Page 13 of Her Savior
Seven
I’m mortified. He probably thinks I am a street walker getting away from her pimp. And I have the internship freaking tomorrow. Shit, there goes my opportunity.
“Get in.” He orders.
The driver gets out and opens the backseat door. “After you, Ms. Jones.”
I’m hesitant but I don’t have any other choice. Tasha is back at the club getting her party on so I doubt she even noticed me gone. I drop my shoulders down and reluctantly enter the car.
Mr. Man is dressed in a dark suit with matching tie. He looks and smellswealthy. Not I’m-a-trust-fund-baby wealthy. Not I-just-won-the-lottery-and-I’m-balling rich. I can’t explain it but I get the feeling Mr. Man owns the world and we’re just all living in it.
There’s an air of sophistication and sexiness surrounding him, as if he knows the affect he has on women but carefully wields it. I get the feeling he is curiously picky about who he spends his time with – in or out of the bedroom.
He turns to me and wipes my face with a silk handkerchief. His hands are soft and his brown eyes are studying my face as he carefully blots it. “You smell like you had a bad night.” His voice is quiet and rich with concern.
I’m sure I smell like false hope and hidden presidential tax returns. “I rather not talk about it.”
Mr. Man silently nods as he continues to wipe my face. “Understandable.”
I’m trying to focus on him wiping my face but my punani is asking me when is he coming to visit? “Who are you?”
Mr. Man chuckles and I feel his baritone down to my bones. “Savior Ellison,” he quietly replies.
Ellison, Ellison, Ellison…the name sounds familiar. It then dawns onto me – he’s the Ellison of the long-ass name law firm. He looks very young to be in charge of such of a prestigious law firm. “You own the firm?”
“My father does. I’m one of the partners. Eventually, it’ll become mine once he retires, which will be soon.” He looks up at me and there is a twinkle in his eyes. The light hits the amber just right and I melt. “It’s interesting being one of the youngest people at that firm but you’re everyone’s boss. People gave me shit because I was the boss’s kid until they saw the pedigree and they realized I knew what the hell I was talking about when I cited certain cases. Then they give you respect. People love and resent you at the same time.”
My memory jogs back to yesterday when Savior walked through the hallway like he commanded it. A group of lawyers followed him as he doled out instructions and commands. He had a presence that told everyone they would respect him, regardless if they wanted to. “I hear that.” I finally open my eyes and I see staring back at me. “Thank you for blotting my face.”
“Anytime,” he settles back into the Rolls Royce Phantom like he owns it. Judging by his appearance and the driver, I’m sure he does. There’s no question he’s the McDonald’s and everyone else is a franchisee. “So, where do you want me to take you?”
I look like ass and will eventually smell like it if I don’t get home and shower. “Home.”
“Fair enough,” Savior nods. He pushes a button that pulls down the privacy shade. “To Keisha’s home, James.”
“Yes, Mr. Ellison.” The driver nods.
Savior pushes the privacy button back up. We sit in a comfortable silence for a while, only the Christmas soulful sounds of Luther Vandross and Teddy Pendergrass filling the air.
“I have to ask…” I carefully begin.
“Go on,” he encourages.
“Savior?” I’ve heard many Jesus and Messiahs but those names are usually relegated to brown folk.
He chuckles and the entire backseat comes alive. “My mother wanted a name for me that no other kid had. This was before the Kaiden, Jaden, Aiden phase of the 2000s. My mom’s wet nurse was a Southern black woman and she took one look at me and allegedly said, ‘That boy was blessed by the Savior Himself!’ The lightbulb went off in my mom’s head and well, that’s it.” His mouth curved into a delicious smile. “How do you like Inglewood?”
I shrug. It has its fair share of problems. I lost count the number of friends and neighbors I lost due to random gang violence. I’ve been to more funerals than I’m comfortable admitting and to say it hasn’t had an impact on my life is a lie.
On the same tip, it’s the only hood that’s for us. I know everyone there and they know me. I don’t have to put on my white voice and pretend I’m something I’m not because I don’t want anyone to beuncomfortable. “I like it but it could be better.”
“I hear that,” his voice is smoother than the fade on his head, “I have friends who grew up there. My family lives in Bel-Air.”
“You have friends who grew up in Inglewood?” Savior looks like a real-life Ken Doll. He’s the type of rich, white dude who probably collects cars, and has an interest in motorsports, yachting, and all that other bullshit white people with too much money and the equal amount of boredom have.
Savior looks over at me and peruses my body from my painted toes to my equally painted lips. He did it so quickly, I wouldn’t have noticed it if I wasn’t staring at him. “I have a lot of friends everywhere.”
He was cryptic enough about his response that told me that was the end of that particular discussion. “So, where do you live now?”
