Page 7 of Someone Like You

Casimir

M y words were getting to her. I could tell the way she couldn’t keep her ass still in her seat. And yet, I couldn’t stop poking the bear. I wanted to get underneath Dr. Giselle Champagne’s skin in a way that I had never desired to with another woman, not even my wife.

I wanted to see what the good doctor was like when she was riled up.

I wanted to see how she reacted when she was angry, turned on, and fucking, out of control in bed.

I glanced at those long, pink-tipped fingernails and wondered what they might look like with black satin sheets—my satin sheets—bunched in between them while I drove deep inside of her.

I wondered what she would sound like when I pushed the breath from her lungs and then slowly allowed them to fill up again. There was a mole at the bottom of her chin. I wanted to lick her there and feel her warm breath coating my face as she dropped her mouth open in a hiss or a moan.

“At what point in your marriage did you decide that was what you wanted from a wife, Casimir?”

“It wasn’t at any particular point in my marriage. I always knew that was the type of woman I wanted.”

“And yet, you were willing to risk it all to have your wife.”

“Not to have my wife, but to honor my father’s wishes.

There’s a distinct difference. For a long time, I believed that we would fall in love with each other.

I grew to love her as a person, but she didn’t reciprocate those feelings.

I was never in love with my wife because she didn’t allow me to be.

As you’ve seen, Beth has some hateful ways.

She was more enamored with the ring on her hand and people calling her ‘Missus’ than she was with the marriage and her commitment to me. ”

“Mm . . .” She jotted something on the iPad that she kept at her side.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What?”

She looked up at me with those big brown eyes, and curiosity gleamed from them.

“You said, mm. What does that mean?”

Giselle blinked rapidly and shook her head. “Nothing. I just noted that your perception of how she views the marriage has nothing to do with you.”

“And that’s how I feel,” I stated with a shrug.

I placed my arms across the back of the couch and propped my ankle over my knee.

“I wonder how she views the marriage. Or maybe I should say, I wonder how she thinks you view the marriage.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“That’s a problem, don’t you think?”

“Why?”

“Maybe that’s a conversation you should have with her. Let’s make that your homework assignment.”

“I think you like giving homework, Dr. Champagne.”

She lifted her eyebrows at me. “Doctor?”

“Just whenever you start acting like one. You don’t always act like that.”

“This isn’t about me, Casimir. It’s about you and Beth.”

“Do you seek therapy?”

“Excuse me?”

“For your problems. Who do you talk to?”

“Casimir, I think you’re losing focus of this session.”

“No, seriously. Who do you go to? You carry the weight of all your clients’ problems on your shoulders.

You listen, you guide, you provide feedback, and you help us navigate the tumultuous storms of our lives.

Yet, when you walk away from here, after watching people struggle with depression, sorrow, regret, confusion, and all the other human emotions we experience, how do you discard that weight?

Who listens to you and comforts you? Who guides you and gives you peace?

Who do you pour into so that your cup isn’t overflowing with the stress of others?

Who comforts you when you’re feeling all alone, Giselle? ”

Giselle’s eyes roamed the room and looked everywhere but at me. When they finally stopped, I noticed that she did so on my ring finger. For a while, she did not speak, but when she did, her voice was cracked and slightly broken.

“Mr. Perez, I believe that’s our time for today. Please make an appointment on your way out.”

She stood dismissively and walked to her desk. I stood and nodded.

“First, answer my question.”

She inhaled and held it before she slowly released it. If I weren’t mistaken, I would have said that she was anxious.

“It’s my job.”

Her voice was cold and matter-of-fact, but her eyes held passion in them that she could not hide. She was throwing up a wall, and I respected that, for now.

“I’m sorry, Giselle. I didn’t mean to rile you up. I was just curious, that’s all. You need someone to worry about you too.”

She pressed her lips together in a tight smile and gave a perfunctory nod.

I stepped out of her office, not wanting to push further than I already had.

I knew that what I had done was wrong, but that hadn’t stopped me.

I wanted to know those things. But even more than that, I wanted to be on her mind.

