II
1899 Words
D-Day arrives and a reminder pops up on my screen: "Pick up by 11 am, be prepared."
I let out a sigh. Tommy and Cassandra's wedding is next week. It’s all a reminder of their betrayal. Tommy has a job now and has gotten a car. All within three days. If I had gone to the academy and not sent Tommy with my money, it should have been me.
They keep sending me these messages of their progress like they're gloating.
That's gone, by the way; I have a task at hand. What will I wish for when I finally meet the billionaire? It's not like I can just wish for Tommy and Cassy to be punished. I don’t even know what to wish for yet. I haven't even thought about it.
A bang on the door jolts me out of my thoughts and I go out. It’s my landlord. He stands there, arms crossed as he raises his eyes at me. "You have 24 hours. That's it. Then I’m calling the cops.”
His words ignite a fire in my belly. This is it. This is why I have to do this. This is my only shot.
I quickly change into my simple, old gown and stand before the mirror. It's the only decent thing I have. My reflection stares back at me.
It has been days since I looked in the mirror. My eyes look tired and my color looks faded. The gown is not much of a dress, but it's clean, and I do my best with the makeup I have.
It’s two minutes to eleven. I stand on the porch with a lump in my throat.
I see Tommy's car pull up. Cassy and Enid are with him. They wave, their faces dripping with fake sympathy. "Look at her. All dressed up. Going to meet her sugar daddy," Cassy sneers.
"Fake life, right?" Tommy shouts and I watch as they laugh.
Then, a sleek black Rolls Royce pulls up beside them and this cuts their mockery. A man in a sharp suit steps out, holding an iPad.
This is not Mr Floyd 'Diamond' Howard. But he walks up to me and looks me up and down, confirming my identity. “Are you Miss Lakeisha X?”
“Yes,” I confirm, my voice shaking slightly. He nods. “Please, let’s go.”
I take one last look at Tommy, Cassy, and Enid. Their eyes are wide with shock. Their mouths hang open. For the first time in weeks, I feel a sliver of satisfaction. A bit of an edge over them. At least I’m being driven away in a Rolls Royce. I’m sure none of them have ever been in one.
The man ushers me into the car. He closes the door and I watch as the Rolls Royce pulls away, leaving them behind. I feel their scorn on my back, but I don’t turn around. I have a chance now. I have to focus on this, on my future.
“Miss Keisha, please listen,” the man says. “You signed up for this. You have to be ready. If you get chosen, understand that once the jet takes off, you belong to Mr Howard. He has the right to take you anywhere in the world and do anything to you in the space of six hours and then you'll be discharged.”
“Anything to me?” I say to myself. Me with a stranger? Well, it seems too late now.
“He will kiss you, touch you, he might tell you to strip and dance. But you have the chance to request anything in the world. Maybe a car, or anything. Just be ready, Miss.”
I let out a sigh. Still don't know what I will request when the time comes.
We arrive at Summerlit Airport after one hour. As I step out of the car, my breath catches in my throat.
Five other women are waiting. They’re all dressed in revealing clothes, their breasts practically falling out of their dresses, their thighs exposed under the tight, jumpy gown, and they all keep their eyes on me.
“Is this how she wants to appeal to Mr. Howard?” one of them sneers. The others laugh.
I lower my head, feeling a familiar wave of shame wash over me. I’ve been mocked and belittled my entire life. Now, here I am, in this airport with these women.
The five women stand together and form a circle, leaving me standing behind them.
I shake my head. This may not be my day. If I were a man, I would choose among the five ladies who look presentable.
Suddenly, the jet door opens and a figure steps out. He stands at the top of the stairs, dressed in a white suit, tall and imposing. I can’t see his face, but the way he stands, the aura he carries, it’s enough to be Floyd 'Diamond' Howard.
The other women turn around, their asses arched with the akimbo stance. The breasts thrust out as they clinched them with their hands.
They want to impress him, to show him what they have. I watch them, my heart sinking. I can't do that; I don't know if I have to.
I know I have no chance. Mr. Floyd Howard is looking for a s****l fantasy, and these women are far more at it than I am.
But then, Floyd gestures for them to move aside, so he can see. His gaze sweeps across the five women, then he stops. He stares at me, his eyes drilling into mine. Then, he points at me.
“What? Me?” I stammer.
