The Perfect Present

by Rochelle Alers

  Burning up inside the kitchen, Maya fanned her face with one hand and opened the window with the other. The wind battered the trees, dogs barked, and the family across the street was building a snowman. Carolers, decked out in candy-cane-themed toques, scarves, and sweaters, wandered the streets, spreading holiday cheer. Impressed with their beautiful, melodious voices, Maya wanted to record them but remembered she’d left her cell in her purse last night, and didn’t feel like going into the foyer to get it. “ ‘Feliz Navidad,’ ” she sang along with the carolers. “ ‘Feliz Navidad, prospero año y felicidad.’”

  “Are those the words? All these years I had no idea what José Feliciano was saying!”

  Marc came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. His aftershave tickled her nose, and his touch warmed her all over.

  “Good morning, handsome.” Resting her head against his bare chest, Maya caressed his arms and hands. He had on black silk pajama bottoms, and feeling his erection against her bottom made her mouth dry, and her body tingle. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas, baby,” he whispered, nibbling on her earlobe. “I’ve gotten a lot of great presents over the years, but you’re the best Christmas gift I’ve ever received.”

  “Marc, I feel the same way about you. These last few weeks have been a dream.”

  “Let’s go back to bed. I have something to show you.”

  Maya giggled. “I bet you do, but you have to wait. Brunch is on the stove.”

  Groaning as if he was being physically tortured, Marc backed her up against the wall, slid his hands under her dress, and stroked her flesh. If Maya hadn’t had food on the stove, she would have made love to him right then and there, but since she didn’t want their lunch to burn, she gave him a peck on the lips and returned to the stove.

  “Marc, can you grab me a bag of flour from the pantry?” she asked. “I want to make your mom a homemade maple-nut pie, and if I don’t get started now, it won’t be ready in time.”

  Pouring the batter into the sizzling frying pan, Maya pretended not to notice the sour expression on his face, and gestured to the wall clock. “Babe, you have to hustle. It’s already one o’clock, and I don’t want to be late for your mom’s family dinner.”

  “Sure. No problem, babe. Anything for you.”

  Watching him cross the room, Maya yanked off her oven mitts, chucked them on the counter, and tiptoed across the kitchen. Marc opened the pantry door, flipped on the light switch, then stopped abruptly. Didn’t move. Appeared to be in shock. A Celestron NexStar 6SE telescope, swathed in red ribbon, with a gigantic bow, was in front of the upright freezer, and Marc stared at it with wide eyes.

  “Maya, what is this?” he asked, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck.

  “Your Christmas gift, of course. Merry Christmas, baby. I hope you like it.” Wrapping her arms around his waist, she gave him a peck on the lips, and held him tight. “You like star gazing almost as much as I do, and I figured you’d enjoy having a telescope again.”

  He kissed her forehead and patted her hips. “I love it, baby. Thanks for—”

  The doorbell rang, and he broke off speaking.

  “Are you expecting someone?” Maya asked, glancing down the hallway.

  “No, but it’s probably my mom.”

  “Your mom?” Maya repeated, bewildered by his words. “Why would your mom come here when we’ll be at her house in a few hours?”

  “Because she’s super anxious to meet you. You know how moms are!”

  The doorbell rang, buzzed over and over again.

  Steering Marc out of the kitchen, she gestured to the staircase. “I’ll get the door and you go get dressed,” Maya said, glancing at the wall mirror. She’d planned to curl her hair and do her makeup, but there was no time. His mom was outside, banging urgently on the door, and Maya didn’t want to make Mrs. Cunningham wait. “If your mom comes in here and sees you half-naked, she’ll think less of me, and I want to make a good first impression.”

  “Don’t worry. I already told mom I’m your sex slave.”

  Laughing, Maya gave him a shot in the arm, then playfully stuck out her tongue. “Go get dressed, Mr. Man. I don’t want your mom to think I’m using you for your body.”

  A devilish grin curled his lips. “You’re not? But I’m dreamy!”

  “Yeah, a dreamy pain in the ass,” she teased. “Hurry up, babe. Take a quick shower, then meet us in the great room. We can all eat brunch together. There’s plenty.”

