Second Time Sweeter

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Second Time Sweeter Page 19

by Beverly Jenkins


  So he did: about how he felt after Key West, his ill-thought-out plan to make himself feel better, the way he’d used Ruth as a placeholder for Bernadine, and Ruth’s response once she realized the truth. “I used her,” he confessed. “I didn’t think about her feelings, or her hopes for a committed relationship with me. None of that. I started seeing her because I didn’t think you’d forgive me for the stealing, and I missed you. I thought it would be easy for an old broken-down player like me to replace you, but you’re irreplaceable, baby, and Ruth became collateral damage.” He added, “I dogged Reggie for being upset about all the money Roni made, and I fell into the same stupid trap. And now it doesn’t look like I’m going to get any of the money back to repay you.” He told her about Dresden. “I’m still committed to paying you back, though.”

  She replied, “I appreciate that, but the happiness you gave me had nothing to do with how much money you had or didn’t have. Who has a picnic in the back of a pickup? That first time, I thought you were totally insane, but I had so much fun. Just as I did when you taught me to fly a kite, and the Santa hat you wore on our sleigh ride. How could you think none of that meant anything to me, Malachi July?”

  “Men get things real twisted sometimes.”

  “You think? I wouldn’t know a raptor from a raft were it not for you. Honestly? I want to shake you for destroying what we had. It was precious to me. You were precious to me.”

  He looked grim. “I’m so sorry.”

  She sighed. Hearing him out did help clear some of the issues, but now what?

  “So where do we go from here?” he asked.

  “I was asking myself that same thing. I don’t know. I wish I did. I can’t say okay, let’s try it again.”

  “Why not?”

  She went still. It was a hard question, whose answer lay hidden behind the curtain. If she pulled it aside, what would she see? Let bygones be bygones and go forward? That seemed easy enough, but was reconciliation supposed to be easy? Her pain and heartache had mattered; it still did. Was she supposed to pretend that it didn’t? But what did she gain by continuing to cling to the hurt?

  “Not trying to put you on the spot.”

  “That’s how it feels,” she replied honestly.

  “I love you, Bernadine. If you want to kick me to the curb permanently, I’ll understand, and it’ll be my loss for causing this mess. But let me try to show you that I won’t hurt you again and you can trust me again.”

  Both were major concerns. No one wanted to step into a bear trap twice.

  “We can start small,” he said. “No dates or dinners or big stuff. Let me call you every now and then, that’s all I ask for now.”

  She met his eyes and he whispered, “Please.”

  She looked away. He wasn’t asking for much, she told herself. She’d concede him the small boon. Maybe it was the way to go.

  He added, “And I promise not to blow up your phone every hour on the hour. Just one call a day. That’s all.”

  Needing to distance herself from the emotions welling up inside, she stood and shouldered her handbag.

  He waited.

  She gave him a tight nod. “Okay. Call, and we’ll go from there. No guarantees, though.”

  “Understood.”

  I need to get back to work. I’ll check on you in a few days. Take care.”

  “I will. You, too.”

  She said good-bye to Tamar and got the side eye she’d earned. On the drive back to town, her phone sounded. She glanced over at it lying on the seat and saw a red heart. It was from Mal.

  After Bernadine departed, Mal slid back into sleep until midafternoon. Hungry, he forced himself to get up and eat the food Tamar had waiting for him in the kitchen. He could’ve easily taken it to bed on a tray, but he wanted to get back on his feet as soon as possible and lounging around with a tray wasn’t the way to go. His head was still pounding, but the pain meds helped.

  Seated at the table, eating soup and a turkey sandwich, he was glad Bernadine had come by. He was also glad he’d confessed everything. Although she hadn’t been overly enthusiastic about his desire to call her, she had accepted his proposal, and he looked upon that as a beginning.

  Tamar came into the kitchen. “You have a visitor.”

  “Who?”

  “Your real girlfriend.”

  Confused by that, he asked, “My real girlfriend?”

  And when Zoey walked into the kitchen, he grinned. “Hey, Ms. Miami.”

  Tamar left them alone.

  “Hey, OG.” Zoey stopped and took in his face. Hers turned serious. “Does it hurt?”

  He nodded and even that slight movement made his face throb.

  “It looks like it does.”

  Putting her backpack on the floor, she took a seat. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”

  “I’m okay. Got a busted nose, though.”

  “I busted Devon’s once; it only gave him one black eye, though.”

  He chuckled. “I remember.”

  The concern on her face made his heart swell with affection. She appeared genuinely concerned.

  “Did you come all this way on your bike?”

  “No, Mama Roni drove me. I asked her if she’d bring me after school, and she said yes. She’s talking to Tamar.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “I brought you something.” Zoey bent down to her pack and handed him a purple Crown Royal bag.

  He laughed. “You drinking Crown now?”

  She giggled. “No. Daddy Reg likes it. I think the bags are pretty, so he lets me have them. Open it.”

  He noted the slight weight of whatever it held, and as she watched, he opened it, and what he saw inside dropped his jaw. “Zoey?”

  “Don’t say you can’t take it. My aunt Cass says when someone gives you something from the heart, you can’t turn it down.”