The man who drives me to the airport approaches me with a smile. “Congratu-f*****g-lations, Miss Lakeisha. He has selected you. Please walk towards the plane.”
I lift my head, trying to make sense of what’s happening. Why me?
The women make comments that I’ve enchanted him, that I’ve cast a spell on him. But I don’t listen. I don’t care. My eyes are fixated on the plane, on the question that keeps repeating in my head. Why did he choose me?
I step on the stairs of the jet, holding the railings with my eyes set at the entrance. Once I step foot in there, there is no going back.
The air conditioner hums as I step inside the private jet. The white leather seats and the plush carpet, it's all blindingly white, like stepping into a sterile, luxurious dream.
The attendant smiles, closing the door behind me. "Welcome aboard, ma'am."
“Thank you.”
I turn and see him.
Floyd 'Diamond' Howard. The man who hires me.
The billionaire born of a billionaire. The CEO of Howard Conglomerate. The son who is competing to be richer than his father. The face on every magazine.
I see money all over him. His skin is white and without a dent or a spot. His mustache is nearly carved under the pink lips of his. His eyes are blue and set on me. What is he thinking?
And he's even better in person than the image in the magazines. He's removed his suit jacket and tie, the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt undone, revealing a glimpse of his sculpted chest.
I don't know what to do. My heart is pounding. I lower my head and fiddle with the clasp of my purse.
I want to run, to escape this gleaming, suffocating white box.
"Ma'am, please, seat," the attendant urges, guiding me towards a seat directly opposite Floyd. "We will be taking off soon."
He's watching me, his gaze steady. I avoid his eyes, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. He's closer than I imagined, every detail sharp in this close space. I want to disappear, to melt into the plush white of the seat, to become invisible. But the jet is already rumbling, preparing to take off.
Is this what it feels like to be with a noble? A man who has enough money to purchase my existence. That is what he is.
"What is your name?" His voice, a deep baritone, cuts through the engine's whine.
"I…I'm… my name is Lakeisha," I stammer, "Lakeisha X."
"X? Why?" His eyes pierce through me, curious.
"I... I grew up in an orphanage," I whisper, my voice trembling. "Never got fostered."
"How old are you?" he asks.
"Twenty-two," I reply, keeping my gaze on my lap.
"Do you know why I chose you?"
My breath catches in my throat. I don't know what to say.
"Because you're simple, yet beautiful," he says. “I never believed beauty can come in the cheapest ways. That aside, now that you're here, it means you comply with whatever the date brings to your table. Right? Right!"
He asks and answers immediately. Now there is no going back.
I hear the circular cushion rumbling and I give a sideways glance. He roaches on the chair and crawls to me like an animal. I change my gaze to my lap.
He is beside me, gnawing at my nape like he's some bloodthirsty animal. “I'mma eat you raw,” he says to me. “Look at me.”
I turn immediately. It is an order. From a close range, I see his features more closely and feel his breath.
“What do you want? Name it?”
I don't know yet, so I keep looking.
His phone rings and the attendant on standby takes it to him. He looks at the screen and then frowns. Then he answers the call.
“Hello, father.”
He listens for a while, still with a frown on his face. “Okay, father. I will come.”
After the call, he sits beside me and makes a call. “Fernando, I will be at the airport soon. We will be going to the White House. Father needs me there. Prepare a fitting gown for a 5’6 woman. She…” he checks me out and gestures that I stand and turn, to make a 360.
I stand and turn with my hands folded on my laps.
“Hmm… her bust measurement is around 38 inches, her waistline… around 28 inches. She's a bomb; it complements her curves beautifully and really highlights that hourglass figure. And…” he gestures at me to turn again and I turn. “The hips are fuller, around 40 inches. She will be fit for the White House, Right? Right!?”
The White House? I wonder.
Floyd ends the call and sighs.
I see a thing about him. Just as the media presents him. He doesn't ask questions or take ideas. He does his things his own way.
“K… remind me of your name?”
“Lakeisha,” I say.
“We will be going to the White House in New York City for Christmas Eve dinner and we will be seeing my father there. I need you to be ready,” he says.
White House? Me? This is becoming more than I bargained for.
“Plus, you will be wooed and wanted even if you're seen with me. Do not give anyone the audience or else… don't make me threaten you. I trust you will be sensible,” he says but in a firm tone.
He is a jealous type.
- Writer
