Trust Fund Baby ~ 30 A Satire

Chapter 30

I followed J to the Toyota and walked to the driver’s side to open her door. My love offensive was in full throttle. I opened the driver’s door, J slid in and looked up at me, “You can close my door and get in. And, thank you.”

“It was the first time she thanked me. I wanted to do cartwheels around the Toyota to the passenger side. The only thing preventing me from doing cartwheels is that I don’t know how to do them. So I settled for a fist pump. My team still had a chance. I got in, buckled my seatbelt, and said “Let’s go to the airport, head to Vegas and get married, and have honeymoon sex in a poolside cabana.”

J half turned toward me, “The next time you ask me to have sex with you I am going to grab hold of both of your big ears and rip them off your head. You don’t need them since you don’t listen to me. You only listen to your mother. I never met her, but if she is anything like the haggard bitch on my wall, I feel sorry for you.”

J’s understanding of my rough deprived childhood was a signal to my immature male mind that soon our bodies would joined as one, perhaps as soon as this evening. It was time to ratchet it up a couple of notches. I said, “I think it’s important for couples who are going to be intimate to be able to talk about sex. Don’t you?”

“We’re not intimate. Get it? Whatever your fantasy, we are not intimate, we are not going to be intimate?”

J’s anger was my aphrodisiac. I was so turned on, my dials were popping off. I searched the storehouse of my stored memories on how to seduce a woman. I kept coming up blank since I wasn’t at a bar. While I was sitting speechless, J started the Toyota and pulled out of the parking lot. 

My conscience interrupted me, “You want to listen to me or are you going to throw me out?”

“How do I get J to come home with me tonight. I can’t stand being without her.”

“You want sex without a commitment. You want sex without marriage.”

“What’s wrong with that?” I asked my conscience.

“If you really love J, and I have my doubts, I’ll give you advice. I’ll only give it to you if you promise me you will follow through on it.”

“What if I say I will follow through and then don’t follow through? You can’t hurt me. I got more money than you. You’re not connected with the mob or a gang, are you?” I asked. 

 “Fair warning, if you cross me, watch out.”

“Does that mean I’ll get hemorrhoids? I hate hemorrhoids. I had them once and the only good thing about them was Mother made Natalie insert my suppositories.”

“I know. Let’s not get into a discussion about your Mother. Sarah has her hands full with her and she’s begging for additional resources,” said my conscience.

“Mother has a conscience? I would have never guessed,” I said.

“She has one, but she’s never used it. I shouldn’t be telling tales out of the school. Sarah’s the low conscience on the totem poll. She doesn’t have enough seniority to bump any of us off. I need to meet with my support group, you going to take my advice or not?”

“No, you scare me,” I said.

“You’re on your own, kid. I can’t get a sub, no one wants to work with you. I’ll pick up the pieces when I get back.”

“Your lips keep moving. Who are you talking to?” asked J.

“You don’t want to know,” I said.

“Are you okay? Are you cracking up? Normal people don’t talk to nobody.”

“I didn’t start the conversation, he did,” I said.

“So, you were talking to someone,” said J.

I needed to change the subject. The last thing I wanted to do was to tell J I didn’t take my conscience’s advice. Given her high moral standards, that would be a sure turn off. Instead, I said, “Give me a good reason why you won’t marry me?”

“You want a good reason? I got so many it’s hard to choose the best one. How’s that for a reason?” said J. 

“Watch how you’re driving. You almost hit that guy with a squeegee and water spray bottle. That’s not a good reason. That sounds like something somebody in the group might say,” I said amazed at my reasoning. 

J hit the breaks and skidded to a stop at a red light. “Don’t make eye contact with anyone. Stare straight ahead.”

We both stared straight ahead. I dared move my eyes slightly to the right, but kept facing forward. I’d never seen people like this. Dickens would have described them as urchins or beggars. Mother might describe them as disgusting, lazy, and burdens on the backs of filthy rich people. I didn’t see anyone who might make the cover of GQ or Glamour. They’re carrying signs asking for money. The only people I’ve seen ask for money have been hedge fund investors, stock brokers, and people running for office. The light turned green, J pressed hard on the accelerator and got through the intersection. 

She said, “Okay, I’ll give you a reason. You never asked me to go out on a date. You asked me to get married. You asked me to have sex. You never asked me to go out on a date.”

A date? Wasn’t that a dried fruit? Going out for dinner and expecting to have sex after dinner is not a date? I need some help here. ‘Hey, conscience, where are you?’ I asked and received no answer. I was on my own and I was watching the only woman in the world who mattered to me slowly walk out of my life. I needed a lifeline. I needed to phone a friend. I needed to look on someone’s paper and copy the correct answer. 

