Taming Mr. Know-It-All (The Taming Series Book 3)

by Nia Arthurs

  At first the community made a spectacle of us. Not intentionally of course, but Mom was a single obviously Caucasian lady raising two not Caucasian children. Back in east L.A., the neighborhood was so diverse that having a white mother with lightly brown skinned child did not mean a single thing. The neighborhood where we lived in Pasadena was not so diverse and eleven year olds asked a lot of questions. The first time I learnt about ‘race’ and ‘black and white’ was in Pasadena. Looking at my skin used to trouble me. I was too light to be ‘black’ and too dark to be ‘white’. One day I came home and started scrubbing my skin with Clorox. Mom found me and took the Clorox away. I remember looking at her and asking,

  “Mom, why can’t I have blonde hair and blue eyes like you?”

  She looked at me with understanding and she said, “Because God made you extra special.”

  For a long time, I did not want to be special. I wanted to be like all the other kids. I wanted to pick a side and stick to it. As I grew older, I accepted the duality of my culture and ethnicity. I was Swiss German and African American. I identified with both. Things got better when I got older. In high school, everyone fawned over my curly naturally golden honey hair and my hazel eyes. Boys found my exotic and unique features appealing. It wasn’t always so acceptable to be different, however, and Mom, Sandra, and I were all very aware of that.

  Sandra put her arms around my shoulders and broke me out of my reverie. “I’ll go out and buy some ice cream. You hear?”

  I nodded. Ice cream is God’s gift to women.

  “Thanks.”

  Sandra left and Mom finally let me go to face me on the bed. She was a beautiful woman. Her creamy fair skin was tight and mostly wrinkle-free. Her hair was long and blonde, her facial features prim and symmetrical. Mama was shorter than average which was why I am as fun sized as I am, and she did not look a day over thirty. I sometimes wondered why she didn’t meet someone new. She was gorgeous enough to have anyone.

  “Want to talk about it?” Mom said.

  “Not really. I don’t even want to think about him. Tell me about your day?” Mom worked as Customer Service Manager of the local Walmart. Her job demanded that she be there on Saturdays which was one of the main reasons she couldn’t go dress shopping with me this morning.

  “Ugh,” she groaned, “we were swamped with news vans and reporters because of that birth in the bathroom.”

  “Wow, who told the press about it?” Two evenings ago, Fredrick Dela Rosa Arthurs was born in the bathroom of the Walmart that my mother managed. The sixteen year old girl claimed that she had no idea that she was pregnant until she went into labor.

  “No one’s going to admit to it.”

  “Oh,” I shrugged, “People give birth in Walmarts all the time so they shouldn’t find anything too newsworthy.”

  “Actually,” Mom clarified, “the baby wasn’t breathing when it was delivered.”

  “Oh my gosh,” I snapped to attention, “I had no idea.”

  Mom nodded solemnly, “The girl called for help and I did basic CPR.”

  “What?” Mom hadn’t shared those details when she’d regaled the tale two days ago.

  “It wasn’t a big deal then and it isn’t now.”

  “You’re a hero!” I yelled, “That’s awesome.”

  “Anyone that’s been to a CPR class could have done it.”

  “Mom, that’s incredible.”

  Shushing me, Mom rolled her eyes. “Don’t go crazy on me too. I’ve had enough of that with the reporters. You’d think they would spend their time investigating corruption and shedding light on human suffering.”

  “You’re offering something better than corruption and suffering, Mom,”

  She twisted her hair to the side of her neck and sighed, “And what is that, Susan?”

  “Hope.”

  Mom grunted and stood, “My only hope is pizza for dinner. I’m pooped.”

  I grinned and got up as well, leading the way out of my bedroom.

  “Where are you going?” Mom asked.

  “Downstairs. I’ve got to set up the TiVo to record the news tonight.”

  My mom was my hero. It was about time the world acknowledged it too.

