I knew it was wrong from the start. Nothing in life is ever free. At least that’s what my mom always told me. At some point, in one way or another, you will pay.
I’m shaking my little groove thang at the hottest club in Miami, getting my VIP status on when I feel someone tap me from behind. It wasn’t one of my girls because they were all in my line of sight straight ahead. I had two choices: ignore the tap and keep dancing or turn to face my tapper. Well if you don’t know, now you know…I’m too darn nosey to not find out who tapped me. So I turned around and my first thought was Shabba! What are you doing here? Ok it wasn’t Shabba Ranks, and I’m wrong for that, but he was definitely giving me that vibe. He was a little shorter than Shabba but everything else measured up.
He extended his hand as if to dance. I wasn’t interested but something in me said yes instead of no. We fake danced for a song or two while he grilled me with questions in his Saint Lucian accent. I felt like I was being interviewed for a feature story that I knew nothing about. He may have sensed that I was getting annoyed with the questions by my short answers so he invited me to his table for a drink. Soon he was attempting to revel me with the stories of his families prominence back on the island by yelling over the music that was blaring in the club. I couldn’t function anymore. I figured the bathroom card was a safe bet to break away so I politely tried to excuse myself, but not before he insistently put my number in his phone. I figured that he was harmless so I gave him the right number. Plus I’ve never been the girl to give out the wrong number. It was too much work to remember the lie over and over again if he couldn’t get it right the first time. Then let’s not even get into the guy calling you right on the spot and your phone is in your hand but it’s not ringing.
Anyway, I went about my business to the restroom and never saw him again that night. At least a week had gone by and I’d completely forgot about the harmless man from the Caribbean. When my phone rang one evening with a number that I didn’t recognize I answered. Of course it was him. I knew that it was him. I was bored and up for a little chit chat so I didn’t care. After roughly five minutes on the phone our conversation was going well and he was sweet. Then my phone cut off. It had been acting up lately so I wasn’t surprised. I gave it a few seconds then turned it back on and almost instantly he called right back. I apologized for the sudden disconnect and mentioned that I needed a new phone because mine had been acting up lately. Without hesitation he asked, “Do you want me to send you the money for a new phone? What phone do you want?”
I said, “No, no thank you, you don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I want to,” he said. “If that will make talking to you easier then that is what I want to do.”
“Okay,” I said.
We continued on with our getting-to-know-you conversation and by the time that ended he was telling me how he would send me the Western Union information in the morning, and he did. The next day by noon I had the money for my new iPhone in hand. I waited around for the catch but there wasn’t one. He didn’t even call me later that day. I was surprised.
A few weeks went by and we talked here and there. Nothing too crazy just normal communication between two people that just met. I wasn’t used to taking money from men so I didn’t know if I should have sent him a thank you card or what. Of course I verbally expressed my appreciation and he never brought it up again so that was that.
The holidays were coming up and I was planning to fly home to Cali to be with my family. I’d waited too long to purchase my ticket so they were extremely high. In conversation I mentioned that I was going home and how high the tickets were. On cue, he asked if he could help. This time the help was just what I needed, so I accepted. In the back of my mind I wondered where this relationship was going. Was this his thing? Did he like just throwing money away on random women that he barely knew?
I wondered but I couldn’t be bothered, so I didn’t. He sent me a thousand dollars for my ticket and I was happy. Weeks passed with little to no communication from the Saint Lucian sugar daddy. I was packing for my trip home when I got a text message from him. It said that he was in New York. Pause! What did he mean he was in New York?! To do what I thought. To see who?
I ran to go tell my roommate when the phone in my hand started chiming some stupid song. I almost dropped it because I knew it was him. I looked at the screen then hit ignore. I needed a moment to think. I flopped down on the couch and the chiming started again. I had to put my big girl shoes on and answer. I’d accepted money from him, the least that I could do was answer.
“Hey baby, I’m in your city,” he said.
I was stuck. Silent. Trying to think of an appropriate response. Keep in mind I never thought that I would see this man again.
“Uh, okay,” I said.
“I’m on my way to come see you,” he said very matter-of-fact.
Why? I thought to myself.
“Well I’m not home right now.”
“When will you be home?”
I could tell this was going to end bad.
“I have my things with me and I need to drop them at your place,” he said.
At that moment I knew that I had clearly missed the conversation where we discussed this and everything was arranged.
I asked, “Why?”
He instantly popped attitude,”So you take my money, I help you whenever you need and now I need a reason to stay at your place?”
Oh hell, here we go.
“Let’s get one thing clear, I never once asked you for a dollar just like you never once asked if you could stay with me. I have a roommate, it’s not cool for you to stay with me. Good night and good luck.”
After I hung up the phone it immediately began to chime again. He called back-to-back for what felt like an hour. My only comfort was that he didn’t know where I lived. By the time that I went to sleep that night the phone that he financed had more than fifty missed calls from him. Lesson learned, everything has a price.