BWWM Romance: Crossing The Line: Interracial Romance / Wealthy Love Interest (5 page)

"I see you've caught the other boys," Virgil said, examining the other silver ink signatures. He quickly scrawled on his image and handed the phone back.

"Yeah," the girl said. Her smile opened her face like a window into a warm summer day. She beamed with pride. "I'm only missing Janet's."

"You know, she's not with the band anymore. Erika is on the drums now."

"I know." her shoulders slumped. "But I love Janet. I don't know Erika. Maybe after your new album."

Virgil nodded and the girl begged for one more favor, a photo with her idol. Shawna volunteered to take the picture with the girl's phone. By time the girl left to go back to her own table, she looked like the widow at a funeral, tears rolling down her cheeks. None of the other patrons knew or understood the fuss. Even the friends who waited for her seemed more interested in their food than in the girl's state of emotional elation.

"You said you played a little guitar," Shawna said. "You ain't said nothing about no crying, teenage girls with pictures of you on their phones."

"I'm pretty sure she's the only one. . ."

"So, is that the big secret you can't tell me? You're some huge rock star? Big enough to have crazy fans?"

Virgil opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. The answer he wanted wouldn't come to his lips. He couldn't dislodge the truth from its secure place in his mind. He licked his lips and nodded. "Yeah."

"Then the guys who attacked us?"

"Knew me because I'm part of the scene." The lie rolled seamlessly of his tongue. He vowed to tell her everything soon. He just wasn't ready yet. "You kicked ass tonight, by the way."

"Thanks. I've taken a class or two."

"Not only is my girl smart and damn sexy. She's a bad ass."

"What? Are you gonna write a song about it?"

"I just might."

"When will you let me hear you play?"

"I, wow. No." Virgil shuffled uncomfortably in his seat.

"What? Why not? I want to be a crying teenage girl."

Shawna loved seeing Virgil flustered. To know that she put the color in his cheeks and made him fidget filled her with a sense of pride and love she wasn't used to. Shawna leaned forward and opened her menu. The wave of laughter hit her like a tsunami. She covered her mouth, trying to keep the volume under control, but it seeped through her fingers and into the restaurant.

Virgil's heart skipped a beat. The ever-welcome, ever-beautiful sound of Shawna's laughter raised his spirits and suspended his fears for at least a little while. He felt a tightening in his crotch and moved his jacket to hide his half-erection.

"This night has been so crazy. Like, who does this happen to? Honestly? Who goes through all of this?" Shawna laughed until her eyes began to water. She snatched a couple of napkins out of the dispenser and dabbed her eyes. Virgil joined her laughter with his own nervous chuckle as the knot in his stomach unraveled itself. They had to tell the waitress to come back. They had been so busy laughing that the menus were neglected.

"I'm sorry," Shawna said and Virgil cringed. "I hope you don't feel like I was accusing you of anything."

"Of course not," Virgil said quietly as his hands returned to shredding a new napkin. "I completely understand."

V
irgil pulled
up in front of Shawna's apartment and jogged around the truck to open her door.

"Are you just going to let me go up there by myself?" she asked, leaning over to wrap her arms around his neck. She kissed him and a twinge of guilt made Virgil wonder if he deserved Shawna's affections, but she smelled so good, and her soft lips dragged a moan from the depths of his chest. He ran his hands up the silky, smooth legs and felt the feverish heat where they met.

"I guess I could come up for a little while."

In the elevator he rubbed her ass and tugged on her short skirt. She shamelessly stroked his hard cock through his pants, tracing the shape of its head and shaft and feeling his veins pulse. He squeezed her breasts, finding her hard nipples with his thumbs. Kissing her neck, he drove her into the elevator wall and lifted her leg. Pressing himself into her he moved his hips against hers, stimulating her clit.

"I don't know if we're gonna make it," Virgil said. "I could hit the emergency button."

"Oh, yeah. So we're really caught."

The elevator door opened and Shawna stepped forward, unsteady in her movements. "We're gonna have to wrap that ankle," Virgil said.

