"Trevor, you know you love this big beautiful brown ass," Neha Kaur said, as she stood in front of the mirror inside Macy's, and checked out her reflection. The silvery evening gown that she was trying on clung to her curves in fetching ways. Standing five feet ten inches tall, neither fat nor thin but bodacious and curvy where it counted, the brown-skinned cutie with the pixie cut was smoldering and she damn well knew it.
Standing a few meters away, with his camera phone in hand and a big grin on his dark, handsome face, Neha's boyfriend of over a year, Trevor Whitaker Jr. seemed to be having the time of his life. Neha Kaur paused provocatively for him like a Hollywood celebrity teasing the hell out of her favorite paparazzi, which, in a way, Trevor kind of was. If the young African American's grin grew any wider, it would split his face for good.
"Damn straight, boo, you know I do, now, please choose a dress and let's go," Trevor replied, and with that, he smilingly took a snapshot of Neha's bum, while the tall, curvy young Indian-Canadian woman pretended to be offended. The things I do for love, Trevor thought. They'd been at Macy's for over an hour. The STEM Formal was coming up at Ryerson University and Neha simply couldn't find the right evening gown for the occasion...
"Um, I like to take my time, Trevor, if you don't like it, kiss my ass," Neha Kaur replied, bending almost all the way over, to Trevor's infinite delight. A store clerk walking by shot them a look of disapproval and Trevor flashed the skinny pale woman his infamous glare. The clerk, who was used to seeing eccentric clients at Toronto's Eaton Center, wisely moved on. Upon seeing that, and Neha smiled. She loved how Trevor could be playful one minute and dangerous the next...
From the moment they met, Neha knew that Trevor Whitaker was trouble with a capital T. Born in the environs of Mississauga, Ontario, to an Indian immigrant family, Neha Kaur never truly felt comfortable in her skin. Even though Mississauga was a racially diverse and friendly town, the Indian community largely kept to itself, as did the Chinese and the Arabs. Neha was too outgoing for her own good, and felt ill-at-ease among her rather conservative and hermetically sealed community...
The Blacks of Mississauga, hailing from places like Jamaica, Nigeria, Haiti, Cuba, Somalia, Ethiopia and even distant Brazil, were another story altogether. Fearlessly the sons and daughters of the African Diaspora spread their culture across Mississauga, and left their unforgettable mark on the City of Toronto itself. The Caribbean Film Festival, Little Jamaica, Black Queer Festival, Caribana, Black Lives Matter, all those things and more reflected the African presence in Canada's largest metropolitan area.
Neha Kaur found herself drawn to the Blacks, for their fearlessness, their energy and their raw sensuality, much to the chagrin of her conservative Indian family. Good Sikh gals honored the conservative teachings of Guru Nanak, the founder of Sikhism, and toed the line according to the ways of Indian culture. Such was the way of things since time immemorial in one of the world's oldest civilizations...
Neha Kaur had other plans for her life, though. She rocked T-shirts featuring Jay-Z, 50 Cent and Kanye West. Her Facebook profile had pictures of everyone from Hollywood actor Will Smith to performer Tyrese Gibson and the iconic Idris Elba in the background. Yeah, Neha Kaur didn't hide her passions, nor did she care who knew it. While attending Ryerson University, Neha met a kindred spirit. Trevor Whitaker, a newcomer to the school by way of Chicago, Illinois.
"What's an American doing at Ryerson?" Neha asked Trevor the day she met him in her computer engineering class. For this in-class assignment, the professor, Mr. Maguire, ordered everyone to pair up with the person next to them, and as luck would have it, Trevor happened to be sitting next to Neha. Like fire and ice, the two of them were destined to collide...
Sighing, Neha Kaur awaited Trevor's answer. Dude seemed to be in his own world. The tall, good-looking young black man with the American accent smiled at her the way a cat smiles at a canary. I'll have to watch myself with this handsome Devil, Neha remembered thinking at the time. Trevor exuded confidence and an air of danger that Neha found almost irresistible...
"My parents got worried I might fall in with the wrong crowd back in Chicago, and they banished me to the great white north," Trevor replied, matter-of-factly. Smiling at Neha, he cocked an eyebrow, looking all smug in his Chicago Cubs sweatshirt, blue jeans and black Timberland boots. All that's missing on this fool is a Du-rag, Neha thought. Trevor acted just a little too cool, and Neha just wasn't buying it...
"Careful, American dude, Toronto is my town, you disrespect it at your own risk," Neha Kaur replied with a wicked smile, and she leaned closer, totally getting into Trevor's personal space. The brother blinked nervously and for a second, she saw through his macho bravado. Like so many guys of all hues, he felt like he had to act tougher than he was. The male of the species never varies, Neha thought wickedly.
"Whoa, easy there, lady, I didn't mean to disrespect your town, Toronto is alright, it's not Chicago, but it's alright," Trevor said, and he grinned nervously. Neha smiled, feeling like she had the upper hand. She nodded at Trevor and they continued with the in-class exercise. By the end of it, Neha felt that she had a firm understanding of Oracle systems...and the young man sitting opposite her.
Neha Kaur had always been a collector, as befitting the daughter of a well-to-do family. After all, her father Jaswinder Kaur is a doctor at the Sunnybrook Health Sciences Center, and her mother Poonam Kaur teaches mathematics at Saint Augustine Academy. While other wealthy young women collected sports cars or Louis Vuitton bags, Neha collected...men. Exotic men, to be precise. Usually some flavor of African or Afro-Caribbean, as was her established preference.
