“Someone’s outside,” Bishop states, “In an Aston Martin. I’m talking about the 552-horsepower engine.”
I was convinced that Bishop was in a point in his life where even acknowledging the existence of anything not related to the Stuyvesants at all was a luxury for him. I found a playlist on his iPod with only one song on it: gold digger. I was confused, but not surprised
“Who is it?”
“Who else can afford that? It’s Carrington Stuyvesant,” Bishop tells me, “Where the hell is Lerrick? Lerrick! Carrington’s outside. Get your ass out there.”
It’s nighttime. The Aston Martin is literally causing a scene with the guys all around the block. They’ve come out to look at it. Usually, the only time a car like that is seen out here is when they were shooting a Drug Dealer hood scene for a Straight-to-Netflix Urban movie.
Lerrick walks out of the room. He’s hungover. He’s been drinking all morning. Think the whole Leo thing is affecting him a lot more than he wants to admit. I didn’t think he’d feel the effect this hard. Lerrick was going into depression whether he wanted to believe it or not. I’d seen it enough in this crazy ass family to know the signs. Right now though Bishop is literally throwing clothes out of the closet
He starts poking and prodding at our brother, “We can’t keep him waiting. He’s a fucking Stuyvesant.”
“You want him to do this?” I ask.
I’m talking about the fact that Lerrick was clearly still upset about Leo. He wasn’t thinking with a clear mind. Bishop has money-tinted glasses on. Matter of fact they were contacts. He was too cool to wear glasses.
‘Yes. More than ever now that we know…” he starts.
“Know what?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he responds, “Help me get Lerrick together. Ignore your menstrual cramps and be useful for once.”
I roll my eyes and try to help get Lerrick together for his date. I’m just getting in the way. Bishop is literally dressing him, fixing his hair, washing his face and anything else that Lerrick needs. Only Bishop can become a stylist, a barber, and an aesthetician in a few seconds. One thing I learned with a brother like Bishop is that frauds have many skills.
Lerrick clearly doesn’t want to go.
“Carrington? How is this possible?” Lerrick asks, “He told me he was out of the country.”
“Well, he lied. He’s beeping his horn in front of our window. You need to get down there,” Bishop asks, “Where is your wallet? WHERE IS YOUR WALLET?”
Bishop seemed to want Lerrick to go on this date more than Lerrick wanted to. Lerrick clearly has no interest in Carrington Stuyvesant and that is becoming more and more clear. Lerrick looks almost sick to his stomach at the thought of Carrington.
He was clearly in love with Leo.
“They’re in the fridge,” I state.
“Why the hell are my keys in the fridge?” Lerrick asks.
I shrug, “You said ‘this is gonna really confuse me tomorrow.’ Apparently drunk you plays pranks on hungover you.”
Lerrick stops moving for a moment and falls into what looks like a real deep thought. Then finally as though he is having some sort of deep epiphany he snaps.
“That explains so much!”
I sigh. Lerrick looked nice. I had no idea how that was possible. The guy literally was deep in depression spending the whole day drinking and crying. Yet somehow he was able to snap back and look perfect. It was a fucking skill that I never acquired.
Lerrick goes to the window, “Let’s see if he’s still waiting. Oh shit. He’s out of the car. Oh shit, he’s picking up someone else’s dog shit. How nice. I didn’t think anyone could make picking up dog shit look sexy. Oh, shit—“
“Can you stop saying shit and go out there?” Bishop asks him.
“It’s not for me.”
“What do you mean it’s’ not for you?”
“It’s a Stuyvesant. But not my Stuyvesant. It’s Bentley Stuyvesant…”
Shit. I walk over to grab my phone. Sure enough Ben was blowing up my phone. Not one message. Not two. There were several missed calls in there from him.
Bishop is tripping at this point, “Go—I dunno suck his dick.”
“Excuse me? Even if you excuse the fact that I don’t know Bentley Stuyvesant like that why the fuck would I go suck his dick?” Lerrick asks.
“If Bentley is gay he definitely seems like a top—-“ Bishop states.
“He’s here for me.”
Bishop and Lerrick both turn to me. They are both shocked when I say the words. I have to admit seeing Bishop squirm in the way he does brings me a level of joy that I hadn’t yet experienced.
“You?” Lerrick asks.
