by Nia Arthurs
Taming Mr. Know-It-All
The Taming Series Book 3
Nia Arthurs
COPYRIGHT
First published in Belize, C.A. Jan 2016
Copyright © Nia Arthurs
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be circulated in any writing of any publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This book has been produced for the Amazon Kindle and is distributed by Amazon Direct Publishing.
To all the Davids who have penned their own versions of Psalm 22.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
All men are dogs and all life is meaningless. I crumbled to my feet in a pool of white satin and closed my eyes, wishing the darkness would consume me so I never had to face the world again.
“What do you mean you saw him with another girl?” I said to my sister Sandra who I’d selected to go dress shopping with me on what was supposed to be one of the happiest days of my life. All around the excitement and romanticism flowing from the various browsing brides infested every aspect of the boutique. The shiny marble floors, festive love songs ringing from the speakers and happy squeals of excited brides saying ‘yes’ to the perfect dress surrounded me like a cocoon of marital bliss. Sandra’s words brought a cloud of doom to the atmosphere. I squeezed my eyes shut to ignore the storm.
My only sibling grasped my hand and my eyelids flew up of their own accord. I would have preferred to block out the truth for as long as possible. Sandra squeezed my fingers. The green eyes set in her olive toned face glazed with compassion. People rarely recognized that Sandra and I were sisters. Our bi-racial heritage produced ethnically ambiguous features on the both of us. Sandra’s fair skin and green eyes labeled her as more Caucasian than black. My light brown skin could be mistaken for a dark tan and the hazel in my eyes overpowered the green. I’ve been mistaken for a Mexican, an Indian, and even a Columbian. That confusion was, ironically, how I’d met Brian.
Sandra knelt next to me and sighed, “When I was at Cocoa Bubbles last week, I saw Brian crossing Luther Street holding hands with a woman.”
I took deep breaths and tried to rationalize. “Maybe it was his sister or his cousin.”
Sandra glumly shook her head, “No, Sus. He kissed her. I saw him.”
I felt the weight of a thousand bricks hit my chest. This couldn’t be right. The man of my dreams would never betray me like this.
“How do you know it was Brian? It could have been someone else.”
Please, please, please let it be someone else.
“That’s what I wanted to think too,” Sandra said hesitantly. “Did I tell you I opened a Lovestruck account for Mom?”
I nodded, already anticipating the tidal wave of distress that was washing up on the shore of my life. “Yeah, I remember. Both mom and I thought it was a stupid idea but you did it anyway.”
Thinking of my mother made me feel a bit more grounded. Trina Bevans was a no-nonsense Southern belle turned upstate Los Angeles single mother. Although Mom migrated from the South, the traditional Southern lady was ever present in her stubbornness and steel-backed administration. Her pig-headedness became even more necessary when Dad left us. I was six and so I didn’t remember much about him. Sandra used to tell me stories about how funny he was and how much he loved us. But I didn’t want stories. I just wanted my father. My resentment could not be satiated by tales.
Trina Bevans tried to fill the gap as much as she could, working two jobs to provide for Sandra and me. When Sandy graduated from college, she got a job too and I must admit I got the better end of the bargain. I wanted for nothing and it was all thanks to my mom and older sister. They both deserved every happiness. Still, online dating was just too unconventional for Mom and we all knew it. Unfortunately or fortunately depending on the situation, Sandra and I inherited more than our smiles from Mom. We got her steel head too.
“I was testing the app for her.” I could see where this was heading. “And I saw Brian.”
The tsunami blazed into my chest and knocked the breath out of me. “Brian was on Lovestruck?”
Sandra looked away and admitted, “Brian was on Lovestruck looking for older women.” As proof, she extracted her phone from the back of her jeans pocket and swiped it open. She quickly tapped the screen and then showed me a screenshot of the app. There dressed in the blue Oxford shirt that I bought him for Christmas last year posed my fiancé. I peered closer at the picture and grimaced. I recognized that arm.
That was my arm.
Brian had used the picture we’d taken together at our office Christmas party and cropped me out of it for a dating site. I put my hand over my mouth and moaned.
I was dating a psychopathic liar.
I flicked my fingers over the screen to enlarge the shot and stared at his handsome face. Brian was bi-racial like me. His mother was Mexican and his father was Caucasian. I’d started working full time at the Maladon Resorts and Company nearly four years ago. After two years, I was promoted to Public Relations manager. A few days into my role, the office was given a survey from the cafeteria. Brian was the graphic designer and his office was near my unit. We were both filling in the office questionnaire when he heard me complaining about the options under the ‘ethnicity’ line. He’d come strolling near my cubicle, flashed his dimples at me. He’d cracked a joke about always ticking the ‘other’ option as his ethnicity and the rest was history. A few days later Brian asked me out on a date, spurring a relationship that spanned one year and six months. Two months ago, Brian proposed and we set the date for a December wedding this year, leaving only eight months to prepare.