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Trust Fund Baby ~ 29 A Satire

Chapter 29

When J ordered our drinks, I was hoping for a Bordeaux or Pinot Noir. What I got was a choice of Bud, Bud Light, or iced tea. Okay, I’m a snob, I only drink imported or locally brewed outrageously expensive beers. I didn’t dare ask for Perrier or a Pellegrino. If I asked for water, I’m sure it’d be tap water. I’ve never as much washed my hands in tap water. Mother said tap water is for the masses, not for the privileged. I ended up saying surprise me. 

When I explained all the perks of being filthy rich to J, her desire for me, my body, and my wealth would kick in and she’d be mine. I was aware I was in hostile territory. I had to downplay my riches and uppity attitude, and only use my wit and charm to win my fiery black opal. 

J was about to say something. I held up my hand to prevent her from saying something I knew she’d regret like let’s walk out of here and check into a motel and have sex. I wanted her to keep her self respect. We can have sex after lunch. I said, “You can count on me being faithful to you all my life. Although, the Sanderstuffs have great DNA and I’ll probably outlive you by twenty years. Will you mind if I get remarried after you die?”

There were three men sitting at the table to my right. Two were holding large beef ribs in their hands. They turned toward J and me. The other man, was sipping an iced tea and started coughing. He must has swallowed a seed from the lemon. On my left, there was a woman who could play linebacker for any of the pro teams and a guy in bib overalls covered with grease smears. I caught a glimpse of her tapping him on his forearm and nodding her head toward us. I turned a bit toward them and gave the woman my charming smile. I only hoped it didn’t make her become obsessed with me. 

J spoke up, “I don’t know where to begin. Didn’t you go to school? Didn’t you learn anything about relating to another human being? You don’t know anything about me. How old was the ugly bitch who hangs on the wall in my office when she died?”

I knew right away the ugly bitch J was referencing could be no other than Grandmother Houston. She had the face of a prune, the eyes of a hungry wolf, and the body of a starving coyote. I proudly said, “The ugly bitch outlived her husband by ten years. She died when she was ninety one. Everyone wanted her to die sooner because she had a temper worse than a chef who can’t find his garlic press. “

J waited until our server brought our drinks. We both had iced teas in plastic glasses big enough to quench the thirst of four adults. Our iced teas were as dark as the people in the restaurant. J watched me hold the iced up toward the light to gauge its quality. She said, “Drink it. Ask for a refill and don’t say a word. Not one word. Not one grimace. Not one snarky comment. Did I cover it?”

I love this about J. She is helping me to practice my social graces with the undesirables. I can’t wait to tell Mother how the undesirables eat and what they drink. I hope Mother has an aneurysm. Not fatal, but one where she will give me power of attorney. J interrupted my thoughts. She said, “For the eighth time, we are not going to get married. We are not going to date. I am not going to be your lover. I will not be your mistress. And, I will not have your children.”

The plus size woman from the table next to us said, “You go girl.”

J smiled at her, then looked at me. I said, “I love you. Will you marry me. I will make you the happiest woman in the world.”

The guy at the table with the plus size woman jumped in, “That’s it rich white dude, don’t quit. Fight for the woman you love.”

“You watch your mouth. He’s a white boy. He don’t know how to love a black woman like a black man knows how to love a black woman.”

I turned my attention away from J for a moment and said, “I am so sure I will be faithful to J and never, never as much as flirt with another woman that I’ll sign a prenup giving J five million dollars and a life membership to the country club.” I said the wrong thing. As soon as I mentioned five million, fifty-six black heads all turned toward me. J kicked me under the table. I recovered quickly, “That’s if I hit Powerball.”

The room broke into laughter. I felt relieved. J whispered, “I’m impressed with the quick comeback.”

The fully figured black woman wasn’t through with me. She said, “If you ain’t that rich, what makes you think you gonna be faithful to her. Tell me that one and don’t give me any white boy talk.”

I turned toward her and said, “You want to know why I’m sure. You sure you want to know why I’m sure?”

“I’m sure,” she said.

I didn’t know. The only thought in my mind was something I heard in college at a frat party. I said, “Once you try black, you never go back.”

The black male with the fully figured woman said, “You damn right.”

“You mind your own business,” said the fully figured woman to her companion. 

J stood up, grabbed my arm and said, “Let’s go before you get killed and I develop a guilty conscience. What was I thinking, thinking you knew how to act in public.”

J didn’t wait for me. She was headed out of Harvey’s as if the place was on fire. I knew she was overcome with emotion at my level of commitment. Most men, according the men’s magazines I read report that men have tough time with commitment. Not me. Once I met J, my heart stood still. I know I’m name dropping song titles, but I’m a fool in love. When I got to the door, J was half way to the Toyota. I hollered, “Stop in the name of love.”

J stopped and turned around, she said, “What!”

I kept walking toward her. When I reached her, I said, “I plead guilty by reason of being so deeply in love with you I don’t know what I’m doing. If love can cause insanity. Then I’m, guilty, guilty, guilty.”

“Oh, sweet Jesus, please help me,” pleaded J.

