Page 8 of Finesse
Fuck my life.
We pulled up to my apartment a short time later. He walked me to my door and we both felt the eyes from all of the nosey-ass hoes staring at us. I normally wouldn’t refer to another woman as a ho but in this case, it fit. Some bit their bottom lips, other fluffed out their lacefronts.
Cameron wasn’t my man – not yet – but damn.
I can tell Cameron is the type of man who is used to having women fawn over him. He’s also the type to ignore the attention. “You’re popular.” He said to me as other girls watched from a close distance.
“No, these hoes don’t care about me.” I shake my head. “They’re staring at you.”
“That’s funny because you’re the only one I care about.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips and body naturally responded. “I don’t care about all of these other distractions.”
“Distractions?” I repeat as I try to regain my train of thought. “I thought you would want to be distracted.”
“By someone who is worth the distraction,” he closed the distance between us. He placed his hands on my waist and I felt my heart sped up. “I don’t care about the others.”
“So there are other women?” I raise an eyebrow. “Good to know.”
“If there were, I most certainly wouldn’t be this close to you. I wouldn’t have all of my business all on front street like this.” His eyes slowly blinked at me.
My stomach fluttered while my head remained firmly on earth. “Thank you for dropping me off, Cameron. I really appreciate it.”
“Not a problem.” He paused for a beat. “I would love to take you out sometime. A date.”
Nervousness pinched at my spine as I tried to keep my feet on the ground from doing a praise break. “What is a date with Cameron like?” I shrugged. “I don’t even know your last name.”
“Page, look me up.” He replied with a steely gaze that cut right through me. “And whatever you want to do, we’ll do.”
“And what if I want to do nothing but look up at the stars all night?” I asked.
Cameron leaned in and brushed his lips against my earlobe. “Then we’ll do nothing but look up at the stars all night.” He pulled back, gave me a wink, and left.
Three
I wasn’t about to go on a date with just any man; I was about to go on a date with a Senator’s son.
I took Cameron’s advice and Googled him. I was prepared to see him in the club, poppin’ bottles, posing in front of his expensive BMW, and the like. Hell, I might have even see some rich white people shit like yachting, skiing, andFriendsparty.
Instead, I saw a man who was prim and proper with his parents and other influential public figures. He was always sharply dressed in a suit, yet he was never flashy. He always smiled and was happy to stand aside so his father could shine.
On Cameron’s IG account, he was equally subdued. He always had an unlit cigar and had a curious habit of posting pics of whatever food he was about to consume. He seemed to be an excellent cook and showcased his newly-renovated kitchen, which is bigger than my entire apartment.
There were a few shirtless photos of him, but he wasn’t all thot-tacular about it. He didn’t pose wearing grey sweatpants or the focus wasn’t on his junk. But I would be lying if I said his body didn’t impress me and I wasn’t trying to look for a hint of a dick print.
His body is muscular and streamlined, completely toned. His tawny skin has the slightest hint of smooth brown hair. He didn’t overdo it at the gym, but he wasn’t lanky. He was rather perfect.
As I scrolled more through his IG, Cameron didn’t seem like the type to pose pictures with his money pretending it was a phone. There were no pics of him showing off the latest J’s, or anything other than humblebragging. And there were definitely no photos of him with any women.
He wanted people to know enough about him, and everything else was none of their business.
He often posed with his parents and he seemed to have a close relationship with both. He didn’t post anything regarding politics, though his father is a staunch Republican. Seeing they live in Buckhead, it’s not a surprise.
People need to understand there are two Atlantas – theLove and Hip-Hop,Real Housewives, everyone is an aspiring YouTuber-hairstylist-barber-actor-singer-rapper-choreographer-playwright-dancer-producer-cartoonist-creative artist-owns a restaurant type of Atlanta. Hustling is a way of life. It’s the rule, not an exception.
And then there’s the other side of Atlanta – where the wealthy don’t have to worry about hustling because their families are born into wealth. They own million-dollar homes transferred to them from their ancestors who only had those homes because they were built on the blood, sweat, and tears of slaves – who are the ancestors of the aforementioned hustlers.
There’s not a question on which part of the fence we’re both are on.
Cameron’s father, Eric, is the typical Southern senator. He’s all second amendment. He’s all pro-life. He’s all ‘pull up your bootstraps’ type of man. His Facebook account will show him at the golf course, in his wife’s garden, helping teenagers with their car wash drive, serving homeless people at every Thanksgiving and Christmas.
