Dirty Dawg: The Indian Intern Ch. 03

"What'd I tell you about shitting where you eat, boy?"

"Sorry."

"It happens, hell it happened to all of us over here and many more. Now that's why we tell you youngsters not to do that shit, because we had to learn from experience. We have to concede that men are visual creatures while women are thinkers, first." Henry added.

"You were made the minute this-uhm, Laila girl met you; now, what's the first thing you noticed when you met her?" I face palmed as another friend, Joseph asked an embarrassing question.

"That ass." I half mumbled.

"That's right nigga, now what'd I teach you about conducting yourself out here in the streets?" Uncle Billy was irritated as I found myself in an informal tribunal.

"Think two steps ahead."

"No, think as many steps ahead as possible while finding out what the imposed limits are, boy. Now, tell us why that is, youngster." All of the gathered men sat there while I figured out the answer.

"So uhm, so that you can surpass those limits."

"Right; now tell me how you got played using that principle?"

"Laila was already going to take over the department I worked in prior to us meeting and my experience there made me a target. Mr. Kumar knew I probably wouldn't cooperate, but she knew using her body would distract me long enough for her to sit in a chair I could dispute the minute they opened the position. It-It was her idea to get nasty with me outside of Kumar's plan to have me train my own boss." I reasoned.

"And why is that, boy?"

"She's used to getting her way with her body, though her face is kind of plain. Maybe a little racist on the side too, because I played into her sexual curiosity."

"Hey, you said she was an Indian girl; how can she be racist?" Henry cut in, perplexed.

"I'm not saying she's racist exactly, but only the possibility because of the conversation we shared and what she allowed me to do to her body. Laila has some body issues after losing some weight which played into our hookup. She was really happy to be desired, that much is true-I think."

"You have to watch out for that kind of shit in the working world because most of the time these clowns like to break their fucking toys. I don't wanna be here telling you about fucking up your damn money again. Now, if the bitch wanna play outside the office, you make sure you got your ass covered first; then hit a home run like your Uncle Billy taught you, boy!!"

"Yeah, okay." I answered feeling scolded and three feet tall sitting there in front of my mentor. There was something different in his voice making our conversation gritty and raw while his friends sat there watching almost pensively.

"So, what are you gonna do when she call you up looking for some more chocolate?" He asked breaking into a cough.

"You think she'll call, me?"

"I know she will and when she does; make that trick remember your name every time she sit on that fat ass. Now, you've got to make sure you keep ahead of shit because I'm not always gonna be around to screw your fucking head on straight."

"Don't say that, Uncle Billy."

"Stop sounding like a bitch and get me some water, boy." I stared at him noticing his ashen pallor a little bit more before walking across the yard to an ice chest filled with bottled water and drinks. Auntie Yvonne got in my path when I turned around with two icy bottles.

"Uhm, hey auntie."

"Hey yourself; you talk to your uncle about his being sick?" She looked strained emotionally among all of the oblivious guests and visitors milling about on their property.

"How sick is he?"

"He need another round of chemo; but we kind of short on funds, if you know what I mean. I love that man so much and I'd do anything even though he talking all tough about not needing no help and all." She was wringing her hands glancing about like she was worried somebody would hear.

"I'll see what I can do; maybe call up some people for a donation." My uncle was a one time cancer survivor, but there was always the scare that the illness would return someday.

"You know he loves you like a son; hell, I love you like my own, too."

I wrapped an arm around Yvonne giving her a peck on the cheek. One of the bottles dropped to the grass as she floated away talking to some friends. I retrieved another bottle turning to find a big, nightmare of a man standing in my path looking like a bull ready to charge. There was no doubt that I was standing face to face with one baby daddy a.k.a boyfriend of Micha Le'. He was one of those guys who'd gone bald and compensated for it by growing one of these fucking duck dynasty beards. He was decked out in a t-shirt and sagging jeans looking like a man wanting a fight.

"Excuse me bruh; trying to get some eats." His baritone voice caught me off guard. I had to catch myself as I nearly flinched which would've been like chum in shark infested waters.