"Later."

Opening her door, Shawna had a flashing thought. She half expected to find Mikki sitting on the couch. She switched on the light just to be sure. Nothing sat on the couch other than her throw blanket. Virgil closed the door behind them and threw the lock into place. He lifted Shawna off her feet and deposited her on the bed.

"Do you have ace bandages?"

"I think so, but it can wait."

Virgil kissed Shawna's cheek.

"I like you horny. If you're willing to fuck me with a hurt ankle, who knows what you'll do if I make you wait."

Virgil found the bandages in Shawna's linen closet. When he turned around, she was stripped down to her matching black bra and panties. She was curvy and lush, her skin a rich cocoa brown against the black cloth. He could see her nipples through her bra and a damp spot on her panties. He drank her in from head to toe, tossing the roll of bandages in the air and catching them as he sauntered back to her.

"What am I going to do with you, dirty girl?" he whispered.

He sat on the bed and took her foot into his lap. Her ankle was a little swollen, but obviously not too injured. He admired the high arch of her foot and the silky skin, then he lovingly wrapped it the way he had learned at summer camp. He kept hold of her leg and kissed it. He kissed his way up her smooth legs to her flat stomach. Standing, he moved to push her back onto the bed, but Shawna batted away his hands.

She unbuckled his pants and freed his huge, white cock. She bent down, ran her fingers along the veins and stroked him until his hips jolted toward her. Licking the tip, she stared up into his eyes. Virgil moaned and petted Shawna's hair. As she pulled his cock into her mouth and sucked him with long, slow pulls, Virgil's moans gave way to savoring hisses. He snaked his hands under her to cup her firm breasts and tug gently at her nipples.

"Why do you get to have all the fun?"

"I just wanted to thank you for helping me with my ankle," she said, licking the underside of Virgil's dick and rolling his balls in her palm. Reaching behind herself and unhooking her bra, Shawna moved forward and pushed her breasts together around him. Virgil braced himself against her shoulder and fucked her tits until he was wet with precum. Shawna stuck out her tongue and his cock brushed against it with every pass.

"You're so beautiful," Virgil said, taking in her flawless brown skin and her perfectly round dark areolas and pert nipples. He didn't have to move his head much further to see the crest of her deliciously thick ass. Virgil freed his cock from her grasp and pushed Shawna back onto the bed. He dragged her panties off with his hands and teeth. Pulling her legs up over his shoulders, he rubbed his cock across the wet lips of her pussy.

"Fuck me hard and deep."

Virgil entered her and quivered in Shawna's warmth. "Shit, you feel good."

He rocked his hips and slid in and out of her slick hole. Shawna threw her head back and Virgil licked her throat. Taking one of her breasts into his mouth, he traced slow circles around each nipple, biting them gently. Shawna clenched his shoulders and bucked her hips into his. Virgil sat back on his legs and gripped Shawna's thighs for better leverage.

"Cum for me," Virgil said. "Cum for me, baby."

Shawna's eyelids fluttered and her sex-filled voice bounced off the walls as his cock plowed into her with fast, even strokes. It curved just right, stroking against her g-spot, and sending tingling sparks throughout her body with each pump.

"Virgil," she cried. "Virgil!"

He breathed hard, feeling the pressure in his pelvis build. One quaking orgasm from Shawna sent him through the roof and he lost control. Virgil leaned forward, holding himself up on his hands and knees as he thrust into her over and over. Her breasts swayed with his rhythm, hypnotic. He stopped long enough to kiss her heart and lips.

"I could listen to you all night," he said into her ear.

"Then don't stop." She raked her nails across his back and Virgil picked up the pace. Shawna pulled him down to kiss his chest and shoulder.

"I'm cumming," he said. "I can't believe what you do to me."

He grew rigid and Shawna kept moving her hips, even after he was done. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he moaned loudly. She let him go when he couldn't take it anymore. They collapsed in a heap.

"You're dangerously addictive," he said.

"You're not so bad yourself."

