Taming Mr. Charming (The Taming Series Book 2)

by Nia Arthurs

  Mama shook her head at me, “You’ve done some terrible things in your life but sleeping with a white man is low, even for you.”

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” Peyton rushed to defend me. I interrupted before he could get too offended.

  “Peyton, this is my mother.”

  His eyes widened with confusion before a grudgingly accepting look came across his face.

  “Hello, Mrs. Johnson.” He greeted my frazzled mother.

  Mama ignored him and spoke to me, “Can we please get inside.”

  I sent Peyton an apologetic look and he nodded in understanding. With a chaste kiss to my forehead he bid us good night before heading down the stairs.

  “Honestly, Mia,” Mama scolded, “A white man? What do you even find attractive about him? They’re so pale and crazy runs in their genes.”

  I winced at her thoughtless comments, but didn’t press the issue. “Mama, I don’t want to argue with you.” I took the worn duffel bag in her hands and deposited it in my bedroom. When I’d accomplished that task, I saw Mama sitting stiffly in my corn blue sofa. I went and joined her.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, “Your father has been taking me for granted for years. I needed a break. And so did he.”

  “But what about everyone at church?” My parents put a lot of stock in looking like they had it all together.

  “They don’t need to know anything other than I’m visiting my daughter for a few days.”

  “But we live in the same city.”

  “I’m visiting my daughter.” Mama said more firmly and I knew it would be useless to argue with her.

  “Well, I only have one bedroom so…”

  “I’ll sleep in there.” Mama nodded affirmatively and then proceeded to lock me out of my own bedroom. Thank God I kept my toiletries in the bathroom. I was basically set until tomorrow morning. My world had just been rocked and I had no idea how to set it right again. Hopefully things would make more sense in the morning.

  They didn’t. Things were so much more complicated the next morning. Mama was sleeping and I tried not to wake her by tiptoeing through my drawers to pick out my outfit for the morning. When the bus dropped me off in front of the bus stop near my store, I trekked the two minute walk to Mia’s Designs. As I strolled, my phone rang and I answered it.

  “Mia?”

  “Hi, Dad,” I responded.

  “Your mom reach your place okay?”

  I lifted the phone from my ear and stared at it. The time proudly displayed 8:30 a.m. “Dad,” I said with a little attitude, “Mom was at my apartment eight hours ago.”

  “I know. I meant to call earlier. She say anything about what got her so upset?” He sounded genuinely concerned.

  “Not much. Just that she needed some space.”

  Silence reigned on the other end of the line. “Thanks for telling me, baby. Don’t worry about your mom and me. Have a good day, you hear?”

  But how could I not worry about the state of my parent’s marriage. I’d always known that my Mom and Dad did not get along so well. It was the main reason why my siblings had spread out in all the different districts of Belize and even Canada to get away from the madness. If my parents would admit that things between them were not okay and went to get counseling then maybe things would be different. Unfortunately, the Johnsons had a reputation to protect at the Living Waters Church and it would not be furthered with marriage therapy.

  I greeted Estefan at the door of the boutique and opened it up for him. The big guy was a staple part of my day. And we barely spoke. I wondered if my parent’s marriage was like the relationship between Estefan and I. The thought lingered in my mind as I grabbed the cleaning supplies and gave the store a good wiping down. My speakers were mournfully silent as I let my thoughts run wild. Would this argument be the final straw that broke the foundation of my parent’s marriage? Still, something about the entire situation seemed off. My mother’s devotion to my father was total, almost unhindered by his various shenanigans over the years. It was out of character for her to simply up and walk away from a thirty five year marriage.

  My guy came to visit me during lunch, breaking the thoughts that were running circles through my mind.

  “How’s my favorite girl?” he greeted after bidding Estefan a good afternoon.

  I groaned and rounded the counter, leaning my head against his chest and basically begging for a hug. “Terrible.” I admitted.

  “Your mom explained why she visited last night?” he inquired as he put his arms around me and squeezed

  “Not really. She told me something about them needing a break. But something’s not right. My mom has never left my dad before even when he probably deserved it.”