“Yeah, he mentioned going out. I almost forgot it was now.”
“You’ve been communicating with BENTLEY STUYVESANT and you didn’t tell me?” Bishop asks.
Communicating was a way to describe it. Ever since my mother killed herself at his brother’s wedding Bentley had been texting me nonstop. It wasn’t much. Just little things. He woke me up every morning and he was the last person I text every night. It was just normal talking. Normal chatting. Of course, I was ridiculously intimidated by him so I just let him take the lead. It wasn’t until last night that he asked me out. I was so concerned with Lerrick and his drinking that I didn’t even respond.
“It’s none of your business.”
Lerrick shrugs, “Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe Kwamie can go out there and be our IN with the Stuyvesant.”
Bishop gives me a look. He gives me a real hard look. Harder than I think he’d ever looked at me in my life. He is breathing heavy. This wasn’t his plan. His plan was to use perfect Lerrick. Lerrick was handsome. Lerrick was stylish. Lerrick was cool. He was the brother who had it all. He was a success story. I was just the younger brother who they were annoyed with.
“You’re not going…” he states.
“You can’t stop me—-“
Bishop pushes me up against the wall hard. He pins me down. He’s super strong. Like he definitely ate his spinach this morning or something. I almost want to take it back. I guess he can stop me if he wanted to.
Lerrick taps him a few times, “Let him go. What’s the worse he can do? This can be our way in with the Stuyvesant. And if he fucks it up—-well, we have Carrington as back up.”
“He likes you?” Bishop asks me.
I shrug, “I don’t know yet. We met outside the wedding. I think he feels bad about mom dying at his family’s event.”
Bishop is hesitating. He knows I’m not the seducer. I’m not the person who you send out for something like this. We all knew that. I knew myself more than anything. I wasn’t going to hurt Bentley in any way. And that is what Bishop was afraid of. I can see the doubt building up all over his face as he thinks about what Lerrick is suggesting by allowing me to go.
Finally, he releases me, but not without a warning.
“If you fuck this up—-I will kill you. I’m not joking. I will list myself as your next of kin and strangle you in your sleep so that I inherit everything.”
The scary part is that I think he means it. The scarier part was he is so mad that he doesn’t realize that we don’t have anything to inherit.
There’s no arguing with Bishop when he’s like this. So I silently nod, taking on the burden of it and watch as my brothers look at me walking out with their nerves showing on their faces.
“Thought you were going to stand me up.”
He’s perfect. Ben. I keep staring at his lips as he approaches. I think I’m underdressed until I get to the car and see him. Sure the car looked like it was worth someone’s mortgage, but he was dressed in ripped jeans that hugged his muscular thighs and a white t-shirt that looked like a second skin. I could see everything with this white t-shirt. The hard circular mounds that he called a chest. I could see the abs. Fuck. With that bad boy carefree smile and those abs, I felt like I wanted to wake up to him every morning.
I wanted to say good morning to each of his abs personally.
“No, it’s just my brothers. They are being dicks…”
“Trust me I get not wanting to be around your family,” he states, “Hopefully I’m not causing any issues by stealing you away?”
I shrug. I’m not sure.
“Nah. But I don’t think I’m cool enough to be in this car. This kind of stuff doesn’t impress me…”
He pauses, “Oh wow…did I do something wrong?”
I shrug. I’m thinking about Bishop and Lerrick and how money hungry they are.
“I don’t want you to think I agreed to come out here because you’re rich. I’m sorry…where I come from learning how to exploit a wealthy middle-aged man is a right of passage. A young wealthy, attractive man is like hitting the jackpot.”
“So you think I’m attractive?”
“I’m serious Ben. I just want you to know you’re car is nice but I’m not here because of that.”
He nods, “I appreciate you saying that. More than you know. Honestly. And can I admit something to you?”
“I didn’t ask you out because you have a big butt. I mean you do. An amazing butt. But there’s more to you. I mean somewhere between the cute awkwardness, the dramatic declarations and your smile—-I realized I’m no longer a butt man.”
“Are you flirting with me, Mr. Stuyvesant?”
“Actually, I never actually flirt with anyone, I’m just a fucking dick and some people find it endearing,” he smiles.
“I like dicks—-“
“Oh, you do?”
