Read Online BWWM Interracial Romance 2: Open Heart by Elena Brown - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elena Brown
Tags: United States, Romance, Literature & Fiction, Women's Fiction, African American, Two Hours or More (65-100 Pages)
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seem to be all that happy.
“You stick with me, kid; we’ll just keep on having fun ‘til they put us in our graves.”
Tony pulled into Vince’s driveway and got out of the car. How did he remind Vince of himself? Was he that superficial? That shallow?
It occurred to Tony that in spite of Vince’s business acumen, there didn’t seem to be much of merit he could take from the man for living advice. His mentor had passed out once more in the passenger seat, and Tony hauled him out. Did he really want a life like the one Vince inhabited? He thought there was a lot of fun in Vince’s life—but there wasn’t much else. He had a huge house and very rarely anyone but himself and his staff in it. He had tons of money, all the freedom to travel that anyone could desire, but what did the man really get from his travels? It seemed to Tony that Vince only ever went to the clubs and restaurants of any place he went to—never somewhere high culture, like a museum or the theatre. Tony thought that it wasn’t a very fulfilling life; even if it was fun, there wasn’t anything deeper to it—not even an appreciation for the things he had. Maybe, he thought, softening as he handed Vince off to one of the security guards that patrolled the older man’s house after night, he was just feeling bleak because Vince had decided to get messy, pass-out drunk when he was supposed to be showing Tony a good time.
Ben was waiting for him, and Tony got into the car, faintly relieved to be going home instead of bringing some drunken girl to Vince’s house. He had looked around again and again in the course of the evening out, but he hadn’t managed to find any woman at any of the clubs that attracted him the way that Ashley had; the almost immediate, instantaneous interest he had felt in the young doctor had been as much a fluke in his life as anything could have been. As they wove through Miami traffic, Tony was looking out through the window. He thought he spotted Ashley’s car—he had seen it briefly at the beginning of their one date. Ben pulled up next to the car at a red light, and Tony peered through the window to see if it was her. He craned his head, thankful that his windows were set up to be opaque from the outside, though he could see through just fine. The driver in the next car was a woman—but it wasn’t Ashley, instead some blonde, squirming and seat-dancing. Tony shook his head and sat back as Ben pulled onto the Expressway, scrubbing at his face.
It was impossible, Tony thought. He could see some kind of wisdom in his friend’s words—it didn’t do any good to be hung up on Ashley, to obsess over her if she wasn’t interested in him. But he didn’t think he would be going out to any clubs again anytime soon, whether or not he was able to get another date with Ashley. He thought about his brother, and Amanda. He hadn’t realized what a hunger he had developed for something deeper than just going out and having fun, sleeping with a woman and then seeing her to the door in the morning—or seeing her a few times and then extricating himself from her over-interested grip. It was flattering to have women throwing themselves at you until you came to the point where you realized that the only reason they were doing it was your money and the thought of nabbing themselves a steady situation. He didn’t want a trophy wife; he wanted a woman who was his complement, who could understand that he was driven to work long hours. A woman who wanted him because of who he was, not because of what he had.
When he finally arrived at his home, exhausted, Tony took his phone out and flipped through his list of contacts until he came to Ashley’s name. He stared at her number for a long time, thinking about the text messages that they had sent back and forth. For the first time in years, Tony felt nervous and apprehensive about sending a woman a message; he wondered if he had the nerve to try asking her out again. But he looked at
“You stick with me, kid; we’ll just keep on having fun ‘til they put us in our graves.”
Tony pulled into Vince’s driveway and got out of the car. How did he remind Vince of himself? Was he that superficial? That shallow?
It occurred to Tony that in spite of Vince’s business acumen, there didn’t seem to be much of merit he could take from the man for living advice. His mentor had passed out once more in the passenger seat, and Tony hauled him out. Did he really want a life like the one Vince inhabited? He thought there was a lot of fun in Vince’s life—but there wasn’t much else. He had a huge house and very rarely anyone but himself and his staff in it. He had tons of money, all the freedom to travel that anyone could desire, but what did the man really get from his travels? It seemed to Tony that Vince only ever went to the clubs and restaurants of any place he went to—never somewhere high culture, like a museum or the theatre. Tony thought that it wasn’t a very fulfilling life; even if it was fun, there wasn’t anything deeper to it—not even an appreciation for the things he had. Maybe, he thought, softening as he handed Vince off to one of the security guards that patrolled the older man’s house after night, he was just feeling bleak because Vince had decided to get messy, pass-out drunk when he was supposed to be showing Tony a good time.
Ben was waiting for him, and Tony got into the car, faintly relieved to be going home instead of bringing some drunken girl to Vince’s house. He had looked around again and again in the course of the evening out, but he hadn’t managed to find any woman at any of the clubs that attracted him the way that Ashley had; the almost immediate, instantaneous interest he had felt in the young doctor had been as much a fluke in his life as anything could have been. As they wove through Miami traffic, Tony was looking out through the window. He thought he spotted Ashley’s car—he had seen it briefly at the beginning of their one date. Ben pulled up next to the car at a red light, and Tony peered through the window to see if it was her. He craned his head, thankful that his windows were set up to be opaque from the outside, though he could see through just fine. The driver in the next car was a woman—but it wasn’t Ashley, instead some blonde, squirming and seat-dancing. Tony shook his head and sat back as Ben pulled onto the Expressway, scrubbing at his face.
It was impossible, Tony thought. He could see some kind of wisdom in his friend’s words—it didn’t do any good to be hung up on Ashley, to obsess over her if she wasn’t interested in him. But he didn’t think he would be going out to any clubs again anytime soon, whether or not he was able to get another date with Ashley. He thought about his brother, and Amanda. He hadn’t realized what a hunger he had developed for something deeper than just going out and having fun, sleeping with a woman and then seeing her to the door in the morning—or seeing her a few times and then extricating himself from her over-interested grip. It was flattering to have women throwing themselves at you until you came to the point where you realized that the only reason they were doing it was your money and the thought of nabbing themselves a steady situation. He didn’t want a trophy wife; he wanted a woman who was his complement, who could understand that he was driven to work long hours. A woman who wanted him because of who he was, not because of what he had.
When he finally arrived at his home, exhausted, Tony took his phone out and flipped through his list of contacts until he came to Ashley’s name. He stared at her number for a long time, thinking about the text messages that they had sent back and forth. For the first time in years, Tony felt nervous and apprehensive about sending a woman a message; he wondered if he had the nerve to try asking her out again. But he looked at
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