Trust Fund Baby ~ 28 A Satire

Chapter 28 

J led me into Harvey’s Huge Hamburgers. I stopped behind J. We stood at the back of line next to the door. My olfactory sense was in danger of short circuiting. No food I’ve ever smelled, smelled like this. I was sure it wasn’t lemony roasted broccoli with parmesan. Or, maple ginger roasted vegetables with pecans. And, I was sure Victor wasn’t the chef. If Victor were here he’d thrown himself onto his carving knife. I tapped J on the shoulder, “All I want is baked salmon on a field of wild greens. I eat light at lunch.” 

J half turned her head toward me and gave me a ‘say what’ look. It was a look I’d become used to. I’m quick on my my feet and recovered from my cuisine faux pax, “I was only kidding.”

J gave me a pretend smile. It was the first time I paid attention to her beautiful white teeth. I said, “Who did your veneers, great job?”

Three men, obviously workers turned and stared at me. J turned and looked at them, “He’s a filthy rich white boy who needs to eat something real.”

The four of them started laughing and did a set of complicated hand and arm movements. I’m sure J was in a gang when she was younger and these three men were part of the gang. No wonder she knows so much about gangbangers. 

  I stared at the back of J’s head. My impulse to kiss her neck and nibble on her ear was overridden by the knowledge that everyone in the restaurant but me was black. Was this a movie about some place in Africa? Were they all extras or crew or workers? I tapped J on the shoulder, “Are they filming a story about your people?”

J half turned toward me, “Double M, do not speak unless I give you permission to speak. I feel a responsibility to have you see how the rest of the world lives. This is not a movie or a movie set. These are people who live and work around here. These people are no more my people than all filthy rich people are your people.”

“I’ve never seen so many black people in one place in my life.” I said.

“I am one of them, if you haven’t noticed,” said J.

I stared at J for a moment and said, “No, you are the soft color of coffee and cream. You are a sweet caramel. You are my delicious milk chocolate. Technically, you may be black, but I only see a love aura. Kiss me.”

J interrupted my honey glazed description of her, “Are you nuts? Read the menu, it’s right up there on the wall behind the counter. Don’t act like a fool when it’s your turn to order.”

“What’s a fried pickle? I don’t understand pulled pork, is it meat? Can I ask if they have salmon and arugula?” I asked.

J turned toward me, grasped my right bicep with her left hand. Her touch sent shivers through my entire body. I did not want to become sexually aroused while standing in line. If J started stroking my arm and whispering sweet things to me my libido would head to the front of the line. I avoided looking into her eyes. If I did, there is no telling what effect it would have on my body.

J said, “Double M, let me order for you. If Harvey asks to shake your hand, shake it. Do not look for a napkin or wipe your hands on your pants. Do not open your mouth. Do not ask a question. If you do, I will slam my fist into a place on your body that will make you keel over in intense pain. There will be nothing sexual about what I will do.”

“Are you telling me you will hit me in the nuts?” I said attempting to clarify J’s comment.

Before J could answer, she withdrew her hand from my bicep and turned toward the biggest black or white or brown or yellow or red man I’ve ever seen in my life. His dark chocolate bald head glistened with beads of sweat. He had a dark mustache and wore a gold earring, His white apron looked like it hadn’t been washed in two weeks. Grease spots covered it as if they were dots on a road map. There was an Omega symbol branded into his right bicep. The thought of it quashed my libido and sent shivers down my spine. It must have been a fraternity initiation where he went to college I surmised. Too bad he didn’t join my fraternity where initiation was all about how many beers you could drink before you vomited.  I made a mental note to ask J if she’d ever been branded or had any tattoos that I should know about before we spent the night together.

The big bald black man spoke, “My, my if it isn’t the most delicious piece of chocolate pie I’ve seen in a while. How are you my beautiful J?”

An ex, I thought. If he got fresh with J, I wondered if I could take him. I took Karate as a seven year old. I stopped after earning a green belt. It was enough to intimidate my friend Jason who was into reading and a year younger than me. It was a no brainer, J. I didn’t think too long, J was on her own. She’s has a strong grip. I have bruises on my bicep to prove it. I will take a photo of the bruises as proof she loves me.

J spoke, “Harvey, if you weren’t married to Lorraine, I’d have a run at you.”

Wait a minute.  What about having a run at me? I’m available. I won’t resist. I give in easily. So, this was Harvey. J probably dumped him when she left the gang. She was hoping I’d turn up in her future. She might have visions others don’t have. Once we’re married, this will be helpful in predicting the ups and downs of the stock market. 

“Who’s your friend?” asked Harvey nodding toward me.

J half turned toward me and said, “This is Marty, he’s a colleague. He asked me who makes the best burgers in the city. I said there is only one answer, Harvey.”

Harvey stepped around the counter and thrust his hand toward me. I took it and saw my hand disappear into his palm. Good Lord, he’s strong. I pump iron, not a lot, but enough to keep toned to impress the ladies. 

