This Time for Real

by Yahrah St. John

  When Malik kissed her cheek instead of pinching her nose, Sage knew something wasn’t right. “What’s going on?” she asked, looking back and forth at Quentin and Dante. “I know I’ve been busy on this big case, but I’ve never seen this one—” she pointed to Malik “—so happy. What happened to the brooding man I’ve come to know and love?”

  “Replaced by a sappy guy in the throws of a committed relationship,” Dante answered.

  “No!” Sage said, and then took off the jacket that went with her pinstriped pants suit. “First playa—playa Quentin has a girlfriend and now Malik? What is the world coming to, Dante?” She turned to her best friend. “Are you starting to feel as left out as I am in this scenario?”

  “C’mon, Sage, it’s not like that,” Malik said. “We’re just dating. We’re not a couple like Q and Avery.”

  “Have you not been seeing the woman at every possible occasion?” Quentin asked.

  Malik thought about it. He had been seeing an awful lot of Peyton. They’d gone to a New York Knicks game, the Culture Fest in Battery Park and Caroline’s Comedy Club. But that was normal in the early dating stages. He didn’t see anything unusual about it. Actually, the more time he spent in Peyton’s company, the more he realized how truly fantastic she was. His desire for her had grown with each passing week; she was everything he wanted in a woman and more.

  “Yes, but—”

  “But nothing,” Quentin interrupted him. “You’re a couple.”

  “Well, maybe.” He wasn’t ready yet to swear off his bachelorhood. “But I am still the same Malik.”

  Sage peered at him. “Umm—no, I don’t think so. Pretty soon the dreads and sexy five o’clock shadow will be gone and replaced with a sleek haircut and a clean jaw.”

  Malik laughed. “Never!” His dreads were a part of him. He’d been growing them for several years, and the thought of shearing them would be like shearing off a part of himself.

  “You say that now,” Sage teased, “but something tells me there are more changes to come.”

  “C’mon in.” Malik waved Peyton in with some tongs when she arrived at his brownstone the following evening for dinner. “I was just grilling us some steaks outside on the terrace.”

  “I brought the wine.” Peyton held up a bottle of red wine and leaned over to brush her lips across his.

  “Hmm,” Malik moaned. “Hold on to that thought. I have to check on the steaks.”

  Peyton followed him through the foyer and into the kitchen. When Malik went on the back deck, Peyton noticed he had the makings for a tossed salad assembled on the granite countertop. So she rolled up her sleeves and began cutting up the vegetables.

  “What are you doing?” Malik asked when he came back inside. “I’m supposed to be making you dinner.”

  “I know,” she said as she smiled, slicing the tomatoes. “I just thought I’d help you out. Is that a problem?” Peyton’s eyes grew wide.

  “Of course not,” Malik replied. He took the knife out of her hand and pulled her into his arms. “Now, how about we pick up where we left off?” Malik’s lips swept down on hers. He covered her mouth hungrily with his and his wet tongue dipped inside to taste her—and he wasn’t disappointed. She tasted as sweet as honey.

  “If you don’t stop that,” Peyton rasped, “Our steaks will be burned.”

  “Hmm,” Malik moaned. “But you taste so much better than steaks.” Malik nibbled on an earlobe.

  Peyton pushed against his rock-hard chest. “How was work?”

  “Work was fine,” Malik said, trailing a path of wet kisses down her neck. “We’re just waiting for the green light.”

  “Didn’t you have a meeting with Richard?” Peyton inquired.

  Malik lifted his head. “It went surprisingly well. Richard showed up alone, without his advisors, and we discussed the budget that I’d prepared.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing,” Malik said, shrugging. “He gave me a check and basically gave me carte blanche to do whatever was needed, provided I stay within budget.”

  “That’s fantastic!” Peyton slapped his shoulder.

  “Can you believe it?” His voice rose slightly. “He even has a contractor already lined up. The man sure didn’t waste any time.”