  “As you wish.” Marc kissed her cheek, then jogged upstairs, whistling “Feliz Navidad.”

  The knocking stopped, then started up again, and Maya flew down the hallway. “Coming! Be right there!” In the foyer, she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Opening the door before panic set in and she lost her nerve, she spoke with confidence. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Cunningham! I’m Maya, and it’s a pleasure to finally meet you—”

  Paralyzed with shock, Maya lost her voice. Mrs. Cunningham wasn’t standing on the welcome mat; Javonte was. Her first impulse was to run, but her feet were rooted to the floor.

  Unable to speak, Maya stared at her brother in disbelief. His eyes were narrowed, his chin was set in a stubborn line, and his hands were balled into fists. He looked exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept in days, and reeked of vodka. Peering over his shoulder, she noticed his entourage standing in front of his black Cadillac Escalade, and strangled a groan.

  “Where is he?” Anger oozed from his pores, and his eyes were dark with hate.

  “Javonte, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in the Cayman Islands.”

  “I cut my vacation short to confront Marc. He’s playing you, Maya.”

  “Calm down,” she said, bracing her hands against his chest to stop him from entering the house. “You’re wound up for nothing, and you’re blowing things way out of proportion.”

  “Am I? Chauncey was at Seven Lounge last night, and guess what he saw?”

  Heat flooded Maya’s cheeks, and her pulse pounded in her ears, wailed like a siren.

  Raising his cell in the air, Javonte pointed at the screen. “What were you thinking? Are you trying to embarrass me? Do you want my friends and teammates to rag on me?”

  Maya stared at the screen, shocked to see pictures of her with Marc at Seven Lounge—dirty dancing, French kissing at the bar, making out in their corner booth, slipping into the coat-check room for a quickie—and imagined herself strangling punk-ass Chauncey.

  To make things right and soothe her brother’s feelings, Maya apologized. “J, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. Marc wanted to, but I asked him not to.”

  Lines wrinkled his forehead, and his frown deepened.

  “I didn’t want to add to your stress,” she continued. “You’re worried about your knee, and I knew you’d be upset if we told you about us—”

  “Damn right, I’m upset! You have no business dating Marc. He works for me, and furthermore he’s not good enough for you. He’s a player, and you deserve better.”

  “J, stop. You’re shouting. Someone will hear you, and call the police.”

  “Good,” he shot back, rolling up the sleeves of his gray Nike sweatshirt. “I hope the paramedics come, too, because Marc’s going to need medical attention after I whoop his ass.”

  Storming into the house, Javonte shouted, “Get down here, Marc! I need to talk to you!”

  Thinking fast, Maya grabbed her purse off the glass table and stuffed her feet into her shoes. “Javonte, let’s go. We’ll discuss this at home. Not here.”

  “Is this why you want to move out? Because you want to live with Marc?”

  “No, Marc has nothing to do with it,” she said, struggling to hide her frustration. “I need my own space. I’ve lived with you long enough, J. It’s time.”

  Javonte shook his head. “It’s a bad idea. You’re safer at my estate. I can protect you.”

  Appearing in the foyer, Marc stood behind her and rested his han
ds on her shoulders. His touch was needed, reassuring, and when Maya glanced up at him he nodded, as if to say everything was going to be okay. Was it? Deep down, she feared what would happen if her brother made good on his threats. Known in the NFL for his explosive temper, Javonte had been suspended by the league twice, and had also lost lucrative endorsements deals as a result, and Maya didn’t want history to repeat itself on Christmas Day.

  “Javonte, I know this looks bad, but it’s not what you think.”

  He made his eyes wide. “Oh, so you’re not screwing my sister behind my back?”

  Maya winced but spoke up. “Javonte, we want to be together. We’re in love.”

  His loud, bitter laugh pierced her eardrum.

  “Yeah, right,” he spat, his tone thick with sarcasm. “The only thing Marc loves is hooking up with different women every day of the week.”

  Her heart plunged to the bottom of her feet, and the room flipped upside down on its head. What women? Marc’s dating other people? But he’s committed to me! Surprise must have shown on her face, because Javonte answered the question that popped into her mind.