  After a relaxing Sunday where I lit a bon fire and sacrificed every single item Brian ever bought for me, including a couple’s hoodie that said ‘I’M WITH HIM’ and a teddy bear that he’d won for me at a local fair, I was still not ready to face my ex-fiancé at work. Most of the office knew that we were engaged. It would be so embarrassing to act professional and courteous when my co-workers asked me where my ring went or why I planned to throw a stapler at Brian’s head every time I saw him.

  Before leaving for work, Mom encouraged me to keep my head up and remember that I came from the South, where generations of women had kept their grace and cool even in the face of tragedy and hardship. That was all well and good, but I didn’t want to be cool and graceful. I wanted to key Brian’s car and pull his hair out.

  Probably not the best state of mind to go to work with.

  Sandra gave me a ride to work since my car had been out of commission for five years and I gladly listened to the morning talk shows in silence as we crept along in our morning commute.

  “You ready to see him?” she asked, breaking the mood.

  “I don’t know.” I admitted, “Right now, I want him to hurt as much as I do. I’m not sure what that makes me, but there it is.”

  “Hopefully, things don’t get awkward.” Sandra assured. I smiled. Hopefully, I didn’t murder Brian in front of the whole agency.

  As soon as I walked into the office, I felt a bit more in control. I was good at my job although, I admit, it wasn’t the one that I’d initially saw myself doing. I still planned on becoming a lawyer, but I was making really good money and taking out student loans to finish my degree had not appealed to me when the shiny promises of this position had called. Smiling hesitantly, I walked through the halls greeting my coworkers and breathing a sigh of relief every second that I did not see Brian. I wanted to postpone that moment for as long as possible. I successfully settled into my cubicle with zero Brian sightings and relaxed a bit, gazing around at how homey I’d made my little box. When I’d been promoted, I’d assumed that I’d be leaving the cubicle life far behind. That had been wishful thinking. In the three years I’d officially worked at the Maladon Resorts and Holdings, my cubicle had seen many decorative changes and even a small potted plant or two.

  Today, I was bombarded with pictures of Brian and I together. Seething silently, I snatched every picture and stomped it into the trash, muttering about dogs and men.

  “Are you okay?” Ginger, my tall, model-esque co-worker, glanced at me in concern.

  “I’m great.” I lied through gritted teeth, awkwardly removing my leg from the trash can.

  “You sure?” She glanced at my desk, now bare of romantic photographs and frames.

  “I’m sure.”

  Nodding slowly as though she did not believe me, Ginger nevertheless waltzed in and handed over some documents that I needed to read over for a new hotel that the Maladon would be launching in Asia. Grateful for a distraction, I grasped the papers from her and started working on them. The time flew by and I was only aware that it was lunch when the office cleared out and Ginger knocked on my cubicle wall asking if I wanted anything. I told her no. Eating would put me in front of Brian or worse, the rest of the office who would want to discuss my wedding details.

  No thank you. I’d be working through the hour.

  “Knock, knock.” I heard a deep, male voice and glanced up to see Brian standing in the opening of my cubicle. My eyes narrowed and I called out harshly,

  “Go away.”

  “Babe, you were so mad the other day, I didn’t get a chance to explain.”

  “Don’t call me ‘babe’.”

  He sighed, “Susan-”

  “Tell me Brian.” I hissed, lowering my voice in case any of my peers lingered in the offic
e, “explain why you were kissing another girl or why your Lovestruck account has you listed as a “great kisser” and a “cougar hunter”?”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “Then what is it?”

  He leaned against the wall, with his hands in his pockets and looked sheepishly at the floor, “Forever is such a scary thing, Susan. I just wanted to have a little fun before I committed my forever to you.”

  “Brian, that is the stupidest… you can’t expect me to trust you ever again.”

  “But that’s the thing, babe. You can trust me. It’s all out of my system now.”

  “Get out of my office.”

  “Susan, baby,”

  “Get out.” I yelled, before he charmed me into forgiving his cheating backside.

  “I will never give up on us.” Brian said, before backpedalling out of my office with his hands up in surrender.