He bites his lips raising his eyebrow as though something definitely sparked his interest. I’m such an idiot that I don’t even realize it until he adjusts his leg, showing off yet another leg via a bulge in his tight jeans.
“Fuck I didn’t mean it that way,” I state.
That’s when he looks at me. He looks at me hard. Real hard and then out of nowhere he says the cutest thing, “You’re the best kind of different.”
I never had anyone say that to me. I never had anyone smile at me the way he smiles at me.
We arrive at the restaurant after a more awkward conversation. I came really close to telling Bentley Stuyvesant that I wanted to chew on him because he looked so good. Because I fucking suck at flirting. Then I mentioned something about there should be an oil painting of his abs in the Louvre. I think at that point he just started laughing thinking I was saying some sort of joke. I’m glad that he didn’t find me to be fucking ridiculous but I could only imagine what Bishop would say if he were here listening to my flirt routine.
Ben and I slipped into one of the intimate red leather booths in the back. The restaurant was small, dimly lit and decorated in the style of an old-school steakhouse.
Ben ordered a glass of Chateau Lafite Rothschild Pauillac. I googled it hoping to find a pronunciation but I only found out that it cost over 1000 dollars a bottle.
“I’ll just get some water,” I tell the waiter who looks obviously annoyed.
“You do know I’m paying right. I would never go dutch with you,” Ben whispers almost as though he could read my mind.
“Oh, in that case, I’ll have what he’s having. Two actually.”
The waiter looked even more annoyed. I am suspecting by the way everyone else is dressed that Ben is wearing jeans and a t-shirt because of me. He probably knew I would be dressed like this. He was probably helping me fit in. He fits in though, even with a white t-shirt. I don’t. He doesn’t seem to care though. He leans in close in the booth, making sure there is little to no space between us.
“You’re so fucking handsome,” he states out of nowhere, “Are you feeling the Millionaire Munchies?”
“Your website. You wrote an article called Millionaire Munchies yesterday,” he explains, “You do know I’m actually a billionaire though, right?”
“Oh come on. You know what I’m talking about. A blog on the Three Brothers site talking about how you want to chew on this new millionaire that you just met.”
“That must have been one of my brothers…”
“Really because your name was under the article. Unless it was a mistake. Which would be weird because I read all the articles on the website in the last three years. You have a very unique cadence that your brother doesn’t have.”
So he did a LOT of research. Interesting.
“Ok. Maybe I wrote it…but it was just cheeky,” I said and took another sip of wine. Frantically, I tried to recall the things I wrote—and I closed my eyes and groaned with embarrassment as I remembered.
“Really because I was kind of was getting jealous. Hoping that no other guy caught your attention,” he states.
His voice was really low now because he was cuddled up next to me in the booth and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me even closer.
“I’m surprised you’d read it,” I muttered.
“So you never thought I would find out that you described me as ‘so handsome that he sucked all the attention in the room towards himself as if he possessed his own personal force of gravity.”
“No of course not.” Otherwise, I wouldn’t have published it.
“Or described yourself as a plain wallflower?”
“No. And this is embarrassing.”
“It’s a good book, Kwamie,” Ben tells me, “no matter what happens, know that. If it didn’t—-“
“If it didn’t what?” My brain snapped to focus.
“It complicates things,” Ben said reluctantly, shifting so he wasn’t holding me close anymore, “I’m a very private person Kwamie.”
I couldn’t help it—-I burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny about that?”
“You share everything about yourself online. You’re in papers, the blogs, on Twitter, Instagram and all over social networks, I’ve never heard of. You have millions of followers.”
“Yeah, but notice I never tell them anything really personal about me. It’s all about the family business. All about the image my family wants to present. They know Bentley Stuyvesant….no one knows Ben.”
He’s not talking about his sexuality. He’s talking about more than that.
“It’s true, isn’ tit? You don’t want anyone to know what you’re thinking or feeling. That’s why you call yourself the black sheep of the Stuyvesant family. No one really knows you, do they?”
I remember how awkward it was knowing how far into detail I went in that blog. I literally described him to a T. It wouldn’t be hard for people to connect the dots if they ever saw us out.
“My family is big on image,” He explains, “They know I’m gay. They don’t care what I’m doing or who I’m doing it with. As long as it’s private. Not everyone is open-minded in Texas.”