  He poured the contents onto the table. There were ten gold coins. Each worth a small fortune. They originally belonged to the outlaw Griffin Blake, who’d buried stolen railroad gold in Henry Adams back in the 1880s. The cache was found a hundred years later by Old Man Patterson. When Patterson died last year, he left the gold to Zoey.

  “Do you think that’s enough to pay Ms. Bernadine back?” she asked.

  Mal was speechless and moved to tears. “Baby girl, I—”

  “When I first came to live here, I had really bad nightmares, and you brought me Tiger Tamar. You helped me, OG. You’re having a nightmare too, sorta, so it’s my turn to help you.”

  He still didn’t know what to say. He heard movement and saw Roni standing in the doorway. “Zoey came to me with the idea. And we all know she doesn’t like hearing no, especially if it’s something on her heart. Take the coins, Mal.”

  He looked to Zoey again. And what else could he say but “Thank you, Zoey. Can I get a hug?”

  She smiled and returned the embrace with a strength that equaled his. “Thank you,” he croaked through the emotion in his throat.

  Roni wiped at her tears. Looking on, Tamar did, too.

  Mal was so overcome his hands shook as he put the coins back in the bag. “I’ll make sure Ms. Bernadine gets these.”

  “Okay.” Zoey added, “And if there’s anything left over, get you some boxing lessons.” She pointed at his eyes. “It’s not a good look, OG.”

  He laughed.

  Roni said, “Come on, Miss Girl, let’s go. You have homework.”

  Zoey picked up her backpack, waved, and followed her mom out the door.

  Mal looked at Tamar and said, “She’s something, isn’t she?”

  Tamar nodded. “Yes, she is, and I know you’re grateful.”

  “I am.”

  She exited, leaving him alone.

  Mal felt as though his world was finally realigning. He cast his bruised, swollen eyes to the heavens and whispered, “Thank you.”

  Chapter 14

  Over at the garage, Amari was working alone. Ms. Marie’s car was all but done, and wi
th his dad at a meeting in Franklin, he was given the task of handling the final details like vacuuming out the interior, cleaning the windows, polishing the finish, and putting a shine on the chrome. The 1969 Camaro was now midnight blue, fully restored, and it looked amazing. Had it been up to him, tinted windows would’ve been added, but his dad nixed the idea. He said Ms. Marie wasn’t going to enjoy being pulled over by the police every time she got behind the wheel, and Amari understood that. Tinted windows would’ve had the police going through the trunk with a warrant and dogs. With clear glass the car looked classic. All a cop would want to know was how fast it rolled.

  After finishing the waxing, he was admiring the shine when Tiffany walked in. Surprised, he blurted out, “What’re you doing here?” She’d never come to the garage before.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “About what?” She was the last person he expected to see. “How’d you get here?”

  “I walked.”

  He shook off the fumbles in his brain. “Okay. So, what do you need to talk to me about?”

  “My mom wants to change the custody arrangements.”

  “You mind if I finish this last window while we talk? My dad wants this done today.”

  “No. Nice car. Whose is it, yours?”

  “Not a chance. Belongs to Ms. Marie. Dad and I restored it.”

  “It’s sweet.”

  He agreed and then remembered his manners. “You can sit on the couch if you want.” Although he hoped she didn’t plan to stay long because he needed to get his work done and she was a distraction. “There’re drinks in that old fridge over there.”

  “Thanks, but I’m good.” She sat.

  He picked up a spray bottle holding cleaner solution and a paper towel. He sat on the edge of the Camaro’s front seat and started in on the window on the driver’s-side door.

  “So like I said, my mom wants to change the custody arrangements and we’ll probably have to go to court. What am I supposed to say?”

  Confused, he paused. “Say about what?”

  “If the judge asks me who I want to live with, what do I say?”

  He scanned her face for a second or two, noted how pretty she’d gotten lately, heard himself, and moved away from that real quick. Truthfully, he wanted to blow her off. This was Tiffany Adele after all, and even though she was way less of a brat than she once was, she’d never come to him for any kind of advice before. “Why ask me?”

  “Because, Amari. Just help me, okay?”

  “Okay. Do you want to live with your mom?”

  “No. Being with her all summer made me crazy. She whined all the time. Everything we did was wrong. She even dissed Leah about not being pretty enough and liking science.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “I don’t want her to be alone.”

  “So you’d rather pack up and move to Atlanta to stay with her and be miserable for the rest of your life?”

  “No, but—” Her lips tightened, and she looked off into the distance.

  Giving her advice was way more than he’d signed on for. He resumed cleaning the window. “Have you talked to Reverend Paula about this?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. I thought talking to somebody closer to my age would be better.” She looked so confused Amari almost felt sorry for her.

  She asked, “Suppose your bio mom asked you to come and live with her? What would you say?”

  “To kick rocks. She showed me who she was when Dad and I visited her and her husband. I like my life the way it is.”

  “I like mine the way it is, too.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “She just seems so sad.”

  “Did she act happy when you and Leah were there?”

  She shook her head.

  He wanted to throw up his hands. “Do you like living here?”

  “I do.”