"Sure, okay." He walked by without incident revealing Micha Le' standing behind them holding their small toddler who couldn't have been more than one. She'd changed clothes wearing a football jersey and some modest looking shorts with a pair of flip flops on her feet. Micha Le' didn't look me in the face, keeping her head down in submissive fashion. This wasn't the same woman who'd chased me out of the yard earlier.

I found my way over to Uncle Billy's table taking a now vacant seat at his right. His friend Henry was being ushered out of the yard by his scooter bound wife who looked fed up. The mood remained jovial and festive with the clueless guests enjoying the party. It seemed Yvonne wanted to cheer my uncle up or more than likely, herself.

"Hey, I talked to auntie and she said-."

"Arrest that shit; I ain't got nothing to say about that. Don't want to talk about it right now, so don't push it, boy. Take a look at that girl over there and tell me what you see." Uncle Billy gestured towards Micha Le' who was meekly sitting on a lawn chair with her child on her lap spooning homemade ice cream into the toddlers mouth, her man holding a conversation with some people standing right over her. I took in her slouched posture and his proximity to his "girlfriend" with the revelation making me a little ill.

"An opportunist."

"That's right, boy; remember that when the Indian girl come a knocking on your door." We sat in silence for a few moments listening to his friends in conversation about various topics. Uncle Billy acknowledged my worry in his own way with a hand on my back. The rest of the party was bittersweet. I left right before dusk.

*************************************************************************************

Three days later his words still lingered as I sat in an office waiting for an interview. I'd literally gone through hundreds of job postings doing my best to find work to contribute my uncle's medical treatment. I had this plan to add him to my health insurance once I passed the mandatory probationary period. Calls to friends and relatives regarding Uncle Billy's had yielded the expectant results with a plethora of well wishes, condolences and a litany of economic excuses that had me fit to be tied. I periodically called up my aunt giving her the futile progress reports.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry to inform you that we filled that position earlier this morning; there's no need to conduct an interview." The mousy looking receptionist stuck her head out of the door pushing her thick glasses up on her nose.

"Why didn't you tell me that when I came in here, ma'am."

"We uh, I-didn't have all the information-at that time." She explained.

"It's eleven, you could've called me instead of having me come all the way down here." I was irritated as she stood there, shoulders slouched.

"Once again, we are really about the inconvenience, sir; would you like your parking ticket validated." The receptionist held a clicker in her hand but stood well behind her desk watching me pensively. It weirded me out a little.

"No, thanks."

I didn't have a car anymore and her offer only made me think of Laila. My ego wanted some closure, maybe even vengeance, honestly speaking. It felt like I was stuck in place, mired in some unseen, metaphorical quicksand. I still had money in the bank and unemployment hadn't kicked in yet, but I was living on a budget. It was midday and I couldn't afford a proper lunch, so I settled for a food truck in front of the building that seemed to be popular with the locals. There was this particularly appetizing chicken wrap that caught my attention as I happened across a conversation I wasn't supposed to hear.

"Yeah that was close; we almost hired that guy." I'd walked a circular pattern up and down the block looking for lunch before ending up a few people behind the receptionist who'd turned me away.

"That's crazy; you dodged a bullet with that one. No one wants a leering, pervert hanging around. You have to look over your shoulder every time you go to the bathroom."

"Yeah, Gloria did us a solid on that one." My stomach dropped as I realized the fix was still on feeling foolish as a result of the economic fallout. Both girls noticed me there behind them quickly scurrying inside the office building like I was wielding a pistol or something. I got that wrap anyway but didn't eat it for two hours after the train ride back to my neck of the woods.

"Shit, I'm fucked." I updated my resume leaving out my last job, but still found trouble wondering what I'd stick in its place to shore things up.

I surfed the net finishing the aforementioned wrap which went down like a brick considering my feelings and emotional fatigue. There was no doubt I'd find some kind of employment, but Uncle Billy's situation was wearing on me with no answers in sight. I crashed like a rock having this weird dream where I was put on trial by all of the women I'd slept with up to this time. Strangely enough, the whole mock court was presided over by this retired stripper I'd met at the local church years ago, Chocolate Lavender. I was jolted out of the dream trial by the ringing of my phone. My I-phone, the only luxury item I really owned at this point, abruptly stopped ringing as I sat up. There was some unknown number on the screen which I didn't think about as I considered selling the phone online in exchange for an android. I scrolled through my phone finding a number of calls from the same number piquing my curiosity enough to call back.