When I left the office, I hopped in my car on my way to my next appointment.

“Jude.”

“Hey?” My best friend’s voice boomed through the speakers loudly. I turned the volume on my speakers down just a little.

“My appointment ended earlier than I planned. I wanted to see if you were free to meet up with me now.”

“Yeah. Actually, I’m just finishing up with another client in the same building that I wanted to show you. Roll through. I honestly think this place might be your new home.”

“A’ight, bet. I’m only ten minutes out.”

“Cool. I’ll see you when you get here.”

I ended the call, turned the music up, and let down the top of my convertible Jaguar F-type.

This car was the only thing that I had splurged on when I came into real money.

The midnight blue car with its black interior was my dream car, and I took care of it in a way that I cared for little else in this life.

The appointment that I had scheduled with my best friend, Jude, was going to be the second thing that I splurged on, but I felt that it was worth it. I navigated the streets of Cherokee Springs’ largest medical complex until I made my way into Blossom Springs.

It was an upscale community in Cherokee Springs, but not quite as upscale as the area I currently lived in with my wife.

Cherokee Falls was for the uber-rich. Although I enjoyed a certain lifestyle, I did not enjoy the obnoxious comments, snide looks, and suspicion that accompanied the greetings of anyone in my community who did not know me.

Nor did I care for the assumptions people made that I finagled my way into the lives of Cherokee Falls’ wealthiest family when they learned that I was “thee Casimir Perez,” a man most people assumed was either white or Hispanic but definitely not black.

It didn’t matter that my father was Dominican.

Thanks to his and my mother’s dark skin, I had inherited a beautiful chocolate coloring.

I looked like any other black man, although I often received comments that my eye coloring and my thick, curly hair signified that I was something more than just black.

Blossom Springs was more my speed. It was an upscale community in Cherokee Springs, but it was mostly comprised of people who looked like me.

People who didn’t judge or make presumptions because they were too busy working their asses off to maintain what they had in store for future generations.

They had no time to worry about what the fuck Mr. and Mrs. Jones were doing next door or across the street.

They weren’t consumed with pretentious behaviors or the next country club outing.

Not that they didn’t have one, but it didn’t dominate whether you were acceptable in that community based on whether you had a membership or not.

I pulled up to the building underneath the porte cochère, jumped out, and handed the valet my keys.

Jude stepped out of the building as soon as he saw me.

“Waddup, doe,” he greeted heartily and dapped me up.

“Shit, just stacking my paper, man.”

“Aye, boss man. You really finna do this shit?” he asked before he pulled the doors open again to the luxury building.

I glanced around and took in the elegant furnishings that comprised several seating areas and the oversized contemporary gas fireplace.

“Yeah, man.”

“All right, let’s do it. Here in the lobby, the reception desk is staffed all day and night. So, there’s always someone here to assist you whenever you need or to announce guests.”

“That’s what’s up. It’s time for a lifestyle change,” I declared as I looked around at the beautiful African American art installations.

“Hope this one doesn’t mean you’re about to cut me out of your life the way you did the homies.”

Jude was the only friend who I kept in touch with for a while after marrying Beth. She didn’t know that I was still in touch with him. But there was no way that the first friend I made after my father retired and we moved to Cherokee Springs was about to be cut out of my life.

The rest of the homies, Malik, Jabari, Travis, and Nathaniel were wildin’, but Jude was on some other shit.

He had his mind on stacking his paper and building his career, not on hoing around and getting high.

That was why I still rocked with him. He was the only one who didn’t judge me for marrying Beth, either.

The rest of my boys were calling me a sell-out for marrying a white woman, but truthfully, any one of them would have jumped on that train if it meant being a part of the richest and most exclusive family in the state of Georgia.

They would have willingly sold my ass down the river for a chance to be in my shoes.

I guess, in some ways, I could be considered a sell-out, even if I did that shit for my father.

This would be the first step to reclaiming who I was.

Jude pressed the elevator button and slid a keycard into a slot.

The first stop was the fitness center located on the second floor.

It was spacious and took up an entire floor.