  “I already have,” I whispered to the miniature plant near my computer. Satisfied that Brian was gone, I put my head on my desk. Working with my ex-fiancé would not be fun. Especially if he had plans to ‘win me back’. Pretty soon, the office would be buzzing with the news of our broken engagement and things would get even more uncomfortable. Shaking my head to clear it of such depressing thoughts, I logged into my personal email and smiled when I saw a message from Melody.

  DEAR SUSAN, it read.

  HI GIRL, I MISS YOU SO MUCH.

  WHEN ARE YOU COMING BACK

  TO BELIZE? REMEMBER WE HAVE

  AN INTERNATIONALLY ACCLAIMED

  CARIBBEAN LAW SCHOOL. PROMISE

  ME YOU’LL THINK ABOUT IT.

  BY THE WAY, I’M PREGNANT! SPENCER

  AND I WERE WONDERING IF YOU’D BE

  THE GODMOTHER. WRITE BACK SOON.

  SAY HELLO TO BRIAN FOR ME.

  LOVE, MELODY

  Her email had me jumping up and down in my seat with excitement. Sweet mother of Jalapenos, Melody was pregnant! That was amazing news. I was so happy for my friend. She would make a great mother. I was unbelievably touched that she’d think of me to be the honored godmother of her unborn child. It seemed like only yesterday that she was in this very building drinking tea with me and trying to convince me that she wasn’t head over heels in love with Spencer Braden. Their love story had been a rather complicated one, but I was so glad to hear that they were doing well and that their family was expanding.

  I wasn’t surprised that Melody’s first line of the email was reminding me to come to Belize. The girl was a walking advertisement for her country. She promised that once you came you wouldn’t want to leave. Her theory was proven when both owners of Forward Technologies visited the tiny country and then decided to relocate and run their business from there. When Melody used to ask, I’d always deflect. I had been comfortable in my mother’s home with my sister and my boyfriend and my happy life. I constantly promised my friend that ‘someday’ I’d visit Belize. Just like I promised myself that ‘someday’ I would finish my law degree and pass the bar.

  Her suggestion was crazy. It made more sense to finish my law degree in the States. The Caribbean had a distinctly separate form of law because it mimicked the British Commonwealth. It made no sense to go to Belize, visit my friends, and complete my Bachelors degree in Caribbean law.

  Right?

  But in that moment, the idea took root and I couldn’t stop it from blooming.

  CHAPTER THREE

  One month. Four weeks with Brian and I gazed at the Pasadena Suicide Bridge with longing every time I passed it. I couldn’t do it anymore. When the news first broke out about the state of my and Brian’s relationship, or lack thereof, the office had stirred and the gossip mills had turned frenziedly. Fortunately by the next week, the janitor’s affair with a married woman from the corporate office hit the streets and turned the attention away from the lowly Public Relations Manager and Graphic Designer’s broken engagement. I was grateful for a reprieve from the constant pitying glances and condescending platitudes. Brian, however, was relentless in his pursuit of me. I couldn’t tell if he was genuinely remorseful or if he simply enjoyed the consistency of ‘us’ and wanted his safety net back.

  His half-hearted efforts to gain my attention went to the wayside. Flowers, long flattering text messages, and gifts of my favorite chocolate Oreos did absolutely nothing to fix our relationship, and sort of annoyed me. Especially since I’d already informed him that I needed some time and space. It’d take me a while to get over this, if I even could. I refused to tolerate infidelity. I’d seen what my father did to my mother and as much as I could help it, that would never happen to me or my future children. I wanted more than a cheating skank as a partner.

  Easier said than done.

  Identifying a nice, stable, faithful guy would be as easy as finding a needle in a haystack given the scandals coming to light every day in America. I highly doubted any more, committed, honorable men existed and if they did, they didn’t want to be found.