  “See?” Peyton slapped his shoulder again. “I told you everything was going to be fine. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “You can help Theresa select the paint, carpeting and tile. I’m color-blind when it comes to decorating. An interior decorator did my brownstone.”

  “I’d be happy to.”

  “I’d better go check on those steaks.” Malik headed for the back door while Peyton put the finishing touch on their tossed salad by adding cucumbers and mushrooms. When she was finished, she mixed it and set it aside. She opened the oven and checked the potatoes. Satisfied they were ready, she took them out of the oven just as Malik returned, carrying a platter of rib-eye steaks.

  “Mmm, those smell fantastic. What’d you put on them?”

  “My secret rub recipe,” Malik replied, placing the platter on the counter and opening the cabinet to take out two plates.

  “Well, I might just have to pry it out of you,” Peyton said, setting the potatoes on the plate. She doctored hers up by adding butter, cheese and sour cream from the fridge.

  “I’m open to coercion.” Malik grinned devilishly as he added a rib-eye to each plate.

  When their plates were full, they brought them to the dining room table. “We can’t forget the wine.” Peyton rushed back into the kitchen. She returned carrying two generous glasses full and handed one to Malik. “I was thinking of surprising Jude by having my parents come for a visit to see his show now that mom’s foot has healed.”

  “I’m sure he’d like that.” Malik cut into his steak. “But I thought you said your parents hate to drive.”

  “They do. I thought I’d surprise them with some plane tickets.”

  “That’s very generous of you,” Malik replied. He’d never seen a caring family relationship with both parents before. Sure, he, Dante, Quentin and Sage had looked out for each other growing up, but they’d had to. Life at the orphanage where they all grew up was no joke. Malik had learned to develop a tough image, along with a bad temper.

  It had originally been just the boys. Sage came into the fold after they’d found some bullies picking on her. She’d been short and scrawny and unable to defend herself. When they stepped in the bullying stopped, and so their foursome had been formed.

  “I’m sure you would do the same for Quentin, Dante or Sage.”

  Malik nodded and took a forkful of salad.

  “What about your biological family?” Peyton asked, digging into her baked potato. “You’ve never mentioned them or how you came to meet your friends.”

  Malik sighed. He’d wondered when Peyton would inquire about his family. He’d made a point of avoiding it during their conversations, so he was sure Peyton’s curiosity was piqued. “My mother died when I was young.” More like abandoned him, but he left out that part.

  “And your father?”

  “Never knew him.”

  Peyton sighed. She was frustrated by Malik’s brief remarks. Why did she have to pry information out of him? What was he hiding? “And? How did you meet your friends?”

  “At an orphanage,” Malik replied. “We all bonded because of our mutual misfortune and vowed to stick together. And we did.”

  Peyton clutched his hand. “Malik, I had no idea. I’m so sorry. How long were you there?”

  “From the time I was ten years old until I was eighteen and considered a legal adult. After that—” Malik bunched his shoulders “—we all moved out and got a place together.”

  Peyton digested the information. His mother had died so young and left him alone at such a tender age. It was incredible that Malik and his friends hadn’t become a statistic. They’d all persevered and become successful in their respective careers. “So, the center—” />
  “Was a place of refuge,” Malik finished. “We went there when we needed to get away from the orphanage. We’d do our homework, shoot hoops, or whatever else, to avoid going back to our jail. If it wasn’t for Andrew…”

  “Your mentor?”

  Malik nodded. “Who knows where I would have ended up? You see, I had a humongous chip on my shoulder back then, and the only person who saw through all that bravado was Andrew.”

  Peyton nodded. Now it all made sense. The center had been like a second home to him. No wonder he’d been so resistant to Richard, someone he’d seen as a threat to the center. “I see why you respect him so much.”

  “I do.”

  “Thank you for sharing your story with me.” She was encouraged that Malik had revealed his past to her. “How about I clear up these dishes?” Peyton kissed him on the cheek and took the empty plates back to the kitchen.

