Page 2 of Rich and Rotten

I stood there speechless before turning and storming out of his office to find my mother, who was conducting business on a video call in the sunroom. She smiled at first, but when she saw the distress on my face, she quickly excused herself and came over to me. Her curly hair was pushed back from her forehead, with a pencil tucked into her bun, and her rich cocoa skin showed concern as she searched my eyes.

“Tati, what’s going on? What’s the matter?”

I struggled to control my breathing after running from one end of the house to the other.

“Ma-ma-married, Mom,” I panted. “Dad’s trying to make me marry some stranger.”

My mother wrapped her arms around me and kissed the top of my head.

“Karim isn’t a stranger. You both attended the same middle school before he moved away.”

Snatching away, I glared at her and replied, “Mom, what are you talking about? He’s a fucking stranger to me. You cannot possibly agree with this!”

She took a breath and gently took my hand in hers.

“Do you think your father was my first choice, Tatiana? Coming from an affluent family sometimes requires sacrifices to protect the family.”

I truly felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. What did any of this mean? My father didn’t come from money, but my mother did. So, what was her reason for marrying a man from a different background? I always assumed she married for love.

“Fuck what any of you are talking about. I’m not marrying him. I refuse to be used like a pawn in whatever game he’s playing. He never tells us anything, and now he suddenly wants to include me in a business deal like I’m some piece of property.”

“Family…we’re uniting two powerful families, baby.”

I snatched my hand away and sprinted back down the hall to leave. As I passed my father’s office, he and Raphael were toasting as if this was going to be some beautiful arrangement.

I hated him.

“Time After Time” by Jon B.

It was past midnight when I heard the key turn in the lock of my condo. Nazir was the only person with a key, so when I heard it, I knew he was home. Although, if you let him tell it, he refused to call this his home. He said he would never feel comfortable living under a roof paid for by another man. He was prideful like that. Even though I told him I didn’t need the money, he still gave me some each month to pay my father. Unbeknownst to him, I kept the money in my account, never touching it.

Despite having more money than I knew what to do with, he refused to let me spend it. When we went on dates, I wouldn’t dare insult him by trying to reach for the bill or dig inside my purse for money to pay. I didn’t know what Nazir was into that allowed him to spend money the way he did, and I had learned from my father never to ask. There was no reason to ask questions that I secretly knew the answers to.

As I lay on my silk pillow, I could hear him take off his boots, set his keys down on the kitchen counter, and shimmy out of his coat. I had spent a lot of time studying Nazir. He was someone I wanted to be with forever. I hoped to be his wife someday and tell our children how we met while I was in college — how their father had a plan to be more than what life had initially afforded him.

Stopping in the doorway, Nazir leaned against the frame and took a breath. Even in the dark, I knew his features as well as my own. He was 6’4” and muscular. Working out was the one thing that gave him peace and clarity. While I always felt like I was fighting for my life whenever I exercised, he did it effortlessly. His brown skin glistened as he licked his thick lips. He had a few tattoos, but had mentioned more than once that he wanted to cover his entire body in them. His hair was cut short, but his curl pattern was still visible. His beard was thick and unkempt, a testament to his dedication to his mission. To me, his outer appearance didn’t matter as much as what was on the inside or his efforts to make money to take care of us.

“You’re not sleep?” his deep voice grumbled, tiredness woven into his words.

I sat up in bed, and when he heard me sniffle, he moved closer.

“I can’t sleep,” I answered, my voice cracking.

Nazir sat down and pulled me into him as he softly kissed my lips. “What’s the matter, Tata?”

He was the only one who called me that nickname, and every time he said it, I felt an intense warmth spread through my body. I’ve always been Tati––or Tatiana when my parents wanted to make their point clear. They had never given me a nickname, so Nazir giving me one made me feel special.

Cherished.

I took a deep breath. The last thing I wanted was to break his heart—and mine. The life we planned together wasn’t just something I wanted––it was something I needed. A simple life where the man loved me the way I deserved to be loved. I didn’t need jets, yachts, or all the frivolous things I had access to growing up. None of those things mattered when you’re unhappy deep down inside.

My mother always looked tired and worn out, and she couldn’t hide the sadness in her eyes from me. I knew her too well. I can’t remember a time when she and my father kissed or laughed as he playfully smacked her on the butt. Moments like that never happened in our home. Or maybe they only did those things in the privacy of their bedroom since my mother was on the conservative side. For years, I believed that until I was old enough to realize my parents had a master suite with two sides––one for her and one for my father––like British royals.

“Let’s run away, Zir.”

With a confused look, he replied, “After you had me buy those damn concert tickets you wanted? We’re not running nowhere.”

Nazir was trying to lighten the dark mood, but when he saw it wasn’t working, he became even more concerned.