  “Then why move away and add a bunch of drama to your life you don’t want?”

  “I don’t know. I feel as though I owe her.”

  “Owe her what? Didn’t she say she didn’t want you and Leah when your parents broke up?”

  Her reply was soft. “Yes.”

  “Sounds like an easy decision, but I’m not you.”

  “I know.”

  “You should talk to Reverend Paula. Or maybe Crystal. They’re both way better at this advice stuff than I am.”

  “Okay, but you helped. Thanks.”

  He found himself staring at her from where he was sitting, and she was staring back. He felt kind of weird, like he was seeing her for the first time: her face, the way she wore her hair, the shape of her lips. Something was going on, but he wasn’t sure what. He looked away and there stood his dad, watching. Amari jumped, startled, and hit his head on the door frame above him.

  His dad smiled. “You okay, son?”

  “Ow. Yeah.”

  His dad said, “Hey, Tiff.”

  “Hi, Mr. July. I needed to talk to Amari about something. I’m sorry for keeping him from getting his work done.”

  “You’re fine.”

  She turned to Amari and said, “Thanks for the help. I’m going to go. I told Dad I’d come by the store so he could take me home.”

  “Is the car done, Amari?” Trent asked.

  “Yes.” Amari got out, rubbed the sore spot on his head, and surveyed Ms. Marie’s ride. “She’s going to love this.”

  “Then how about you drive it out to the pump and fill it up and we can run Tiffany home. You drive.”

  Amari stared. “You’re going to let me drive? This?”

  “Did I forget to tell you this is going to be your car?”

  “WHAT!” Amari’s heart was beating so hard and fast he couldn’t breathe. “You’re punking me, right?”

  “You ever know me to punk you?”

  Amari looked at Tiffany and her shining dark brown eyes were as wide as his. It was at that point that Amari “Flash” Steele July began jumping up and down like a little kid getting his first Xbox. He didn’t care if it blew his image of cool, or if Tiffany told everybody he’d acted insane. His dad just gave him the dopest car in the state of Kansas! And when he stopped jumping, he walked around it, viewing it in an entirely different light. The beautiful, perfectly restored, midnight-blue Camaro was his! Brain was going to be so jealous! He jumped up and down a few more times. His dad threw him the keys and Amari got in. Adjusting the mirrors, he carefully backed out of the bay and steered over to the old pump.

  After filling the car with gas, he sat and waited for Tiffany and his dad to get in. Because of the law, she had to be in the backseat, his dad up front.

  “Let your dad know we’re taking you home, Tiff,” Trent said. “Do you have your house key?”

  “I do.” She sent a quick text. “Okay. He said he’ll meet me at home.”

  Amari had been driving since he was a little kid, so he had no idea why he was so nervous pulling out onto Main Street, but he was. Willing himself to calm down, he concentrated on his steering and staying under the speed limit, hoping he’d relax.

  His dad looked over. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  They passed the Dog and the rec and the church. In a way, he wanted everyone to see him driving. But he didn’t want a swelled head to make him wreck his new ride before it was a day old, so he went back to concentrating. Everyone in town would know about the car soon enough. Impressing Tiffany was playing into his nervousness for some reason too, and he refused to delve into why. He passed the Power Plant and turned onto the road leading past Mr. Bing’s farm.

  “You’re a good driver,” Tiff said behind him.

  A glance up into the mirror showed her smiling and he quickly focused on the windshield, wondering what was wrong with him. “Thanks.”

  His dad said, “When you get your license and you’re allowed to drive alone, we’ll put a Bluetooth hookup in here for your music.”

&nb
sp; “Do I have to wait that long?”

  He received that patented parent look in response, so he kept driving and didn’t argue.

  When they reached the Clark house, he slowed and turned into the driveway. The car was a two-door with bucket seats, so his dad opened his door and stepped out to allow Tiffany to do the same. But before exiting she said, “Thanks, Amari.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She removed her seat belt, then leaned between the two front seats and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for the advice.” And she hustled out.

  He must’ve blacked out for a minute, because when he came to, his dad was back in the shotgun seat looking quietly amused. “You okay to drive?”

  Amari snarled inwardly and backed down the driveway. He had nothing to say the entire way home.

  After dinner, he was in his room brooding at his desk, when his mom peeked in on him. “You were awfully quiet during dinner. Are you feeling okay?”

  “I think I’m coming down with the flu again.”

  She paused for a moment and eyed him. “Flu as in sick, or flu as in girls.” When he first started liking Kyra, he’d been so jumbled up inside he thought he was coming down with something. His mom had helped him figure things out.

  “Girls.”

  She walked over to where he was seated at his desk and rested her hip against the edge. “Anybody I know?”

  He blew out a breath. “Tiffany.”

  Her eyes widened. “Tiffany Clark?”

  He nodded unhappily and told her about Tiffany showing up at the garage and the conversation they had. “When I drove her home, she kissed me on the cheek, and I think I passed out.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m seriously thinking of running myself over with my new car.” He glanced up and saw the soft smile on Lily’s face. “It’s not funny, Mom.”

  “I’m not laughing at you, sweetheart. I’m just surprised.”

  “How do you think I feel?”

 

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