Taming Mr. Charming (The Taming Series Book 2) Page 18

  A few minutes later, Spencer relinquished the wheel to Peyton who grinned like a little kid and then came to sit beside his girlfriend. He kissed Melody on the cheek as he sat down. They were just too cute. I couldn’t resist melting at little at his ardent attention toward my best friend. Melody’s lightly brown sun-kissed skin glowed. Her entire countenance brightened whenever Spencer was near.

  Both guys were dressed in swimming trunks. Melody and I would not be joining them as long as we could help it, though Peyton had been known to cart me, kicking and screaming, into the water once or twice before. Spencer pulled at the hem of his white T-shirt,

  “You ladies posing for a fashion magazine?” he teased as he wrapped his arms around Melody. With the sunshades perched on his nose and those high cheekbones of his, Spencer looked more like a male model to me right now than during the entire length of our acquaintance.

  “We were just wondering if this is how we would die.” I informed him.

  Spencer chuckled, “You’re in good hands. We’ve run a sea yacht or two in our day.”

  Melody and I exchanged looks.

  “I’ll go make sure we don’t go down like the Titanic,” I replied, getting up and heading toward Peyton. I saw Melody and Spencer whispering quietly to one another when I glanced back. They were too cute.

  “Hey,” I got Peyton’s attention.

  “Hey. I gotta admit, I’m thinking about ditching the businessman thing and becoming a sailor.” He grinned wide and I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

  “Babe, you know I think you’re hot in any color, but pink is not that good of a look for you.” Peyton’s auburn hair and pale skin meant the sun could fry him to a salmon shade in less than half an hour. He looked supremely adorable, but I’d already gone out of my comfort zone to date a white man. I didn’t think I could swing dating a pink one.

  He held out his arms and nodded, “I don’t tan well.”

  “You don’t tan at all.” I pointed out. “Did you remember to reapply your sunscreen?”

  “Yes mom,” Peyton said lightly and then kissed me, “Stop worrying. It’s a beautiful day. We’re together. Let’s just enjoy it.”

  He grasped my hand and pulled me in front of him, encasing me in the square of his arms as he steered the boat. I leaned against him as the fragrance of sunscreen and Peyton wafted around me. I decided to take Peyton’s advice. At least for the next few hours.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I always thought of friendship as a miracle that occurs when your level of crazy matches someone else’s. At first when Melody and I started hanging out and growing closer, I thought that my philosophy was flawed. Melody and I were complete opposites even as children. She was sweet and kind and obedient while I was rowdy and curious and adventurous. We’d grown up at the Holy Living Waters Church together and yet nothing, not even my rebellious teenager stage had broken the bonds of our friendship. Melody had always respected my right to doing my own thing and I’d respected her boundaries and values, for the most part. Thing was, Melody was crazy in a different legal, non-boy related kind of way. When it came down to it, we were the same type of insane.

  Today, I died of laughter surrounded by my friends as we drifted lazily, rocked by the waves off the shore of Belize City. Melody and I had packed turkey sandwiches and fruit salads earlier which we snacked upon as soon as the guys anchored. I had my Papa San and Sherwin Gardner sound track piping out hot beats from the Bluetooth speaker we’d borrowed from Mr. Reyes. Though we were both couples, we were friends first. It felt good to go back to that place where things were less complicated and the bonds of love, commitment, and fidelity were clear-cut and effortless.

  “You never told me about this!” I accused Melody as we lounged around on deck feasting on our desserts of chocolate brownies provided by Auntie Reyes. The last time I’d eaten brownies they were of the ‘special’ variety. I doubted Mrs. Reyes was that kind of person though.

  “That’s because it was embarrassing and we swore we’d never speak of it again.” Melody narrowed her eyes at Spencer. The two of them argued often but the tension was always chased away with a kiss or a smile.

  “No, you swore. I never agreed to keep The Stun Gun incident a secret.” Spencer retorted.