M
ikki kept getting
phantom vibrations from her phone. Every time she looked at the screen it was blank. No missed calls. No text messages. No communications. It used to be that Shawna would at least call or text to just say "what's up" but ever since Virgil started drinking up her time, Mikki hadn't heard anything from her. She couldn't tap her to go to charity events anymore and she never wanted to hang out.

Groaning at her blank phone she went back and forth with herself about whether or not she should reach out to Shawna. Mikki didn't like Virgil. At all. Period. He made her skin crawl and to think about him touching Shawna and dragging her around into all of those anti-black spaces like some trophy made her sick to her stomach. Shawna was her best friend and protégé. A lot of work went into making Shawna the woman she was today. When Mikki found her in the school library their sophomore year of high school, she was a quiet, nerdy hermit. Mikki dug her out of her shell and helped her gain confidence in herself. To see all of that wasted on some dirty, spoiled, good- for-nothing pissed her off.

Mikki picked up her phone and called Shawna. When she didn't answer, Mikki called her again. On her third try, the call went right to voicemail. Shawna had turned off her phone. Mikki threw the phone across the room, onto her bed. She had considered throwing it against the wall, but she really liked that phone and wasn't about to break it because of Shawna's dumb ass.

Pacing, Mikki thought of ways to pull Shawna back out of the fire before Virgil hurt her. Even though it might be easier to wait for Virgil to do the inevitable damage and let Shawna crawl back, Mikki couldn't stand the idea of things getting that far.

Mikki's large, perfectly-appointed apartment was the result of years of hard work on the behalf of others. She fixed their issues, redesigned their image, and making them look like reborn saints in the eyes of the public. Graduating from college early through nothing short of pure hustle afforded her a set of unmatched credentials that were always in demand. Her track record with her clients was just the cherry on top. She listened to the echo of her red-soled Louboutin heels on the floors of her long hallway. Her loft apartment had a180-degree view of the cityscape with its sparkle of lights. With the touch of a button, she could fill the space with bass and beats. A professional kitchen sat behind her, barely used. Shawna loved to cook, which is why Mikki had it put in. The place was large and devoid of life―something Mikki had planned on changing. Virgil was getting in the way.

V
irgil went home less
and less and stayed with Shawna more. They tripped over each other trying to get to the bathroom and slowly but surely the cramped space of Shawna's studio apartment began to make him claustrophobic. He wanted to invite Shawna over to his parents’ property, but he wasn’t sure how his mother would react to Shawna. He wasn’t sure how his mother would react to any woman being in his little house and studio, and her tendency to show up whenever she wanted made for a recipe for disaster.

Virgil went home after dropping Shawna off at work. She told him that he could move some stuff in, but what he really wanted to do was move her out. He had the money saved up. They could get any apartment they wanted. Shawna could have a place to study and Virgil planned on having a little place to practice his music. But as long as he was under his mother’s thumb it was a pipe dream.

Melinda called her son up to the house after he entered the property’s main gate. Virgil parked his truck in the main house’s driveway. He had avoided his parents’ house for so long that he had forgotten what it looked like. The large mansion had a newer design than the southern plantation-style houses that were considered romantic and ageless. His father had it repainted a couple of years ago to get rid of the terrible whitewash that his grandfather had put on it. Now it was a light tan with dark trim. The stairs had been recently refinished and the banisters replaced. There was patio furniture on the front porch, but only for show.

He opened the door and tramped up the long hallway to his mother’s home office. He hated the sound of his heavy boots on the hardwood. It reminded him of the many nights he spent running out of the house from his mother’s drunken episodes. Melinda would grab and push Virgil until his father had to step in between them. The help would silently straighten the pictures knocked askew in their fights. Bad memories, all of them. Sniffing, he knocked on the door. He could smell the alcohol even before his mother invited him inside.

Melinda stood next to the full bar, pouring two generous portions of single malt scotch. She offered a tumbler to Virgil and he quickly declined. She shrugged and poured his portion into her own glass before circling around the space-swallowing, cherry wood desk.

