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Authors: NOIRE,Kiki Swinson

BOOK: Lifestyles of the Rich and Shameless
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1
 
My Twenty-first Birthday
 
“T
hank you, Daddy!” I squealed as I raced over to my brand new apple red sparkly Range Rover. The new vehicle gleamed so brightly I had to put on my Gucci shades to look at it in the bright sun. I rushed around it, peeking into the windows and examining every inch of my new toy. “Oh my God! Daddy! You had it all custom kitted just for me!” I said excitedly as I peered into the window and looked at the interior. My father had had my new Range tricked out in a shiny, metallic red, custom exterior paint that had sparkles in it. He’d also put the Range on twenty-two-inch chrome rims with the same red paint splashed between the rim spokes. The inside was tan leather with red piping around the seats and my initials embroidered in red on the headrests. It was definitely something nobody else in Virginia Beach would have. My father knew how to please his baby girl.
“You are the
best
daddy a girl could have!” I squealed, throwing my arms around his neck and squeezing him.
My father was smiling and shaking his head proudly. He broke up our embrace and looked at me lovingly. “Happy Birthday, baby girl,” he said as he extended his hand with the keys. He knew looking at it from the outside was killing me.
I snatched the keys from him and hurriedly unlocked the door of my new whip. Once inside, the new car smell filled my nostrils and I felt like I was in heaven. It had everything imaginable and I was already picturing the jealous stares I would get. This car was definitely going to make a statement around town. Smiling from ear to ear, I said, “I’m ready to go! Can I go show off?”
“You need to drive responsibly,” my father said seriously as he leaned into my driver side window. “Now that you’re twenty-one and old enough to drink ... I want you to think like an adult. No drinking and driving, no speeding, no—”
“Daddy,” I whined, cutting him off. “Don’t spoil my happy moment with one of your lectures,” I said. I was still cheesing from ear to ear.
“Megan, your mother and I worry about you. I just want you to be responsible ... please,” he said, not letting up. I heard him, but I wasn’t trying to hear him. He was right about one thing. I was twenty-one now and old enough to drink and do as I pleased.
“What time are you coming home, young lady?” my mother chimed in, sticking her smiling face into the passenger side window of my ride. I hadn’t even noticed her walk up to us. Looking at my mother was like looking into a mirror. I was every bit the spitting image of her. We were both your typical biracial-looking types with long dark hair and light brown eyes. I stood about two inches taller than her at five feet and six inches, but that didn’t take anything away from my mother’s model looks. Plus, with the help of my mother’s plastic surgeon, she and I both had the most perfect C cup breasts and Brazilian butt lifts you’d ever seen on a mother/daughter pair. My mother had definitely let me indulge in some of her vices, like plastic surgery and wearing revealing clothes. My father didn’t always agree, but he didn’t wield much power in my house. People often mistook my mother and me for Kim Kar-dashian and her mother when we were out. We always found it so amusing. I mean, we did have just as much, or more money than the Kardashians, so they weren’t too far off. Personally, I thought I looked a little prettier than Kim, and my mother, well, she had not one single wrinkle popping up like Kim Kar-dashian’s mother, who in my opinion needed more Botox.
“Megan, you haven’t answered my question,” my mother reminded me. I had avoided it on purpose. She was such a worry wart. I knew how to get her to back off though.
“Well, you know I have to show off and take this baby for a spin around Virginia Beach. I have to show Krista and her mom. You know they’ll just die when they see it,” I said, wickedly gauging my mother’s reaction. Her face softened and I could tell she had bought my story. “I promise to be home at a decent hour,” I assured her. I knew that any mention of making someone in Virginia Beach jealous would back her down. She was in a competition with Mrs. Boyd, my used-tobe best friend Krista’s mom. My mother would agree to anything to get Mrs. Boyd jealous or to show her up.
“Make sure you blow your horn in that bitch’s driveway,” my mother said evilly.