  “So, wait, how does being tasered feel?” I inquired. I really wanted to know. The closest I’d gotten to police brutality was when I’d accidentally set off my uncle Beto’s tear gas at the family barbeque nearly sixteen years ago.

  Melody looked sheepish, “It feels like jumping straight under a nozzle of cold water in December. It’s like your muscles tense up but they’re vibrating at the same time.”

  “Sounds awful,” I gasped.

  “She passed out.” Spencer informed us helpfully.

  “Did it hurt that much?” Peyton asked, taking a swig of Coke as though my best friend getting tasered was another day in the life.

  “No, I think it was just the shock of it that made me faint.” Melody explained.

  “What happened after she was tasered, Spencer?” I asked, curious to know how things played out in the chaos.

  “The security guards checked her purse and realized she didn’t have a gun. I felt bad for her so I carried her up to my office. Everyone was panicking outside so I fit her in the elevator with no problem.”

  “I was out like a light through all of this,” Melody giggled. “I woke up to a strange man in a strange office.”

  “If she’d opened her eyes a few seconds earlier she would have seen me checking her out. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.”

  Melody rolled her eyes. “That would have creeped me out and things would have ended differently. I promise you. I’d heard enough American horror stories about psychopaths and murderers.”

  Spencer laughed as he recalled, “I had to convince her like fifty times that I wasn’t a killer.”

  “You can never tell with Americans,” Melody teased.

  Spencer put his friend on the spot, “Hey Peyton, you remember how you acted when you first met Mia.”

  Peyton laughed and deflected the story, “I remember how you acted after Melody ran into you.”

  “We ran into each other!” Melody clarified.

  Peyton grinned at her and continued, “We had a meeting that morning and Spencer barged into the conference room ranting about a woman that smelled like coconuts before he realized that our clients had already arrived. And the two guys just stared at him like he was crazy.”

  Melody laughed as Spencer started getting red. I felt sorry for him so I put the spotlight back on the man beside me. “Hey, I want to know what you said about me when we first met.”

  Peyton shook his head, “Nah. It’s not important. It was a long time ago.”

  “Come on, Lowry. Let the girl know what you said.”

  Melody nodded in agreement and we all stared at Peyton expectantly. He cleared his throat and gazed at the drink sweating in his hand.

  “I uh, I said ‘Spencer, wow. This girl is gorgeous.”

  “Aw,” I bent over and kissed him for the compliment. He kissed me back and then laughed. “That was basically it.”

  “Tell her the rest, man.” Peyton insisted, “It was some real romantic stuff, Mel. I’m telling you I learned all my lyrics from this guy.”

  I leaned away. “There’s more?”

  Peyton searched my eyes as though he were looking for something before lowering his voice and speaking only to me as he admitted, “I said, ‘when I look at this girl I see my future’.”

  His words pierced me in a place I had kept locked away for a very long time. Before my eyes could mist over and I could properly run through my girly emotions, Melody screamed in alarm. I glanced over in concern, “what, what?” I yelled, my eyes wondering wildly for the threat. At the sight of her, I burst out laughing. My friend had become target practice for a very well-fed pelican. Her gorgeous brown hair had a huge white smear on the top of the bun. Spencer was flat on his back gasping
for air cracking up at the expense of his girlfriend.

  “This is not funny, guys!” Melody yelled, gagging at the idea of feces in her hair.

  Peyton wiped tears from his eyes, “Why do these things always happen to you, Melody?”

  Melody groaned, “That is so nasty. Spencer, come take it off.”

  “No way, babe. I love you but that’s gross.”

  Melody wrinkled her nose as she grabbed a nearby towel and dabbed at her hair. “Does this boat have a shower?”

  “I’m sorry, babe. We didn’t get the deluxe yacht.”

  “We can head back to port.” Peyton suggested.

  “There’s a wide open sea shower right there.” I pointed to the water outside our boat.

  “Very funny.”