“Have a seat, sweetie,” she said.

Sweetie?
Virgil cocked an eyebrow and opted to stand. None of the books in her office had been moved since they were first shelved, more decoration than the fake plants that sat in the corners.

“How are you?”

“What can I do for you, Mom?”

“I can’t ask my son how he’s been doing? How did that job interview go?”

Virgil nodded, but didn’t answer.

“I’m trying to be nice.”

“What do you want from me?”

Melinda rocked in her swivel chair, smirking up at Virgil. Sipping from her glass, she watched him carefully. “Is our relationship really that bad?”

“Depends. Do you plan on throwing that glass at me?”

“Wow. Look,” she said, setting the glass down and leaning forward. “I see that you aren’t going to make this easy on me.”

“Make it easy on you?”

“Stop. Shut up and let me speak.”

Virgil crossed his arms and sighed. Her eyes were still focused on him, attempting to burn a hole in his head, which meant she wasn’t too drunk. Curiosity kept him rooted to the spot. Her attempt to butter him up was the first clue that something wasn’t right.

“Are you seeing anyone?” she asked. Her tone returned to the friendly cadence it had when he entered the office.

“I . . . why?”

“Someone told me that you were seeing a nice . . . black girl.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes and took several steps back. “Who?”

“It doesn’t matter who. Is it true?”

Virgil stared in silence. His mind raced, trying to figure out what Melinda could possibly want with Shawna. The idea of them in the same room made his hair stand on end. A tightness formed in his chest.

“Look, cupcake. We’re going to have dinner. A nice
family
dinner. You’re going to invite your little girlfriend, and we’re going to make with the happy.”

“What do you want with her?”

Melinda groaned and sat back. Picking her glass up again, she rested her feet on top of the desk. Her dirty-blonde hair was the same shade as Virgil’s. She forwent the natural wavy texture, preferring the controlled texture achieved by a curling iron. Her bright red nails clinked against the glass as she studied the liquid. “I’m running for District Attorney. Multi-cultural households are in. I just want to meet her to make sure she’s one of the good ones.”

Virgil nearly gagged. He turned and walked toward the door. “No. I’m not going along with this.”

“Yes, you are, sugarpie.”

“Why do you think so?”

“Because I can pick up that phone and call whoever called me and tell them every dirty little secret you have. Then, they can go tell your piece of ass what kind of garbage you are. I’m sure she’d love that.”

Virgil ran his tongue over his teeth and stuffed his hands in his pockets. His mother’s victorious smile made him want to punch something. “When?”

“Whatever night she has free.”

T
he man
who picked Shawna up from her apartment wore no makeup. His dirty-blond hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail and he wore a sober dark blue tie. There was no spiked anything to be seen. The black nail polish was absent from his nails and he wore a tailored suit.

"Who are you and where is my boyfriend?"

Virgil laughed bitterly. He opened the door and helped her climb into the truck. Virgil had hoped that Shawna would be too busy to have dinner with his parents so soon, but she was available that weekend. Melinda insisted on doing it right away before something came up. She had offered to let Virgil off the hook and just have Shawna over, but there was no way Virgil was going to leave Shawna alone with his mother.

He gripped the steering wheel and Shawna saw the muscles clench in his jaw. She reached over and touched his arm and he gave her a weak smile. The truck cut through the rain-soaked streets and he gunned it through the yellow lights. Cars quickly got out of the way of the monster on wheels, as his engine could be heard from a block away. Shawna clenched the seat and seatbelt as they raced toward the mansion.

"Is everything okay?"

"Sure, babe." Virgil eased off the gas and started stopping at red lights. Shawna frowned. His cold silence made her wonder if she had done something wrong. He glanced over at her and squeezed her hand. "I . . . am so sorry for whatever happens the rest of the night."

"That's quite possibly the worst thing anyone has ever said to me. What's wrong?"

"I couldn't explain it if I tried. My family . . . my parents . . . my
mother
is difficult. I'm sure she's going to say something obscene and if we're lucky, she's already through half a bottle of gin."