“I could unpublish it, I guess.”
“No I would never ask that of you,” he said strongly, “It’s just that my father is pissed that I am letting some broke shit slinger—his words not mine—-write stories about me. Some news sources are starting to cover your article wondering who you’re talking about. They are speculating whether you’re dating me or my brother Carrington—-or both—-”
Jesus Christ? A story of mine had never really gone viral before.
“He’s not the only one pissed,” I said softly, “You are too.”
“If I was pissed I wouldn’t be here with you. I want to get to know you. My brother Carrington can worry about the launch. I want to worry about this amazing guy in front of me. Just let’s be a little discreet about it. At least for now. Agreed?”
We talk for some more time. He kept leaning over and smelling my neck mid-conversation and just sitting right back up as if nothing happened. It turned me on big time.
“This restaurant is getting really empty huh?” I realize.
“I actually had the restaurant closed down an hour ago. The perks of owning this place.”
“You own this place?” I ask, “Why have it closed down?”
“So I can do this—-“
That’s when he leans over. He kisses me. Sparks were one thing but this was more than that. It was like one of those moments where the couple runs together and kisses and everyone in the airport claps. But instead of clapping he grinds up against my cellphone and starts I-Tunes. I hear the embarrassing sounds of THOT-IANA playing loudly as my ringtone interrupting us.
Just when I look up I notice something else. Someone was outside the restaurant. Hiding…
“Shit…what the fuck is he doing here?”
“What’s wrong? I don’t see anyone.”
Bishop was here. Not just here.
I shake my head, “I’ll be right back.”
I get outside and see Bishop hiding.
“You followed us.”
“I’m not a stalker. I just bring a whole new meaning to the word dedication,” Bishop smiles, “Besides I just wanted to make sure my beloved little brother is having a good time on his date and not being taken advantage of.”
“Meaning you wanted to make sure I wasn’t fucking up your chance at Stuyvesant money.”
“No. I want to apologize.”
Bishop nods, “I’ve been an asshole to you. Me threatening you isn’t what I should be doing. I should be supporting you and your new relationship. Listen. Me and Lerrick are going out. You can have the apartment.”
“Wait I can bring him over tonight.”
“Yes. Go ahead. Just found out there is a preset five on the shower head at home. Get your pussy in the dishwasher and wax him clean.”
This was probably the nicest thing that Bishop has done for me. I lean over at that moment and hug him.
“He’s coming out. I should get out of here. But I’m proud of you little brother.”
It’s crazy hearing him say that. He’s never said it before. And I know I should be stone when it came to Bishop, but Bishop was the oldest. Bishop was the one who had it together. Calvin was our straight brother who was the first one to really go full out crazy and Bishop was the one who pulled our family back together after Calvin was gone. To know that Bishop felt proud of me at this moment meant everything to me.
“Sorry…my brothers are kind of messes,” I state.
You would think that Bishop offering the apartment to me for the night was a good thing. It wasn’t. They hadn’t bothered to clean up. It looked exactly how it looked when I left.
“I don’t mind.”
“You sure? You probably have a closet bigger than my apartment,” I state.
“Listen I’m here for you.”
I am struggling at this moment. He’s so handsome and I’m a little tipsy from his overpriced wine. I also don’t’ think there’s a gentleman-like way to tell this guy I want to sit on his face.
I keep staring at his face. He was so fucking fine. How does one get to be both rich and fine? What the fuck was God doing when he was handing out birth perks? He had to just be like fuck it—-let’s just give it to this guy named Bentley. No one else needs anything.
“It’s great that you and your brothers are close.”
“We literally don’t have a choice. Our apartment is fuckin small as hell.”
“I wished I stayed in here. It’s lowkey. No one cares about what you do. Or how you do it. You are basically invisible.”
I stare at my hand, “Oh shit. Didn’t notice.”
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I envy you. At least you and your brothers fight and argue but you make up. Me and my siblings couldn’t be further apart. It’s like all that matters is success. My sister doesn’t talk to any of us in private but puts on a show in public. My sister literally is threatening to take us to court over her use of starting a new business with the Stuyvesant name. My brother is so far in the closet that he’s willing to build a whole family because of the gay rumors going around about him. And then there’s me…”
“What about you?” I ask.
