“If you don’t give me a real drink, we are going to have some problems,” I laughed.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, blueberry martini. Right?” The bartender said with a sly smile.
“See this plastic black AMEX? It will pay for a new shirt if you are nice.” I waved the card in the air.
“That’s a way to get what you want,” the guy next to me said.
“Oh and I thought my good looks did the trick.”
We both laughed. He ordered a rum and coke. Classic. We sat silently as the bartender got our drinks. I crossed my legs in the opposite direction from him. He kept his eyes on this napkin.
“Are you with them?” I pointed at a group of people laughing loudly with name tags. He had a name tag on too.
“Those drunks? How did you know?” He smiled. He had a gap.
“I guessed,” I looked into his face better. He wasn’t very attractive.
“We are in town for business,”
“I wish I worked for your company,”
“I bet,” he still didn’t look up from his napkin.
I didn’t like his nonverbal communication so I turned away from him and made faces at the bartender.
“Look, I have your husbands name on speed-dial, one word and that AMEX is gone!” the bartender said.
“Eat my ass,” I threw my head back in laughter. He placed my drink in front of me. He also gave the guy his drink.
“I would never marry, date or even take a black girl seriously,” the guy said.
Before I could react, I had to think, I had to let everything sink in. I just got my drink so my mind couldn’t have gotten tampered with yet.
“Maybe you should try black women over girls. I hear there is a difference,” I said smiling to myself. Still not looking at him I sipped my drink.
“Who do you think raises them?”
I slowly turn around and met his gaze, “certainly not black men.” I felt myself start to get mad. I took slow sips. If I was about to battle, I needed a clear mind if I was going to win.
“My mother pushed my father away-“
“How weak was he?” I cut him off.
Looking angry he continued, “she nagged, complained, pushed and pushed. Eventually he left. He left me, my two other brothers and my sister who later got pregnant at 16.”
“You call that a man?”
“The best, if my brothers and I were older and my mother didn’t threaten to kill him if he took us, we would have went with him.”
“Is that so?”
“That is so,” he gulped his drink and signaled the waiter. “Another one.” I still sipped.
“So you hate black women now?”
“I hated that he always provided for us and she still complained. He worked hard and it was never good enough for her. When she got frustrated, she took it out on us. She told my brothers and I about our so called “good for nothing dad”. She pushed us in school. You couldn’t even bring home a B+ because that wasn’t good enough for her. An A- is when you aren’t that strong in a subject not a B or a C.”
“God forbid she pushed you to do your best, what a witch!”
“Sometimes a B+ was the best!”
“Did you ever get a B+?
“We couldn’t because if we did, we wouldn’t hear the end of it until our grades went up. We were at school early, stayed after and took extra classes to stay on top. She never pushed my sister who got pregnant and had shit for grades. She blamed our father for that.”
“Tell me, what does you and your brothers do?”
“I’m a President of a college, my older brother is a CFO at AIG and my younger brother is your governor.” I officially ignored my drink. “My stupid sister still-“
“I didn’t ask about her,”
“Ok, why did you ask about my brothers? You looking for a husband?” He scoffed at me.
“You ignorant asshole,”
“I’m just saying,”
“You better ask your brother who was his biggest contributor for his election was,” I pulled out my black AMEX card like it was supposed to prove something. I knew he saw it but made no comment.
“I don’t need an apology from you, you need to apologize to your mother. You bad mouthing someone you got you and your brothers to where you are-“
“You don’t know shit about what she did! We made it ourselves. She didn’t help with anything, just wore a big hat to our graduations and took credit for something she didn’t do.”
“Negro, have you lost your mind?”
“Don’t call me that,”
“When you act like one, I call you one,”
“When you act like one, I call you one.”
I threw my card at the bartender. If I sat next to this man for another minute I was going to kill him. I looked at my drink it was barely touched. The bartender came back and asked what was wrong.
“Baby, I’ll see you next week, I have to go.” He handed me my card and said it was one the house. I watched him take my barely sipped drink away.
“Angry black woman, let me stand back,” he put his hands up.
“Keep pushing it and angry will turn into violent,” I got in his face and smiled. “Goodnight, Nigger.” I knew that would push his buttons.
“Goodnight, whore,” He knew that would push mine.
I felt myself got hotter and hotter as I walked out that bar. I was furious but glad he couldn‘t see my expression. I got in my car ready to scream. My cell phone rang it was the hubby.
“You alright, you sound stressed,”
“I’m ok, just annoyed,”
“Well, come home and we can soak in a nice bath,”