  “Do you think she wants a divorce?”

  I jerked away. “Whoa, I highly doubt that. Divorce would be way too public for my parents.”

  Peyton pulled me back into his embrace and rubbed my back soothingly, “Everything will be alright, Mia.”

  “I hope so,” I admitted hesitantly, “I love my mom but I moved out when I was eighteen for a reason.”

  Peyton chuckled softly and the shaking of his chest under my ear consoled me in ways not even a good quart of Ben & Jerry’s could.

  “I brought lunch, if you have time. I have a meeting at 1:30 so I can’t stay long.”

  “That’s okay,” I headed to the door and turned the sign to close, “I’m just glad you’re here.”

  While Estefan left on his lunch break, Peyton and I had a leisurely lunch of white rice, stew beans, and ox tail which Peyton had purchased from a roadside vendor on the street near his office.

  “Hey,” I recalled; my mouth full of rice. I swallowed before continuing, “When is Spencer proposing to Melody. It’s been almost four months into your one year tenure here.”

  “He’s waiting for the ‘perfect’ moment. He hasn’t mentioned exactly when that moment is.” Peyton informed me.

  “Well, I’m getting restless.”

  “Does Melody feel that way?” Peyton asked curiously, and I knew he was gathering intel for his friend in the same way that I was. I smiled at the irony.

  “I don’t think so. At least she hasn’t talked to me about it.”

  “Are you sure.”

  “Would I lie to you?” I blinked my eyes innocently at him.

  It felt good to make jokes and smile with Peyton. I knew that I was strong. I’d made it on my own before and I could do it again. But having someone to support me and make me laugh when my entire world seemed so crazy was a huge blessing. I was really grateful that Peyton had kept on barging on my walls until they came down. We finished up our meal and threw the trash into the garbage cans.

  “I’m guessing from your mother’s reaction toward me yesterday that I won’t be welcome at your apartment while she’s there.”

  “You can come over,” I stated, “You just won’t like some of the comments she makes.”

  “What’s her deal anyway? Haven’t they seen how much you’ve changed?”

  “Trust me, her response had nothing to do with what she thought was going on.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “It’s a long story.” I sighed. “I can come by your place after work. Maybe I can sleep over at Melody’s tonight.”

  Peyton slanted me an understanding look. “I wish you could. But-”, he grasped my shoulders and peered into my eyes mesmerizing me with the intensity in his own, “the woman I love is so brave that even when things seem uncomfortable she never runs away.”

  “I think you have a very skewed up image of this woman. She’s nothing like that.”

  Peyton winked, “She is,” he leaned in to kiss me good bye and walked toward the door, “I’ll see you tonight?”

  “Probably not,” I groused.

  “That’s my girl.”

  Stupid Peyton.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Mom!” I called when I got
home that evening. The apartment smelt like tomato sauce. I ventured into the kitchen and saw the spaghetti meat bubbling on the stove. I hated spaghetti.

  “Mom!” I yelled again.

  “What!” she emerged from the bathroom, her brown hair loosely hanging to her ears, dressed in a loose white yoga pants and stretchy pink top.

  “Uh, good evening.”

  “Mia, did you shout for half of Belize to hear just to bid me the time of day?” Her derisive inflection severed me. Sometimes my mom cut me down with just her tone of voice.

  “Did you go grocery shopping?” I asked, not rising to the fight I’m sure she was itching to start.

  “I did. There was absolutely nothing but fast food leftovers and soda in the refrigerator.”

  “Thanks for doing that, Mom. But you didn’t have to. I barely cook and the food will just go to waste.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing I’m here. I’ll teach you. The way you mess around with men you’ll need to learn how to eat properly for two.” She pointed to my stomach.

  I fisted my hands, looking to the heavens for a strength that was beyond me. “Ma, I’m not like that anymore. What more do I have to say to convince you?”

  “It’s not what you say, Mia. It’s what you do. I saw that white man in here. I hope you haven’t resorted to prostitution. You know your father and I would lend you money if you needed it.”

  I gasped. My mother had just accused me of selling my body for money as if she were not surprised my life had fallen to such depths.

