No. It was quiet and she wasn’t used to having people in her house. Besides, Yolanda knew if she was going to get any sleep, she needed assistance. That’s why she went for the wine.
She looked at him and saw his eyes travel the length of her naked body. She struck a pose like an Instagram model, then picked up her towel. “Take a picture next time,” she said, then sauntered out of the kitchen with the towel over her shoulder.
As soon as Yolanda walked into her bedroom, she threw herself onto the bed. Even for her, that scene in the kitchen was a bit much. What were you thinking? She hopped off the bed and pulled on a cotton romper. Yolanda felt as if she should go out to the living room and apologize for acting like a jerk.
But fear made you do stupid things and she was doing that right now. She knew the drinking would have to stop. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been able to go to sleep without a couple of glasses of wine. Part of her thought if she didn’t hear the killers coming or feel whatever means they decided to kill her with it would be all right.
But you don’t want to die. She paced across the room and stroked her face. “He’s here to protect you. Let him do his job.” Once again, she tossed herself across the bed and buried her face in a pillow. Seconds later, there was a knock at the bedroom door.
Yolanda got up and crossed over to the door. “Yes?” she said before opening it.
“Are you dressed?” Chuck asked with a slight laugh.
“Do you have your camera?” she retorted before opening the door.
Chuck smiled at her. “Sorry, I figured I’d missed my chance. I just want to secure the window.”
She stepped aside and watched him walk in. “Chuck, I think I need to explain what happened.”
He turned toward her and shook his head. “I get that you have a lot going on and maybe you don’t want me here and you’re trying to push me away. But I’m here to keep you alive.”
Chuck made quick work of rigging the lock so that if someone came in they would hear the person. As he started to head out the door, Yolanda stood in front of him. Maybe the wine had lowered her guard and she could be honest.
“Chuck, I’m sorry. This whole thing has been a new and scary reality for me. I can’t sleep for more than three hours when I’m here, and I don’t know when someone is going to come for me. I just want to keep my family safe.”
“And your family wants to keep you safe. You guys want the same thing.”
She closed her eyes and fought back the hot tears burning behind her lids. When she felt his arms around her, Yolanda released the tears she’d been holding. He inched back toward the bed, then sat on the edge. Yolanda pushed out of his embrace and sat beside him.
“Sorry, I’m not usually like this. And . . .”
He placed a gentle hand on her knee. “These are unusual times and you’re going to feel a lot of different emotions. And being scared isn’t something to be ashamed of.”
She snorted as she sniffed and wiped her eyes. “What are you? A bodyguard with a background in therapy?”
“I do have a psychology degree,” he said with a low chuckle. “But believe me, I can understand how you’re feeling. People don’t need a bodyguard because they aren’t afraid of something. When you’re ready, you’re going to have to face your fear.”
Tilting her head to the side, she shot him a questioning look. “I’m afraid for my family. I’m afraid that these people are going hurt the people I love even though I’ve never told anyone what I saw. Why can’t they just leave me alone?”
“Can I ask you a hard and serious question?”
She nodded as their eyes locked. Chuck sighed and moved his hand from her knee.
“If your silence still has these people after you, why won’t you go to the police?”
Yolanda blinked and rose to her feet. “Are you crazy? That’s a signature on my death warrant.”
“It’s already been signed. If you go to the police, you’re going to have that many more people protecting you. And possibly your family. Better yet, you could make sure that these killers go to jail and no one else will ever be harmed.”
She sighed as she paced in front of him. “I can’t do that.”
“I’m with you now, you can do it. We can go to Richmond tomorrow and make this happen. You’re not going to be able to rest until you do the right thing.”
Yolanda shook her head furiously, coming to a complete stop in front of him. “Not until after my sister’s wedding. Then, maybe.”
Chuck looked as if he wanted to say something, but he stood and nodded. “Have a good night, Yolanda.”
She watched him as he walked out of the room. Graceful steps, meaningful stride. This man was going to save her life and star in her dreams. How in the hell was she going to make this work?
Chapter 9
Morning came too early and Yolanda had her now familiar headache. Stress and alcohol didn’t mix. She knew that, yet every morning Yolanda had the same angry conversation with herself.
She smelled coffee and thought her mind was playing tricks on her, but then she remembered that Chuck Morris was in her home. Probably made the coffee this morning. She looked at her cell phone; it was ten-thirty.
Her plan had been to wake up at six, have breakfast, and go to her shop. It felt as if half the day was gone and she still wasn’t ready to face Chuck. Between flashing him and crying like a little bitch, she wasn’t ready to face him. But she had a business to run and a grand opening to prepare for.
Stop being a wimp and get out of this bed. You have work to do. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. It wasn’t like her to act like this. This feeling of shame was new. After all, she walked across the Atlanta University Center quad naked as an undergrad to protest something.
Yolanda paused. Why had she done that? Really it was about a boy. A certain running back on the Morehouse football team had made her mad because he thought he could control what she was going to do with her life.
She showed him that Yolanda Richardson did what she wanted. Of course, that was about ten years ago and Yolanda wasn’t the same impulsive coed she was then. Now, she was just acting out because she was afraid and having Chuck in her home made everything real.
