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| Life Lessons Novel Series |
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
| Clicks, Clans, & Crabs |
| Chapter IV Love Redemption |
“So you think you’re Devon’s donor, huh? Once again you make a unique ass of
yourself.” Tracey laughed, staring into Ronald’s cold, confident brown eyes. His
dark demeanor posed no threat to her. She wasn’t going to allow him to ruin a good
thing. “I’m surprised you would even make this claim,’ she continued, ‘You yourself
spread it all over church about who the man was I was seeing at the time,” she said
bitterly. “Correction, my dear, the married man you were seeing,” Ronald
commented. “So what, if he was married. That was my business – not the whole
church and town!” Tracey shouted back.
To avoid on-lookers, Ronald gently forced his way in Tracey’s house after standing
at the front door for four awkward minutes. “Calm down now,” he said. “I came here
to work something out with you, not to upset you.” Ronald ran his large manicured
hand through Tracey’s abundant locks. She turned away, unappreciative of the
smooth gesture. “You men are such dogs. Always fetching after one thing,” she
huffed. “Oh, my fault. We wouldn’t fetch if women like you didn’t throw so many
bones,” Ronald shot back.
“Women like me, eh. Well, lucky for you there’s plenty women these days just
waiting to swoop you progressive wannabees right on up. So why don’t you go get
you one, and quit sniffing ‘round my door. Go ‘on, git,” she said as though
attempting to get rid of a nasty pest. When he refused to budge, Tracey pushed him
and screamed, “Get yo’ broke, bourgie behind out my house!”
Ronald was caught off guard. He didn’t plan on baiting her. It’s just that Tracey was
really like so many modern black women who act more on romantic impulse rather
than their innate mother-wit. Why did she prefer men who wouldn’t and couldn’t be
an enhancing, guiding force in her life, whose capacities often failed beyond the
bedroom? He could be so much more if she would only let him, he thought driving
back to school.
Inwardly, Ronald suffered tremendously. He was a strikingly handsome man stupidly
in love with a woman who had no interest in him, despite their passionate one night
together two years earlier. Ronald was literally blown away by Tracey’s incredible
sensuality. Being a well-seasoned ladies man of 40, he had no idea there were still
tricks to be learned. Ever since then he wanted desperately to find out whether it
was truly him that ignited her fierce passion or the Chardonnay she downed like
water. For Ronald to come to her house insisting he was the father of her child was
too much. It was just too much. No way was she going to risk losing $1200 a month
child support to sooth a broke man’s sudden paternal ego. Whether or not he really
was her youngest child’s father was absolutely of no consequence. The most she
could receive from Ronald was maybe a third of what the married, assumed father
was doling out.
Although Ronald was an elementary school assistant principal, he struggled to
finance his exorbitant single lifestyle. A pent house and a pre-owned Maserati didn’t
provide much of an expendable income. Besides, his feelings for her were a big turn
off. She couldn’t stand him. He revealed the type of person he was that night two
and half years ago. A few hours of intimacy and three glasses of Hennessy had
apparently brought forth the true retched nature of this otherwise cordial, pleasant
individual.
“I hate working in these low income school districts,” Tracey remembered him
confessing. “After teaching for ten years in some of the worst schools, I decided to
become an assistant principal to have as little contact with those fatherless, at-risk
nigglets as possible.” A tight pinch formed in her stomach. At the time she had two
children without fathers, whom he apparently felt were bound for destruction, even
though she was herself a teacher and made sure her children were well cared for.
Ronald was treated by Tracey like a one-night stand from then on. She behaved,
essentially, as though he didn’t exist and enjoyed witnessing his on-going, painful
bewilderment. How could she not want him, one of the most eligible, sought after
bachelors in the classist, back-stabbing, backward, small city of Southtown? With
exceptional beauty and appeal like Tracey’s, this magnificent manipulation of her
current boss and ex-fling was simple.
yourself.” Tracey laughed, staring into Ronald’s cold, confident brown eyes. His
dark demeanor posed no threat to her. She wasn’t going to allow him to ruin a good
thing. “I’m surprised you would even make this claim,’ she continued, ‘You yourself
spread it all over church about who the man was I was seeing at the time,” she said
bitterly. “Correction, my dear, the married man you were seeing,” Ronald
commented. “So what, if he was married. That was my business – not the whole
church and town!” Tracey shouted back.
To avoid on-lookers, Ronald gently forced his way in Tracey’s house after standing
at the front door for four awkward minutes. “Calm down now,” he said. “I came here
to work something out with you, not to upset you.” Ronald ran his large manicured
hand through Tracey’s abundant locks. She turned away, unappreciative of the
smooth gesture. “You men are such dogs. Always fetching after one thing,” she
huffed. “Oh, my fault. We wouldn’t fetch if women like you didn’t throw so many
bones,” Ronald shot back.
“Women like me, eh. Well, lucky for you there’s plenty women these days just
waiting to swoop you progressive wannabees right on up. So why don’t you go get
you one, and quit sniffing ‘round my door. Go ‘on, git,” she said as though
attempting to get rid of a nasty pest. When he refused to budge, Tracey pushed him
and screamed, “Get yo’ broke, bourgie behind out my house!”
Ronald was caught off guard. He didn’t plan on baiting her. It’s just that Tracey was
really like so many modern black women who act more on romantic impulse rather
than their innate mother-wit. Why did she prefer men who wouldn’t and couldn’t be
an enhancing, guiding force in her life, whose capacities often failed beyond the
bedroom? He could be so much more if she would only let him, he thought driving
back to school.
Inwardly, Ronald suffered tremendously. He was a strikingly handsome man stupidly
in love with a woman who had no interest in him, despite their passionate one night
together two years earlier. Ronald was literally blown away by Tracey’s incredible
sensuality. Being a well-seasoned ladies man of 40, he had no idea there were still
tricks to be learned. Ever since then he wanted desperately to find out whether it
was truly him that ignited her fierce passion or the Chardonnay she downed like
water. For Ronald to come to her house insisting he was the father of her child was
too much. It was just too much. No way was she going to risk losing $1200 a month
child support to sooth a broke man’s sudden paternal ego. Whether or not he really
was her youngest child’s father was absolutely of no consequence. The most she
could receive from Ronald was maybe a third of what the married, assumed father
was doling out.
Although Ronald was an elementary school assistant principal, he struggled to
finance his exorbitant single lifestyle. A pent house and a pre-owned Maserati didn’t
provide much of an expendable income. Besides, his feelings for her were a big turn
off. She couldn’t stand him. He revealed the type of person he was that night two
and half years ago. A few hours of intimacy and three glasses of Hennessy had
apparently brought forth the true retched nature of this otherwise cordial, pleasant
individual.
“I hate working in these low income school districts,” Tracey remembered him
confessing. “After teaching for ten years in some of the worst schools, I decided to
become an assistant principal to have as little contact with those fatherless, at-risk
nigglets as possible.” A tight pinch formed in her stomach. At the time she had two
children without fathers, whom he apparently felt were bound for destruction, even
though she was herself a teacher and made sure her children were well cared for.
Ronald was treated by Tracey like a one-night stand from then on. She behaved,
essentially, as though he didn’t exist and enjoyed witnessing his on-going, painful
bewilderment. How could she not want him, one of the most eligible, sought after
bachelors in the classist, back-stabbing, backward, small city of Southtown? With
exceptional beauty and appeal like Tracey’s, this magnificent manipulation of her
current boss and ex-fling was simple.
SOUTHERN SCENE MAGAZINE