  As she walked away, Malik felt like a heel. He’d let Peyton assume that his mother had died, leaving him an orphan. The truth of the matter was that although the courts had removed Malik from his mother’s custody due to child abuse, Joe had never been arrested, because his mother had refused to testify against him. What he’d said was dishonest, but he just wasn’t ready yet to share that part of himself with Peyton. Malik doubted if he would ever be ready.

  Chapter 11

  “Hey, Mom, guess who?” Peyton said from her apartment on Thursday. She had no classes and was kicking off her heels and taking a break from lecturing, researching and volunteering, to just relax.

  “Peyton, darling, it’s so good to hear your voice,” her mother, Lydia Allen, said from the other end, in Cleveland. “How’s New York treating my sweetheart?”

  “Great!” Peyton replied. “Actually, better than that.”

  “Really? How so?”

  “I love my new teaching gig at NYU, Mom. I have a great group of students that aren’t afraid of getting their hands dirty and volunteering.”

  “Sounds good, but why do I have a feeling there’s a ‘but’ in there?”

  “There’s one student, Kendra, a single mother who’s in a domestic violence situation…”

  “Have you given her information on organizations that can help her?”

  “Yes. Malik and I both have, but—”

  Her mother interrupted her. “There are no ‘buts.’ You’ve done all you can do. The choice is up to her. You can’t force someone to get help.”

  “I know that in my head, but in my heart I feel so utterly helpless.”

  “You know you’ve always had a savior complex.” Her mother chuckled.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Even when you were a child, you’d want to take in every stray cat and dog. Remember when you were eight and you wanted to take in a bird whose wings were clipped? You nursed that poor bird back to health, and when it finally found the strength to fly away you were utterly devastated.”

  Peyton nodded. “I remember that. I was so heart-broken. I cried for days.”

  “You can’t save everyone,” her mother replied. “You can only do what you can with the tools you have. Now that we’ve tackled that subject. Why don’t you tell me who this Malik person is? And why am I just now hearing about him?”

  “Oh, Mother, he’s great.” Peyton sighed and fell back against the sofa. “His name is Malik Williams. He’s the director at the community center where I’m volunteering. He’s compassionate and giving and totally gorgeous.” It amazed her that just like with David, she’d fallen hard and fast and there was no looking back.

  “Sounds like you really fancy him?” Lydia asked happily.

  “I do. We share the same interests and value system. We believe in family and in helping others. Can you believe it, Mom? I finally found someone who is as philanthropic as we are.”

  “He sounds too good to be true.”

  “You have to meet him,” Peyton stated.

  “Do you really think that’s wise? You’ve only been in New York a short time,” her mother commented. “You don’t want to scare the poor man off by meeting the parents too soon, do you?”

  “Of course not. But you guys have to come, because how else are you going to see Jude’s new show?”

  “You have a point there.” Lydia had heard nothing but great things from Peyton and the New York newspapers that Jude had e-mailed her.

  “It’s settled then,” Peyton replied. “I bought two round-trip tickets from Cleveland to New York for you for next week. You’ll come and see Jude’s show and meet Malik.”

  “Thank you, dear, you really are a wonderful daughter.”

  “And you’re an even better mother,” Peyton said. “Tell Dad I said hello.” Peyton was excited when she hung up. She couldn’t wait for Malik to meet her parents.

  Malik had just returned from making a special trip over to the Brooklyn center and treating the entire staff to pizza and sodas so they wouldn’t feel neglected, when Loretta buzzed his intercom. “Malik, you have a visitor.”

  Malik anticipated it might be Logan Hayes, his contractor. He suspected that they’d received their early start permit and be able to start demolition in the kitchen as early as next week. The contractor was sure he wouldn’t have a problem getting the drawings approved. “Send him in,” Malik said.

  Malik glanced up and, instead of seeing Logan, he found Joe Johnson at his doorway. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see if you had a change of heart,” Joe said, barging into his office. “It doesn’t look like anything has changed since the last time I was here, so you’re probably pretty desperate right now and ready to negotiate.” Joe smirked.

