Ocean Billionaire

Chapter Three

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"Wake up, Imani, " Jamie called, tagging at Imani's bedding, his face peeking under her blankets "you promised we would make pancakes together today, " his small body sprawled on top of her, his breathing unstable. Imani remained quiet, feigning sleep even though she knew Jamie wouldn't leave until she was awake.

"Imani, " Jamie whispered this time, uncovering a small part of her face by lifting the corner of the blanket, leaning over her until he placed one side of his face on hers.

"Imani, " he whispered again, his breath warm against her cheek.

"Yes, sweetheart, " she sleepily replied, exhaling loudly because Jamie's face was pressing hers down.

"You're awake, " he cheerfully announced, lifting his face and peering at her to find Imani's eyes were still closed, and half of her face was still covered.

"Wake up, " he begged, "please, " he added.

Imani swiftly threw up her blankets, grabbing Jamie, and then soundly started raining kisses all over his face. Jamie giggled beautifully, shooting his legs up and down as he tried to pull out of her arms.

He was her center. The only reason she got up in the morning. It had been a struggle for them both, especially when their mother died, but it had always been both of them since Jamie was born. Although she was okay, gentle, and carefree, their mother had not taken much responsibility for him since she returned from the hospital with him. Imani had become like his mother. He called for her at night, she was whom he preferred to their mother, yet it shouldn't have been like that. Their mother would have insisted on taking care of him and not letting her fifteen-year-old daughter carry the burden of raising her son.

A year later, it hadn't mattered; their mother was dead.  With no relative, Imani, with the help of a neighbor, buried their mother, then sold everything she could before leaving, running away to avoid social services. She was too young to raise Jamie, too young to be on her own, but Imani knew it was better for them to be together than separated by the system. She knew if they ended up in the system, Jamie would forget her after a while since he was still a child, but she would forever remember him. She had no choice —she would raise him herself.

It had not been easy raising a one-year-old with little or no money. Imani dropped out of school, worked as a waiter and a babysitter for a woman who allowed her to bring Jamie with her; it was the perfect arrangement. But it was short-lived because she later called social services on her, making Imani make another hard decision —run again.

They were always on the run until Imani became of legal age. A milestone she celebrated for it came with the right age to be Jamie's guardian, but not legally. She was always afraid to petition the court to be his guardian, fearful that he would be taken from her because she had no secure job. 

While she wasn't formally educated, Imani was very street smart. She had learned it the hard way. They were living on the edge without knowing what tomorrow would bring. Being a parent came with a lot of worries. She had once woken up in a panic in the middle of the night when Jamie had a fever, conned by a real estate agent six months after their mother's death, lived for almost nine months in the streets, at one point, she begged the head chef of a hotel she waitressed to let them sleep in the store, they did that for two weeks until she could afford a single room. To this day, that chef remains one of the kindest people Imani had met on their journey, and they had met many.

A few years later, she was now twenty-one, living in Chicago and working as a stripper. It paid more than witnessing, babysitting, dishwasher, cleaning staff combined. She now had medical insurance for Jamie, it wasn't much, but it was something, and studying for a high school exit exam.

Life was looking up, but it was also suffocating in a way. She had two personas—that of a mother, and the other was for a few hours a night—packaging herself into a sensual being for the enjoyment of men. She wasn't proud of it, but she didn't have much choice either.

With Jamie dragging her to the kitchen, Imani stopped in front of the washroom, pulling her hand from his firm grasp, "I need to go in here for a minute, sweetheart, " She told him with one of her legs touching the bathroom door. Jamie craned his neck, his mouth slightly opened, his brows furrowed. "We need to work on your trust issues, " Imani joked, pushing the door open, and Jamie stood there watching her disappear.

When she was done, she found Jamie seated outside the door, like he often did now and then when she went to the bathroom when he was awake.

"Are you ready?" She asked him, and he jumped up and down a few times, clapping his hands, and nodded. Imani took his hands, and they both walked to the kitchen.

He had his own small portable table adjusted beside the big one in the kitchen. Imani placed two eggs in a bowl on his table and another empty one beside it and told him to c***k them into the empty one. This wasn't the first time they had done this; they did it often in the morning when she didn't have to go to the library.

Jamie gleefully did as he was told and then started beating the eggs together, and when Imani stretched out her hand, he picked up the bowl and carefully placed it in her hand as if he was afraid it might fall.

They cooked pancakes and made fresh orange juice for breakfast. It was just the two of them, but when they were homeless, Imani dreamt of having a dining place where she and Jamie could sit for their meals.

While they ate, Jamie regaled Imani with stories of his preschool friends and their teacher. He was an introvert; to watch him relate to children his age without the need to hide or sit alone in a corner was an achievement itself.

After eating, Jamie pulled a chair near the kitchen to climb up to help clean the dishes. They were laughing when the phone rang; it was from Ben, the manager of Scarlette, telling her he expected her to be at work by 8 pm.

"Im sorry, Ben, there must be a mistake; I start at ten until three," Imani said softly, picking Jamie and placing his feet on the floor.

"Plans change." he declared irately, "don't be late, " and he hanged up.

Imani shook with anger, hiding her face while she screamed in her hands because she didn't want to scare Jamie.

It was supposed to be their day, spend it together, tuck him in bed at night and then go to work and be there when he woke up on Sunday. But she didn't make the rules; she followed them.

"Are you okay?" Jamie's small voice whispered, tagging at her pajamas. Imani looked down at him, smiling even when she felt as if something was clogged at her throat.

"How about that trip to the park?"

Jamie nodded, grinning happily.

While dressing for the park, Imani called her neighbor, Mrs. Fernandos—a gentle grandmother of three who was always happy to look after Jamie when Imani was at work.

She apologized because she wasn't supposed to work today, but Mrs. Fernandos said it was okay.

With Jamie chatting up and playing with his friends, Imani sat down on the wooden bench and thought about the client who wanted to see her.

It had to be Matthew Ocean, she thought. He was the only private client she'd danced for, but she wondered why. Alana was back, and she was drop-dead gorgeous, with the best and daring dance moves. Although it was prohibited to talk about clients, most girls, especially those that did private shows, talked a lot about their clients.

Like how some of them touched themselves when the girls danced or how they touched them while dancing, Mathew had not done either of the things Imani had heard; he had been respectful, had stayed in his seat throughout the dance until it was over, and then gave her a huge tip, so big she had finally allowed herself to own the beautiful bedside table in the home comforts catalog.

She would see him again tonight. But she knew it wouldn't be like last time. He wanted something from her; why else would he prefer her to Alana?

But whatever it might be, she would never do what most girls did for more money.  She wanted money, desperately so, but not enough to allow men to touch her while she danced or watch him masturbate for extra cash. It didn't matter that he was as rich as Croesus.