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But Zoe’s parents instilled the importance of hard work. The family had a maid come by once a week, but it was expected of Zoe to help around the house with chores. She could remember grumbling as she had to make her bed, wondering why in the hell didn’t the maid come on that particular day. Not to mention all the times she came home smelling like hamburgers and grease from her part-time job at McDonald’s. When she wasn’t working, she was assisting her parents with many volunteer projects they were involved in.

She hated her parents for it.

She appreciated her parents because of it.

Now she was on a date with a guy who obviously had been listening to a little too much Jay-Z and felt he was him. Jose wasn’t bad looking; he was actually quite attractive with his full lips, brown sugar skin tone, and smooth bald head. He had a fit body and took pride on what he put into his body, despite chowing down on that hamburger like it was his last meal on earth. Zoe silently thanked the Lord for having enough sense for bringing her wallet. Something told her Jose was going to suggest they go dutch. “So enough about me and what I’m doing,” Jose chewed on a French fry, “tell me about yourself.”

Oh, now you want to know about me. Charming.
“Well, I’m the oldest of two. I have a younger sister and—”

“And what does your sister do?” Jose asked.

And you interrupted me. Lovely.
“She’s a model. I currently work at—”

“How come you’re not a model? You have the looks to be one.” Jose leaned to the left and eyed Zoe’s figure. “Maybe a little thick around the waist but that’s nothing a workout can’t fix.”

Did you just insult me?
“So like I was saying, I currently work at Fits and Giggles and—”

“And what’s that?” Jose asked.

Zoe felt her patience running at an all-time low and she wondered how much longer she had to suffer through her date. She had to have been a masochist. There was no other explanation. She took a sip of water and forced a smile. “It’s a child care service. We also do private nanny services as well.”

“Ah,” Jose nodded as if he understood, “never heard of it.”

“Of course not.” Zoe mumbled.

“So what else are you into? What are your hobbies?” He asked.

“Well, I love fashion and I work on sketches when I’m not at work. I hope one day to have my own fashion line.” Zoe’s mood brightened up when she thought about her aspiring fashion line. She had no desire to compete with all of the many designers for women or men. Her focus was on children. She was inspired when she went to a department store and saw the children’s section severely lacking in variety. The girls section was nothing but frilly things. The boys section was surprisingly comprised of skulls and crossbones, something Zoe wondered why any parent thought that was cute for their child.

No, her style was Sean Jean. It was Roc-a-wear. It was FUBU. It was Rachel Zoe. It was going to be affordable. It was going to be available in every department store with reasonable prices and the higher-end pieces would be sold exclusively at select stores. Her parents surprisingly supported her in her fashion dreams and offered to send her to Paris so she could study with the best.

They only got on her for still being single at 29. The fact her sister, London, was already married at 25, and had been for three years with a baby, didn’t help.

“So you want to be a fashion designer?” Jose nodded. “Seems like they’re a dime a dozen out here.”

Jose was a son of one of Zoe’s mother’s colleagues.
Oh, he’s so smart. He has a degree, he
helps out in the community, and he produces music
, was the line her mother sold her. Actuality, Jose barely just graduated from a local junior college, he helped out in the community because if he didn’t, his parole officer would cite him, and that last line of producing music? He was skilled at DJ Hero.

Still, Jose’s dashing good looks made up for his lack of qualifications. The man was fine, Zoe could admit. A nice tall glass of water, her girls would put it. Buttery smooth almond butter skin. A perfectly round bald head. A chiseled jawline that led to full, sensual lips that begged to be kissed. Zoe didn’t have to wonder what Jose was hiding underneath his attire of a Polo shirt and khakis. It seemed the clothes were tailored to his body.

If Zoe was impressed by him, she probably would’ve given him some play. She was a

grown woman with grown woman needs. The more Jose talked, however, it was obvious he used his good looks to make up for what he severely lacked in personality. The man was stupid, point blank, and he was simply humoring Zoe and her ambitions.