“I’m headed there right now,” I replied. I was lying like no tomorrow. I had no plans on seeing Krista or showing her mother my new whip. Krista and I had stopped speaking months ago. We no longer had shit in common. I planned to be out all night to make sure everybody, especially my haters, got to see my whip. My mother gave me another stern warning and my father gave me a kiss on my cheek. They both stepped away from the truck as I peeled out of our circular driveway. I was on my way to see my new man and to make a few hood-rat bitches very upset.
I looked down at my T-shirt, which read
Shamelessly Rich,
and smirked to myself. That was an understatement. I was unbelievably spoiled and damn sure wasn’t ashamed to be rich. My last name was Rich and it was more than just a coincidence. I was definitely born into a
rich
family. I was the only child of one of the wealthiest men in Virginia. By the time I was born, my father, Gavin Rich, was a well-known business tycoon who had clawed his way to the top of the Forbes list. Not only did he own a string of Shell gas stations in more than ten states, he had cornered the market on Virginia Beach beachfront properties and high-rises before the housing market crashed. My father was one of the shrewdest businessmen around. Some people said he was even more cutthroat than Donald Trump.
My father, a German immigrant who initially came to America on a student visa but elected to stay after he finished all of his studies, met my mother, the beautiful Priscilla Rich, while they both attended Columbia University. My father disowned his family when they had a problem with my mother being half black and half Italian. Both of my parents were well educated. They dated while they pursued master’s degrees in business management and accounting. All of this was before I was born, of course. By the time I came along, my father had already made a boatload of money. A friend of his had told him about an opportunity to buy a gas station in Virginia Beach and the rest is history. I have heard the story so many times about how my father jumped at the opportunity. He and my mother took out a business loan and borrowed money from her family so they could make the venture happen. Once everything was finalized, they moved to the suburbs of Virginia Beach. Let’s just say he made many more great business decisions after that and I was the benefactor of them all.
I never knew a day where I wanted for anything. If I even looked at something hard it was mine right after. My father spent a fortune to make me happy. He always said I would be taking over the lead on his businesses, but I was not interested in that shit at all. I was satisfied taking what I needed from him. Everyone around town knew who I was. From the time I was in grade school, I was nicknamed the “rich” girl. The irony is still lost on some people. Most women envied me while the men wanted to be seen with me. I had my pick of the litter. I probably could have stolen a grown-ass man from his wife.
Twenty minutes later, I eased the Range Rover down the crowded street of one of the worst neighborhoods in Virginia Beach. I knew all eyes would be on me. I blew my horn loudly and the crowd of street hustlers that were all posted up against an abandoned house all turned around and glared in the direction of my Range. I could see them ducking their heads and squinting their eyes to see who was coming through their hood in such a fly-ass whip. I blew the horn again as I pulled up slowly to the decrepit house. Some of the hustlers put their hands on their waistbands in a show of defense; that’s when I knew I had to hurry up and identify myself before my ass ended up filled with holes.
“What’s up, Eric? Hey, boo!” I sang out as I bent my head and peeked out the window. All of the dudes out there were staring at me now.
Eric had his mouth hung open in shock. He couldn’t believe his eyes. It didn’t take him long to change that shocked looked into a huge smile. “Dayum, rich girl! Ya daddy was trickin’ on that ass again,” Eric said, showing all his pearly whites as he bopped over to me. He put his face in the window and planted the most sloppy tongue kiss on me. I knew it was all a show for his little street thug friends.
“Mmmm, I like the way that tastes,” I said as we pulled away from each other. I inhaled his scent and it was intoxicating. The mixture of cologne and his bad boy swag had me ready to jump his damn bones right then and there.
Eric smiled and raced around to the passenger side of the Range. “See y’all niggahs later,” he yelled out. I laughed as I looked at the jealous, hungry-looking faces of his street counterparts.
“Where we going, Daddy?” I asked seductively. I knew damn well where we were going. It wasn’t a secret what Eric and I did each time we were together now. I didn’t mind at all either.