Brian was smart and kind. He was ambitious which I loved especially since I wanted to get back to school and finish earning my law degree. His personality was so calm and cool which I’d thought was the perfect complement to my more charismatic traits. We balanced each other out. I buoyed him up and he grounded me so I didn’t float away on my whims. There had to be an explanation. Brian would explain this away and then we would get married as planned. I gathered the satin dress and rushed to the dressing room to change into my walking clothes.
“Susan,” Sandra called.
“I have to talk to him!” I yelled as I pulled on my blouse and shorts while the attendant hung up the dress.
“Will you take it m
a’am?” the attendant asked me.
“I have to think about it a little more,” I confessed, and then flew out of the store. Sandra followed me with a concerned expression. I dove into the downtown L.A. crowds browsing in the waning light of a Saturday evening and wove through passersby to get to the car parked a few blocks down. Sandra was right on my heels and when we got to her cute little Ford Fiesta she beeped it open. I slid in.
“Take me to Brian’s.”
Sandra started the car and silently did as I asked.
“I’m not getting mad yet. I don’t want to jump to conclusions. I trust him. I love him. I’m not getting mad yet.” I chanted, not sure if the mantra was for Sandra’s benefit or for mine.
Sandra’s soulful green eyes remained trained on the road. I could feel her pity all the way in the passenger seat. She’d already tried, judged, and executed Brian in her mind. My sister was a self-proclaimed bachelorette. She didn’t believe that there was such a thing as commitment. Daddy’s leaving really messed her up and the walls she built around her emotions made it hard sometimes for even Mom to get through to her.
“I love him,” I replied to her silent censure. “He loves me. I know he does.”
“Maybe he does, sis.” Sandra remarked, “But you may not be the only thing that he loves.”
I turned my face to the glass of her window and leaned my head on the head rest of the seat. My heart was beating so fast, I feared it would beat a hole through my rib cage and dance to the bottom of my stomach. My palms felt sweaty and gross. Why was I freaking out about this? I recalled the day that Brian told me he loved me. We were hanging out in his apartment, eating Chinese takeout and drinking wine. Brian had lit two tall candles and R&B music played softly in the background. He’d held my hand and pierced me with his deep brown eyes.
“Have I told you that I love you Susan Bevans?”
“Not in so many words,” I replied, heady with excitement and infatuation.
He leaned toward me, lightly caressing my knuckles with his thumb, “Well, I do.” He said locking eyes with me and taking me to a world where fairytale endings did exist, “I love you.”
That kind of passion, that kind of emotion could not have burnt out in less than six months. The man that I knew, the man that proposed to me was better than the guy on the dating app. Brian’s friends probably set up the account as a Bachelor party prank. Yes, that was it. This was all a joke and everything would be okay. My earlier misgivings about life and love were wrong. Not all men were dogs. I knew Brian and Brian knew me. We would be committing our lives to each other at the end of the year and this little rocking of the boat was simply a test of the bonds of our relationship. I never failed a test if I could help it. I glanced at the rock on my finger. The gold set with a solid gemstone was a family heirloom and it meant more to me than if Brian had bought one at the store. This ring was the embodiment of our love. I wore it with pride.
Fifteen minutes later, Sandra pulled up to the parking lot of Brian’s apartment. I used to come here all the time, long before I met Brian. Four years ago, a Belizean woman named Melody Reyes came to L.A. and worked along with the company for six weeks. We were instant friends and I often came to visit Melody who lived in Apartment 3C. We still kept in touch, though through the years we became a bit more distant. The last time I saw Melody was at her wedding to Spencer two years ago. It was a beautiful ceremony and the couple had looked so happy. I’d termed it as fate that only a few days after returning to L.A., I’d met Brian.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Sandra asked, turning off the ignition and pocketing her keys, ready to step out of the car.
“No. Stay here, please. This is something that I need to do alone.”
“Okay,” she agreed and then reached over the console to give me a hug, “You are beautiful and intelligent and he’s a douche bag.”
“We don’t know that yet.” I reminded my sister. With Sandra’s doubtful glance my only fortification, I got out of the car and strode up the apartment stairs to Brian’s unit. I had Sandra’s phone with the Lovestruck account picture in my purse but that was a last resort. I was sure Brian would tell me that I was overreacting and that the account was old or it was a prank. Then he would take me into his arms, kiss me, and tell me that he couldn’t wait to marry me in December.
I knocked on the door of his apartment and waited for him to answer it. “Brian!” I called, keeping the note of panic out of my voice. Everything was okay. There was no need to lose my head yet.