"Oh . . . Well, I know how to behave myself."

"Trust me. You're not the one I'm worried about."

Virgil had talked about the house after Shawna agreed to go to dinner. He talked about the size of the property and the little guest house that he currently lived in. As she watched Virgil fidget and tighten all of his muscles, she figured that his family was the reason he preferred to stay in her tiny apartment. He never asked her over and when she had brought it up previously, he’d made an excuse and quickly changed the subject.

The property was in a part of town that Shawna didn't even know existed. The trees lining the streets were starting to lose their bloom, leaving thick, dark leaves to shade the road. Old mansions sat far back from the curbs in their own private worlds, each separate from its neighbors.

Shawna wasn't a stranger to stressful parents. Her father could very easily get on any normal person's nerves. His Bible thumping and loud declarations of how everyone (in the room, in the world) was a sinner was enough to drive anyone nuts. She had never liked bringing friends home. He'd grill them on their church-going habits and ask intimate questions about their parents. Shawna spent a good portion of her childhood embarrassed and lonely. Mikki was the only friend subjected to her father’s interrogation who didn't mind, who wasn’t even fazed. She rolled out every answer he wanted to hear and presented herself as a living saint (humble, too). It was a style of deceit Shawna was not comfortable with and even if she were, there was no way she could pull it off. Her parents had taught her to tell the truth even when it hurt.

She wished Virgil had told her sooner that he was uncomfortable with his family. She would have postponed until he was ready― or indefinitely, whichever worked best for him. Yet the curiosity ate at her. Through the last few weeks she had wondered who he really was. Deep down inside she knew he hid things from her, parts of himself that she would have to hunt and drag out of him. The night they were attacked at the concert still played in her mind. She couldn't shake the feeling that those guys knew him as more than a local musician. That anger was personal.

Shawna smoothed the skirt of her white, floral sundress and Virgil glanced over.

"You look great in everything," he said. "It never ceases to amaze me."

"I would say the same, but . . . you look like you're going to vomit."

"The evening is young."

Virgil took a sharp turn and they pulled up to a large, black, wrought iron gate. He punched in the security code and the gate squeaked open at a snail's pace. Shawna saw the roof of the main house, but Virgil steered the truck into the opposite direction. "I'd like to show you something."

The guest house was a tiny version of the main house. It had only three bedrooms, compared to the seven bedrooms of the main house. His patio furniture was well used. He typically sat on the porch on Sunday mornings with a cup of coffee and a notebook to write new songs. When his band mates dropped by, they liked hanging out on the porch and around the pool.

Shawna stiffened and didn't answer Virgil when he spoke to her. Opening her door, Virgil offered his hand, but she hesitated to take it. The opulence of the whole thing overwhelmed her. She felt self-conscious about her little apartment with its chipped, used plates, dented, department store pots and mismatched silverware.

"Shawna," he said, stepping up on the passenger side, leaning into the cab. "We can turn around now and never look back."

"Virgil--"

"I'll grab my guitar and whatever cash I have and we can just go."

Shawna shook her head. "No. Something about this is important to you."

Virgil licked his lips and looked out at the guest house and then back behind them, where the main house loomed like a large predator waiting in the shadows with teeth and claws gleaming.

"If I ever asked you to run away with me . . . would you? If I promised to take care of you?"

"That's something children say," Shawna said. "Children run away."

"Maybe adults just lack the imagination."

Virgil hopped down off the truck and helped Shawna out of the cab. She looked around and tried not to let the shame of her lower-middle class upbringing overtake her. Even lawyers didn't have real estate of this magnitude. This was old money. Her mother had warned her about old money, especially white people with old money.

He didn't let go of her hand as they walked through the halls of the house. He gave her a tour of the first and second floor. The basement was used for storage. Shawna ran her hands across the casual, lived-in, modern furniture. Now that she was inside the house, Shawn realized just how cozy it was with the overstuffed chairs and fold out sofas.