  “That’s right, Maya. You’re not the only one.”

  Marc squeezed her shoulders. “Yes, she is. There’s no one else.”

  “Bullshit!” he raged, folding his beefy arms across his chest. “What about Mercedes in West Town? Sloane in Avondale? And Caitlyn? No way you stopped seeing her.”

  A cell phone rang, cutting through the noise, but no one moved.

  “Sis, don’t fall for his bullshit lines. I know what’s up. I’ve seen him in action.”

  Maya spun around and faced Marc. Was it true? Was he cheating on her?

  Javonte said, “You think I’m a player? Well, I’m a saint compared to your lover boy. He’s so charming and persuasive, women throw themselves at him twenty-four seven.”

  Her temperature soared, making her head woozy. It felt as if her cheeks were stuffed with cotton, but she found her voice. “Marc, is it true? Are you hooking up with other women?”

  Hurt covered his face. “How can you ask me that? Don’t you trust me?”

  “I do . . . I did . . .” Maya shook her head. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

  “It’s true. I was dating around when we first met,” he confessed. “But I cut everyone else loose weeks ago. I swear. You’re the only woman in my life.”

  “Don’t believe him. He’s a master manipulator with no conscience,” Javonte warned. “He cheated on his ex-wife, and he’ll cheat on you, too.”

  What? The words exploded in her ears like a bomb, and Maya struggled to catch her breath. Needed a moment to compose herself. She thought she could trust Marc, but he’d been playing her all along. How could I have been so stupid? Why didn’t I notice the signs?

  Marc started to speak, to plead his case, but Maya interrupted him.

  “Did you cheat on your ex-wife? Is that why your marriage ended?”

  “My marriage ended because my ex wasn’t there for me when I needed her most.”

  Javonte snarled. “Quit lying and tell my sister the truth, or I’ll kick your ass for real.”

  “Marc, I’m going to ask you one more time, and this time I want the truth,” Maya said, ignoring the tremble in her voice. “Did you cheat on your wife? Yes or no?”

  Marc opened his mouth, then closed it, and Maya knew he’d lied to her about his past. He’d played the role of the victim to gain her sympathy, and it turned out Marc wasn’t who she thought he was. He was a fraud, an imposter.

  Emotions flooded her body—sadness, regret, and confusion—and although her knees buckled, she didn’t drop to the floor. She willed herself not to cry, but tears pricked her eyes, blurring her vision, and a sob rose in her throat.

  Javonte grabbed her hand. “Let’s go, before I do something I regret.”

  In the distance, Maya heard carolers singing “O Holy Night,” but their angelic voices made her feel worse, not better. Her relationship with Marc was over, and her heart hurt so bad Maya feared she’d never be whole again. In a haze, she allowed Javonte to lead her through the foyer and out the front door. The air was cold, and snowflakes were falling from the sky.

  “Baby, please don’t go. We can work this out.” Sounding desperate, like a man who had everything to lose, Marc pleaded for understanding. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know. Just don’t leave. I need you, and I want to be with you.”

  “Yeah, right, and I’ve never smoked weed!” Tightening his grip on her forearm, Javonte led Maya down the steps. She didn’t argue. Couldn’t. Didn’t have the strength.

  “One more thing,” Javonte said, glancing over his shoulder and glaring at Marc. “You’re fired. Stay the hell away from me and my sister, or you’ll be sorry.”

  At a loss for words, Maya ducked inside the SUV and stared out the window. She saw Marc standing in the doorway, heard him shouting her name, and dropped her gaze to her lap. As Javonte sped through the neighborhood, blasting rap music on the stereo system, tears slid down her cheeks, and this time Maya didn’t stop them.

  Chapter 10

  “This is the worst New Year’s Eve ever,” Liberty complained, hurling her empty soda can at the garbage inside the washroom off the lobby of the Peninsula Hotel. Missing by a mile, she flipped her hair over her shoulders and released a long, dramatic sigh. “If I didn’t need the money from this gig to pay for our Bahamian singles cruise next week, I’d be at home in bed, watching Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve with that cute little Ryan Seacrest . . .”