  “Oh mom, I forgot I’ve got an appointment,” I said lamely, grabbed my purse, house keys and phone and started walking. As dusk drew its blanket over the sky, I wandered. Belize at night is nothing like the pictures Melody showed me back when she’d just returned from her trip to L.A. All the bright lights and buzzing conversation she’d described was the complete opposite of the dimly lit residential streets that made up my city. The section of the Belize where I lived had lampposts which automatically came on a few minutes after dusk each day. A few cars whizzed by, carrying working men and women to their individual homes. A cool breeze whooshed pleasantly past, carrying with it the scent of hibiscus flowers and fry jacks popping in a nearby residence. The toads and cicadas heralded the rise of the moon in obnoxious songs of victory. I smiled at the cacophony even as I drew my arms tighter around my chest. It was not cold, but I wished I had picked up a jacket for the slight drop in temperature. Allowing the familiar scents, sights, and sounds of night’s imminent approach to soothe me, I walked on.

  Twenty minutes later, I reached the street that would lead to the Reyes’. I paused and then my feet moved of their own accord, propelling me the next street over to Peyton and Spencer’s house. I glanced at the two-story building in the distance and then suddenly froze. What was I doing? I couldn’t run to Peyton every single time my mom and I caught in a fight. Taking a deep breath, I turned around and walked back home. The moon was at its climax in the sky when I unlocked the apartment and stashed my purse on the stand next to the door. Moving quietly, I turned on the kitchen light and poured myself a cup of water. I rummaged around the refrigerator for spaghetti leftovers. I was hungry enough to deal with my apathy for the pasta and eat it anyway.

  As I ate, I heard hushed whispers coming from behind my closed bedroom door. Curious, I set the plate of pasta down on the counter and softly padded to the door. Sticking my ears close to the wooden entrance, I listened carefully.

  “I won’t tell her,” Mama hissed. The silence that ensued meant that the conversation was one-sided. She was probably on her cell phone. Unless she was crazy. “Don’t bother just clean up your mistake before I come home.” Mama moved out of earshot and I was left intrigued. Undoubtedly, the person to whom she was speaking was my father. I wondered what Daddy had done that prompted Mom to move out. What ‘mess’ had she been referring to?

  Unwilling to risk being caught spying, I tip toed back to the kitchen and to the now cold plate of spaghetti. My hunger satisfied, the much adored dish now looked as disgusting as it tasted. I threw the rest of the meal away and moved to my couch bed. This was not the first time my dad had badly bruised his marriage. I still remembered the day I found out that the father I adored was a womanizer and a cheater. Mama had just come home from the grocery store. My older sister, Karen, was visiting from Jamaica where she was studying at the university. The both of us helped Mama put away the groceries. We worked in tense silence. Something had made our mother mad and none of us wanted to be the ones she took that anger out on. When Daddy came home later that evening, Mama was deathly silent.

  “Martha, you haven’t said a word all night,” Daddy joked. He was lighthearted and fun that way.

  “I don’t have anything to say to you, John.” Mama said through gritted teeth.

  Daddy dropped his fork in his plate. It hit the glass with a hard clank. “Our daughter came all the way from Jamaica and you can’t put your moodiness aside for one minute.”

  Mom snapped, “I can’t even hold my head up in the grocery store anymore without one of my friends whispering that they’ve seen you at that whore house and you’re accusing me of moodiness?”

  I gasped as my mother’s words registered.

  “Dad,” I stuttered, “w-what is Mom talking about?”

  Dad’s hands curled into fists. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry before. “Karen, take your sister somewhere for a minute.”

  “Where should I…”

  “Anywhere!” Dad snapped, handing her the keys and staring Mom down. Shakily, Karen led me out of the house. We could hear our parents screaming at each other from the front yard.

  “I thought they calmed down.” Karen commented when we got into the car.

  “Karen,” I asked my sister, “is what Mom said true. Is Daddy cheating on Mama?”

  Karen started up the car and started driving, “Kid, I think you already know the answer to that.”

