Feeling Some Type of Way Read online

  “Yes,” he answered, “instead of giving you fish, I want to teach you how to fish.”

  It makes sense. I’m very grateful to Ian. “Thank you for taking a chance on me.”

  “I don’t take chances on many people.” His eyes met mine again and I felt a shiver. “So when I do, it’ll be worthwhile.”

  This sucks. No, not the once in a lifetime opportunity with Ian. I mean, our relationship will forever be platonic. I’m pretty sure if I were quit now and surprise him with a, ‘Hey, let’s bone!’ he still wouldn’t. He seems like a guy once he makes a determination how our relationship will be, that’s that.

  I foresee many cold showers in my future.

  Six

  “You represent me so I want you to look like someone I hired,” Ian’s eyes swept over my body, “beginning with new clothing.”

  Ian eyed me like I was a piece of meat he was contemplating how much he wanted to pay for. Somehow, I think he already did that. “Next thing you’re going to tell me I need to do something with my hair,” I was prepared for it.

  “No, I love your hair. I love the curls and how they bring out your freckles across your cheeks.” He pulled out his Silk card and handed it to me. “I just want you to buy more presentable clothing.”

  I flickered the credit card in my hand as I tried to ignore the rush of feelings that coated my body. Ian was the only man who actually complimented my hair instead of trying to tell me how to straighten it. I don’t think I ever realized how badly I needed that compliment until now. “What’s my budget?”

  Ian softly shook his head. “There is none.”

  “You’re going to give a 21-year-old college student full access to your account and say have fun?”

  “You’re going to make me change my mind,” he warned.

  I was already out the door.

  I needed new clothes.

  Not just any new clothes. Not mall clothes. Not trendy boutique clothes. But Ferguson-worthy clothing.

  It was time to go shopping and spend some money. There was only one person I could call to help me with this. I could’ve asked Helen or Michelle, but I needed someone with a keen eye for fashion.

  It was time to call Adrienne.

  ~~~~~

  You need to understand something – Adrienne was born Adrian. He was my brother. She is my sister.

  It’s hard to explain what a transgendered person is or when they figured it out. I’m still not entirely sure, to be honest. All I knew is one day I came home early from school and I found Adrienne in my makeup. This is the part where I would say I was mortified and I was to an extent.

  I was also hella jealous that my sister knew how to beat her face better than I did.

  She calmly explained to me that day she always felt like a girl and was born in the wrong body. She knew very young, too, like before she even started puberty. But she tried in vain to convince me she was still the same ol’ Adrian and I had to call bullshit on that one.

  This is the part I’m supposed to say I was super supportive from the start and I accepted my sister as is with no questions asked. This is the part where honestly, I didn’t. I ashamed to say I was mortified and thought something mentally was wrong with Adrienne. I distanced myself from her for a while until I realized how silly it was and how judgmental of a prick I really was.

  We both agreed it would be our hidden secret and not to reveal anything to our parents. It wasn’t until one day Samuel came home early and found Adrienne modeling one of our mother’s dresses. Yeah, Adrienne got the whupping of her life that night.

  Adrienne also slashed her wrists immediately afterward.

  A hospital stay with a mandatory 5150 hold later, our parents thought Samuel needed to be tougher on her while our mother felt she could pray it away because that’s what many black women do instead of facing their problems and seek therapy. So, Adrienne became a star athlete. She excelled at basketball. She was great at football. Adrian was Mr. All-Star State Quarterback. Adrian had endless amounts of tail thrown at him.

  Adrian…liked to give head and wear women’s clothing as he did it.

  She received a full academic and athletic scholarship to Morehouse, where she graduated at the top of her class with a degree in business. And as she attended those classes, Adrienne wore knee-highs, a garter belt, with a matching thong underneath her khakis.

  My mother eventually accepted that’s how Adrienne was going to be. Once my mother knew she was dying, she decided life was too short for bullshit. Adrienne and our mother had a very close relationship until her death.

  Sam, however, never could accept Adrienne and still to this day, they have no relationship. Adrienne might as well have been dead to him.

  A few years ago, Sam wanted to make amends with Adrienne and invited her over for dinner. Adrian showed up in full makeup, a weave better than Beyonce’s, and a dress.

  Adrian became Adrienne.

  A huge fight broke out and Adrienne left for good. She and Sam hadn’t spoken in years. Even at our mother’s funeral, she rode in the limo and sat next to me, without casting a glance at Sam. She didn’t even attend Sam’s wedding or sent Christmas cards. I see her often and never tell Sam of her exploits or of our meetings together. The last thing I want to do is stir the pot.

  I’m not going to lie and say it’s not weird. We’re not a reality-show family with a sit-down with Diane Sawyer and Diana Ross’s “I’m Coming Out” softly playing in the background. My sister could be in real danger each time she leaves her townhome and given how she makes some of her money, I’m terrified.

  “I’m so glad you called me,” Adrienne spoke as she rode shotgun in my Audi. She’s dressed in four-inch heels, a jeans skirt, and an off the shoulder top. She looks gorgeous. “And I’m so glad you can finally dish on the man you’re boning.”

  I shook my head as I focused on traffic. “I’m not boning anyone and certainly not him.”

  “You’re still a virgin?” She asked and I nodded. “Good for you! Those are rare nowadays like VCRs.”

  “Don’t be a dick.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not waiting for marriage or even for the right guy. I just…I don’t know. Sex scares me.”

  “It is scary!” Adrienne replied. “It’s very scary. The first time. The last time. Hell, anytime!”

  Adrienne’s revelation leads to another thought in my head. It’s a touchy subject between the two of us and I hate bringing it up, but I need to. “Are you still a sex worker?”

  “How else am I going to pay bills?” Adrienne reapplied her lipstick. “Someone has to afford my lifestyle.”

  “You don’t have to sell ass to do it,” I know my request is ignored, but I always try to give her an alternative. “You can write books! You can sell art online!”

  “I do those,” she replied to me, “but tricking is fun.”

  “Okay, whatever.” I drop the argument and immediately the air is fresher inside the Audi. I know I’m not going to win this and honestly, I’m not sure if I want to. I know the type of men that are interested in my sister and I’m pretty sure none of them have true intentions for her welfare.

  I guess I have to hope for the best and pray against the worst.