"Hello?" A female voice, someone I didn't recognize, answered.

"You called me; what do you want?" There was a long pause and I almost hung up when she spoke up.

"Wait a minute, just give me a second, sir!"

"WHO IT THIS?!!" I didn't get an answer, so I hung up, irritated. The phone started ringing again almost instantly prompting me to pick it up before the call went to voice mail.

"HELLO?!"

"This is Laila, don't hang up my good friend." I hung up regretting that I wasn't talking to her on a rotary phone so that I could slam the receiver down so hard, it exploded in my grasp. My mind twisted in knots as I immediately began regretting the action remembering the sage advice I'd received from my Uncle Billy and his round table of friends. Thirty minutes later, the phone rang again when I was in a more manageable mood.

"Laila."

"So much unbridled passion strikes me odd; I take it you haven't secured employment, yet?" The first thing I noticed was a change in accent going from a heavy accent to an almost British sounding dialect.

"You know all about that, don't you?"

"Not my doing, no, not at all my friend; Uncle Kumar has the whole thing balls up. It's almost certain he knows about us trying it out in the old office that night. I kind of feel he's got it in for you, certain. He can't seem to wrap his bulbous head around the fact that I'm a grown woman who fancies a snog every now and then." Laila was talking like we were old friends.

"So, what do you want, Laila?"

"You naturally; I want a face to face, dear." She sounded almost flippant, which was setting me off.

"So you can set me up again?" Laila snickered almost making me hang up in her face again, but I remembered myself wanting to know what she truly wanted.

"Why kill you two times, lover? No, I'm interested in seeing you for a chat hoping that perhaps, things can stop being, well personal." I was confused, not getting her meaning.

"I don't get it."

"Oh you got it; definitely got a good shagging from me. So, why take things in an unpleasant area, lover? Can't we uhm, "hash it out" as they say here in the states?" Laila's arrogance was off the charts.

"It's the middle of the work day over there; don't you have a department to run?"

"Oh don't worry about me lover; I have Malaya to do my job. She's pretty damn efficient too; don't take it personal, but I gave her your work station." I could feel her smiling through the phone as she trolled me.

"It's okay, I'm over it, bitch." I really wasn't.

"Please don't get overly emotional, I'm just being a little cheeky with you, my friend. So right, we'll have a go over the details tonight around, say eight in the evening? The Hilton downtown, the very, very large one near the tube, has an adequate pub for convenient conversation, distinctly public. Eight sharp, I'll be waiting with two large."

"Two large?"

"Eh, two thousand-as in dollars, lover." My jaw hit the floor.

"Eight sharp; be a dear an do make yourself presentable. Only those dressed for success will be allowed inside. It's called O'Tolles by the way; you DO know how to make yourself accessible to the upper crust, I'm sure?"

"Later." I said through gritted teeth.

"Don't forget, two thousand and there is definitely more where that came from, my friend."

She hung up instead, sure I'd show up for the money. Of course she was right because my back was against the wall worrying about Uncle Billy's illness. Something had to be done and I was just desperate enough to go against my nature and his training for an opportunity to throw a little cash in the pot. I continued looking for a job online for the rest of the day intermittently wondering what the con would be when I saw Laila again. What she hadn't known was that I'd been there years earlier in a similar episode where a lovely sycophant tried to covertly vet me to sleep with the entitled leader of her own small social circle. I showered and dressed business casual in a black shirt, grey slacks and matching suit jacket.