Harvey said, “Good to meet you, Marty. Any friend of J’s is welcome here.”

I didn’t know if I was supposed to say something. I took a chance hoping if I said the right combination of words Harvey would stopped pumping my hand and release it before the bones in my hand gave way. I said, “J said you made the best fried pickles in the world.”

Harvey let go of my hand and glanced toward J, “I’m going to put an extra two fried pickles on both your orders. You should have told me they’re a favorite.”

J started laughing, “You know how you do fried chicken for your special customers but don’t put it on the wall. We want two plates of it along with Harvey’s extra spicy barbecue sauce. The kind you get all over your fingers.”

Harvey gave a wide, gold toothed grin and said, “It’s on the house, J. Nice meeting you, Marlin.”

I smiled nodded. I was about to say, “Nice meeting you, Harold,” when J pulled me away. 

She whispered, “I don’t know what you were about to say, but it would not have ended good for you. I hate fried pickles, but you are going to eat four of them. I will not embarrass Harvey. We go way back.”

“Was he a lover?” I asked.

J stopped and looked at me, “What is wrong with you? You are not normal. No normal man stops a woman in a lunch line and says what you said.”

I smiled at J. I took this as a compliment, “Mother would agree. She always said the Sanderstuffs are not like normal people.”

J didn’t answer. She grabbed a thin metal stick with the number 18 on it and carried it to a table. I docilely followed. I wanted to make up for the faux pax I committed and skirted around her to pull out her chair. She turned a bit toward me, “Thank you. Now sit down and when the wait staff comes ask for iced tea or water. The iced tea can be sweetened or unsweetened. Can you handle that?”

I quickly glanced around our table. I was the white chalk dot on the blackboard. I sat down. There was a half empty bottle of ketchup, salt and pepper in small paper containers, a plastic container of French’s Mustard with mustard crusted down the sides. There was can with plastic knifes, forks, and spoons in it. And, there was a container that held paper napkins. Only one side was full. The other side empty. A small wire basket help packets of sugar and artificial sweetener. I looked up into J’s beautiful eyes and said, “It’s too complicated. Will you order for me.”

“Oh for God’s sake. Can’t you do anything on your own?”

“Honestly? No. It’s why I need you to be my lover, my mistress, my wife, the mother of our children.”

I thought J was going to hyperventilate. Fortunately, she got control of herself and said, We’ve got to talk.”

Trust Fund Baby ~ 26 A Satire

Chapter 26

J said she would drive to the restaurant, which was good, since Oscar drove me to work. I like Oscar. I’m a bit concerned that Mother’s daily massages are too much for a Latin stud like Oscar. He’s lost weight and is popping blue pills like they’re candy. I wonder why Father doesn’t use the blue pills. Maybe he does. Maybe that’s why he spends every Tuesday and Wednesday with his secretary, Noreen at the family condo overlooking the bay. Mother doesn’t mention Oscar and Father doesn’t mention Noreen.

When J and I reached the lobby of the Loomis Building I started walking toward the valet station. 

J yanked on my sleeve and said, “This way.”

This way? Where was she taking me? I’ve never been this way or that way for that matter when I need my parked car. It is the reason God made valets. Mother said valets are like drone bees. The only useful purpose they serve is to park cars. 

I walked next to my black angel, my life’s partner, soon to be my mistress and my lover and a bit later, my wife. We walked through a corridor and came to a door with a sign above it reading, Parking Garage. I’d never heard of a parking garage. Is this a place where lovers come and park their cars and sit in the back seat and make out and then have back seat sex? I’ve heard about it. I didn’t know the idea was commercialized. If it is a public commodity, I want to buy its stock. 

J stopped in front of an elevator. She pushed the up elevator button. We stood and waited. The elevator appeared stuck at the sixth floor. I wanted to start a meaningful conversation and impress J that am a serious dude. I said, “Do they have condom machines on each level for the parkers?”

J turned toward me and said, “Say what?”

I was sure her mind was thinking about our forthcoming wedding and she wasn’t paying attention to me. I repeated my question, “Do they have condom machines on each level for the parkers?” I upgraded my comment by adding, I’ve never had an STD, you don’t have to worry about it.”

She turned towards me, hands placed on either hip. Her head cocked slightly to the left. She leaned a bit toward me. I couldn’t tell if she was going to attack me or initiate a passionate kiss. Something made her stop mid movement. She said, “You’ve never been in a parking garage, have you?”

I answered quickly, “It’s a relatively new concept. Do you know if anyone has a trademark on the concept? If not, I’m going to tell Father tonight to grab it before it gets away.”

J slowly turned back to face the closed elevator door. Her eyes lifted to the lit up numbers above the elevator door. The elevator car was now on nine and moving through the countdown. She mumbled, “I really need a life. There has got to be something better than babysitting a thirty-three year old filthy rich, spoiled mama’s boy. Dear Lord please open a door for me..”

“Were you speaking to me?” I asked.