  “That’s a great idea, Mia.” Spencer fetched a bucket from below deck, “We can scoop up sea water with this and wash out the dung.” Everyone snickered as we hurried about finding the right tools to make this happen.

  “Would you guys stop smiling and be a little more understanding?” Melody demanded.

  Mimicking her softly, Peyton had me in stitches. “I heard that!” Melody whirled on us. Finally in between seizing with laughter and Melody calling us out on it, we hitched a rope to the blue bucket and lowered it into the sea. Hanging Melody’s hair over the edge of the yacht, I poured the water over her mane as she picked at her locks to wash out the animal crap.

  “Is it gone?” she asked, flinging her wet hair over one shoulder and washing it out.

  “I think so. You may need to go home and check it to be sure.”

  “I thought pelicans only excreted on land.” Peyton mused.

  “Maybe it couldn’t hold it in long enough,” Spencer joked which had us rolling on the floor of the upper deck.

  Thankfully, Mel was a good sport about the afternoon’s diversion and we enjoyed a few more hours on the sea, rocking along in the good weather amidst good company.

  When it was time to return the boat to the marina, the group decided to stroll the pier near the park before it was time to go home. I was surprised when Melody agreed to it. If I had just been pooped on and then bathed in sea water, I would have insisted on going home and taking a proper shower. The low timbre of Peyton’s voice pulled me out of my reverie.

  “Belize is a beautiful country.” Peyton said quietly as we lumbered near the pier where I’d kissed him.

  “It’s a jewel,” I agreed. I leaned over and peered into the depths of the black waves. “Were you surprised when I kissed you here that night?”

  Peyton fit our fingers together, “It was a good kind of surprise.” He led me to the edge of the pier. “You weren’t looking twice at me. I had to work hard just to get a reaction from you so I was completely blown away when you took that step.”

  “You got reactions from me,” I pointed out, “but they were more along the lines of annoyance and disgust.”

  “At least it was something.”

  I flicked his arm. “I’d ordered a black guy and here you came as pale as snow. What was I supposed to do?”

  He grinned. I liked that Peyton wasn’t touchy about how we used to interact. I couldn’t erase that time in our lives when I never for a second thought that our stories would intertwine like this.

  “I’m not complaining,” he said, “I’m just glad I didn’t get stuck in the Friend zone. For a while there, I was afraid you would never see me as more than that.”

  “I don’t normally kiss my friends, so there’s that.” I pointed out.

  He laughed and then turned serious. “You and your mom make up yet?”

  “My mom and I have perfected the art of miscommunication. She hears what she wants and I do what I want. It works for us… sort of.”

  “That sucks. I’m really close to my mom and dad.”

  “That’s great. At least one of our parents is sane. Have you told them about us yet?”

  He nodded, “They figured out why I kept coming back to Belize a long time ago.”

  “What do they think,” I looked to our conjoined hands, “about me being black.”

  His voice betrayed his surprise. “Why would they think about that? I love you. You’re smart, kind, and wonderful. That’s all they care about.”

  “Maybe they just haven’t told you about how they really feel.”

  Peyton halted and tugged me closer, “My parents will love you. The world is still growing but racism has been illegal for several years now.”

  I put my hand on his chest, “Peyton, laws don’t change hearts.”

  He didn’t have a retort and we kept on walking. “What did yours say?”

  “Well, my mom thinks you’re paying me for my- ehem- services. And my dad would flip. I’m trying to figure out a way to put it to him lightly.”

  “So, your mom accused you of being a prostitute because I’m white? What does one have to do with the other?”

  “I’m sure it makes sense in my mom’s mind.”

  “When do you plan on telling your dad?”

  “I don’t know. His birthday dinner is coming up next weekend and …”

  “That’s perfect. We can tell him then.”

  “Peyton,”

  “I can talk to him. He can get to know me on a personal level. Plus, he’ll be in a good mood for his birthday. Maybe I could change his mind.”