And reality wasn’t her friend right now. She just wanted to open her shop, celebrate Nina’s upcoming wedding, and get Chuck Morris’s eyes out of her head. Grabbing her robe, she wrapped it around her body extra tight and headed for the bathroom.
After splashing water on her face and brushing her teeth, Yolanda pulled on a cotton dress that she kept on the back of the door and emerged from the bathroom with her bravado intact as she walked into the kitchen.
“Good morning,” Chuck said.
“Good is debatable,” she replied as she glanced at his empty plate. “You couldn’t share?”
“You didn’t respond to me knocking on your door and I don’t know what your tastes are.”
“I’m from Charleston; always go with grits.”
“Noted and I’ll keep that in mind next time.”
“But can you cook?” Yolanda gave him a slow glance. “You seem like the type who has an army of women stocking your refrigerator and freezer.”
“I don’t roll like that and grown people should be able to feed themselves.”
Yolanda snickered. “Don’t let my little sister hear that. Nina can’t cook to save her . . .” She stopped short. Even jokes were different now. “It’s a good thing Clinton can cook. Otherwise, they’d starve.”
“I read your sister’s stuff all the time. I’ve always wondered why she wasn’t on TV.”
Yolanda shrugged. “Not white and blond enough? Nina knows more about sports than anyone should. But she got into football because she didn’t want to do chores. Guess it paid off for her. I’d love to see her on a show where she’d put those so-called experts to shame because she knows way more than they do. But she can only do those shows if I’m her stylist.”
Chuck
picked up his plate and took it to the sink. Yolanda couldn’t help but be impressed with him cleaning up after himself. The kitchen didn’t even look as if it had been cooked in.
“Is there any coffee left?” Yolanda asked.
“There’s plenty. I figured you would need it this morning.”
She sucked her teeth. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“You had a lot of wine last night after a trip that you said made you so tired. Everything is not a fight or a judgment,” he said. “Give me credit for being courteous. Besides, a little body like yours can’t handle all of that alcohol.”
“Okay, let’s start over. I’m not a morning person and I think breakfast is the most important meal of the day, even if you eat it at noon. Also, coffee is a meal.”
“All right, I’ll get out of your way so you can make your grits.”
She crossed over to the cabinet and pulled out a half bag of grits. Then she furrowed her brows. “Where did you get your breakfast ingredients from?”
“The store.” Chuck took a seat at the breakfast nook. “I couldn’t just come in here and cook your food without you knowing that I did it.”
She grinned as she measured the grits and grabbed a pot. “Aren’t you just so gallant.”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Are you going to join me or am I cooking enough for one person, which I find hard to do.”
“I’ll try those grits as long as you don’t put sugar in them.”
“Bite your tongue. People who put sugar in grits should be arrested.”
“We finally agree on something,” he quipped.
“Well, look at that. You do have a sense of humor.”
Chuck laughed, a throaty laugh that took Yolanda to her bedroom. Made her think of the afterglow. My God, she thought as she looked away from him. Why did she yearn to have his arms wrapped around her? Grits. Cook the grits.
Yolanda busied herself preparing cheese grits with sausage and tomatoes. She was well aware of Chuck watching her every move. She almost dropped her spoon three times. Once she’d mixed the grits with her stewed tomatoes and sausage, she filled two bowls for them.
“Smells good,” he said as he accepted the bowl from her. She focused on those hands. Hands that looked big enough to handle her body in ways that would make her scream hallelujah.
“Thank you,” she said breathlessly.
He stared at her for a beat then cleared his throat. “Are we going to drink this?”
“Oh, damn.” She crossed over to the dishwasher and grabbed two spoons. “The only person who makes grits you can drink is my little sister.”
“My goodness, that actually sounds scary,” he said as Yolanda laughed. “You said her future husband cooks, right?”
She handed him a spoon. “Yes.”
Chuck took a small bite of the grits. “This is good.”
For some reason, Yolanda beamed. This was her signature breakfast dish and the only person who didn’t like it was Alex. And that’s because she had no taste. It was the one thing she remembered about her mother. If she was honest, Yolanda knew that Alex didn’t like the meal because of their mother and how she didn’t want to think about what they had lost. Yolanda didn’t want to think about it either. She didn’t like it when Nina asked questions and Robin told stories. She’d always walk away, but when she needed her mother’s hug, she made these grits.
And Yolanda had been making these grits a lot lately. Maybe she was just feeling good because he liked them. But why does that even matter? Yolanda looked away and dug into her meal.
Chuck cleaned his bowl and then gave Yolanda a slow glance. “If you can cook like this, why didn’t your sister take lessons?”
“Because she was too busy watching sports and staying out of the way of chores. By the time she wanted to learn to cook, simply so she could impress some stupid boy, I wasn’t even having it.”
“That doesn’t surprise me at all. So, basically it’s your fault that she can’t cook?”
“I will not take the blame for that.” Yolanda reached for his bowl, but Chuck moved it out of the way.
“I’ll wash the dishes and you can tell me about your shop and when we’re going to see it.” He picked her bowl up from the breakfast bar and headed over to the sink.
“You need a new outfit?”