  Biting the inside of her cheek, Maya blinked back tears. The last time she’d been at the Peninsula Hotel, she’d met Marc, and memories of that fateful, wonderful night warmed her all over. Tuning her friends out, she opened her leather makeup trunk and selected the items she needed to finish Lyrical Soul’s glamorous looks.

  Tilting Aquarius’s chin up, Maya reapplied the lead singer’s mascara, blush, and lipstick. A spritz of Chanel No. 5 perfume, some hairspray, and her friend was ready to hit the stage. Conversation swirled around her, but Maya didn’t join the discussion. It was hard to concentrate when all she could think about was Marc. They hadn’t seen or spoken to each other since she’d walked out on him on Christmas Day, and six days later, Maya was still broken up inside about their argument. Over and over again, his words played in her mind. You’re the only woman in my life . . . I want you more than anything . . . Baby, please don’t go. We can work this out . . .

  To break free of her thoughts, Maya shook her head and pressed her eyes shut. He’d called her every day since their breakup, but she’d let his calls go to voicemail. She wasn’t ready to talk to him, needed more time to process her feelings, and wanted space to clear her head.

  As she was straightening Eliza’s hair with the flatiron, her mind wandered. After Javonte showed up at Marc’s house, and practically dragged her out the door, Maya hadn’t known what to think. How to feel. The drive to Northfield had been long and strained, but once they got home she’d sat him down and had an honest talk with her brother about her relationship with Marc. Several minutes had passed, then he’d reluctantly apologized for his actions that afternoon. Maya was glad they’d cleared the air, but the accusations Javonte made about Marc tormented her. Were they true? Did Marc have a roving eye? Was she one of many?

  Her gaze landed on the pink, glossy flyer sitting on the countertop, and a sad smile curled her lips. It was for the grand opening of her fashion truck next week. Yesterday had been a big day for her. She’d purchased her own fashion truck, and although Javonte and her friends had been there to celebrate with her, she wished Marc had been at her side. Sure, he’d gone with her before to look at the truck, but it wasn’t the same without him. Nothing was. He meant the world to her, and every day without him was a painful reminder of the love she’d had, and lost.

  Hours earlier, as Maya was getting ready for the black-tie New Year’s Eve party at the Peninsula Hotel, Marc had emailed her, ex
plaining why he didn’t tell her the full story about his divorce, but vehemently denied cheating on Maya with other women. She’d fallen head over heels with the suave, dashing sports agent, but after everything her ex had put her through, she didn’t have the strength to deal with another wishy-washy man. Furthermore, it was New Year’s Eve, and she wanted to celebrate with her girlfriends, not fret about Marc.

  “As usual, you’re exaggerating. There are plenty of eligible, successful men at the party.” Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Eliza pulled on her white satin gloves and fluffed her beehive hairstyle. “Liberty, you are such a drama queen.”

  “No, I’m not. No one’s asked me to dance tonight, or bought me a drink, and I look hot in this vintage polka-dot dress that Maya made for me.” A frown stained her ruby lips. “Thank God Big Mama bought me a new vibrator for Christmas or I’d really be depressed.”

  A giggle bubbled up in Maya’s throat. Leave it to Liberty to make her laugh. All night, she’d been complaining about the lack of available suitors at the party, and when she wasn’t grumbling about being single on New Year’s Eve she was downing flutes of champagne.

  “Quit stressing about your love life, and focus on nailing your solo during ‘Happy New Year, ’” Aquarius advised, glancing up from her bejeweled cell phone. “We’re performing in front of a sold-out crowd full of music execs and celebrities, and this could be our big break.”

  “Or not.” Liberty shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know about you guys, but I need a break. I’m sick of touring and rehearsing, and I’m so anxious to leave for our trip, I packed weeks ago.”

  Finished styling Aquarius’s hair, Maya stepped back and assessed her work. It had taken hours to create Lyrical Soul’s fifties-style ensemble, but her efforts had paid off. They’d looked and sounded amazing during their set, and after their closing song they’d received a standing ovation. Impressed with their performance, the hotel event planner had asked them to do another song, and they’d jumped at the chance to sing again in front of the hometown crowd.