  “Babe, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said hesitantly.

  “It’ll be perfect. I promise.” I could see that Peyton was excited. If he weren’t so red-faced from being in the sun all day, he would have gotten pink with anticipation. I couldn’t burst his dream. Plus, Daddy could learn a thing or two about tolerance.

  “Okay. But remember that I warned you. My dad does not like foreigners so he probably won’t welcome you with open arms.”

  “I can handle it.”

  I shrugged. It would be somebody’s funeral. Whether it was Daddy’s or Peyton’s was still left to be discovered.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I don’t remember the exact date when my mother and my relationship turned sour. I remember growing up and wondering if my mother had even wanted to have me. My parents were both advanced in age when I was born and my father had given up on fidelity long before I was pushed into existence. I think I was an unaccounted variable at a very hostile time in my parent’s marriage. Somehow that affected the way my mother and I interacted even as a small child.

  I talked to the King often during the two weeks of my mother’s visit to my apartment. She drove me nuts without even trying. Deeper than the fact that she took over my bedroom and hogged the bathroom, her silent judgment and inability to see the woman that I had become past the woman that I used to be was discouraging and depressing. I stopped up the telephone lines to Heaven with my frequent supplications for patience and love.

  One blessed Tuesday morning, Mama announced that she was moving back home and that she wouldn’t be in the apartment when I returned that evening. I restrained bursting into heel clicks and back flips. Instead, I calmly said,

  “Are you and daddy good now?”

  Mama strode out of my laundry closet with her deflated duffel bag on her shoulder, “We’re working on it. Remember-”

  “Keep family stuff in the family.” I said for her. That was an important principle for the Johnsons. We couldn’t have people thinking we weren’t perfect now, could we?

  Mama came by the couch and fixed the pillow lying in the crook of the chair. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

  “You’re welcome, Mama.” I enthused, feeling a lot more cheerful and welcoming now that I knew she was leaving.

  “Yes, well… are you bringing that boy,” she spit out the term, “to your father’s gathering tomorrow night?”

  “I am,” I nodded.

  Mama grunted and carried the empty duffel bag back into my bedroom to commence packing. I ignored her attitude and followed her. I leaned against the door jamb and observed her slow, calculated moveme
nts. My mother was getting old. She was just as ornery and feisty as the day my father married her, but she looked tired. The stress of constantly keeping up appearances was wearing down on her.

  “Mama, you know I love you.” I blurted, meaning the sentiment with all of my heart.

  My mom narrowed her eyes at me, “What do you want?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Nothing. I just needed you to know that.”

  She grunted in response. Not the most heartwarming reaction but I ran with it and did something that I had not done in a long time. I went up to my Mama and I gave her a hug. At first she stiffened. I wasn’t used to giving out embraces like this to her and she wasn’t used to receiving them. Not anymore. Mama squeezed my arm and then shooed me away. I saw her, however, swiping at her eyes when I left for work a few minutes later.

  “Estefan!” I cried when I saw my tall, scary looking security officer waiting outside the boutique, “Mi mama se fue.”

  Estefan’s raised an eyebrow but caught the gist and happy tone of my words even as I totally chopped up the Spanish. “Felicicidades, congratulations.”

  I grinned and opened the store. Estefan helped me to unlock the windows and then resumed his post in front of the door. As the hours rolled by, I helped customer after customer. Mia’s Designs was doing a lot better especially thanks to that website. Peyton was close to talking me into setting up an online store where customers could order their merchandise on the site and I could partner with a company to ship my clothes to the districts. It sounded more complicated and stress inducing than I liked but the added revenues couldn’t hurt.

  Mel stopped by after her work closed down at five. I was glad to see my friend. She greeted Estefan as she came in through the doorway. I think the Mexican guard had a little crush on my best friend. Too bad for him. She was so consumed by Spencer; I don’t think Melody would give Channing Tatum the time of day.