J’s prayers were answered, the elevator door opened. Carlos pushed his custodial cart through the door. It hit the back wall of the elevator cab and bounced forward a foot before coming to rest. He saw J before he saw me and they kissed each other on both cheeks. What about me? I deserve kisses on both cheeks,, but not from Carlos, but from my delicious mocha colored woman. A sudden bolt of fear raced through me, Was J a virgin?. I have to ask her. Maybe she is a virgin and saving herself for the right man. Here I am, my mind screamed. Take hold of her, show her how much you love her.

“Stop it right there, Double M,” said my conscience.

“Why do you show up at all the wrong times? Get lost.”

“No can do. I’m working twenty-four seven with you. I don’t get a break. Consider yourself in conscience boot camp.”

Carlos peered around J and saw me, “Hey Double M. What’s up man?”

I said, “Hi Carlos. J and me are going to lunch. We’re going to talk about our forthcoming wedding.”

“You the man. I don’t think any man, man enough to get this woman. She is something else. You going to invite the old gang to come to the wedding? I think most of them probably still have open arrest warrants or they on death row waiting for their appeals to run out before they’re executed.”

The elevator stopped at the 4th floor before I could answer Carlos. J pushed the open door button and stared at Carlos and me. She acted like she was attending a local actor’s guild play with two characters who’ve never acted in their lives. She glanced at Carlos and said, “Don’t buy a wedding gift, and don’t watch the mail for an invitation.” Then she look at me, “C’mon Double M, let’s have lunch with the gang.”

My heart beat to a drum solo. Ed Sheeran sang a love song in my ears, my Venus protected my gangbanger cover with Carlos. Only a woman madly in love with her man will make a lie sound like the truth. She’ll fit in perfectly with Mother. 

Trust Fund Baby ~ 25 A Satire

Chapter 25 

There, I let it out. I poured my guts out to complete strangers. I don’t want to know any of them with the exception of Amber and that will only be for an occasional night with no commitment. Jill’s a possibility, but that would only occur if Amber wasn’t available. What am I doing letting these thoughts run around in my mind when the woman I love with all my heart is ten feet away sitting next to The Sage with a bemused smile.

Amber raised her hand and glanced toward J, “I have no clue who you are talking about. I   think she’s frigid. I’m not frigid. You are the hottest, sexiest doctor I’ve ever wanted to have.”

J’s spoke in a tone a feral cat might make before it attacks a rat, “She is not frigid.”

I had to partially agree with Amber. The opposite sex almost uniformly consider me a sex object. 

“How do you know this?” my conscience interrupted.

“Intuition,” I said. “Leave me alone. I like the direction the group is taking.”

“Doctor Sanderstuff? Doctor Sanderstuff?”

“Yes, The?” I acknowledged the Sage by his first name. I wanted to show the group my sensitive side. 

The Sage pulled his lanky, six feet three inch frame erect. I said, “Before you say anything, you look like hell. Are you on a starvation diet? I’ve seen better looking specimens standing on street corners holding signs that say, I’m honest. I need money for booze. Please help me.”

“I resent that, Doctor Sanderstuff. I am a vegan. I have the healthiest diet on the planet. You would look as good as me if you ate like me.”

The group started laughing and so did I. I don’t think a psychologist is supposed to laugh at patients. I think that kind of thinking is why psychologists get bad press. I said, “I think it’s pronounced vay gan.”

“It is not. It is pronounced the way I said it, vee gan. I’m tired of this argument. I have it all the time. I think I can help you win over your woman.”

“Don’t go there,” said Amber with an edge to her voice.

J patted The Sage on the back, “Go there. This will be interesting.”

“Is she part of our group? Is she on work release from the state prison?” asked Amber.

“Who are you referring to?” I asked Amber knowing who she was referring to, but I wanted to hear J’s voice. It is like the angels singing. Her voice is the song in my heart. It is the melody in my mind. 

“Her,” said Amber pointing at J.

“I hope that finger is not pointing at me, because if it is, I might get up and walk over to you and break it,” said J.

I needed to break the tension between the two women who are fighting over me. It’s a terrible burden to carry, being loved by two women and not being able to let go of either one. I said,  “I’m getting bored The. What’s your advice?”

The Sage gave Amber a smirk, then turned toward me and said, “Have you considered asking this beautiful woman to meet you at a coffee shop and asking her to tell you her story? Personally,  I like to ask a woman on a first date to go to a farmer’s market with me.”

Tito and Prince started laughing and giving each other  high fives. Then Jill said, “I think The is still a virgin. Tell me if I’m wrong, The.”

“I’m waiting for the right woman,” said The.

“Good luck with that one,” said Prince who fell off his chair and rolled onto the floor, the laughter spilling out of him like a river overflowing a dam after a torrential rains.

“You’re losing control of the group. I warned you this was a bad idea,” said my conscience.