“Our regular spot,” Eric said as he leaned over and looked into the backseat of the car. He was giving it the once-over like he still couldn’t believe it. “This shit right here is tight. You need to be careful rolling through the hood in this shit though. It ain’t safe in these parts. Niggahs will definitely carjack your little ass for a ride like this,” he warned. I waved him off like he was being ridiculous.
“They know I’m your girl. They won’t mess with me,” I replied.
Eric started laughing. Then he mimicked my words with a proper accent, which was the total opposite of how he regularly spoke. “Yo, you sound like a straight white chick. You look like a spoiled rich girl. Come the fuck on. Please, Megan, don’t be stupid. Them hungry niggahs will do your ass in and send your body home to your daddy in a minute. Basically, you need me,” he said, turning his head toward the window. He had shut me down. Sometimes he could be so cruel. I hated when he was mad at me or wasn’t speaking to me. I always wanted to keep him happy. I was nervous now. If Eric was mad at me things wouldn’t be right. I had to fix it. We drove in silence, both of us thinking.
Eric Chambers was my new man. I had met him at a party one of the nights that I was supposed to be spending at Krista’s house. Eric was a tall, dark, handsome, six foot, chocolate specimen of a man. He was ten years older than me so I knew I could never take him home to my parents. He also wasn’t exactly the type of man my parents had envisioned for me either. Eric had done hard prison time and was a petty drug dealer, but I was full on in love with him. His dick was thick and it was good. At twenty-one, I was as sexually adept as a forty-year-old woman. At least I thought so. I had had sex with plenty little boys in my private school. I had even fucked a few of my father’s older business associates, but there was nothing that could compare to Eric’s dick and the way he ate my pussy out every single time we were together. I was clearly in love. I never wanted to be apart from him and I made sure I saw him every day. My parents thought I was in classes at college, but I didn’t have time for school. In my assessment, I didn’t need a college education. I was a Rich!
“Where you going?” Eric asked, breaking our silence. He had seen me pass our usual luxury hotel rendezvous spot.
“It’s a surprise,” I said, smiling at him. I was just glad he was speaking to me again.
“I gotta get back out there to get some paper so I don’t really have time for surprises today,” he said, annoyed. I knew what that meant. He was always threatening me with leaving and going back out on the street. Eric knew how to hit me where it counted.
“Look in my bag. There is enough money in there to take care of you for today,” I said nervously. I didn’t want to think about him breaking up our time together. He knew it too. This wasn’t the first time he made me feel anxious enough to give up some cash to keep him with me.
“Nah ... I ain’t taking your money,” he said.
I knew he was lying. I sucked my teeth. I stopped the car and grabbed my Hermès Birkin bag. I dug inside and pulled out a wad of cash.
“I think this is about eight hundred dollars ... my daytime spending money. You can have it. I will go get more after we leave our spot,” I said, forcefully pushing the cash in Eric’s direction. He looked at me and, feigning reluctance, he took the money ... just like I knew he would. I mean, how could he refuse, pussy and money?
“Make sure you hit me off with more later. This ain’t enough. I’m sayin’ I make this in an hour outside beatin’ that block,” Eric said. I believed him too. There were so many fiends running around the part of Virginia Beach that he lived in it was not even funny.
I finally pulled the Range up to Reed’s, a well-known, high-end jewelry store in Virginia. Eric looked at me strangely.
“This was my surprise. I got a gift today and I want to give you one,” I said. I bent over and kissed his thick lips. “It’s my birthday, but I want to make you happy too. C’mon,” I demanded playfully. I rushed out of the car.
Eric got out of the car in silence. I grabbed his arm and we walked into Reed’s arm in arm like a married couple. That shit made me feel so grown up. When we got inside, the old white lady behind the counter gave Eric a once-over and kind of turned up her nose. I squinted my eyes at her evilly. This wrinkled bitch didn’t know who she was fucking with. I hated when people automatically stereotyped people and thought they didn’t have money. I knew what to do to fix that bitch. I walked over to the watch case.

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