  ~~~~~

  It’s one thing to walk down Rodeo Drive and window shop, daydreaming of the opportunity when you can go in and buy everything to your heart’s content.

  It’s another thing when it actually happens.

  As we bobbed and weaved in and out of stores, carrying a ton of bags, and racking up a ridiculous amount of money, I thought about Ian. I wondered what he was up to. What he was doing?

  Who he was with?

  I kept telling myself it didn’t matter and I really should stop caring. He looked at me as a friend and that’s it. Sometimes I wonder if I wasn’t broke, if Sam didn’t renege on his promise to help me, if I didn’t have to worry about school, if Ian would’ve approached me as a date instead?

  It ultimately didn’t matter. Regardless if nothi
ng ever happens between us, Ian saved my life in more ways than I can repay him. I’ll forever be grateful to him.

  As I stood in Neiman Marcus and tried on an outfit that suggested I might want to lay off the pizza and soda, I wondered how Ian was like as a boss. Maybe once I saw him in action, I wouldn’t have any more romantic feelings towards him. Something about Ian screamed he was a dick.

  Something inside me screamed I want to suck his dick.

  “Hurry up and let me see!” Adrienne knocked on the dressing room door.

  I opened and turned around to show her the outfit. “Well, what do you think?” Adrienne picked out a long, black Tom Ford dress with a curious slit that stopped mid-thigh. It wasn’t obscene but it was pretty sexy. She paired it with knee-high boots from Zoe D’Amato.

  “Very sexy!” Adrienne clapped and whistled. “I approve!”

  “I know you’d approve but I don’t know if he would.” I glanced at the dress in front of the mirror behind me. Wow, Ian’s money looked great on me.

  “Trust me, he’ll like it. We’re taking it. We’re also going to stop by the makeup counter and do something about your face.”

  “And what’s wrong with my face?” I scoffed.

  “Everything. Hurry up, let’s go!”

  After getting my face unrecognizably did, we headed over to Nic’s restaurant and bistro. Since Ian was paying for everything, I figured he would’ve treated us to a nice, expensive dinner also on his tab.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were struggling in school, Sister?” Adrienne badgered me over dinner.

  I shrugged off her concern. Truth was, I could’ve asked my sister for help. I also knew asking her for help also meant I would be supporting her turning tricks for it. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “You’re my sister! I would’ve done anything to help you, you know this!” Adrienne tsked at me. “Well, everything’s fine now. You have a sponsor and I think I just saw one of mine over in the corner.”

  “What?” I began to turn around and Adrienne slapped my arm, suggesting I don’t make a scene about it.

  “Yeah, that’s him. Him with his plastic wife with her plastic boobs and plastic face to match.” Adrienne shook her head. “She has no idea her husband could suck-start a 747.”

  “Ian’s not my sponsor, by the way.” I replied, ignoring the visuals Adrienne just placed in my head. “He’s not sleeping with me.”

  “Yet,” Adrienne smiled at whoever was giving her attention this time, “he’s going to cash in eventually.”

  “I doubt it. He had another woman at his penthouse when I arrived this morning.” I still couldn’t the image out of my head. It was early in the morning so clearly she’d spent the night. It was also clear they weren’t in a relationship. I had a feeling Ian’s cavalier attitude towards sex and relationships was going to be something I would eventually get used to. It wasn’t a mistake he wanted me to come to his place knowing he still had a guest.

  “That doesn’t mean shit,” Adrienne finally graced me with her attention, “if a man wants you, it doesn’t matter who he’s with, it doesn’t matter what he has going on in his life. He’ll do whatever he’ll can to be with you.” She took a bite of her steak. “Ian is just bidding his time.”

