"This is my mother, Ms. Davis—" George introduced and had playful slapped his arm.

"Call me Ruth." She asked of me. "George, you were right when you said she was a fine girl, come here you!"

Ruth squeezed me tight. "Come on in!"

The apartment did not at all look like people who should be living in Harlem. The furniture was new, the walls were freshly painted, and wood paneling decorated the room. They had a new television, and in a fancy seat in front of it sat Mr. Davis.

"Nice to meet you." I smiled. Mr. Davis had on his fedora even though he was inside. He didn't look up from the tv.

"Nice to meet you." He mumbled. A little teenage girl popped in, she was like a small version of George.

"This is Ro, my little sis." George smiled as he motioned to his sister. She had two bows in her relaxed hair.

"Hi!" Ro waved as she scurried into the kitchen. George and I walked to the dining room table.

"I'll help your mother..." I offered and he patted my knee.

"No need, the food is practically done anyway." George smiled. I looked at the table of food in front of me. None of it was the food I was used to at home.

I loved Jamaican cuisine, filled with spices and browned meats. This was a reflection of the average American of that time, and it was a change for me.

Suddenly, a new person walked into the apartment. It was a tall man, his face favored George's. He stepped into the apartment and shut the door behind him. He didn't have a girl on his arm.

"This is my brother, Charles." George pointed as we sat down together. Charles smiled as he walked over to us. He stood next to my seat, took off his hat and kissed my hand.

"Well aren't you charming." I noted. George jokingly huffed and rolled his eyes.

Ro ran over and gave her brother a big hug, then sat in front of me at the table. Charles sat on the other side of me.

"Alright now, food is set!" Ms. Davis said as she brought in turkey.

We all sat at the table, Mr. and Mrs. Davis at each end of the table.

We all spoke to each other, and Mr. Davis silently ate his food. His hat was still on. 

"You're so beautiful, Patricia." Ms. Davis admired.

"Yeah, George finally got it right when he met you." Charles smiled and Mr. Davis huffed.

"Except when she's going out with white boys." Mr. Davis said under his breath. We all stared at him, the whole table went silent.

"Ro, go get in your room." Mrs. Davis ordered.

"But I'm not finished eating—" Ro protested, but the look on Mrs. Davis' face showed her she wasn't playing around.

"This ham is great." George said, ignoring the comment his father just made.

"What do you mean white boys?" I asked with a risen brow.

Mr. Davis laughed a slow and suspenseful laugh. "You know George had to do so much to get you here tonight?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked with a shaky voice.

"And the little white boy still wouldn't let you alone. Followed you all the way to Rockefeller." Mr. Davis went on.

"Excuse me?" I asked. Mr. Davis shook his head.

"I don't know what George sees in you. I especially don't know what they teach you at that college if yours. You see, I'm a simple man. I believe what's black is black and what's white is white if you will. What I don't want is my song going with a swirler who leaves that man's apartment all times in the night." Mr. Davis grumbled. My eyes welled up with tears.

"You spy on me?" I asked as I looked to George. Suddenly, his face wasn't sorrowful or embarrassed. It was serious.

"Not just him, don't worry. We've got eyes all over this city." Mr. Davis said. For the first time, he smiled, revealing a flashy gold tooth.

"I... I've got to..." I stood up placing the napkin that was on my lap onto the plate.

"I guess I can tell the boys to back down now." Mr. Davis said. "Or is it too late?"

George ran after me in the hallway of the apartment building and grabbed me. He shook me.

"How many times have I tried to get with you and you wouldn't let that man alone?" George asked. "How many times have I done things for you?"

"What have you ever done something for me?" I asked and George slapped a rectangular box in my hand.

"Merry Christmas." He said as he walked back off into the apartment. I opened it and it revealed a Harry Winston bracelet.

Suddenly, there were footsteps walking toward me. I jumped in surprised as I looked up, but it was just Charles.

"If I were you, I'd check on that boy." Charles whispered.

"I don't want anything else to do with this family." I answered back. Charles looked at his feet.

"I don't blame you for not wanting anything to do with us at this point." Charles whispered. "But I meant the white one."

I thought for a moment.

"Why are you helping me?" I asked, looking into his eyes.

"I saw you that night in the nightclub." Charles admitted. "I was going to talk to you first."

"Why didn't you?" I asked with tears in my eyes.

"Because George decided to scoop you up." Charles answered. "George and I are not the same. I'm a doctor, I went to college like you."

"Are you trying to get with me?" I asked, tired of these horrible men.

"No, I'm telling you to go after your man." Charles answered, then walked back into the apartment.

Next thing I knew, I was going down to Hell's Kitchen to follow Charles' advice. My heart pounded as the El train raced along the tracks over the buildings.

I stood in front of his apartment building, and held the bracelet box in my hand. I wondered if I should go inside, or if I should leave him alone.

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