“Don’t Mr. Jones me, boy.” Roscoe Jones said with an exaggerated frown. Although his scowl was meant to be severe, the twinkle in his eyes softened the look.
Devin smiled and hugged his dad. Roscoe thumped him on the back with the same strength he’d had when Devin was a boy. He resembled his dad, with the same long nose, high cheekbones and bronze skin. But his dad was close to thirty pounds overweight and battling diabetes. No matter how much Devin fussed, his dad refused to listen. Food became his comfort after his wife died five years ago. It was a devastating blow after losing his first wife, Devin’s mom, nearly sixteen years ago. When his stepmom died, his dad was left with Devin and his stepbrother Javaris, who was eight years younger than Devin.
When Devin leaned back the smile left his face. “Your blood glucose levels are off the charts. Did you fast before coming in to give blood?”
Roscoe scowled and sat on the exam table. “You can’t expect a grown man to go without food in the morning. Ain’t I supposed to eat breakfast to start up my metabolism?”
Devin sighed. “Yes, on most days, but not when you’re giving blood for lab work.” He looked at the chart. “What did you eat, anyway?”
“Nothing big. Just some frosted flakes.”
Devin’s eyes bulged. “You’re joking.”
Roscoe held up his hand. “I measured out a cup and it was the low sugar kind.”
“There is no low sugar frosted flakes.” Devin sat the chart on the exam table and crossed his arms. “Dad, you have diabetes, you can’t eat like this anymore.”
As if Devin’s words didn’t make sense he asked, “Then what the hell do you give me all that medicine for? Isn’t that supposed to help?”
Devin rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Yes, Dad, they’re supposed to help, but you have to do your part. Diet, exercise, and medicine. Not eat frosted flakes before a blood test.”
“So, I can eat them without a blood test?”
Devin’s head snapped up, but he relaxed when he saw the teasing glint in Roscoe’s eyes.
“Dad, watch what you eat, please. I just visited a patient who had their foot amputated because of diabetes complications. I really don’t want that to be you.”
His dad stopped smiling and sighed. “I hear you, I hear you. So, what else does my blood say?”
Knowing that was as close to a promise he’d get from his dad, Devin went over the rest of the items on the chart. His dad’s blood pressure was elevated. When Devin said he’d need to come back in two weeks for him to check it again, and that if it was high he’d have to prescribe something, Roscoe just grumbled something about white coat anxiety. Ignoring it, Devin continued to try and reiterate to his dad that at sixty-five he couldn’t go around eating like he was sixteen anymore. By the end of the visit they were both frustrated.
Devin decided to make more time to visit his dad. After losing his second wife, Roscoe moved to a house in the outskirts of the county. With Devin’s schedule he didn’t make it out to visit as often as he liked, but he’d have to do better if he wanted to make sure his dad was taking care of himself. His stepbrother moved to Charlotte after graduating college, and Devin only saw him on the occasional Christmas he decided to visit.
“So I’ll see you in two weeks,” Devin said at the end of the exam.
His dad nodded. “Yeah, but you’re filling my truck with gas. It’s a long way to drive in to your office.”
Devin smiled. “No one told you to move out to the boondocks.”
“It’s peaceful. I like it,” Roscoe said getting off the exam table. He placed his hand on Devin’s shoulder to get his attention from writing notes on the chart. “I wanted to talk to you about Shayla Monroe.”
Devin gripped the pen in his hand. “What about her?”
Roscoe held up his hands. “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t have a problem with the girl. But Anna couldn’t wait to tell me that you drove her home last night.”
“And if I did?”
“What you do is your business. Forget what everybody in this town thinks, I know Shayla isn’t a bad person. I remember when you two used to hang out together, before she hooked up with that fool Tony. I could see then that she was looking for love, hell, I hoped you would come to your senses and ask the girl out.”
Devin looked back at the chart but didn’t see anything on the paper. Instead his mind’s eye saw Shayla sitting at the dinner table with him and his dad years ago. How she’d tell silly jokes and bring candy to cheer them up after his mom died. “I did ask her out,” he said softly.
