“Nothing’s wrong with your face and you know it!”
“Then what is it?”
“I just never…,” she began. This wasn’t going to be easy. She knew that he would take it the wrong way. “I just never thought I’d date someone like you.”
“Like me how?” He quirked an eyebrow and waited for her to elaborate.
“Look, I’ve always thought black women who dated white men were a little wannabe.”
“Wannabe?” he queried, his voice dangerously soft.
At another time, Chantelle would have laughed at his pronunciation of the Americanism with his proper British accent. This wasn’t a time for laughter.
“You know…wannabe white.”
“Do you want to be white?”
“No!” she denied hotly.
“Then why would any other black woman?”
“There are some, believe me!” Her friend Gail, for instance, who had never dated a black man and had always openly declared that she wanted her children to be light skinned and soft haired—not dark and nappy headed like their mother. She was still married to the man whom she’d confessed had called her the N-word while they were arguing on two separate occasions. She referred to her two young children’s race as white not mixed-race, although the children’s mixed legacy was plainly obvious. Chantelle already worried about them fitting into society as they grew older. Nothing she said could convince Gail that she needed to teach her children something of their black heritage.
“You’re not one of them, so what’s the problem?”
“It’s hard to explain.” Chantelle floundered for an explanation that wouldn’t offend him. “Most black women who date white men seem to have a certain look. I don’t know if they achieve it before or after they start the relationship, but it’s not my style.”
“What look is that?”
“Skinny, have weaves down to their asses and often talk like they’re trying to be…” Chantelle let her voice trail off. While it something she’d observed more and more in London, she didn’t know if it was true for black women who dated white men in the rest of the UK, or worldwide. She knew that she wasn’t making perfect sense to Dominic. There were several points she wanted to make, but every one would make her sound like she hated white people, when all she wanted to convey to him that she was proud of being black.
“Have I asked you to change anything about yourself?”
“No,” she was forced to admit. But that would no doubt change if she agreed to be seen with him publicly. After all, which young, billionaire playboy didn’t want a slim, sexily- or scantily-dressed woman on his arm?
“I would naturally want to buy you things and ensure that you have an appropriate wardrobe for the functions we have to attend.”
“A wardrobe you would no doubt choose yourself?” she asked and waited for his affirmative reply to drive home her point.
“Not personally. I would get you the best personal stylist available.”
“And yet, you won’t be trying to change my style?”
“Chantelle, it’s more about you feeling comfortable when we go out together. On a given night out I run into members of the aristocracy, government ministers, actors, actresses, singers, you name it. I want you to feel comfortable rubbing shoulders with them and you can’t do that if you don’t feel at your best.”
“All the more reason for us to keep what we have between us private.”
Dominic had really no idea the amount of money that was needed to equip her for life in the media spotlight. She was slowly building her wardrobe for the office and it was taking all her spare cash.
“I have certain social obligations that I’ve committed to. I don’t intend to attend them alone.”
“Are you saying that you’ll take another woman if I don’t go?”
“It’s your choice,” he said silkily.
Bastard!
“It won’t be a problem for you to be seen with me—you won’t even be the only billionaire or millionaire with a black woman on his arm. Naomi, Kelly…we seem to be the latest accessory,” she said, bitterness coating her voice. Few people would think that Dominic’s and hers was a serious relationship. She would be seen merely as the woman, or worst ‘one’ of the women, he was currently sleeping with.
“You think I’m trying to follow some kind of trend?” he asked, his voice dangerously cold.
“I’m saying that it’s easy for you to parade me on your arm for a couple of months and then dump me when—”
“So now you’re accusing me of just wanting to use you until the next woman comes along?”
“Dominic, I know that you would never marry someone like me and that’s fine.” It wasn’t, but if she didn’t keep her expectations low and realistic, she would be hurt too deeply to recover when he finally grew tired of her.
“Thank you for knowing my intentions better than I do myself!”
“We both know that your wife is likely to be some busty, blue-eyed blonde whose daddy is also rolling in dough.”
“I’m surprised you’re even here with me, if that’s what you think!”
Suddenly all the fight went out of Chantelle. She was happy with their current arrangement. She didn’t want to get a taste of the glitzy celebrity lifestyle and then be dissatisfied with her humbler means once he’d moved on. It would be doubly mortifying if other people witnessed her tumble from top to bottom.
“Dominic, don’t let’s fight,” she pleaded, snuggling her head onto his shoulder. “You’ve done a lot for me and I’m grateful.”
“I haven’t done anything you have to be grateful for. The money I gave you at the club was part of a business transaction—you danced for me; I paid you. You were interviewed for a job at the company advertised—you’re the best of the candidates; they hired you.”
“You know you did more than that. The house in Jamaica—”
“You wouldn’t have needed my help if your uncle wasn’t such a bastard,” he reminded her. “And Derek made it all happen, not me.”
What else could she say? He clearly didn’t want her gratitude. How she could make him understand that she wasn’t expecting marriage, that she would accept whatever time he had to give her, as long as it was exclusive time—she won’t share him with another woman. If he dropped her tomorrow she would be devastated, but she prayed she would be able to move on, taking precious memories of their time together with her. Trying to hold on to a man like Dominic would be like trying to keep hold of an eel.
“I think you need to meet my mother.”
“What?” Hadn’t he heard a word she’d said about keeping things just between the two of them?
“It’s time you knew a little more about me.”
“I don’t need your mother to tell me how wonderful you are. I know that already!”
“I’ll call her and arrange for the two of you to meet for lunch.”
“Dominic I don’t want to meet your mother! We’re not even dating.”
“Aren’t we?”
“We’re having sex.” He gave her a stony-eyed glare and she hastily amended, “Great sex, though.”
“You can tell that to my mother. I’m sure she’ll be pleased to hear it.”
“Are you seriously ordering me to meet your mother?”
“She helped my father get the company off its feet in the beginning, so she’s as much a part of it as he is. I’m giving you an instruction,” he informed her coolly.
“Fine.” She pulled away from him and hurriedly exited the flat.
This is why you never sleep with your damn boss!
The conversation really hadn’t gone as she’d planned. It was hard to explain what she felt without sounding prejudiced. She’d never wanted to be anything but black. Her Jamaican roots were strong. She didn’t want to change who she was just to date a person of another race. She liked her kinky hair, she liked her big hips, her chunky thighs and full behind. She loved Jamaican food and music. She loved talking Patois, or listening to other people talk it among themselves, on mobile phones while walking past her, or at a bus stop, or on a bus. She loved the fleeting reminders of her parents’ birthplace, which she still remembered vividly from her visits there.
Though, she was ashamed to admit it, but she almost always did a double take when she saw the fairly rare sight of a black woman with a white man. She always wondered what was in it for him, or for her. If the guy was much older she always thought he had to be loaded; if he was young or good looking, she wondered if he needed a visa to stay in the UK, or if the woman had money. Her first thought was never that they simply loved each other.