Hurry up and call me. Hurry up and call me. Hurry up and call me.
Almost on cue, Zoe’s cell phone rang. “Excuse me, I have to take this,” Zoe answered her phone, “yeah, mom? What?

What? Oh, no! I’ll be right there! See you soon!”

“Is everything okay?” Jose looked concerned.

“My sister was in a bad accident and I need to go now.” Zoe gathered her things. “I’m so sorry for this. Maybe we can go out another time.”
Like hell that’s gonna happen.

“Um, sure. I hope your sis is okay.” Jose glanced at the table. “I’ll cover your iced tea and you can just get me back next time.”

Zoe’s mouth opened slightly for the laughter to come out but she firmly pressed her lips together. “Sure.” She quickly left the restaurant and dialed her friend back. “Girl, I so owe you dinner for saving me now.”

Four

Joey was tired. Tired and sore.

He visited all of his girls and as promised they each got an hour with him. That wasn’t bad.

What made the night interesting was they all wanted sex from him. He lucked out when Alondra was fighting a cold so she couldn’t do anything and settled for a full-body nude massage. The other four, however…

First it was Everleigh. She was a long and lithe White woman in her early twenties.
“I
want to show you this new tutu I got from the company,” she came in just a tutu and her ballet
slippers, “isn’t it pretty?”

Joey fucked her against a wall. He didn’t like how the rough fabric of the tutu rubbed against his skin but it was worth it.

Next it was Coco. She was Puerto Rican that was blessed with dangerous curves and made Joey get on his knees to thank God for them.
“Guess what I picked up from the sex shop today,
papi? This.” She handed him a bottle of warming lubricant and a vibrating cock ring. “What do
you think?”

He fucked her doggystyle on her couch, with the cock ring. He made a mental note to get one for himself.

Then it was Nevaeh. She was a biracial art major at NYU and the glass was always half-full with her. Joey loved her personality.
“Let’s color!” She splashed some paint on Joey’s
muscular bare chest. “Wanna paint me, Joey?”

They had sex on a canvas. Joey could admit that one was fun.

He capped off his night with Delilah, another Puerto Rican beauty. She was the fiery out of the bunch and had the temper to match. Her full lips were perfect for sucking him off. They were also dangerous to his ears whenever she went on her infamous rants.
“I’ve been waiting to see
you all week and…Joey, what’s this? Is this paint? You fucking another woman who’s painting
you? The fuck is this shit?” She examined his skin.

“We had to do a special design at the shop earlier.” He lied. He was not about to tell the
real reason for the paint. He needed to buy Nevaeh a new showerhead because her current one
was clearly weak.

Delilah folded her arms and adjusted her neck. “You expect me to believe that shit?”

“I don’t care,” Joey shrugged. “You can believe whatever you want.”

“Ooh, I hate you!” Delilah yelled.

Joey stepped closer to her. “How much do you hate me?”

Delilah slapped him across his face. “I hate you!”

“Ooh, I like it when you’re mad.” He winked at her and pulled her close against his body.

“You get all sexy for me.”

By the time Joey saw Delilah, he was already exhausted from his other conquests, he just pleasured her in the shower with the showerhead he bought her a few weeks before.

It was a little past one in the morning when Joey finally arrived back home at his TriBeCa condo. He flippantly went through his mail before he made his way back to his bedroom.

Though he took several showers already, there was nothing like his own with the overhead showerhead and open space.

After his shower, Joey collapsed on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. His friends called him a player. His family nicknamed him Pimp of Year. Joey chuckled at the labels. He wasn’t a player. He wasn’t a pimp. He was a man who simply had options and Joey happened to have a lot of them.

He loved women and spending as much free time with them as possible. Scoring numbers and collecting panties, that was his motto. He rated all the women on a scale of one to ten. He knew there was no such thing as a perfect 10 woman but if there was a woman who was a six and another who was a four, he could make up the difference.

He was honest with his intentions from the get-go so no woman could accuse him of

leading her on. His longest girlfriend – could he even call her that? – was a three-month summer fling and the reason that ended was she insistent to spend more time with Nicola, which Joey had a big issue with. The more time the girl spent with his mother, the more she started gathering ideas in her head that she wanted to marry him.

