High Class

Chapter One

 

 

Chapter One

My dad had begged me to come to the fundraiser; it was one of those cases where he just wanted the world to see us as a happy and charitable family of rich and successful black folk. My mom picked out a white blazer, slacks and some very uncomfortable dress shoes for me, I felt like I was cramming my feet into a clown’s car.

The fundraiser was held at Paisley Hall on the campus of the University of Newark; the gathering had many socialites and reporters flaunting and gallivanting around. My mother was busy gossiping with the other well-off wives, and my father was exchanging office banter with some of the well-off husbands.

I needed a drink bad; I walked over to the bar and ordered a small glass of Petrus with a shot of scotch. I looked over my shoulder and my eyes were locked on a guy around my age talking to a group of older men.

His hair was low cut, he had a goatee and mustache combo, skin was smooth and brown like cocoa butter, he wore a black blazer, slacks and dress shoes but even having a blazer on did nothing to hide the fact that this brotha was built.

He looked over and saw me staring at him; I could feel myself blushing and quickly turned my head back to face the bar. After a few moments I felt the presence of someone standing behind me and turned around; He stood there with a seductive looking grin on his face, seeing him up close I realized I had seen him somewhere before, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Can I help you?” I looked at him trying to hide how attracted I was to him.

“Yo don’t act like you wasn’t checking me out little nigga.” I was kind of thrown off by how he looked like a socialite but spoke like a thug.

“What if I was checking you out, you going to beat me down in front of all these people?” I taunted him.

“You got a slick mouth my nigga.” He grins at me, “But you are sexy as fuck.”

I soon began to realize who I was talking to; Andre Henson is the son of the creator and founder of the social network Click-Chat, think of it as a combo of Google Voice, Facebook, Twitter and Instagram all rolled into one. I was curious of why Andre was acting like a homo thug when his family was loaded.

“Mr. Henson why are you acting like you run the streets of Newark?” I questioned.

He gets close to me and whispers in my ear, “Because I do things in these streets that would make you cum in your slacks Mr. Wilson.” I feel the tip of his tongue gently touch my earlobe and my body shudders. He begins to walk away from me and I stand up and walk over to him and slip him one of my cards.

He looks at the card and grins, “So you write books and ghostwrite?” he pockets my card and then hands me one of his it reads: (Dre’s Personal Relief) I shudder at the two words printed after Andre’s name.

“What exactly do you do?”

“If I told you,” Andre winks at me. “I’d have to kill you shawty.”

Andre soon disappears into a crowd of socialites. I notice out the corner of my eye that my mother is walking over to me, by the way she is swaying side to side I can tell she has had more than a couple glasses of champagne.

“Were you just talking to Andre Henson?” the odor of champagne is strong on her breath.

“Yes mother.”  I say with a bit of a sarcastic and sassy tone.

“Does he use Click-Chat…because word around the fundraiser is that he is still using the other networks?”

“I’m not sure mother.” I clear my throat. “What are you getting at with these questions?”

“If you can persuade one of the top know families sons into using Click-Chat will definitely get more users and that means more money for the family.” She winks at me.

“Mother are you hinting for me to sleep with Andre Henson, just so we can get more Click-Chat users?” I cross my arms.

Mother didn’t answer me, but she did giggle as she walked off; she didn’t know if I did end up in bed with Andre it would be for my own selfish gain. You see I had been suffering from severe writers-block and I was six weeks past the deadline for my next book. If I could get a story out of a one-night stand with Andre Henson, then I would be done the thirtieth chapter of my book and be publishing my fourth romantic novel.

 __________________________________________________________________

The fundraiser had been a success; Father, Mother and I were riding back in the limo I was sipping on a small glass of scotch and mother was passed out on father’s shoulder. I sat the rest of the ride back to my parents manor located in High Class Estates on the Southern end of Newark, constantly looking at Andre’s card and wondering if I could actually use him for writing material.

Once we had arrived home; I ran upstairs to my room and changed out of my blazer, slacks and dress shoes and threw on some sweats and a T-shirt. Reaching over to my dresser I pick up my iphone 5c and dial the number on Andre’s card. Andre picks up on the third ring,

“I knew you would call baby boi.” His voice seemed to seep through the phone in a seductive fashion.

“So what exactly is your business?”

 “Meet me at the Mill Creek motel in Carson and you’ll find out, be there by midnight.” He demanded which sort of made my manhood twitch. After I agreed Andre hung up the phone and I threw on a pair of tight-fitting jeans, Jordans and a light-blue American Eagle shirt and headed out to my car.