“Get lost,” I said. Then I spoke to the group, “I am a Sanderstuff. I am a filthy rich, white man who has never worked a day in his life until this week. I will always be rich and I can buy everything but the woman I love.”  

“I’m available,” said Amber.

“Most men know that,” chimed in J.

“Meow,” said Tito trying to sound like cat fight.

“Man, what’s else could this woman want?” asked Tito trying his best to sound like a Latino but not coming close.

“I don’t know. I’m confused. I’ve never been in love before. All the women I’ve known wanted to be with me because I’m filthy rich.”

“What’s wrong with that?” asked Amber giving me her sexiest pout. I’m wondering if I should ask her for cell phone number. I also wondered if the half way prison house allowed conjugal sex.

“Don’t go there,” said my conscience.

“I thought I told you to get lost,” I said.

“Me?” asked The.

“I was thinking out loud,” I said. Then I added, “I’m having a breakthrough. I should have recorded this session to send to the American Psychological Association. Maybe I can get Mother to write a paper about it, with my name as author and I can present it at their next annual meeting.”

The group broke into applause. Prince stood and said, “Bravo.” The rest of the group joined in the bravo chorus.

J spoke with a staccato beat, “What’s the breakthrough?”

“Glad you asked,” I said. “I’ve slept with lots of woman, but I’ve never been in love. I don’t know how to love. I think I’m in love and it’s driving me crazy. I don’t know how to do it.”

J stood up, “Group’s over.” She wore a look that a Marine drill sergeant would envy. My sweet and sassy ebony angel could tell I was emotionally exhausted and the only thing to save me was her love.

Tito was the last member out and he closed the door behind him. I smiled at J and said, “How did I do?”

“We’ve got to talk. I’ll have lunch with you, but I choose the place.”

“Can I hug you. You made me the happiest man in the world. I’ll buy the wine. We’ll make an afternoon out of it and I’ll introduce you to Mother and Father tonight. We’ll soak in my tub. I’ll have Nicole bring us wine and light scented candles to set the mood for our first night.”

“No. No. No. Keep your hands off me. We are not going to have wine. We are not going to hang out together after lunch. I do not want to meet your Mother and Father. We are not going to soak together. We are going to talk, that’s all. Go to the bathroom and freshen up. You look a mess,” said J. 

I caught a hint of a smile on her face as she turned and walked toward the door.

Trust Fund Baby ~ 24 A Satire

Chapter 24

“You don’t have a clue what you’re doing. Do you?” asked my conscience.

“No. Should I?” I responded. “This is my group. Leave me alone. I’ll fake it to make it. Besides, they’re here for my charm, wit, personality, and animal magnetism.”

“I need a break,” said my conscience.

I watched Jill unbuttoning her blouse and stopping just above her navel after J left the room. Personally, I’ve never really cared for plums. I’ll take a plum if it’s all I can get. Before I made that decision, I glanced at the door to the reception area. J left it ajar when she left.. J was listening to every word. “C’mon, Martin, get your head into the game, this could be your last chance to break down J’s love barrier.” I said to myself. I forgot what I was doing here. I had a plan and if slipped away like the morning dew.

My mind works in a funny way. It’s kind of like a butterfly. It flits from one idea to the next, it doesn’t hang around too long with any idea. I like to think I have a lot of interests. A former girlfriend told me I didn’t have depth.

“She’s right,” offered my conscience.

I’ve got to Google how to shut off my conscience. It is becoming a nuisance.

“You’re back? I thought you needed a break.”

“Why don’t you give me a name? I’d like to be on a first name basis with my clients.”

“You’re a conscience for more than one person?” I asked.

“I’ve been given a temporary leave from other ten people while I deal full time with you. I have to breakdown what you thought was your conscience and start new. Work is hell.”

“That’s what I tell everybody. I glad we agree on something. Any ideas on how I should handle class?”

“Try going into your short term memory. Didn’t you tell J and let me quote, “This one’s for you Babe?”

“I did. But I didn’t know what I saying. I was following Uncle Jeffrey’s advice, if it feels right, it is right.”

“I’ve been at this conscience gig for centuries. You’d think I’d know where to begin. I need some professional advice on this one.”

“Good idea. Leave me alone. I’ll wing it.”

“Doctor Sutherland?”

“Yes, Tito?”

“Who were you talking to? We only heard one voice.”

I didn’t realize the conversation I was having with my conscience was loud enough for the group to hear. I remember Mother’s advice as she walked me to my BMW this morning, “Martin always be assertive, it’s a good way to make people think you know what you’re doing when you don’t know what you’re doing. I only tell you this because your Feathering DNA is not pure. You have Sanderstuff DNA as well. Who knows how bad it was tainted by the surrogate mother we used to carry you to termination. She was the best we could do on a short notice.”

I’ve really got to find my surrogate mother. Maybe she was where I got my conscience. I’m sure of it. I’ve not known anyone on either side of the family to show any compassion or passion for that matter. I had to drop the thought, I had five sets of eyes staring at me. I said, “Of course I was having a conversation. I was communicating with the famous psychologist, Carl Jung.”