“No, I need to run a security check. I need to see what you have in place and what we need to do to keep you safe.”
Chuck washed the dishes and Yolanda rolled her eyes at him. “I don’t want to spend the day at my shop going over security options and thinking about how I’m going to die.”
“You’re not going to die while I’m here,” he said as he dried the bowls. Setting them in the dish tray, Chuck turned to Yolanda. Something in his eyes gave her pause. He looked like a man possessed, someone who had experienced loss and was determined not to lose again.
What in the hell was that all about?
* * *
There he was again. Charles was making promises that he knew he might not be able to keep. He’d told Hillary that she wouldn’t be hurt and now she was in a grave. Looking up at Yolanda, he could see she had questions—real ones. Not her smart quips. But he wasn’t in the mood to share. He needed to focus on his job. This breakfast wasn’t going to change anything. He couldn’t have another Hillary on his hands.
“When do you want to leave?” he asked.
“Can we pause for a minute?” Yolanda said. “You keep asking me why I won’t go to the police, but why do you feel . . .”
“I have a job to do and I’m trying to do it. Anything else that you might be thinking right now doesn’t matter; we have to stay focused.”
Yolanda stormed out of the kitchen and Charles knew that he had been too casual with her this morning. But everything felt good earlier, like he was making a friend. He wanted Yolanda to see him as a friend. If she trusted him, this assignment would be so much easier.
Just don’t make the same mistake you made with Hillary, he thought as he dried his hands on a dish towel. Just as he was about to seek Yolanda out, she walked into the kitchen. Charles stopped short as he drank in her image. She was dressed in a white leather jumpsuit with gold stripes. She had on gold ankle boots with three-inch heels, giving her a bit more height. She was about chest level with him now. The way that suit hugged her curves made him wish this wasn’t a job and they’d met at a restaurant or bar. He could’ve sat with her and bought her a drink. They would’ve talked about music, food, and anything but death and security plans. How was it that Yolanda looked as good as she did with clothes on and without them?
“Well, let’s go. If we’re going to my shop, I can’t be looking like someone in need of a makeover.”
“No one would think that about you.”
Yolanda did a 360 spin and smiled at him. “I know you didn’t ask, but this is my own design. This year, I’m going to start Private Label.”
“The name for your designs?”
She nodded. “It’s time for me to live my dream and . . .”
“How are you going to do that if you don’t face this situation head-on?”
“Can we have five minutes without you throwing this in my face?”
“When are you going to take death threats seriously? Yolanda, you don’t want to go to the police and I understand the fear. But you clearly have a future that you want to build.”
“And that’s why I’m minding my fucking business. Do you know how I felt after Nina’s accident thinking that my tormentors had done that to her? I just want to forget for a while and you are a constant reminder.”
“But what are you going to do if they do harm your family?”
Yolanda closed her eyes. “Are we going to the shop or what?”
“Just so you know, I’m not going to let this go. But I don’t want to fight with you anymore this morning.”
“You started it,” she mumbled as they headed for the front door. Charles knew she was afraid and th
at’s why she was acting out and he had to figure out how to break down her defenses and get her to do the right thing.
You know the police don’t always protect the people who need it. Hillary’s ex should’ve been under the jail, but he still killed her.
They walked over to the parking garage and Charles took note of the surrounding area. The trees gave him pause. Bushes and trees were a stalker’s favorite hiding place. A patch of azalea bushes had been where he had waited for Hillary. Yolanda’s groan kept him from going back to that day.
“I left the keys to the shop inside,” she said, then glanced at her watch. “I’ve really wasted this day.”
“Just go grab the keys and we can spend as much time as you need in the shop. There are a lot of things I need to go over there anyway.”
She pursed her lips as if she was going to make a smart comment but decided to hold her tongue. “You know what, I have an extra set in the car.”
Charles closed his eyes. “Yolanda, do you realize how dangerous and stupid it is to leave those keys where . . .”
“Did you just call me stupid?”
“You’re missing the whole point. And for the record, I didn’t call you stupid, but you made a stupid decision.”
She rolled her eyes and stomped toward her car. Charles followed in silence. They entered the car without saying another word to each other, and Yolanda reached over to open the glove box and pulled out a set of keys.
“Please tell me you don’t have your house keys on there as well,” he muttered.
“No, because that would be stupid.”
“Yolanda, you can’t keep holding everything I say to you against me because I want to keep you safe.”
She rolled her eyes as she started the car. “Whatever.”
Richmond, Virginia
Danny was beyond pissed off as he glanced at his phone, but he kept his thousand-dollar smile glued to his lips. Today was his quarterly meeting with the Future Business Leaders of Richmond, one of the groups he started for inner-city kids. A few of the graduates of the program were doing very well. One of his graduates had a food truck that Danny had invested in. And because of that investment, he kept his dirty money clean. This current class was full of lames, kids hoping to be the next Barack Obama. Folks who wanted to make Grandma proud. Hell, his grandmother was a hustler. She didn’t carry a pearl-handled .22 because it was cute; she shot people. Put a hole in his grandfather’s stomach when she caught him taking money from her hustle.
Open Your Heart Page 7