The state-of-the-art fitness center offered high-tech cardio and strength training equipment.

There was a glass-enclosed studio for personal training and group classes, and that was further divided into individual rooms, and a yoga and stretching lawn.

Our next stop was the Hub, located on the third floor.

The entire floor was dedicated to business and offered private rooms to book for work and study, communal meeting spaces, business lounges with seating clusters, an outdoor terrace, firepits, work desks, private conference rooms, phone booths, boardrooms, and a beverage bar with coffee, tea, and snack machines.

“You already know. The Vista is located in the most prestigious residential neighborhood of Blossom Springs. The swim deck has a resort-style pool, spa, poolside cabanas, pickleball court, a dog park, and a grand event lawn with seating features with views of the springs and downtown. There’s also a lounge and entertainment area with dining tables, a bar, an outdoor kitchen, and a cozy firepit,” Jude explained when we stepped off on the tenth floor and out of double doors that led to a rooftop.

The amenities area was just above the tree line and provided a sweeping panoramic view of the city. It was nice and provided everything that I could imagine.

“Damn, JR, this is sweet,” I replied, reverting to his nickname for Jude Rome.

“Wait until you see the rest of the building.”

Jude led me through the club area which was right off the amenity area, and it included a game room, a lounge, a bar, a kitchen for catering private events, and even a screening room to watch movies.

“You ready for the pièce de resistance?”

“Shiiid. That wasn’t it? Hell, a nigga like me could live in the amenities area and be all right,” I joked as we stepped back inside and took the elevator again.

“I told you. Only the best for my guy.”

“Yeah, yeah. Only the best price, too, I bet.”

He side-eyed me and then snickered.

“Just keep an open mind before I tell you the price.”

“I’m betting your ass ain’t gonna tell me until after I’ve seen everything.”

“You know how a nigga like me do it,” Jude replied and popped his collar.

I looked up at the numbers ticking off as we passed several floors.

“This is one of several penthouse suites that I’m showing you. They are in high demand, and there’s usually a waiting list for three years to get one. I happened to have connections and was able to swing this one your way before it was listed with other realtors.”

“Shit, what’s wrong with it? Is it haunted?”

“Nigga, nah,” he replied.

“Then what’s the deal? You fucking the owner or something?”

“Something like that.” He smirked.

“Oh, so she’s ready to dump this apartment off her hands, and you had the perfect target. Nigga, what it’s gon’ cost me?”

“Nah. Not like that. I’m talking about the woman who owns the building.”

“Oh, damn. You fucking prime pussy. I thought the woman who owned this building was Gretchen Harrel.”

“It is.”

“Nigga, she’s fifty-two years old. Damn!”

He stepped off the elevator on the twentieth floor, leaving me standing back there with my jaw dropped.

“You coming, or you gonna catch a mouthful of flies for the residents of The Vista?”

I quickly followed him into the marble foyer.

We stepped inside to wenge hardwood flooring, crystal chandeliers, sweeping panoramic views with natural light, soaring twelve- foot ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows, private terraces off the living room, and the master suite.

Aside from the master suite, there were two guest bedrooms, both with a private bathroom, a den, a half bath, a kitchen, a living room, a dining area, and a great room. Every bedroom had a walk-in closet.

“These residences are set at the corner of the tower to give the best view possible in thirty-six-hundred square feet of space. You’ve checked it out from end to end, including the high-end kitchen. Tell me what you think?”

“Man. I gotta sign in blood for this?” I asked, looking around at the magnificent penthouse.

He chuckled. “Four and a quarter.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Nope. But she’s willing to let it go for my best friend for three and a quarter.” That was six and a half million less than our home cost. It was steep but definitely worth my peace of mind.

I whistled. “That’s a steal.”

“Damn right, it is.”

“Still. I need time to sleep on it.”

“You do that, but don’t sleep too long, pah’na.”

“Forty-eight hours?”

“Yeah. That’s cool. In the meantime, watch your back. You know you’re in deep with that posse of yours.”

“Man, don’t I know it.”

We dapped it up before I headed out. I had a lot of things to think about.