I arrived in an Uber fifteen minutes after the hour began surveying the scene from the attached hotel lobby. The place was packed to the brim, noticeably with a large number of Asian and Indian patrons making me think it was some sort of theme night that would appeal to that crowd. I peered in from the hotel lobby noticing the adjoining door was locked preventing access from that route wondering if Laila simply wanted to sexually proposition me. That was bullshit of course, Laila could have any swinging dick she wanted in the office with that huge ass of hers. I'd put it down that night in the office but didn't think I'd done a good enough job for her to compromise herself this way. She wanted something from me, and I didn't have a clue what it could be post-employment as I walked outside to a waiting line that was growing in size on the pavement. There were two security guards at the door checking identification and vetting potential patrons making me nervous. I waited for twenty minutes noticing that I was almost the sole representative of my ethnic group. When my turn came, the large bald guy stared me down for a few moments taking the time to make a call inside from the outdoor concierge stand. I was allowed inside after fifteen minutes.

"Hello, this way to your table, sir." I was escorted inside to a series of curved booths as some strange electronica played overhead. The place had been renovated since I was last there, made larger inside with a separate, crowded dance floor which was cordoned off. Laila was waiting there in the aisle wearing a dark three-quarter sleeve dress and open toed heels which accentuated her abundant curves. Her dark tresses were pinned up in a bun, giving her a more mature look than I was used to from our initial meeting. The rounded shape of her face contrasted with a thin neck adorned with some pearls.

"So, you decided to be fashionably late; I had it all mapped out so that you wouldn't have bit of a wait. I trust you are well, lover." I couldn't get over her British accent as she took my arm walking me back to her table.

"What's going on, Laila?"

"No need to be coy, I thought we should have a drink to commemorate cuffing season, here stateside. There are some lovely people I want you to meet from my circle." I tensed up stopping in my tracks.

"Mr. Kumar here; is this your game?"

"Of course not, my friend; he'd find it particularly hard fitting in with the boys and girls here and we could never get particularly cozy with him hanging about."

"Loved the fake accent, by the way."

"Don't be that way when your perceptions of my people, most likely arise from the fucking Simpsons and hack comedy films like the 40 Year Virgin. It made you more amenable feeling that you were guiding an innocent little flower, as it were, lover." Laila took my hand in her own lightly tugging on it.

"Eh, I think you're more like the bitch from that Bend It like Beckham, movie." I added.

"Keira Knightly?"

"The other one."

"Parminder Nagra; are you saying that because she's Indian?"

"No, in that movie there's a scene where all of the soccer players are sitting around in the locker room talking; the little bitch says that her family wouldn't just accept anyone, white guys being okay but black guys, way off limits, forbidden."

"But I shagged you, quite nicely too."

"Scratched that itch, is more like it, right Laila?"

"I thoroughly enjoyed every inch of your black cock and I was led to believe you luxuriated in my rather sizable bum; was this a misunderstanding on my part?" We stopped on the aisle way facing the crowded dance floor staring at one another's faces.

"You offered me money to be here, like a prostitute." I noticed the expensive pearl earrings as her perfume wafted past my nose. She was different on a whole other level with the other persona a complete fabrication. Laila pressed in close pulling on my arm until I leaned down to her full lips.

"No need to be coy, lover; the money is a portion of what you, yourself asked for." I was perplexed deciding to ride it out for my uncle's welfare if nothing else.

"Yeah, sure." I replied noncommittally.

"Come along then, our drinks await." We arrived at a filled booth occupied by six people, two of which I recognized from the office, but had never really spoken to at that time. Laila offered me a space at the end of the booth, but I deferred letting her slide in so that I wouldn't be boxed in between her and some Indian pretty boy. She smiled sweetly sliding into the booth as I glanced down at the swell of her butt on the plush seating. I followed her in, finding a seat as I stared at the faces of her group.

"This is my fiance, Raman; I've told him so much about you, lover." I was triggered placing a leg in the aisle waiting for a show of hostility from him, but Raman smiled condescendingly waving at me while another pretty boy leaned over staring.

"This is Reyansh, his very close friend; perhaps too close as they are intertwined, quite intimately." I glanced closer noticing the guys holding hands under the table.

"You said he was your fiance."

"That is true my friend; it's arranged as I've said but we have interests apart from one another as you can see. Raman and I, are the best of friends-and each other's beards." Laila explained.

"Covering for one another, huh?"

"Raman would be disowned by his extremely wealthy and clueless father if it were known that her preferred the touch of men, as it were. Neither one of us would like to give up access to billions, so we find ways to accommodate each other."