A Rich Man's Baby. Daaimah S. Poole
me what part of the city I lived in.
I told him, and he said he was going to put me on a restricted diet and get me cut in no time. I gave him my address and was ready to begin my real personal training.
Kyle knocked on my door at seven in the morning. I looked at him stretching with a black shirt and knee-length shorts. He was jogging in place, asking me if I was ready. Hell no, but I was obligated because he was at my door. I threw on my sweats and he made me run like thirty blocks nonstop. By the time I was done I was out-of-breath tired and ready to pass out. But I pretended like nothing was wrong.
“What do you have to do now?” he asked as we stood in front of my door.
“Take a shower and get ready for work.”
“I want to check out your refrigerator.”
He went into my refrigerator and cabinets and threw everything away that he thought had too much sugar in it. He emptied my bag of Cool Ranch Doritos in the trash. Then he threw my honey wheat bread and Thai noodles in the trash. He even said I couldn’t have orange juice. I told him I had to get ready for work, but he insisted that we go food shopping. We then drove to Whole Foods, an organic market. He had me buy wheat pasta, egg whites, and soy milk—all this food that I had never heard of and that didn’t look appetizing. We got to the register and my bill was over a hundred dollars and I had only three bags. Eating right was too expensive. I pulled out my wallet, and a very attractive woman of about fifty approached us. I thought she was trying to reach for a magazine or something, so I moved out of her way. She cut her eyes at me, and said, “I need to speak with you, Kyle.”
Kyle told me he would be right back and went and had a lengthy conversation with the woman.
He met me in the parking lot and said that was one of his other clients. She was trying to set up some more dates. We arrived back at my apartment and he helped me bring my groceries in. I thanked him. He asked me for a pen and paper and wrote down a diet program for me while I put my groceries away. When I was done I went and sat down to look over his list of “can’t eats.”
“You are crazy,” I exclaimed as I looked at the list. As soon as I attempted to stand back up, my muscles in my legs locked and tightened. I began to scream.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I think so,” I said as I grabbed my calf.
He instructed me to sit and pulled my leg out slowly and massaged it. “You need to do more stretches,” he said as he pressed his fingertips into my sore muscles and rubbed the pain away.
Within minutes of my trainer touching my leg, our clothes came off and he was on top of me. Kyle was flexing his long muscle up against the flesh between my legs, giving me unbelievable pleasure. I was almost speechless, my mouth was stuck open as I gasped for air. After it was over, my body hurt more than when we began. Kyle sensed my discomfort and began rolling my shoulders back. My body was entranced by his touch. He interrupted that by turning my half-naked body over and assuring me that he would still be my trainer and nothing had changed.
Chapter 3
Dionne Matthews
The dean called my name: “Dionne Matthews.”
I walked across the stage in my blue and gold with a big smile. I was so excited and relieved. It was finally over. The last few years had built me up for this. My clerkships, internships, and studying nonstop were finally over. At twenty-six I was now Dionne Matthews, Esquire. In the sea of people sitting in white metal chairs on the green lawn, I saw my parents, Pamela and William, standing up. They were so proud of me. Next to them was my older sister, Camille, and my boyfriend, Terrance. I posed and smiled, shook the dean’s hand, and walked offstage.
After the ceremony was over, I took a few pictures with my classmates and hugged, said good-bye, and collected e-mail addresses. I saw my girl Claudia. She was my study partner since my second year.
She yelled, “We did it! Let me get a picture.” We stood cheek-to-cheek and made silly faces as her father tried to operate her digital camera and took our picture.
“Proud of you, girl. I’m going to call you,” Claudia shouted.
“E-mail me when you get settled. Enjoy your summer,” I said as I walked through the crowd of graduates and parents and tried to locate my family.
My dad tapped my shoulder; I turned around and he gave me a kiss and pushed a bouquet of red roses into my hands.
“Thanks, Daddy,” I said as I smiled and gave his robust body a hug. My dad was losing all his hair, but was still a very handsome man.
My mother and sister came up and congratulated me too. As soon as they let me go, Terrance whispered how he was proud of me and grabbed my hand. We walked toward the cars; we were all meeting at a steak house to celebrate my graduation. Once in the car, Terrance gave me a kiss and hug, and told me how proud he was again. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be graduating. He put up with a lot of studying and crying and bitching. I thanked him for standing by my side. I was truly blessed with a good man. Terrance was a business consultant for Artec, a business consulting firm in Wilmington, Delaware. His job required two weeks out of the month traveling. My Terrance was handsome, not that tall but handsome. He was five eight with cardboard-brown clear skin and jet-black low-cut hair. His mustache and beard were trimmed down, and his round glasses rested perfectly on his face.
We met up for dinner at the crowded steak house. I saw other people from my graduation still in their caps and gowns. I took mine off after seeing how silly they looked in theirs. We all sat down at a big round table set for our party of five and began looking over our menus.
“Why did you cut your hair?” my dad asked.
“I think my hair makes me look professional. You don’t like it, Daddy?”
“No, women need hair. It looks short, like a boy’s.”
“I think it looks good. She is going to have to be taken seriously at work,” my mother said. She patted her silver and black wavy hair. She had an asymmetrical bob with a part to the side. It looked beautiful up against her midnight skin. I looked just like her, a few shades lighter, petite, with bright brown eyes.
“Retirement is two years away, huh, Mrs. Matthew?” Terrance asked, changing the subject from my hair.
“Yeah, Mom, what are you going to do?” I asked.
She had been in the education field for thirty-plus years. She was a principal at the Rosemont Elementary School.
“I don’t know yet. But the first year I’m going to rest; then I don’t know. I may even go play golf with your father.”
“Who picked a steak house?” Camille asked as she scooted up closer to the table and looked over the menu in disgust.
“Your father did.”
“Daddy, you know I’m a vegetarian,” she exclaimed.
“This is not about you, Camille. This dinner is for your sister,” my father said sternly. Camille was twenty-eight and acted like she was sixteen at times.
“Right, I forgot nobody cares about me,” she said as she closed the menu.
“Are you staying over?” I asked my mother.
“No, we’re riding back to Philly tonight. Your daddy is still being cheap. He doesn’t want to waste the money on a hotel room.”
“I’m not being cheap. It is only a two-hour ride, and I have patients in the morning.”
My mother gave us a look like “don’t believe him.” We ordered our dinner and the waiter brought us our food promptly. I wasn’t really hungry, but I ordered a steak to eat in Camille’s face as she munched on a garden salad. We were silly like that. We annoyed each other at times but still had sisterly love. She was older and always complained because I was the baby and got whatever