Superbowl Sunday, 2013, New Orleans, Louisiana.
“What you doing after the game?”

I smirked – as the text from the multi-millionaire I had been casually talking to rolled in. It was Superbowl Sunday 2013 and I was right there at the Superdome swaying to the sounds of bounce music, taking pictures by all of the signage, and soon – I’d be hanging with the Ravens who had just won the big game minutes before.

Finally, I thought. I was right where I wanted to be – in the midst of succeeders, steps away from Beyonce, and minutes away from the tasty beignets at Cafe Du Monde.

“Nothing yet, still deciding.” I texted back knowing dang well no plans were en queue.
“Well you should meet us at the club, we have the whole floor of VIP and I’ve already put your name on the list,” he replied back.
“Okay- send me the address and I’ll make my way over there in an hour or so,” I texted back as I planned out my next look in the 3-way virtual mirror in my head.

My friend and I were quickly on our way. We fought our way through traffic, stopped at a local restaurant near the club to change in their restroom – freshened up makeup, re-spuced Peruvian hair that sat above island roots and made our way over to the Superbowl party.

It was amazing. One of the golden highlights of my twenty-somethings. Meeting actors I had once looked up to. Seeing comedians I’d seen on social media. Getting introduced to players – both current and retired and most importantly engaging in great conversation while Quest Love spun old school jams on the ones and twos.

Life was good.
The view,
even better.

By the end of the night, we were invited to the “after party” being held at the penthouse of our multi-millionaire friend. I looked over at my girl to see if I could read her thoughts on whether or not we should go and we concluded that we would just go and hang out for a little while considering we were still wide awake from the adrenaline caused by the win and the party hype. And since we hadn’t been drinking we figured it was perfectly safe for us to make that move, responsibly. The guys were excited and suggested that we ride with them and their private drivers to the location but we declined and agreed to follow them in our cars in the event that we wanted to leave much sooner. And after a little friendly debate they said “okay” and we followed behind the tinted Cadillac trucks.

Up a few hills,
And around a few corners.

We arrived at the house, surprised by the fact that we were the only four at said party. Maybe more people are coming, I thought foolishly to calm my nerves and gust of confusion.

“Want something to drink?,” the Mr. asked.
“Oh, no thank you.” I nervously replied.
Then the guys started conversations with us separately and led us separately to different parts of the house.
At this point I had grown quite nervous and felt like it would be best if we just left. “So, we’re probably going to leave soon.” I said to the Mr. as he began taking off his jacket.
“Wait, but why?” he said while undressing some more.
“Um, because I didn’t come here for this.” I replied.
“So why did you come here?” he responded coldly.
“Because I genuinely thought this was going to be a get together amongst friends.” I responded.

My kind and sweet friend had now turned into someone I could no longer recognize.

“Kimberly, why wouldn’t you have sex with me? Don’t you realize I can change your life forever. You work so hard – but you don’t have to. I can make you my girl and you’ll never have to work again a day in your life. You can travel with me, I can show you the world.”

His dark green eyes softened as he gazed into mine.

Wow, this is crazy. I thought.
Then my mind drifted to a conversation I had with a friend a few days prior:

“Man Kimberly. Getting on Instagram is so depressing, these girls have it all. From designer goods to exotic vacations! I just want that life! They look so happy and free and my life looks nothing like that! Man, if I was given the opportunity to have what they have I would take it with no questions asked!”

And there I was.

Standing in front of a half-naked Italian investor who was offering me what many girl’s would consider “The World”. I could pay for more education. I could give the money to my family. I could travel the world. “I want you to see the world in a way that you have never seen it before,” his words chimed into my thoughts.

Still, I didn’t answer.

“Come on Babyy. Let’s just do this – no condom…  no nothing – just you and me, as one.”

“I can’t.”
I replied,

“I-I just can’t do that, I value myself way too much. The offer sounds good, don’t get me wrong – but my dignity sounds better.” I replied.
The room grew quiet and suddenly all of the joy and happiness from the day quickly faded.

Even the sky seemed darker. The moon brighter. The stars dimmer. The cool, cooler.

It was as though everything from the day was a dream. In the moment I loved how it felt but in the matter of minutes the disillusion caused me great discomfort.

“I’m sorry.” I said, as I got ready to call my friend to leave.

And we got our things and left the house on the hill.

WWYHD
Kimberly