  But it was better this way. I’d forgotten how freeing being single was. I could do what I wanted without wondering whether I should invite Brian. I could hang out with my mother and my sister and not feel guilty because I hadn’t texted Brian in a while. I could laugh at all the other suckers worrying about what to buy their significant other’s for their birthday or Christmas or Valentine’s Day. I could sleep, oh Lord, I could sleep because I had no one to keep me up at night with long conversations. There were perks to being in a relationship too. And I loved Brian. I did. I wouldn’t ever stop loving him. But trust was such a sacred thing to me. The bottom line was that I no longer trusted Brian. I needed time to heal from that, not flowers and poetry.

  Lately, I’d been thinking a lot about the University of the West Indies based in Belize. I even brought it up with Mom who took one look at the pricing of the Caribbean schools and immediately gave her consent. The United States dollar was double the Belize dollar meaning that I could pay for my education from the last dregs of the money that Mom and Sandra had put away for a college education in the States and still have some change left over for an airplane ticket and a car rental. Basically I would earn my Bachelors debt free. I knew that figuring out the bar exams and life after earning my Bachelors degree would be a bit complicated. If all my credits transferred, I’d need only one more year or sixty credits in Belize to earn a Bachelors degree at the University there. With a Bachelors degree, I could more easily attain a Masters degree for law since tons of scholarships for the higher tiers of education were offered here at home. The stars seemed to be aligning or, as my more spiritually inclined friend would say, God was moving in my life.

  I’d gone ahead and applied for the school two weeks ago and was waiting for any word back from the university. Sandra and Mom were totally behind me. I think Mom was concerned that I hadn’t fully grieved the ending of my relationship with Brian, but she loved the idea of a change of scenery and her only apprehension was my finding work so that I could pay for my day to day expenses. I already had that part ironed out. I figured I’d work at Mia’s Designs if the owner would have me. I wasn’t a clerk by nature, but the hours would suit and I knew Mia would understand my academic schedule. It was hard not to be gung-ho on the idea, especially since I still had to wait for an acceptance email or letter from the university.

  Melody was ecstatic when she learned that I was contemplating moving to Belize for a year. She offered to help me out with my Visa and promised that Mia’s old apartment was available if I wanted it. Even though I’d cautioned my friend about getting excited before receiving any word from the school, she’d been adamant that this series of events was a ‘God-thing’. Melody and I did not see eye-to-eye on religion, oh my bad, on Kingdom things, however, I could not dismiss the seamlessness of this move to Belize. The fact that my mother was completely open to her baby daughter packing up and moving half-way across the Americas to live on her own was a miracle in and of itself. Mom usually had a lot more reserve than that.


  A month and a half later, my acceptance letter came in the mail informing me that I was registered in the August session for a Bachelors degree in Law as a Transfer student. I celebrated with my mom and Sandra that evening after work.

  “Are you nervous?” Sandra asked, taking a deep bite out of her Oreo ice cream sandwich. We were die hard Oreo fans.

  “I’m not nervous.” I said and then corrected, “Okay, I’m a little nervous. I’m more excited though.”

  “Are the men cute?” Mom asked. I froze with my spoon hanging from my mouth and gazed at my mother in surprise. “What?” she defended, “I’m just asking.”

  “I guess they have handsome men same as anywhere else.” I conceded removing the spoon from my mouth and waving it in the air like a wand, “But I’m not looking. This whole Brian fiasco has removed the blindfold from my eyes and I see men for what they really are: untrustworthy and unfaithful.”

  “Not all men are like that, Susan.” Mom scolded, looking affronted on behalf of the male race.

  “I know that, Mom. Maybe old people still have a bit of honor left, and maybe a few men my age do too. But we all know that most of them are scumbags who are really good at faking the good guy act.”

  I knew that Mom was bothered by my words, but what could she say? She’d had two kids out of wedlock with a man who stuck around for a few years and then hit the road when he got tired of us. She had very little experience with faithful, committed males and it was one of the main reasons why she chose to raise us alone. Trusting did not come easily to Mom either.

  “I’ve tried my best by you two,” Mom began, tears in her eyes. I instantly felt guilty for my harsh and calloused musings. Just because I’d been duped by men didn’t make it right to voice my pessimistic views with such fervor.