  Malik rose to his feet. “Sorry to disappoint you, Joe, but I’m far from desperate. The center has a sponsor. A multimillion-dollar-conglomerate backing the renovations.”

  Joe’s smirk quickly turned into a frown. “Who would be dumb enough to donate money to this shack?”

  “Richard King,” Malik replied smoothly.

  “The business mogul?”

  “The same,” Malik said, smiling. “So, as you can see, we will not need Johnson Construction’s services—not now or in the future.”

  “Oh, you think you’re a big shot now, huh,” Joe replied, walking towards Malik, “just because you conned King into giving you some money. King probably feels sorry for you.”

  Malik paused to gather patience. “That’s far from the truth. Unlike you, Joe, some people do things out of the goodness of their hearts.”

  “Oh, please, I’m sure you laid it on thick. Poor, pathetic Malik grew up as an orphan. When you and I both know the truth, which is that your mother didn’t want you because you were a worthless little punk.”

  Malik took a threatening step towards him. “I’ve had just about enough of you. Get out!” Malik pointed to the door.

  “Am I getting to you, Mr. Director,” Joe taunted. “Surely, nothing can get under your skin.”

  Malik reached out and grabbed Joe by the collar. He wanted to beat the crap out of him, but instead he counted to ten and shoved him backward. “You get out of here before I call the police and have you escorted out.”

  Joe straightened his back and brushed off his collar as if Malik weren’t good enough to touch him. “You came from nothing and you will always be nothing, Malik Williams.”

  Joe’s words lingered long after he’d left, causing Malik to slam his fist on the desk.

  Peyton was determined to speak with Kendra after her lecture on Friday. She’d given the young mother a wide berth in the hopes that she would take Malik’s advice, but Kendra had said nothing.

  As soon as class was over, Kendra darted out of the room. Peyton grabbed her satchel and flew off down the hall behind her. When she exited, Peyton found Omar and Kendra arguing in front of the building.

  “Get in the car!” Omar grabbed Kendra by the arm.

  “No!” Kendra jerked her arm away. “I told you we’re staying at my grandmother’s until you get some help
to deal with your anger issues.”

  “You are not taking my daughter away,” Omar replied, “so get in.” Omar pushed Kendra towards the passenger door.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Peyton called out, running down the stairs. “Get your hands off of her.”

  Omar whirled around. “The lady professor again.” Omar shook his head. “Don’t you ever learn? I told you to mind your own business. This is between Kendra and me.”

  Peyton reached inside her handbag for her cell phone. “Either you take your hands off her right now, or I’m calling campus security.” Peyton held up her cell.

  Omar stepped away from Kendra and walked around to the driver’s door. “I don’t need that kind of hassle,” he said and jumped into his Mustang. Once inside, he turned on the engine and rolled down the passenger window. “Know this, Kendra,” he yelled, “it’s not over.” Seconds later, he was speeding away.

  “Are you okay?” Peyton asked, touching Kendra’s arm.

  Kendra nodded and rubbed her arm. “I’m fine. Just a little shaken.”

  “If you like, we can talk in my office,” Peyton suggested.

  “You don’t mind?”

  “C’mon.” Peyton wrapped her arm around Kendra’s shoulder. “My office is a couple of blocks away.”

  They walked a short distance to her office and climbed the stairs to the second floor. Peyton unlocked the door and switched on the light. Kendra followed her inside and sat down.

  “Why don’t I make you some tea?” Peyton suggested, and plugged in a hot water kettle that she kept on hand for stressful occasions. She pulled two mugs and a box of herbal tea out of her drawer and placed two bags inside. “So, when did you move out?”

  “When Omar was at work one night, I packed up a few things and left. After reading those horror stories in the pamphlets that Malik gave me, I realized I didn’t want me and my daughter to be another statistic. And that, as much as I love Omar, he needs some help. He’s only hit me once or twice, but he’s manhandled me lots of times. And if I let this continue it’s going to escalate and I could wind up in the hospital.”