Dammit, if somebody had told me there was going to be an announcement tonight, I would have never brought Trevor’s preppy ass to the meeting. He made me look like a fool in front of Daddy and the rest of the family. Without him around, Daddy never would have snapped at me and probably would have answered my question.
Not that I gave a shit about Trevor. Sure, he was cute, and I was a little curious about what he was packing under the Ivy League suit, but he was as boring as watching snow melt. Nah, to be truthful, I think I’d rather watch snow melt than listen to his boring ass. All he ever talked about was his father’s election and what graduate school he planned on attending. God, if he told me one more time about how hard it was to choose between Harvard Law and Princeton, I was going to throw up in my mouth. Why the hell couldn’t he talk to me about something important, like when the hell he was gonna fuck me? This was the third time I’d been out with his ass, and he ain’t even tried to sniff the *. I’d basically written him off. Only reason I dragged his ass along today was so I could show Daddy that I could attract the same kind of boring-ass man as London if I wanted to.
“Why aren’t you talking?” he asked as we entered the Jackie Robinson Parkway.
“I’m sorry. My brother was texting me,” I answered just as Rio’s reply came in.
We sure do. Knock on my door when you get home.
I gave Trevor a fake smile, then texted, K, gotta go. Mr. Boring wants to talk. LOL.
“Your father surprised you, huh? Mine does that to me all the time, always springing a change in campaign strategy or unscheduled appearances. I know a car dealership—”
“Ships. Dealerships. Plural. We own many,” I said, correcting him as I held one hand aloft. He was starting to bug me more with each passing minute. Why couldn’t he just sit there and look cute?
“Oh. Sorry. What I was saying was that car dealerships are different than politics, but some things are the same.”
“It’s all politics, Trevor.” I swooshed my hand and stared out the window.
“Yeah. You’re right,” he agreed. “I should’ve learned that when I attended Harvard.... You know, I never asked you this. Where did you go to school, Paris?”
Damn. Now it was twenty fuckin’ questions. “I didn’t. After high school I attended a very special finishing school in Europe, and then I came home and got involved in the family business.”
“Oh, wow. I never knew you didn’t go to college.”
“Why? Is it a problem?” I snapped back with attitude. I knew he wasn’t about to talk shit about my upbringing!
“No, no, not at all. I just assumed you went, is all. Most people our age who have family like yours have gone to college.” This SOB sounded genuinely disappointed that I hadn’t experienced the richness of an Ivy League life like he had. “Ever thought about college?”
Blah. Blah. Blah. “Too busy for college.”
“Too busy? Too busy doing what?”
“Stuff for my dad. I’m the company troubleshooter. I handle collections.”
“Collections, huh?” he scoffed. “Sounds like your dad just made up a job for you. You trust fund babies got it made. But I’m not mad at you.”
“Huh? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Nigga, for your information, ain’t nothing I do for my father made up. I work for a living, and I probably make more than you and your daddy combined, so what the fuck I need with college?” As I pierced him with my eyes, I prayed that he didn’t call me out for lying. The truth was that although I did have a job with the company, I wouldn’t know where to send the check if Orlando handed me my American Express bill.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I always heard about you and your brother Rio at parties and clubs and stuff. I figured you were living off of some inheritance. I never knew you worked a real job. Poor assumption on my part.”
That was the problem with men: they could ruin their chance of getting a good piece of ass by opening up their mouths and letting some dumb shit come out.