“Isn’t he dead?” asked Prince.

“He’s only dead if you think he’s dead. That’s why you can’t see him,” I said. Wow. I thought of this on the spot. It is a rare gem. One I can use again and again. “You thought he was dead, so he was dead to you. You all see where I am going?” 

I heard the laughter begin in the reception room. J must be watching comic videos on her computer. 

“That’s deep, really deep,” said The Sage.

I caught an arm waving out of the corner of my eye. I’m one to answer any question when it comes from Amber. I said, “You must be hot in that outfit.”

“I’m hot, very hot,” said Amber.

“Watch where you are walking girl. You are on a tightrope and you might lose your balance,” said J’s voice from the reception room.

I’m filled with happiness when J protects me because she is practicing bonding. I know she wants to be closer to me than green on money. But, I thought, why not give the girl a little rope and see where she goes. Why not let her express herself and fulfill her carnal desires. Who am I to judge.

J’s voice, “Pull your sweatshirt down or I’ll use it to drag you out of group.”

How does she know this stuff? I don’t know what she’s doing. I know she’s not peeking in here. I didn’t see any hidden cameras. I’ve got to ask her. Maybe she has a sixth or seventh sense. My conscience did say I said, “This one’s for you Babe, so here goes.”

I held my hand to signal the group. I’m not quite sure how the group might interpret my visual sign so I hurriedly said, “Group, I’m tired of listening to your problems. That’s all we done for the past two days. All I hear is blah, blah this and blah blah that. You’re boring. You make me want to fall asleep. There has to be more to life than leading this group, which brings me to my point. Today’s group session is all about me. I’m sucking wind. I’m walking on a tightrope and losing my balance. I standing at the edge of cliff and a gale wind is blowing at my back.”

J’s voice came from the reception area, “Enough with the metaphors. Get on with the stand up comedy.”

“I’ll save you from falling, Doctor Sanderstuff. Can I hold you and press your body to mine?” asked Amber.

This was a fantastic idea. J chimed in before I could respond, “You leave that seat girl, you won’t be able to sit down for a week.”

Amber turned her head toward the door and stuck her tongue out. 

“I know what you did, pull your tongue back in your mouth, you’re not auditioning for Dr. Sanderstuff. And, don’t think I don’t know if you flash him.”

J understands how helpless I am. She knows I’d be putty in Amber’s hands. I smiled at the group. I tried to put my thoughts together and then realized I’m in over my head. When I don’t know what I’m doing, I just keep doing it. I said, “I’m in love with the most beautiful, wonderful woman in the entire world. I’ve offered to take her to Paris, Rome, and Vegas. She will have nothing to do with me. I want to take her to finest restaurants, but she doesn’t want to go with me. What should I do?”

“Let her go, Doctor Sanderstuff. “You need a real woman. You need a woman who …”

“One more word Amber and your life is over as you know it,” 

Amber folded her arms under her breasts, puffed up and curled her lower lip, and went into a deep pout. J opened the door. She carried a chair into the room and placed it next The Sage. The group and I stared at her. J said, “I want to hear this.”

I sat still for a moment watching the tug of war between my libido giving it everything a libido can give for Amber and my heart, as tiny as it is, fighting with all its might for J. 

“Make up your mind, Pancho.”

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I’m a Mexican conscience temporarily substituting for your regular conscience who became burned out working for you. Don’t worry, I have a visa.

Trust Fund Baby ~ 23 A Satire

Chapter 22 

I thought of praying the group planned a mass escape and commandeered their bus; however, I was never taught to pray. Mother told me reading the Wall Street Journal is better than reading the Bible. Since I didn’t know how to pray, I decided to operate by a tried and true psychologist and patient principle, if a patient is one minute late, the patient is charged for the session and the psychologist cancels the session. I intuitively learned this principle from my filthy rich Uncle Jeffrey Feathering. Uncle Jeffrey, Mother’s older brother and mentor, pulled me aside at my tenth birthday party and said, “Martin, I going to give you the secret all the filthy rich people keep to themselves.”

I said, “Are you drunk, Uncle Jeffrey?”

Uncle Jeffrey said, “Yes, I am wasted. How could you tell? Never mind. I am going to tell you the secret before you have your bar mitzvah.”

“I’m not Jewish, I won’t have a bar mitzvah,” I said.

“It doesn’t matter, you look Jewish.”

I said, “No I don’t. I’m not circumcised. I’ll be eventually discovered when I take a high school physical.”

“Jeffrey, my boy, you’re still young. Choose a different obstetrician. Get circumcised.”

“I don’t want to be circumcised. I’m happy the way I am.”

“You need to see a Jewish lawyer to get you a special dispensation.”

“Can I skip the bar mitzvah until I decide if I want to be a lawyer or a doctor, Uncle Jeffrey?”