Roscoe leaned closer. “What happened?”
His lips formed a grim line. “She hooked up with Tony. Shayla and I were always just friends. Nothing more.” He turned to face his father. “Look, Dad, there’s nothing to worry about with me and Shayla. I just gave her a ride, but everyone in my office is trying to link us together. It’s not like that.”
Roscoe nodded and stepped back. “All I’m saying is that the girl might need a friend. Coming back to this town filled with fools who’d rather see you fall on your face than give you a hand is hard enough without the scandal she’s got floating around her. Y’all were friends once. She might need a friend again.”
Guilt jumped on his back and put a stranglehold around his neck. Shayla did need a friend, not someone else ready to tear her to shreds. But could he do that? Could he get past the years of hurt and befriend her? He couldn’t avoid her. They were joined by mutual friends and were bound to run into each other. It would be easier to do that if there was no hostility between them.
With a resigned nod he looked at his dad. “I’ll see how things pan out.”
His dad smiled. “That’s all I’m saying.”
Devin’s lips twisted in a wry grin. “You’ve actually said a lot this morning.”
Roscoe laughed. “It’s not often I get to give you advice, Dr. Jones.” He turned toward the door and Devin followed. “Let me get out of here. I know you’ve got a lobby full of patients by now.”
Devin sighed. “Yeah, my last patient is at 5:45.”
Roscoe nodded and gave Devin a pat on the back. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
Devin watched as his dad exited the exam area for the reception area. Through the door he saw the lobby was full.
“Are you ready for your next patient, Dr. Jones?” Kia asked.
Devin turned to the young girl and smiled. “Yes, Kia, I’m ready.
Chapter 5
With a sigh, Shayla turned off the library computer. As expected, there weren’t any jobs in Helena, but there were a few interesting positions in Columbia and Charlotte. She’d spent the day taking notes on the various jobs she saw, calling the contacts she had in Atlanta that had taken her side in the fallout after the affair to ask for references, and updating her resume and cover letter. Her brother was right, she didn’t have to rush and find a job. Fear that someone would recognize her name had kept her finger hovering over the send button on many emails to hiring managers. But her need to leave town finally forced her to hit send.
On her way out of the library she stopped to admire a painting on the wall near the entrance. She wouldn’t call herself an art connoisseur, but she did love art. Something about the painting intrigued her. She’d spent a good portion of the day staring at it.
It wasn’t an elaborate painting of the Helena town square, but the colors were so vibrant and the strokes of the painting so bold she felt as if she could walk into it. It was the only piece of original art work in the small library. She leaned in to get a better look at the initials of the painter.
“T.C.,” she said to herself.
“Tyrell Crawford, he’s the artist.” One of the staff librarians said walking up to Shayla.
Shayla nodded and stepped back from the painting. “It’s beautiful.”
The older woman smiled and gazed at the canvas. “It is. Tyrell is a local celebrity, or at least he is in Columbia. But we’re close enough to claim him,” she said with
a laugh.
“I guess so.”
The librarian pointed at the work of art. “He did that last year as part of his small town collection. His work is so true to life it’s as if you’re really there. He painted two portraits of our square, along with the downtowns of other small cities around Columbia. One was donated to each town, the other he’s selling in a silent auction in a few weeks.”
Intrigued she asked, “How old is he?”
The lady shook her head. “He’s in his thirties, I think. Married to Senator Robert Watts’ older daughter. That’s why he’s such a celebrity, a politician’s son-in-law who also is an artist. He’s got the Columbia art scene abuzz.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Really, I would imagine someone who painted this well would be older. There’s a cynicism to this painting that speaks of someone with years behind them.”
