Page 16 of Her Savior
I already know the answer – people who own law firms.
I try not to freak out about the schedule. I just know I don’t have time to fuck up today. “Thank you,” I quietly reply.
“Not a problem,” he grins at me, “I’m Easton, Savior’s assistant. If you ever need anything, you contact me first.”
I watch Easton walk away and I feel his words linger in the background. He wanted me to personally contact him if I needed anything. Contact him.
Him.
Him.
Savior.
~~~~~~
Lunch time comes and I’m starving. I powered through several meetings where I listened to lawyers discussing strategy. I met with a few of them who were glad to be talking about something other than a case or a client. And I finally got a feel for what it’s like working in a legal firm.
I’ll tell you this much – it ain’t nothing like what the TV and movies have you believe. A lot of these lawyers have never seen the inside of a courtroom and the majority of the time, they settle or reach an agreement out of court. If they have to go to court, they asses are dreading it every step of the way.
I’ll worry about all of that later. I have a lunch date with Mr. Man and well, I can’t be late. I pick up my purse and slip into my mustard-yellow Adidas when I feel a presence beside me.
It’s him.
It’s weird how I know it’s him without looking up. It’s like I felt his presence before he said a word as if my body was attuned to his. “Mr. Ellison…” I slip on the last shoe and look up at him. “Hello.”
“Are you ready to go?” He asks.
The way his eyes sparkle as they meet mine tells me he might have a mischievous streak in him. Not evil or hateful. But the type of guy would put ‘Honk if you want me to suck your penis’ bumper sticker on the back of a straight dude’s car. “Yes,” I grab my purse, “let’s go.”
I walk with Savior through the law firm where various people stop him with questions. He answers them all. He doesn’t dismiss anyone and gives quick, succinct answers. I’m somehow charmed by that. He could’ve been an asshole but chose not to.
We walk down to the garage and he leads me to a Bentley convertible. Of course, it’s his. “Are you in the mood for sushi?”
Raw fish doesn’t sound appetizing to me but I also know they have other things I can eat. “Sure,” I make sure my white voice sounds cheerful and excited as if I had blonde hair and an affinity for the wordlike. “Sounds good.”
~~~~~~
I’m in a different world.
There are sushi joints that are Mom and Pop shops and hidden in a corner you have to know what you’re looking for to find it. And there are sushi joints that specifically cater to the white and wealthy that you already know once you see the menu and don’t see any prices, your black ass can’t afford it.
I’m the latter.
Sure, I can afford the sushi if I really wanted to. Daddy always made sure I had some money no matter how much I told him I would want to do things on my own. Yet, I don’t want to do something that would…I don’t know…make me feel less black, you know? I know it’s silly to think of but I’m being one-hundred percent legit when I say that.
I know how some black people feel when they get into a different tax bracket and act like they don’t know where they come from. They are usually the first ones to complain about “them” (meaning us) and how they always complain to their white friends about howwe’reacting when they don’t realize their black asses are always skating on thin ice until Becky feels threatened.
I hope to never become that.
“Have you decided what you wanted, Keisha?” Savior asks.
Something fried and dead is my thought. I hold the heavy leather-bound menu and I’m thankful Savior is the one footing this bill because I know I won’t be able to afford anything but the damn water. “I’ll have the fried tempura and miso soup.”
“And what else?” He challenges. His eyes are still on the menu.
My eyes search from side to side. I was supposed to order more? I know these slacks are already tight on me but I think this motherfucker wants me to bust out of them. “Um, I don’t know. I never really ate sushi before.”
“I’ll order for you,” he declares and closes the menu. Somehow, I think he was going to do that regardless of what my answer was. His eyes stare down at me and I feel he’s undressing me without actually doing so. Somehow, I don’t think I would mind if he did. “I wanted to talk to you privately, Keisha, and away from everyone else.”