The next thing he knew, there would be
surprise
visits to Tiffany’s. She would just want to
drop in
at Macy’s and look at their fine china. And the biggest bombshell? When the girl would start moving little things to his home. It would go from her simply having a toothbrush to having a small drawer and the next thing Joey knew, she was completely moved in.

He made it a point to let all of his women know exactly where they stood with him, so there was no question as to expectations and wants. They all knew they weren’t his girlfriend, though Joey had a feeling some were competing for that title. If Joey wanted a girlfriend, he would get one, simple as that. But he could never tell by some of the women he’d dated if they were the real deal or they were simply the smooth-talking salesperson before they pulled the bait and switch scheme.

Nicola was polite to some of the girls Joey brought home. He also knew the moment they left, Nicola broke out the disinfectant spray and thoroughly cleaned her home. He could have settled down and gotten married like Eli. But Kieran’s failed marriage was a constant reminder that for every loyal woman like Faith, there were a dozen Jalaras. Even Kieran could admit he lucked out with Tiana.

Joey covered his body with the expensive Egyptian sheets and prepared himself for sleep.

When he found the right woman, he would settle down. She would have to be ambitious. She would have her own career. She would be fly, with a banging body. She would be a perfect 10.

He would make her a D’Amato and he would finally put aside all player-like behavior.

He also knew there wasn’t such a thing as a perfect 10 woman and no woman he had dated in the current or past, came even remotely close to that. Three of his brothers were happily married or currently betrothed to their significant others and Joey was happy for them.

That just wasn’t him. Not that night. Not ever.

Five

“So how was your dinner the other night, sis?” London James asked her older sister. There was a twinkle in her eyes that matched with the growing smirk on her face. “I heard he was a real winner.”

“Fuck you and that horse you rode on,” Zoe retorted.

It was the weekly Sunday dinner at the Mitchell home, collectively known as Chinese Soul Sundays – a mixture of Chinese tradition with African-American flair. After a dinner that combined both soul and Chinese food, a traditional Chinese tea service was provided by Aoki, the sisters’ mother.

“I’m sure your Mr. Right is out there somewhere,” London gathered some chicken fried rice on her plate. A carbon copy of her older sister, it was no surprise London became a model with her lean and lithe statuesque figure, high cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes, and full kissable lips. A long black mane swept down her back, though London usually wore it up in a ponytail or bun.

“And I’m sure he can wait a little longer,” Zoe grabbed a couple of oxtails and put them on her plate.

“Your sister is busy with her career,” the Mitchell patriarch, Gavin, interceded as he sat down at the dining table. Strikingly handsome, Gavin was a tall Black man with salt and pepper hair, chiseled jaw, and matching goatee. He fulfilled a lifelong dream of becoming an oncologist and shared a practice with his partner, Henry Morris, father of internationally-known financial advisor, Tiana Morris. “I’m fine if she wants to wait longer to get married.”

“What career?” London scoffed. “Being a nanny is a career?”

“Your nanny is making a fortune off you,” Zoe smarted back before she took a bite of her black eyed peas, “so yes, being a nanny is a career.”

“You know the salary of my nanny?” London asked.

“Um, she works for Fits and Giggles so yes,” Zoe replied.

“Am I overpaying her?” London asked.

“Your sister brings up a good point,” Aoki Li-Mitchell finally sat down at the table. A product of first-generation Chinese immigrants, Aoki was determined to be the first of her family to graduate from college. She did one better and graduated from medical school, meeting her husband, Gavin, while they were residents at USC. Beautiful in her own right, one didn’t have to wonder where her daughters inherited their model looks. “It’s time you settle down, Zoe Bear.”

Zoe Bear was the nickname her mother called her whenever she was trying to prove a

point, no matter how much Zoe didn’t want to hear it. “Why is everyone so insistent I get married and pop out some kids?” Zoe asked. “I’m quite content with my career. It’s not like I’m going to be a nanny forever. I’m still working on my fashion line for kids and…”