Southern Helle (An Interracial Romance Story)

Chapter 2

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A Picture of August is ------------> in MM

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I stood on the front steps to great all the men coming in to sell their slaves. Carriages from all over the South came with a cage hooked to the back filled to the brim with slaves. 

One man came with seven cages linked together. That’s supposed to be Sir Carlo. Nobody really knows where he’s from, like where he’s born (his accent ain’t Southern), but we do know that he owns like over 350 acres in Texas. 

He has a lot of money. 

August came out the house and stood next to me to greet the guess. Said his father told him to come out here and create a better image. 

After some time the amount of men coming died down. We still stood there waiting for anyone who wanted to make a fashionably late arrival. 

Mary came to the door. “Helle, they need you down at the nigger fight.”

“Why me?” I groaned. “I’ve been doing it every year for the past six years. Let someone else get a chance to experience the hustle and bustle of the fight.”

I hated going over there because I have to stand in the corner and serve these white men drinks as they watch my people fight till the death. It’s the worst job in the bazaar, so since I was moved into the house they put me in charge of over there. 

Wonderful, right?

“Because they love you out there.” Mary tried and failed to assure me. I gave her a look to say I wasn’t buying it.

“Plus everyone else already got a job. Helle, we go through this every year. Just go to the cellar, get the liquor and go out there.” She instructed me. I sighed and then turned into the house. 

“Oh and yo’ daddy want you August.” Mary added. He gave the same reluctant sigh I did as we all walked into the house.

~~~~~

I stood in the barn next to the table of full bottles of liquor. It was the calm before the storm right now. The last fight was finished and people were placing their bets on the next contestants. 

Some man who sure didn’t look like he had the wealth to be a slave owner came up to the bar. I looked him up and down. The only nice thing on him was his hat. He must be a hatter. However the rest of his clothes were rags. I have better clothes than him. 

And that’s saying something. Is it not?

He picked up bottles and eyed the label and the level of alcohol content. I let him keep touching them even though I know he’s not supposed to, but he was becoming a nuisance. 

“Sir, we have a rule here at Belle Manor that no one is allowed to touch the bottles except for the servers.” I told him. He looked up to me with his yellow eyes and flashed his even yellower teeth, demeaningly. 

“And I’m supposed to listen to a nigger?” 

“Yeah.” I told him. “If any of the bottles go missing, it’s on me. I have to answer for it, so please don’t do this.” I pleaded. I don’t know why I put the well-being of my back in his hands, but I did. Who knows? These crackers could have a heart.

“Hmph,” He scoffed. “Well let’s test that theory shall we?” He picked up one of the bottles with no particular preference and stuffed it into his pants. I tried to snatch the bottle back.

A nigger match had already started so people weren’t minding anything that could be going on around here. 

He pressed his forearm into my throat as he hoisted my body off the ground and he pressed it into the wall. “Explain something to me sweetheart, how am I supposed to test the theory if you’re blocking the process?” 

“I don’t know if you were bumped on the head as a baby, or if all that hat making got to your head, but there ain’t supposed to be a process for me to block.” I responded. His irises darkened. 

“Or if you like, I could scream loudly and get the guards over. The guards will rush over here, see me in a compromised position, and they’ll kick you out and ban you for harassing the help. It’s your decision.” I added. He chuckled shortly. 

“I doubt that would happen.” He replied. 

“Well let’s test that theory, shall we?” I mocked. I closed my eyes, and gathered up as much air as I could—considering his arm was crushing my windpipe—to let out one big, glass shattering shriek. Before I could let it out, the weight was lifted off my body.

When I opened my eyes, I saw August standing over the man with his boot on the man’s throat. “You like to harass women, huh?” He asked loudly. 

The security that’s supposed to prevent these kinds of situations came jogging over to get the man.

They stood him up and found the bottle of whiskey in his pants. “So you want to steal from Mr. Belle? No one steals from Mr. Belle.” One of them said. 

They dragged the man out creating another scene.

August watched them leave, and then turned to me. “You okay?” He asked.

I nodded. “Thanks for that.” I said with a smile.

“It’s no problem. I like rescuing the damsel’s in distress.” He said, returning the smile. I blushed a bit. Good thing this nigger skin is dark so he won’t notice the blood pooling in my cheeks. 

“WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?” Master Belle came barreling through the crowd towards me and August.

“Dad, calm down. That man was getting rough with Helle so I had to get him escorted out.” August explained. Master Belle looked at him, and then shifted his eyes to me.

“Is that true Helle?” Master Belle asked. 

“Yes, sir.” I answered looking at his feet. We’re not allowed to look the Master in the eyes when you’re talking to him. 

I looked back up at Master Belle’s 6’4 figure. His usually black hair was covered with something that looked like a cowboy hat. He was dressed in his top of the line suit with nice shoes. 

Master straightened his tie and then turned back to the crowd that was looking at us waiting to see what would happen next. “Let the games continue!” He shouted, riling them up.

They threw their fists in the air, and shouted back, “Yeah!” 

Master looked back to us and whispered. “This better not happen again.” He turned away and continued about his business. 

“You want to get out of here?” August asked me. I shook my head.

“I’ll get in trouble.” 

“So what?” He asked. His ignorance is actually quite adorable. Wait, adorable? What am I saying?

“I’ll get whipped.” I explained. 

“I won’t let that happen. I’m his son, have you forgotten?” He replied. 

“No, I haven’t which is why leaving my station and being caught off somewhere with you will get me in a lot of trouble.” I justified. 

Another man came up to me and I poured him the drink he wanted. He looked between me and August suspiciously. I had to give him a reassuring smile that August joined in on for him to leave. That seemed to appease him.

I turned back to August. “It’s just a terrible idea. I can’t risk my life for you. Sorry,” I told him 

“I get it, fine!” He said. He left me at the stand alone.