  I knew it then just as I knew it now. My mom believed in the forever promise of a marriage even when my dad stopped believing in it too. Something more was at play here. I needed to figure out what it was.

  “Mia,” My mother’s voice broke into my reverie. I turned toward the direction of my former bedroom. My mother stood in the door way, wearing cotton pajamas, her hair in a bonnet.

  “How was your appointment?”

  I recognized the olive branch for what it was but questioned her motives after the alarming conversation I’d overheard. I almost asked her ‘what appointment?’, until I recalled my hurried excuse for leaving before I got into a fight.

  “It was okay.” I grasped for a pillow and held it to my belly, “Everything is okay,” I added.

  She walked forward and sat on the other end of the couch. “I know I can be a little … harsh sometimes, but thank you for letting me stay here.”

  I felt my annoyance drain away. At the end of the day, this was my mother. She’d endured a heck of a lot over the years. It didn’t excuse her attitude, but it did make it easier to deal with.

  “You’re welcome, Mama.”

  She nodded and leaned back in the chair. “So if I’m to guess right, the young man in your apartment earlier was not a client.”

  I rolled my eyes. “No, Mama,” swallowing slowly, I admitted, “I’m not a prostitute. I never was. His name is Peyton... he’s my boyfriend.”

  She gasped. “Please tell me you’re joking. Your father-”

  “Should meet Peyton before he judges him.” I shifted and faced my mother, hoping she could see the earnestness in my eyes, “He’s a good man, Mama. And he loves me.”

  Mama grasped my hands, “We are not like them. I just want to make sure you’re not experimenting out of curiosity.”

  I whipped my hands away. “I’m not experimenting. I’ve been celibate for almost six years, Mom. And what’s this talk about we versus them? All of us are human. Peyton’s white. My man is white. If that’s all that you can see then you’re missing
out. Not me.”

  Mama shot up and stalked toward my room, “I give up. I tried to talk calmly with you. Can’t you understand? There’s a reason yuh noh wan see black bird wid white. Our country has seen too many foreigners come in and rape our forests and our resources. They never fall in love with us. We keep to our kind and they keep to theirs. Wake up, Mia!” After flinging her unhelpful and unsolicited advice at me, Mama slammed her door shut. Groaning, I hung my head in my hands.

  Worst roommate ever.

  “Oh my gosh guys, you had no idea how much I needed this.” I admitted as the twelve foot yacht sliced through the waves of the Caribbean Sea. Melody sat close beside me sipping orange juice while the men stood at the helm of the vessel fighting over whose turn it was to steer the boat.

  Melody smiled at me. “Things with your mom still suck?”

  “You have no idea.”

  Mama and I gave each other a wide berth over the past week. I escaped through work and she escaped to Mrs. Bethel’s. I have no idea what the two of them did all day. My mom barely spoke to me. I couldn’t believe that she was giving me attitude about Peyton. Her marriage had been falling apart long before I even met him. The one bright part of Mama’s visit, I must admit, was the home cooked meals. Nobody could make tutsi chicken or curry goat like my mother. When I did hang out with her, the meals were consumed in quiet tension. Silently fighting with my mother was exhausting and I missed Peyton. He had this strange obsession with ‘giving me space’ when I needed it. Sometimes, I wish he was more concerned with invading my space than protecting it.

  The ship groaned as the men directed the yacht over a wave.

  “Are you sure they know what they’re doing?” I yelled at Melody over the roar of the motor.

  “Girl, my dad knows a thing or two about sailing. I have him on speed dial in case anything happens.”

  “Oh, you have reception out here?”

  Melody’s eyes widened. She checked her phone and blanched, “Let’s hope they’re better at this than they look.”

  I laughed. Hopefully, the boys didn’t leave us stranded in the middle of the Caribbean Sea. I closed my eyes and tilted my face to welcome the sunshine. Both Melody and I were decked in tank tops and shorts. I’d fashioned my hair into a low pony tail to take the most advantage of the island breeze. The waves were a beautiful blue green shading the entire region around our boat. Not many other vessels were out and about today and it felt like we were the only people in the world.