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“The way you handed yourself in there was pretty amazing, by the way,” I offered when I felt the silence was becoming a nuisance.
“Oh? I thought it was a shit show.”
“Sure, but it wasn’t because of you.”
“Is your dad like that with everyone?”
“Not unless he feels disrespected.”
“I didn’t mean…”
“I know that. You stood up for yourself…A rarity around here.” I sighed, "Growing up in the south, I have learned that there has always been a set standard as to who was wealthy and why," I replied, leaning up against the colander that was erected, Lord knows when and heaved my chest out with the intention of prompting a visceral response from the mysterious northerner.
After all, if I was forced to wine and dine these businessmen, I might as well have a little bit of fun with it. Especially when a man like Anthony Shields came to town.
While Anthony was older than me, it wasn't by much; probably less than a decade. Yet, those years had allowed him the time to develop into something that even the most toned eighteen and nineteen-year-old blue-collar workers could never compete with.
I could see the rippling muscles straining the button-up shirt he wore under his azure overcoat and at the distance I stood from him, I managed to take in the musky scent of his cologne.
Despite his clean-shaven face and overall professional appearance, he had wild eyes and a wicked grin that suited him much better.
Anyone could adorn a suit and comb their hair, so they looked presentable but even some of the most accomplished businessmen were inept at garnering the allure that he naturally emitted.
As he spoke, I found myself focusing more on the curvature of his lips and the lustrous sound of his voice than what he was saying.
"Are you kidding? The north is full of gimme morons who think their shit don't stink because they’ve got their head so far up their father's ass, you don't know where one ends, and the other begins. At least people know where they stand here."
"And it's okay that everyone is content with the way things are?" I retorted once his words finally sank in through the dense ambrosia that emanated through his pores, "The sons of farmers become farmers, like their daddy was and the old bureaucratic types leave their legacy to their sons."
"It doesn't look like you're missing any meals from that system," Anthony retorted, his eyebrow raising in a challenging motion that revealed a small scar below his brow.
Right there, I wanted to change the subject and ask him about it, but I decided against it and continued our bantering, "It be easier if I wasn't. If you want to get away from this God-fearing, Bible thumping corner of Hell when you're poor, you're looking for something better but if you're one of the elite, you're just an ungrateful bitch." I turned to him, narrowing my eyes in the same provoking manner and laughed, "And don't look at me like you worked your way up from the bottom."
"I didn't. You're right," he replied, allowing his expression to ease, causing the scar to disappear. "The only thing that bastard left me was his company. I resented it, but it was better than starving, so I was just happy he was dead."
Anthony's candor took me back slightly but when he laughed, I found myself being drawn into his mystery.
In that moment, I didn't want to know whether he had a sick sense of humor or a truly dark past. It didn't matter to me more than my willingness to continue feeling the mounting attraction I had for him.
"Yeah, well my folks came from old plantation money. There fortune was at the expense of everyone else's freedom and yet, they're still given the respect that they definitely don
't deserve," I expressed, not giving a damn whether there would be repercussions to me speaking to a potential business partner this way.
What I didn’t tell him was that in addition to the blood money my family has lived on for the better part of a century now, my parents married more for social appearances. They, along with my grandparents were far more concerned with keeping in the natural order of wealth throughout the town and now, they expect their only child to do the same.
"At least they've kept their money," he offered, though I wasn't quite sure why he insisted on talking about monetary distractions, or my parents, when I was clearly offering him something else; something I felt we both needed.
So, I in an effort to lead him in the right direction, I turned towards him, trying to heave myself and his attention to assets I possessed besides riveting conversation.
I watched his eyes drop down to my cleavage before hastily returning to meet my gaze.
“What is it that you want, Sahara?” Anthony asked, tilting his head to the side and easing himself toward me. “I take it that having a conversation about your parents is not why you followed me out here.”
“Right now, my parents are the last thing on my mind,” I responded, ushering myself closer to him.
He snickered, moving closer to me as well, with that wild look in his eye becoming more apparent, “Is that right?”
I simpered, now moving in so close to his face that I could feel his breath against my face.