She looked back at the canvas. On the surface it was a beautiful portrait showing any given Sunday in Helena, but subtle things undermined the down home feel. Most of the people in the painting were families smiling or children playing. Upon a closer look there was the homeless man everyone ignored sitting on the stoop at the end of Main Street clutching a brown bag in his hand. One of the mothers in the painting scolded her child who had tears in his blue eyes. And one of the kids in a group standing outside of the drugstore was hiding candy under his jacket while looking over his shoulder, the drug store owner was peering out of the window scowling. Most people who passed the painting and gave it a quick look wouldn’t notice, but Tyrell painted what was beneath the idyllic setting.
The librarian tilted her head to the side. “Really, I don’t get that.”
The corner of Shayla’s mouth lifted in a small smile. “Maybe it’s just me. So when is his auction? I wouldn’t mind seeing the rest of his work.”
Smiling brightly, the librarian walked over to a table with various brochures and flyers and brought back one. “Here’s more information. It’s a few weeks from now in Columbia. It should be a great show.”
Shayla took the flyer. “Thanks, have a great day.”
“You, too.” The lady said.
As Shayla left the library she had a smile on her face. The librarian was the only person who hadn’t looked at her as if she were trying to steal their man. She didn’t know if it was because she was unaware of the scandal, or didn’t care, but it was enough to brighten her day.
She stuffed the flyer in the glove compartment of her car and drove through town to her mom’s house. It was almost six, so her mom would be home cooking. It also meant her aunt Linda was there, too. For as long as she could remember, her Aunt Linda drove to her mother’s house every day after work to gossip. She didn’t look forward to hearing it, but she was hungry and didn’t feel like buying fast food. She didn’t cook. Today she’d have to put up with her family long enough to get a decent meal.
There were four cars in her mother’s driveway when she pulled up a few minutes later. She recognized her brother’s car, her mom’s old Cutlass, and her Aunt Linda’s white Taurus. She didn’t recognize the fourth. Parking her car along the road, she got out and crossed the yard to the front door. This time when she tried the door after knocking it was open. Voices came from the kitchen, so she headed in that direction. The hiss of cooking oil and the smell of something frying led the way. She made a mental note to go to the grocery store tomorrow, or else she’d put on twenty pounds eating at her mom’s house every day.
“Hey,” she said entering the kitchen.
Her mom looked up from the stove, a breaded pork chop in her hand. She briefly met Shayla’s eyes before turning back to the bubbling pot. “Hey, Shayla.”
Her Aunt Linda sat in one of the three chairs at her mom’s kitchen table with her foot propped up in another. Her raised eyebrow and twisted lip answered the question of whether or not she’d move her foot. Her younger cousin Kia sat in the third. Shayla gave the first real smile to a family member since coming home.
“Oh, my goodness, Kia!” she said rushing over to hug her cousin.
Kia stood and returned her hug. “Shayla, I was just on my way to see you.”
Shayla stood back and checked out her cousin. Kia was eight when she’d left town after high school. Her young cousin had idolized her, always playing in Shayla’s makeup, trying on her clothes or jewelry and saying how she wanted to be just like her when she grew up. Instead of being annoyed by her younger cousin, Shayla had enjoyed having Kia around. She’d reminded her of how it used to be, before puberty and high school skewed your judgment and being a glamorous princess was as easy as putting on borrowed lip gloss and high heels.
She shook her head. “Wow, Kia, you’re all grown up now. Girl, you’re making me old.”
Kia had to be about . . . twenty-three. Shayla gave herself a mental shake seeing her young cousin as a fully grown woman, a beautiful woman in fact. Her skin was smooth, clear and glowing as only a girl in her early twenties would have. Her hair was in a complicated style, twisted against her scalp on one side and falling in spiral curls on the other, but her age made it work. She had the same brown eyes tilted up at the corners that most of the women in her family had, and full lips. The scrubs she wore didn’t hide the fact she’d also grown into the family curves. Shayla would be surprised if Kia didn’t have a string of men chasing after her.
Kia laughed. “Whatever, you still look awesome. No wonder you got politicians potentially ruining their careers to get with you.”
Shayla’s smile froze. There wasn’t any malice in Kia’s eyes or tone. She looked as if she meant what she said in a nice way. After a day in the library without the looks or whispered conversations she’d finally felt the burden of the scandal lift, but a few innocent words brought it all back.
