I nod, knowing full well he isn’t the type of guy to push for more.
“Where the hell is Chris?” Tino starts looking for someone to come out of the building a few yards in front of us. “I told him we’d be here around this time.”
I bite at my bottom lip not sure of how to act in front of what seems to be his buddy.
Tino pulls out his phone and sends a text.
He quickly smiles, which makes me think the response came almost immediately.
“My boy, Chris, should be here any minute.” He scans the lot of vehicles again. “You see anything you want to test drive?”
“I’m seriously fine.” I stand there and dig the tip of my sandal into the asphalt.
“What up, brother?” a familiar voice calls from behind.
I hesitate turning around because I know exactly the guy that owns that voice.
“Hey, dawg, this is my girl, Mia. We came to find her a new ride.” Tino grabs my hand, turning me to face the conversation.
Chris Taylor.
The jerk that played me for six months.
Mr. I want to be a daddy but not really.
“Mia?” Chris gasps. His pale skin grows even paler.
“How are you?” I reach out my hand to shake his. He is exactly why I don’t do American.
“You know each other?” Tino stares back and forth at us like a pro tennis match on ESPN.
Chris doesn’t speak a word.
“Yeah, we dated for a while,” I finally answer. And he’s awful in bed. I keep that part to myself because he’d argue it had something to do with me not being adventurous enough. Porn isn’t exactly my type of adventure, you stupid prick. I can barely stand to be here next to him. “So you coming to Tino’s fight on Saturday?” I ask, avoiding the uneasy tension between us. The wisdom Isabella drilled into me is starting to come into play. I refuse to let this dip face see he can still affect me.
“I’ve heard you got another belt hanging on the line.” Chris turns to Tino.
“Oh, stop.” I reach over and rest my hand on Tino’s rock-hard chest. The strong feeling makes my body pulse. “He never has a belt hanging on the line. Nobody takes down The Death Tank.”
Tino’s eyes sparkle with pure entertainment. “I got this one trained.” He wraps his arms around my waist, and I can’t help but feel this is the greatest slap in the face that Chris will ever get.
“You still into those Mercedes?” Chris juts his chin at me.
“Haven’t changed a bit.” I smile. And you can kiss my brown ass on this second-hand car lot that doesn’t have any.
Chris gives me an angry glare. “I just let the last one go about a week ago.” He scratches his head and searches the parking lot. “I sold it privately because we don’t sell cheap stuff on this lot.”
Whatever.
Obviously, this loser must’ve given up his dirty cell phone salesman job to rip people off with luxury cars. It suits him. I can’t stand his squeaky-clean, GQ act. Somebody needs to tattoo the word sick fetch across his forehead. Tino might be hardcore, but at least he doesn’t hide from what he is, or the tattoos he’s wearing.
I glance at the long sleeved Under Armour shirt.
Okay—maybe he hides them from my son, but that’s out of respect.
“Bashful, why didn’t you tell me you were a Benz class girl? We’re at the wrong place.” Tino’s voice takes me out of my deep thoughts.
“Sorry I can’t be of more help.” Chris reaches in his pocket to check his cell phone.
There you go, run away little boy. Pretend you have a phone call. I know the drill. I want to claw his eyes out before he has the chance to leave, but I try to refocus on the feeling of what is really happening. Tino could kick this preppy boy’s ass. And I’ve got him wrapped around me like Superman protecting Lois Lane.
“I gotta make a few phone calls.” Tino pulls his arms away.
I stand there and wish he hadn’t let me go so fast. I want Chris to think we’re really dating, even if it’s just for my own pleasure.
Tino begins to joke with somebody on the other line of his phone.
Chris spins around on his heels and darts for the building where other men are now standing and staring at us. I turn to get a good look at Tino because he’s so engrossed in his conversation, he’s not paying attention that I’m totally checking him out. There’s something about his charisma that draws me in. I can’t imagine if we’d met at a club. I wouldn’t wait two seconds to give him my number. I’ve never dated the tough guy type because I’ve always thought they were players, but part of me believes Tino is the real deal. He isn’t giving me an act like Chris did. So far he’s been completely genuine with a body nothing short of a miracle.