He opened the door a smidge and when he saw me a huge grin spread across his face. The dimples that I loved popped up on display and immediately, the tide of the tsunami receded. Brian was a handsome man. His proud cheekbones, coiffed hair, and striking brown eyes meant that I constantly had to watch as girls flirted with my man. He was just that good looking. But his true beauty wasn’t in the clothes that he filled out very, very nicely. It wasn’t in the come-get-me tilt of his eyes or the dimpled goodness of his smile. Brian’s appeal was captured in how understanding he was to my problems, how respectfully he treated my mother, and how effectively he listened when I spoke to him. We were a team and he made me feel like an equal instead of a backup dancer.
“Babe,” he greeted and invited me inside. “What are you doing here?” He kissed me on the cheek as I stepped through the threshold and I grasped my purse tightly in front of me. Brian was the quintessential male. He had his black leather couch and a huge flat screen television. No decorative efforts had gone into his apartment and he liked it just the way it was. I thought it was bare and could use a few throw pillows and a rug but I didn’t press him about it.
“I have a question to ask you.” I told Brian seriously. He must have seen something on my face.
“If it’s about my parents, they’ll love you. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“It’s not about your parents.” I remarked. I walked toward the couch and sat down. Brian did so as well.
“Well, why the long face then?” he questioned. “This isn’t the Susan I know and love.”
“Sandra saw you kissing another woman.” I blurted. I watched his reaction closely. He flinched and I felt the tidal wave gathering on the horizon of my emotions, returning stronger than ever. “She was wrong, right Brian? You wouldn’t cheat on me after asking me to marry you.”
Brian’s mouth hooked open, but he did not say anything to defend himself or defame the claims. I scooted to the edge of my seat.
“Brian, do you have an active account on Lovestruck?”
Finally Brian spoke, “How did you find out about that.”
Boom, crash. The tsunami hit at full force. I sprung out of my seat.
“How could you!” I yelled. All the hurt bottled up inside was shaken by this revelation. I wanted to lash out at him. I wanted to scream. I’d already told my entire family that I was getting married. How could he betray me like this? Was our entire relationship a lie?
“Susan! I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry! You’re sorry! You jerk!” I gathered my purse and stormed out of his living room and headed toward the door. Quickly wiggling the ring off of my finger, I threw it at his head, aiming for his eye. Maybe if he was blind in one eye, he could begin to feel the amount of pain I was being bombarded with right now. Unfortunately, I had terrible aim and the ring landed in the sofa.
“Maybe you should find another fiancé on your precious dating app.” I shot at him before opening the door and tearing it toward Sandra and the parked car.
Brian came running after me. “Wait, Susan let me explain.”
I kept on going, not stopping to hear him rationalize his disloyalty. I hopped into Sandra’s car like a character out of the Fast and Furious franchise and yelled, “Drive!” With widened eyes, Sandra put the stick into submission and pressed her foot on the gas. We left Brian standing in the parking lot. I refused to look back. My initial thought was right.
All men are dogs and all life is
meaningless.
CHAPTER TWO
Later that evening, I tore every single picture of Brian and me to pieces. Every smile, every kiss, every touch was a lie. How could I ever trust him again? How could I trust anyone? Sandra had left me to tape together my sanity alone, but I knew that my sanctuary would be invaded when Mom came home. Some people found it strange that both Sandra and I still lived at home. I’d tried the apartment life two years ago, but it wasn’t for me. I was twenty-three but free meals a day and a rent-free existence appealed to me. In my mind the only reason people moved out of their parents’ houses was to become independent or to get married. I was independently dependent on my Mom and obviously marriage was off the table since four o’clock this afternoon. Still, it was times like these when I really wanted my own space to grieve without interruption.
I heard the door slam and Mom call out a greeting downstairs. I waited in tense quiet as the house erupted into a piercing silence. I knew that Sandra was whispering all that had happened today to our mother. The thud of quick footsteps up the stairs alerted me to their approach. I quickly wiped the tears from beneath my eyes and swept the remnants of the photographs documenting my relationship with Brian beneath my bed. I didn’t want my family to see me looking this messed up.
“Baby,” My door burst open and Mom rushed into my room, embracing me as though her squeeze could salve even the largest bruise. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I croaked, my voice hoarse from the weeping.
“No, it’s not. If that Brian were here right now, I would…”
Before Mom could finish her threat, I shook my head. “He’s not worth it.”
Mom hugged me tighter, “I know, baby, but I also know how much you love him.”
“I’ll make it. We’ve been through tougher times than this,” I joked to deflect the attention from my pathetic love life. Growing up in eastern L.A. without a father contributing financially to our family was hard. We got through it somehow. I hadn’t ever felt poor. The neighbors around us were all in some form of poverty. I thought that everyone in the world was poor. I had nothing to compare my life to and so had an enjoyable childhood. When I was eleven, Mom was offered a great job and we moved to Pasadena where the neighborhood was better and the school systems ranked the highest in the country. Mom was very proud of the move.