exciting news.”
“What’s that?”
“My lawyer just settled my case.”
“Okay, that’s good.” He had told me about this case he had against Liberty City Cab. The cabdriver hit another car while Jeremy was a passenger and he broke his arm.
“Yeah, so I want to take you out to dinner. And I’m going to trade my car in and get another one. What kind of car do you think I should get? I’m going to put ten thousand down. I think I want a BMW.”
Did he want me to be honest? I thought he shouldn’t put ten thousand on a car. He should buy a house or even get an apartment. I didn’t know how to say it in a good way, so I just kept my mouth closed.
“So, what do you think about that?” he asked as we got in the car.
“I guess that’s all right.”
“Yeah, and I’ma give my parents some money to help them get caught up on their bills.”
“I thought you was trying to buy a house,” I said, pulling out of the parking space.
“I’ll get that. I got time.”
“Um, you might want to get a house first before you get another car. Like prioritize things.”
He agreed, and we went to dinner, then to my house and watched a movie. He was very quiet the entire evening; I didn’t find out why until the middle of the night. I was awakened by him flipping the channels on my television. He was just looking mad, like something was bothering him. I asked him what was wrong and tried to cuddle him.
“Nothing,” he said, nudging me off him. He was acting strange. I ignored it and went and lay on the other side of the bed. I plumped my pillow up and attempted to go to sleep. I grabbed his waist and snuggled him again. He sat up and squirmed over a little away from me with an attitude.
“What’s wrong with you? You sure you okay?” I asked him. He was definitely acting funny.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“It is four-thirty. Why are you still up?” I asked, sitting up.
“If it is a problem with me being up, then I will leave.”
“Huh, what the hell are you talking about?” I asked, scratching my head, puzzled.
He got up, turned the lights on, and said, “I just want you to know you don’t have to tell me what to do with my money. I’m not like the last dude you dealt with, asking you for money.”
I knew something was up. Damn it. I should have just shut up and not said anything, just let him spend his money however he wanted, I thought. I tried to clean it up and said, “I know you’re not like him. I was just saying.”
“You were just saying what? You don’t have to tell me anything.”
“Fine, then, buy a damn car. I don’t care.” Then I mumbled under my breath, “Why would you buy a car and not somewhere to live?” I said out loud, “I knew it was a mistake dealing with you.” I got out of the bed, put on my robe, and went into the bathroom. I had to be at work in the morning and didn’t have time for this shit.
“I knew that was the way you felt. Come on, let it out. You’re embarrassed of me because I don’t make as much money as you. Don’t stop now, keep going. Tell me how you really feel, Adrienne,” he said angrily.
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You are not the greatest thing. Your shit do stink.”
I couldn’t believe the way he was acting. It was like he was waiting for a reason to go off on me. I knew this was about to go somewhere of no return. But it got better. He started talking about me and my apartment, told me I needed to buy some furniture. Then he said I was the worst fuck he ever had. He said everything and anything he could to hurt my feelings. and began getting dressed. “Fuck you, Adrienne, you’re a lonely, bitter bitch and that’s why you don’t have a man or any friends. ’Cause you think you better than everybody else.”
I was feeling defenseless, but I was not about to keep letting him talk about me.
“No, fuck your broke ass. Go and be a hood-hard baller living in his mama’s basement. L-o-s-e-r,” I spelled out.
“You bitches all the same. You just a bitch with some money. My boy in radiology warned me about you stuck-up nurses. Fuck you, bitch,” he said as he grabbed his duffel bag. I heard my door slam.
After he departed, I came out of the bathroom and made sure my apartment door was locked. I went back to sleep. Fuck him, I thought. My fuck-him attitude lasted until I awoke the next morning. I knew the argument was petty and it wasn’t my fault, so I wasn’t about to back down. I was right and he was wrong.
The next day at work I walked right past him like we’d never met. He almost came up to me. Then he stopped after he realized I wasn’t speaking and said some smart shit like, “Oh, okay.”
I was back up on my floor when I heard Stacey call my name.
“What’s up?” I said.
“Don’t forget you are representing the eighth floor for Dr. Schmidt’s wife’s baby shower,” Stacey said.
“No, why me?” I asked.
“Because I went last time. Annette’s catching up. You have the shortest patient load, and everybody nominated you.”
“She doesn’t even remember me.”
“Here’s the gift,” she said as she plopped down a big oval wicker basket full of baby bibs, bottles, onesies, and diapers.
Later, I was at the shower as the representative from our floor. I said “hello” to the people there and set my gift down. I saw an empty seat near Jeremy’s coworker Tanisha. None of the nurses on my floor liked Dr. Schmidt, and we definitely didn’t like his wife, Jen. She was a roly-poly woman who would come up to our floor at every break and at lunch. She was trying to make sure no one was going to take him from her. Her position was safe. Nobody was interested in him. Now, a lot of nurses had slept with married doctors on my floor, but nobody wanted him because he