“Dude, I ain’t gonna put her in something with the standard wheels on it. How long will it take to put on something custom?” Tino traces his fingers over the headlight of a nearby car. “No, I want a G-Class SUV.” He turns to me. “They only have a few AMG G63’s available.”
My eyes bulge. “That’s a hundred and forty-thousand-dollar SUV.” Not to mention my favorite—I like the boxy body style.
“So how soon could you get a G65?”
“Tino, no,” I gasp. “Those are two hundred and forty thousand dollars.”
He covers the receiver. “Would you rather have a Bentley?”
“No, stop. This is crazy.” I try and pull his phone away, but he shakes me off. My heart begins to pound while my body burns up and it isn’t from the sun pelting down on me.
“Just a minute,” Tino says to the salesperson on the phone, and looks at me. “What color do you like?”
I bite my bottom lip.
“Silver, Black, or white.” He nods.
I have no idea what to say.
“Just tell me what color you like.” Frustration fuels his face.
“I like white.” I don’t hold back. But this isn’t real. He isn’t talking about buying me an AMG G63 SUV Mercedes Benz. I’m not Isabella. I’m plain, old Mia with no boobs and a kid.
“White is a good choice. You mind if I put gun metal rims on that? I like that combination together.”
I blink. “I’m fine with anything.”
“You like those?” He points to the wheels of his Bentley.
“Sure,” I say because I can’t imagine telling him they’re basically one of my favorite. I noticed them when he first picked me up. It’s probably the Gas Monkey Garage girl I try to hide from the outside world. Anything with a ton of horsepower and muscle with custom wheels drives me crazy.
“Can I have you drop that off at,” he pauses to turn back to me. “What’s the address of your work?”
“My work?” I shake my head.
“You want them to drop it off at your apartment?”
“Tino, this is nuts.” I bend over and grab my knees because I’m not completely sure if I might pass out.
“I’ll just have him drop it off at your work so you can go and pick up Lucas when we get back.” He picks up one of my braids, playing with the ends of my hair.
I give him the address and listen as he instructs the guy to make sure and put a booster seat in the back for Lucas before he delivers the vehicle.
“You hungry?” He puts his phone is his pocket.
“I’m actually sick to my stomach,” I admit.
He jerks back. “Like for real? You got the flu? I can’t get sick before Saturday.”
I reach up and stretch out my hand as far as it can go to squeeze his huge shoulder. “I’m not literally sick. I just feel weird after what just happened. It’s not everyday a guy buys a girl something like that.”
“Please, I do this kind of stuff all the time for my homies.” He shrugs and shoves his large hands in the pockets of his jeans. “It ain’t much. I just can’t stand the idea of that kid getting hurt if you get stuck in the wrong hood. This is Cali. You ain’t safe nowhere.”
I fake a smile.
“Get in. I want to take you somewher
e special for lunch.”
I climb in the Bentley. “I think you’re stupid.”
“Never claimed I was smart.” He shuts my door and hurries around the front of the vehicle before he jumps in and turns over the key.
“No, not like stupid—meaning ‘you’re not smart’ kind of stupid. Just the too nice kind of stupid.”
“Trust me, I ain’t that nice.” He flips the visor down so the sun won’t blind him as we get back on the freeway. “I’m interested.”
My heart beats faster than his accelerator. So he is interested. “Well—thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He winks. “I think you’re really going to enjoy my abuela.”
“We’re going to your grandmother’s for lunch?”
He winks again, and I’m petrified I’m really going to be sick. He’s taking me to meet his family. Is that even in the rules?
CHAPTER FIVE
“C
ome in, come in.” Granny fans her hands.
“This is Mia,” I say, real excited for them to meet so Granny can tell me what she thinks. She hasn’t been wrong on a girl yet.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Mia says, and reaches out to hug the old lady.
