The Family Business 3(80)
“I don’t feel comfortable about this,” she said, nervously wrapping her hand around my shaft, peering over the old van’s cracked and faded dashboard. I’d parked us in the corner of the lot, away from anyone else, which gave us some privacy.
“Nah. You’re good. Keep going,” I replied to my fiancée, Donna, coaxing her to get back to business. Besides, I was still doing the air trumpet to Kool and the Gang. Get down, get down. Get down, get down.
I planned to drop Donna off at home after class, but she promised me something special if I let her tag along. I knew that the reason she wanted to come along was because she didn’t trust my brother’s influence and wanted to mark her territory and remind him that I was taken and not free to cat around like him. Not that I would have even looked at another girl, because my brother and I were cut from an entirely different cloth.
Shoot, I felt lucky that a girl like Donna had even given me a second look. She was nothing like the girls I had grown up knowing. For one, she was really classy. Donna’s father was a doctor, and she came from three generations of college-educated professionals. Her father graduated from Morehouse, and her mother from Spellman. In my family, I was the only one that had graduated from high school, and now I was in my third year of college.
Donna and I met in high school, and she was adamant that she could not even consider a guy who didn’t have college in his future. Instead of admitting that I had never thought about higher education, I buckled down and set myself on track to be the kind of man that she could see herself with. Thanks to Donna, I had become a better man, and I loved her for it.
“Ouch!” I yelped as her hands suddenly felt like sandpaper on my dick. “Put your mouth on it. It’s too dry,” I said, trying to convince her to do a brother a solid.
“I’m not going to do that, and certainly not in a parking lot,” she said, rolling her eyes at me like I had lost my mind.
“Baby, please, just put your mouth on it to get it wet,” I pleaded with her. The look she gave me had me regretting saying anything.
“I would never disgrace my family name by acting like some low-rent tramp. My parents would disown me,” she shot at me. But I was too far down the road to cut my losses.
“Donna, I love you. And I need you,” I cooed, hoping to get her back in a loving mood.
“LC, I know the kinds of girls you’re used to, but most of them don’t know the names of they babies’ fathers. How dare you try to put me in the same category as the kind of girls that do that.” She gave me a look of absolute disgust before continuing. “So if you want me to be like them, then I suggest that you go find you one of them.” She slid away from me, real upset. Shit! I had gone too far. I put myself back in my pants and tried to comfort her.
“I am so sorry. I would never want you to feel that way. You are everything that I want in a woman. You’re my dream. Please don’t be mad at me.” I gave her my puppy-dog-trapped-in-the-doghouse face, hoping she’d forgive me. Thankfully, she broke out into a smile, and my heart felt a hundred pounds lighter.
Within minutes we were laughing and cracking jokes, and though that felt good, a blowjob would have felt so much better. I hoped that after we got married Donna would feel more comfortable and give a brother some head, but I knew better than to say anything about that. Hopefully, she’d be up to it later, and that meant sex without any extras. Loving Donna taught me that you can’t expect everything, and so I reminded myself I was lucky for what I had—and that was a good woman.
By my guess, my brother Lou’s bus was thirty minutes late to the Trailways station on the edge of town where we waited. My boss, Mr. Mixon, was gonna have something to say about my being late to work—especially this late—and also for taking his van to run the errand. But I’d smooth things over; I always did. Besides, where else he could get someone who catered to the customer like me and who worked so cheap? My business acumen and hard work made me “invaluable and indispensable,” as my professor at Hillcroft College—the tiny historically black school that catered to the area’s underserved “colored folk”—would say.
It was another thirty minutes before the bus that bore Lou pulled into the station. Things never ran on time around here, and I’m surprised Lou put up with the hassle, since he had a car. It was a super bad Chevy Monte Carlo with a tricked-out V-8 he wouldn’t let anyone else touch, even though I was the one who painted it for him and made sure it ran so well. His trips up to New York were the rare occasions when he didn’t want to attract attention, and with good reason. Of my two brothers, I was the only one who had chosen to walk the straight and narrow.
By the time Lou stepped off the bus and onto the gravel outside the station, Donna had already blown me off . . . literally, leaving me in a mellow mood. I would need it once my brother’s mouth started running. Let’s just say that he and Donna were not each other’s favorite people. Only thing that they had in common was me.
I exited the van, telling Donna to remain inside, then walked over to meet Lou. I wanted to prep him to be nice to her and to not get pissed that I had brought her along. Outside the bus, the smell of diesel fumes clung heavy in the air, reminding me of my job back at Mixon’s service station and garage. My brother and I slapped hands, giving each other five, followed by the “black hand side” before sharing a hug.