“My father doesn’t love me. He doesn’t even see me…” he explains, “I just want to do music. But he would rather me be a stuffy white collared businessman. IT’s just…not me.
He had the whole rebellious thing going on about him. It’s the way he dressed. It’s the way that he felt more comfortable He just looks like he’d be good in bed. He looked like he had all this anger built up in him. And if he wanted to take that anger out on my boy-pussy—-let’s just say I wouldn’t complain.
“I think you should do what you want,” I state, “I think you should be who you want. You only live once.”
He smiles, “You know what I want right now?”
He leans in and kisses me. Then he kisses me again. And again. And again. And I lose track of time. I forget myself. I fall into him and I do it willingly.
Halfway through the kissing, we work our pants off. He pulled my rear up so that his growing dick was pressed up against my ass and grinded hard several times. Reaching over I pulled open the couch side table drawer producing a bottle of lube that Bishop used for his one-night stands. I squeezed out a healthy amount and began to lather his dick. I am shocked by the size. It’s almost 10 inches of hard pure dick.
Ben moaned and clutched me close so that my hole giving away his fat member breaching into me. My hot breath brushed over his neck before I proceeded to bury his face in it, sucking knowing that it was going to leave a mark but for some reason, he didn’t seem to mind.
“I want to be inside of you,” he states.
“You feels so good, “I whispered in his ear, “So big.”
“You’re so tight…”
He gave me a tender kiss on my lips and down my jawline. He continued to saw back and forth. I explored all his muscles all over until they began to get tense and flex under my touch. He huffed and moaned as he started to thrust harder and faster into me.
“Fuck yeah. TAKE THIS DICK!”
“BEG FOR THE DICK. BEG FOR MY CUM.”
I whimpered and I could feel his shiver moving throughout his entire body down his spine and his groin and until he exploded inside of me…
And I was covered in his wet, thick man juice.
“How was last night?” Lerrick asks.
“Amazing,” I state, “He left in the morning. Guys I know it’s soon but I think I’m falling for him.”
“Oh god. He gets real dick for the first time and he thinks he’s in love,” Lerrick laughs.
“Did the two of you?” Bishop asks.
“Yes. But it wasn’t just sex. When he looked at me it was as if every ounce of breath was taken from my lungs floating into the air like midnight smoke. Every time he kissed me it felt like the world stopped, leaving just the two of us to wander the Earth together. Every time he held my face between his hands it felt like nothing was untying all of my knots. Holding me for eternity in his arms. This is what it felt like. It felt like falling.”
“Good,” he states, “But you might want to get the hell back up. I need to talk to you.”
“We were actually going to go out for breakfast,” I state.
“Actually you might want to cancel that,” he explains.
I look over at Bishop, “Not this again.”
Bishop doesn’t blink an eye, “We need to have a family meeting. There’s something you need to know…”
Bishop looked serious. So serious that Lerrick sits down and I sit down next to Lerrick. Bishop is pacing back and forth. There is something very odd in the way that he is moving.
“There’s something I should have told you. Something I should have told both of you. But I didn’t and it’s OK because this works out even better…”
“Have you ever heard the expression of a small house?”
Lerrick and I look at one another. We’re completely confused.
“A small house is the result of an extramarital affair,” Bishop explains to us, “See the Big house is the house that a man has. It’s the house he takes care of. He sleeps in this house. The children in this house are wealthy. They are happy. They are fed. And then there is the small house.”
“How small because this house is pretty small,” Lerrick laughs.
“The concept of small houses are simple,” he states, “The second family of a man with a woman he doesn’t claim who has children who don’t carry the father’s last name. They are left in the shadows.”
“What does this have to do with us?”
“I have to believe we are the Small House for Cadmus Stuyvesant…”
Lerrick and I look at each other. The shock spreads quickly.
“You have to be lying…”
Bishop shakes his head, “You sacrificed for us. I just sent a letter to Cadmus Stuyvesant. If he doesn’t acknowledge us publicly and give us a certain portion of his wealth we will go public ourselves revealing an embarrassing affair that happened between his son from the big house and his son from the small house.”
Bishop picks up the phone and shows me something.
He had a habit. It was a nasty little habit. He had a habit of being a very nasty human being. This was proving that.
“You recorded us…”
Bishop recorded me having sex with someone who he claims was my other brother.