Granny raises her brow and nods while Mia has her back to me as they embrace. I give her a look to tell her I want her opinion. There ain’t many people I trust, but this woman’s had my back since middle school.
“I’ve got the noodles boiling.” Granny begins to shuffle back to the kitchen. “You go ahead and make yourselves comfortable on the couch.”
I wander over to the lime green shag carpet that hasn’t been updated since the house was built in the seventies, and take in a deep breath. Even the smell of the place reminds me of being a kid. There’s even that wood cross still hanging on the wall that’s permanently faded the paint because it’s been there for so long. It’s sort of a silent reminder that I shouldn’t have gone so long without coming for a visit. I’m realizing the phone calls aren’t enough. I should be driving out here when I’m not training so much, or maybe after church every week.
I reach for the gold chain around my neck and remember how she gave me my first cross back in junior high. She’s probably wondering if I got Mia pregnant, and that’s why I brought her here. I should’ve told her we just met when I called this morning.
“She’s fantastic,” Mia says, taking me from my thoughts.
“Yeah, I got lucky she found me.”
“She found you?” Mia narrows her eyes.
“She took me off the streets back in Compton when I was in middle school.”
“Nice.” Mia smiles.
“Have a seat.” I sit down on the flower couch Granny let me buy her a few Christmas’s ago. It’s about the only thing she’s ever let me buy her, except for that pearl pink Cadillac in the garage. Every woman should own a pearl pink Cadillac at least once in her life.
Mia sits down a good distance from me and places her hands between her legs while she stares at all the pictures on the walls. “So how many of these kids are hers?”
I glance back at the wall she’s looking at. “Oh, she never got married. These are just the kids she took in off the streets.”
“Wow. I can’t even imagine.” Mia keeps her eyes on all the frames as though she’s counting.
I ain’t in the mood to talk about my life growing up. I want to know more about her. “So tell me about this Chris dude.”
“More like dud.” She rolls her eyes.
I suddenly feel a little tense. “Did he hurt you?”
She shakes her head. “No, I hurt myself. I actually believed he wanted to be a father to Lucas.”
Now I know I’m tense. “He met the kid?”
“I was young and dumb then.” Her smile is flat. “But I learned a good lesson. No guy has met him since. I mean—until you came along.”
I nod, satisfied with her answer.
“We dated for about six months and I walked in on him at my apartment naked with my two best friends. And this is why I don’t have friends anymore.” A labored breath eases its way through her lips. “He was supposed to be watching Lucas, but I guess Nikki came and picked him up.”
I tilt my head to pop my neck. “It’s a damn good thing he didn’t have the kid there.”
“Oh, he’s not weird like that,” she assures, sort of like she’s reading my body language. “Chris likes women. Several women at the same time, which is why he’s not with me. I’m kind of old fashioned.”
I crack my knuckles as she fidgets on the couch like she’s embarrassed for telling me she prefers to be in a quality relationship with a guy that respects her.
“I’m done doing business with that punk.” I roll my shoulders back. “I even got a few boys that will beat his ass for fun.”
“Oh, no, don’t do that.” She reaches over and presses her thin hand against my leg. “He’s just a pathetic cheater. That’s all. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“Yeah, but you don’t mess with single moms.” I narrow my eyes so she can see the seriousness of the situation. “He can play around with the tramps all he wants, but there’s a code for single moms.”
Mia widens her eyes before she lowers her face. “I’ve never heard of that code. I don’t think most men know about it.” She laughs.
“It ain’t spoken.” I clasp my hands together. “It’s just something you understand when you’re a real man. Not some punk kid selling used cars.”
Granny shuffles in from the kitchen.
“Everybody ready to eat?” she asks.
I jump off the couch and grab Mia’s hand. “I’m always ready to eat your home cookin’.”
“Well, I got plenty.” She turns around to have us follow.