“Brilliant thinking, Martin. You’ll have to skip your bar mitzvah. Are you disappointed?”

“Do you get lots of money at a bar mitzvah?” This is a question filthy rich kids always ask.”

“Tons, that’s why I suggested it,” said Uncle Jeffrey taking another glass of wine off the tray of the beautiful woman carrying the tray of drinks around to the guests at my party. No kids were invited to my party because Mother said she can’t stand the noise two or more children make when they are together.

“We’ll talk about the bar mitzvah at next year’s party. Here’s the secret of the filthy rich people. If it feels right, it is right. It doesn’t matter if everybody else thinks it’s wrong. It only matters what you feel. This way, Martin, you can do whatever you want to do, whenever you want to do it, and not feel guilty.”

“Really?” I asked.

“It’s what filthy rich people have done for centuries. The poor haven’t caught on, that’s why it’s such a closely guarded secret. I got to be going. I want to see if the beautiful waitress will have sex with me.”

“What will Aunt Emily say?” I asked.

“She’ll say, Jeffrey if it feels right, it is right. Do you mind if I go shopping?”

“Wow. Thanks Uncle Jeffrey.”

That’s how I came to this way of thinking. Uncle Jeffrey gave me the keys to the castle. Now I understand another of Mother’s maxims, rules are for the poor, money is for the rich. 

My conscience spoke, “Do you believe all the crap your Mother tells you?”

“Who are you? Where are you?” I asked.

“I’m your conscience. I tell you what’s right of wrong.”

“I’m calling Mother. She told me not to talk to strangers who are not rich. Get lost.”

“You need some serious rewiring,” said my conscience.

Before I could offer an counter argument, I heard J’s voice,  “I’m going to say it once, that’s all. Amber, slip this sweatshirt and sweatpants over your outfit.”

Amber pouted, “What’s wrong with a mini baby doll outfit? Can we let Doctor Sanderstuff decide if I can wear it?”

“Sister, you can wrap a frail male ego and a mind that can’t function when the libido is engaged around your little finger and impress them with your silicone, but I’m calling the plays. Think of me as the team coach and Doctor Sanderstuff as my star player. Now, all of you drag your butts into group. The doctor is waiting for you.” 

My precious love called me her star player. What does this mean? Is she telling the group we are in an exclusive arrangement? I’m ready to fly with my Venus as my navigator. She didn’t have to protect me from Amber, I have the moral fiber of a … I couldn’t come with an image that fit. What’s wrong with Amber modeling for me? She probably want’s my opinion if her outfit will help her find  future employment when she’s fully released from prison. I’m going to put in a good word with Mother about Amber. Nicole could use some help.

“Have you thought this one through?”

“Why are you back? I thought you left,” I asked my conscience.

“I go where you go.”

“I don’t remember you ever being with me before.”

“I was always with you, but you stuffed me so far back into the recesses of your consciousness I couldn’t see daylight.”

“I was happy when you were stuck back there. Why didn’t you leave well enough alone,” I said.

“You opened the door to my prison and let me out when you fell in love with J. Now, I’m free and I’m going to torment you until you get your act together.”

“Did falling in love do this?”

“I’m afraid so,” said my conscience.

“But, Uncle Jeffrey said, “If it feels right it is right. I think I’ll give Amber permission to take off her sweatsuit. She can’t see you and only I can hear you.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?  How will you feel if you spend the night with Amber?”

“Great. Exhilarated.”

“How will you feel when J asks you how you enjoyed your night?”

“Who’s going to put that question in her head? You wouldn’t?”

“Oh, yes. I’ll make sure it goes off like an alarm clock and it will ring until she answers it.”

“Okay, the sweatsuit stays, but you are no fun. No fun at all.” Between J’s voice and my nagging conscience, my hopes for an early work day were dashed. 

J opened the door. She stood there looking like Aphrodite. My sex goddess. 

“Are you okay, Doctor M? Who were you talking to?” J asked. 

My mind slammed into a brick wall at one-hundred miles an hour. My gaze riveted on God’s masterpiece. If it were true that tongues could be tied, mine was braided into a thousand tiny knots. 

J kept the group in the outer office. She came over to me and bent over to speak so only I could hear. Her breath was as sweet as the fragrance of honeysuckle. Her skin as smooth as a new born baby’s skin.

“Ouch. Why’d you do that?” I said after J smacked me on my cheek.

“You’re losing it. You’ve got to get out of the love funk. Stop being obsessed with me.”

“I can’t help myself. Will you take a selfie and text it to me so I can have a tattoo made of your image on my heart? Ouch.”

“Earth to Double M. It’s group time.”

I heard J mutter a prayer, “Dear God in heaven, why me? I’m a hard working black woman. I go to church every Sunday. I honor my mother and father. I was the first in the family to graduate from high school and college. I don’t lie. I don’t cheat on my taxes. I’m kind and respectful to most people. Why did you put this man in my life? He is a burden almost too much to bear.”