  “Bidding his time?” I questioned over a glass of sweet wine. “What does that mean?”

  “Oh my gosh, are you for real?” Adrienne set down her knife and fork. My sister is well aware I’ve never had sex, let alone have a boyfriend so she’s super shocked at how naïve I can be. Sometimes, my naïveté annoys the hell out of me. “Ian is cultivating you to what he wants you to be. Your clothing, your attitude, your lifestyle….this is him in the making. Once he feels he has exactly how he wants you, he’ll pursue you then.”

  I had a feeling that was going on. A part of me was apprehensive again while a big part of me was super excited. Maybe this is the just the little game Ian likes to play. But then it doesn’t explain how he practically kicked out Toothpick Tanya without giving her a second glance. “When will that be?”

  “You say the Fergusons are billionaires?” She asked and I nodded. “Don’t hold your breath for Ian. It’ll be a while.”

  Seven

  The Ferguson Gallery is one of the most prestigious art galleries in the world. Around two million walk through those doors every year and spend a lot of money to view the A-listers of the art world such as Haring, Basquiat, Van Gogh, and Picasso.

  It was also my new home.

  Truthfully, I don’t know jack squat about art. Art doesn’t really entice me like it would someone else. I could look at a painting, give a Kanye shrug before I move onto something else, and have a collective yawn. I’m just not into art.

  For this new job, I better be.

  Ian’s role at the Ferguson is he’s on the board of directors though it’s not entirely clear what he does day-to-day. Granted he doesn’t have to be here because he has two very busy and quite posh restaurants to run.

  Yet, somehow, Ian wants me here.

  Maybe he’s right about something. I’m sure he thinks a 21-year-old college student doesn’t need to be around any more liquor after our first encounter. Maybe me working here is his way of cultivating me into something he wants.

  And maybe I should stop fantasizing about someone who is not interested.

  The HR director immediately showed me around after I filled out tons of paperwork. We went up three stories and I saw everything I needed to know about the gallery. There was one full-service kitchen and two coffee bars. Two alcoholic bars served drinks after five during the weeknights and offered mimosas on Sundays.

  On the second floor, there was a break room strictly for staff and it was about the size of my apartment. It contained the fanciest coffee machines I’d ever seen. Several vending machines containing both junk and healthy food – I’m sure I’m going to avoid – aligned along the walls.

  I’m glad I took Adrienne’s advice and got some Dr. Scholl’s for my heels because I have a feeling my dogs are going to be screaming at me by the end of the night.

  “And here’s your office,” The HR director, said a woman by the name of Rose Black. Her name was fitting: she was an older woman with a slightly messy white bun and I get the feeling she always wears skirts that go just below the knee. In fact, she’s wearing one right now.

  She favored a magenta-colored lipstick that told me she’s worn that color for years and wasn’t about to change it for anyone, and kitten heels because apparently she realized on her first day as well, she wasn’t going to be traipsing around in five-inch stilettos like moi.

  Honestly, I wasn’t expecting my own office. I was expecting a desk or even a nicely-sized cubicle. So, you can imagine my shock when I entered my office and it was the size of my apartment bedroom. I have two large windows, a leather chair perched behind a slick wooden desk that’s probably pretty expensive.

  “You’ll have your own MacBook, iPad, and iPhone. I strongly suggest you use the iPhone for business purposes only as we monitor the phone logs.” Rose’s voice was stern like she was a former teacher or nun. She gave me ‘You have to go through me to get to Jesus’ vibes.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I softly replied and Rose shot me a look like I touched a nerve of hers. I guess she didn’t want to be reminded of her age and I can’t blame her.

  “You can call me Rose,” her face relaxed and the warmest smile appeared across it. Now she reminded me of someone’s grandma who always has those Werther’s candies in her purse. “Now, I’ll show you Ian’s office where you’ll spend a lot of time.”

  She led us through a small hallway and unlocked a door. If I thought my office was impressive, Ian’s office was spectacular. It was twice as big as mine and contained leather sofas, a small bar, and a large flat-screen TV.

  On a large wall next to his desk was an old, large map of England with little pinpoints in different cities such as Croydon, Richmond, and Bromley. In front of a sweeping view of Los Ange
les, was his large, glass desk. It was contemporary and simplistic, yet silently commanding.

  It was Ian.

  Rose finally turned to me. “Do you have any questions?”

  “I have a ton,” I looked at her, “I still don’t understand what Ian does other than being a restaurateur. I guess it makes sense he has a main office here but what is exactly my position if he’s usually at one of his restaurants?”

  “You’re his assistant,” Rose answered the question as if she was annoyed by it. I’m not sure if she was annoyed with me, Ian, or both. “While you’ll work for Ian, you’ll also assist any other member of the Ferguson family as needed. They’re very low-maintenance and I doubt they’ll need much of you. I do suggest you get to know every piece of art in this facility so when someone asks you a question about it, you can answer it.”