The table is set with three place settings once we enter. I pull out her chair, and help her shaky little body take a seat. Mia grabs the apron that’s hanging on a hook next to the stove and slips it around her small hips before she walks over and grabs the plates.
“About how much?” she asks Granny.
“Oh, honey, I’ll only have a little bit. I’m trying to cut out the carbs and sugars with my diabetes.”
“My dad’s a diabetic.” Mia smiles at Granny as she scoops the pasta onto her plate. “I’ve got some great no sugar recipes for apple pie. They are to die for. You can’t even tell the difference.”
I stand there, out of respect, waiting for Mia to finish dishing up Granny’s plate.
“You got this boy trained.” Granny takes the plate Mia filled.
“He’s a keeper,” Mia jokes.
“I guess that’s what all the women think with all his money.” Granny is a bit sharper than I expected.
Is she not a fan of Mia? I can’t read her body language.
“Oh, we’re not dating.” Mia responds without reservation. “We’re just good friends.”
Granny turns to my side of the room. “Now, boy, why you be doing this to me?”
Mia sets down our plates and turns back to the cupboards.
“Do you have any cayenne pepper?” She looks at Granny.
“Dear, it’s on your right.”
Okay. That’s better. This is how I expected them to interact. It’ll do me all wrong if Granny won’t take to Mia.
“Tino, I want you to sprinkle this over your salad. It warms the tummy and helps with digestion.” Mia hands me a small seasoning container. “If you’re eating that much pasta you’re going to be all bound up by Saturday’s fight.”
“And why you gotta fight all the time?” Granny shakes her head.
“It pays the bills.” I take her hand to kiss it.
“But what about that other stuff you be doing?” Granny tilts her head. “That be paying better. Don’t you treat me like a fool.”
I look at her and shake my head. I don’t want Mia to know about my real job. The one that pays everybody’s bills. “How come your gangsta talk always comes out when you’re lecturing me?”
“Because
it’s the only talk you follow.” Granny pulls her hand away and stabs her fork in the pasta.
Mia wanders over and pours each of us a glass of water from the pitcher on the table completely oblivious from what I’m trying to hide from her. I pull out her chair and wait until she sits down before I get comfortable on my own chair, and then I stare at the steaming pasta on the table. It takes me back to eighth grade when I came home from school and told Granny I met a chick in chemistry. That was the day I got a lecture from hell about keeping my pants zipped up and to enjoy her home cooking instead.
“Can’t you tell this boy to stop fighting?” Granny looks at Mia. “He’s gonna get hurt one of these days.”
Mia tips her water glass and takes a sip. “I think it’s crazy, but what do I know? My two cousins raised me, and they’re female. I’ve never hit anybody in my life.”
“Girl, where was your mother?”
“I don’t really know. I’ve never met her.” Mia lowers her gaze to her plate.
“Well it seems to me like you’ve done great with yourself.”
I meet Granny’s eyes and she gives me a neutral expression. She’s not sure yet.
“Oh, no, don’t think I’m great. I’ve basically ruined my son. Tino has taught me that.” Mia stabs some pasta with her fork. “This is delicious. I need to get the recipe for the sauce. Is that fresh oregano in here?”
“You have a son?” Granny tilts her head.
“Oh, yes, I’ve raised him on my own. His father passed away before he was born. I kind of think that’s why he struggles at school with the other boys.”
“Well, is that so…” The next few words Granny speaks are a blur as I watch the two of them conversing. Even with Mia as timid as she is, she’s still holding her own with a woman as strong as Granny. They’re each alpha’s in their own atmospheres, but they’re totally respecting each other’s space at the table. I’m totally at ease as they laugh and share stories about raising little boys. I don’t want to interrupt a thing they’re talking about.
“And have you met her son?” Granny turns back to me.
“I actually took him to preschool this morning. He’s a good kid. A bit of a kiss up to his teachers, but we can fix that.” I wink at Mia.
Pretty Woman: Mia (The Billionaire Bachelor Series Book 2) Page 5