Her Aunt Linda cackled and slapped a hand on her large thigh. She was dressed in the same blue polyester custodial uniform she and her mom wore when at work. Her jowls quivered as she laughed. “Girl, look at your face. I don’t know why you’re acting all upset whenever someone brings up why you fled from Atlanta. You did it. Own it. If your stuff was so good you got a senator chasing after it, don’t hide it.”
Her mom snorted. The grease on the stove hissed as she added another pork chop. “Linda, shut up.”
“Don’t tell me to shut up. I’m the only one who keeps it real round here.”
Shayla rolled her eyes. “Yeah, too real.”
Kia stared wide eyed between the two. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”
Shayla smiled and patted her cousin on the shoulder. “I know you didn’t. I didn’t take it in a bad way.”
Linda dropped her foot out of the chair and kicked it out. After Shayla and Kia both sat, Linda pushed forward and pointed a swollen finger at Shayla. “You don’t need to take it in a bad way. Hell, if everyone in town’s gonna talk about what you did, you might as well give ‘em something to talk about.”
“Linda,” Marcella said from the stove.
“Don’t Linda me. Shit, if I had a fine ass powerful man chasing after this here,” she pointed between her legs, “I’d brag about that to the whole damn world.”
Shayla laughed despite herself. “Then you wouldn’t be a good side chick. You’re not supposed to run your mouth.”
Kia leaned forward. “So he wasn’t your first married man?”
Shayla shook her head. “I didn’t make a habit of sleeping with married men. In college, once, I dated a guy and found out about his girlfriend later. When I got mad he outlined all of the things a side chick is supposed to do. Apparently I didn’t know my place.”
“Did you stay with him?” Kia asked.
She sneered. “No, I told him to kiss my ass. After that I promised myself to always be first with a man.” She scoffed and fingered the heart pendant. “Apparently it’s easy to break promises to ourselves.”
Linda nodded. “Ain’t that the truth? You get a man that can talk a good game and you forget every damn promise you ever made to yourself. And if
that fool knows his way around the bedroom . . . shit, it’s downhill from there.”
Her Aunt Linda hit the proverbial nail on the head. Mark’s charm had always appealed to her. But when she crossed that line and slept with him, she found out he was a pretty good lover. Not the best she’d had, but good enough to overlook his shortcomings whenever he spun game about how things would be when they could finally be together. Guilt, humiliation and anger clashed to make a bitter brew in her stomach. It was what she always felt when she looked back on her history of failed relationships.
With a toss of her head she smiled at her cousin. “Forget about my problems, tell me what’s going on with you. From the scrubs I guess you work at the . . . hospital?”
“A doctor’s office.” Kia answered.
Shayla smiled. “Cool, what do you do?”
Aunt Linda answered. “She’s a nurse for your old friend Devin Jones. Kia was just telling us how the ladies in the office were pretty pissed he gave you a ride home yesterday.”
Kia looked down at the table, while heat crept up Shayla’s face. Her conversation with Kenny this morning proved people were talking, but she hadn’t expected it to be that big of a deal. She figured most people would know they were old friends. She hoped they would just believe they were catching up, but given her reputation, and the love of a good story, it wasn’t surprising to learn people assumed more was going on.
“I fell, twisted my ankle, and Devin gave me a ride home. Can’t a friend give another friend a ride?”
Her mom pulled the last pork chop out of the pan, slid the pot to the back of the stove and turned off the eye before shuffling over to the table. “Was that all it was? You’re not hooking up with him.”
An incredulous laugh burst from her lips. “Devin is just an old friend. No, we’re not hooking up.”
Her mom, aunt, and cousin all visibly relaxed. She frowned as she looked between the three. Skepticism was in her mom’s eye, while relief and happiness were in Kia and Linda’s. She sat back in the chair and crossed her arms. “Why does it matter if I hook up with Devin Jones or not?”
Hearts Are Wild Page 4