Just Say The Word

by Tiffany Patterson

Monique shrugged and peered down at her fingernails. Something she did when she was lying.

  “Mo,” I leaned down, cupping her chin, “you won’t get in trouble. But I need you to tell me the truth.”

  “I am, Mommy.”

  I released the breath I’d been holding. I knew my little girl was lying and I don’t know what hurt more—the fact that something was causing her to feel ashamed or the fact that she felt she couldn’t come to me about it.

  “Hey, short stuff,” Damon called.

  I looked over at him as he playfully wiggled her right foot.

  “Your mom was really worried about you. I was, too.”

  I swallowed. He sounded so sincere as he moved up the side of the bed, standing at Monique’s side, opposite myself. His six-foot-three body towered over my daughter and I, but it felt protective more than menacing.

  “You were?” Monique asked, looking at me with eyes that were identical to my own and filled with worry.

  “Of course I was. I dropped everything to get here. Mr. Damon was kind enough to give me a ride.”

  Monique swallowed and returned her attention to Damon. “Thank you, Mr. Damon, for helping my mommy.”

  She looked down at her fingers again. Just when I was about to ask her again what happened at school, she opened up.

  “Some kids were teasing me.”

  I held my breath.

  “They were calling me names. Saying I was a junkie because I knew how to give myself a needle. What’s a junkie?”

  I was stunned into silence. How did nine year olds even know such language? I shook my head.

  “It’s nothing you ever need to worry about,” Damon stated firmly, cutting my response off before I could even muster the words.

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “Since the beginning of the school year.”

  I sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She shrugged.

  “And what happened to your insulin?” I knew without a doubt I had seen her put it in her bag this morning, just like I did every morning.

  “Right before we left, I told you I’d forgotten my notebook.”

  I nodded, remembering.

  “I went back to my room and took out my insulin pack.”

  “Monique,” I sighed out. I fought hard not to yell at her. It was beyond a stupid thing to do. Not having her insulin could literally mean the difference between life and death. But I had to remember she was only a child. A child who didn’t ask to be sick, nor did she ask for the little assholes in her class to make fun of her for being sick.

  “I’m sorry, Mommy. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  My heart shredded at the pleading in her voice.

  “It’s okay.” I stood and kissed her forehead again.

  “Monique Robinson?”

  I glanced up at the woman who’d just entered the room.

  “Hi, I’m Dr. Walker.”

  I reached out to shake her hand. “Hi, I’m Sandra, Monique’s mother. How’s she doing?”

  “Her blood sugar was dangerously low when she first came in. But from the looks of it, she’s doing a lot better now.”

  Just then the sound of Monique’s giggle had me turning and looking over at her. Damon had pulled out his cell phone and was showing her something on the screen.

  A small smile creased my face before I turned back to the doctor. “Will I be able to take her home today or does she have to be admitted overnight?” This wouldn’t be the first time we had to pull an overnight at the hospital.

  “We’ll run the tests in another hour, and if all checks out you should be able to take her home.”

  I nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Walker.”

  “Do you ever get scared, Mr. Damon?”

  I stopped short at Monique’s bedside as she posed the question to the only man in the room. The same man who was now sitting in the other chair, leaning over Monique’s bed. He looked so natural with his concerned expression.

  “Not so much anymore. My pops taught me to fear no man. When I was just about your age and I told him I was afraid of doing something because of what other kids would think of me, he told me to never lie to myself to make someone else feel better. He said that betraying myself was the worst kind of betrayal. And that’s what I was doing when I only followed the crowd instead of doing what I wanted or needed to do. Betraying myself.”

  I swallowed the lump forming in my throat as I watched those two.

  “I don’t have a dad,” Monique responded, sadness peppering her voice.

  The usual guilt and shame that came up whenever she asked about having a daddy formed like a dark cloud over me.

  “But my mom tells me it’s okay to be different. Sometimes I forget.”

  Damon’s eyes shifted from Monique to me, paralyzing me in the spot where I stood.

  “Your mom’s right. Being the same as everyone gets boring. And you, short stuff, are far from boring.” His voice lightened as he looked back at Monique, reaching a finger under her chin and tickling her, causing even more giggles.

  I blinked after a few more seconds and finally got my wits about me again.

  “Damon, can I speak to you in the hall for a moment?”

  He raised a dark eyebrow and unconsciously ran a hand down his thick beard, smoothing it out.

  Did he have to do that? And did he have to look so damn good?

  “Hey, thank you for bringing me down here. I, uh, well, the doctors will have to take another test in a little while and wait for the results to come back. That will be at least an hour. Hopefully, I’ll be able to take her home after that. You can head out. We’ll just catch an Uber home. I can pay you for the ri—”

  “Pay me?”

  I inhaled sharply at the offense I heard in his voice. Obviously, I’d said the wrong thing.

  “Like I’m a goddamn Uber driver? I don’t need your money.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just used to paying my own way.” Especially with men. I never wanted to be made to feel like I owed them something I wasn’t willing to give.

  A small tick in his jaw moved, barely noticeable through the beard but I caught it.

  “You don’t owe me. I’ll stay until she’s cleared and take you both home. I just need to rearrange a few things.” And with that, he turned, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and moving back into the room where Monique was.

  I stood there feeling thoroughly chastised and somehow ashamed for offering to pay him for bringing me to the hospital. Maybe it was a little rude. But how the hell was I to know that? It’s not like he was a friend of mine. He was a friend of a friend. Barely an acquaintance.

  And yet he’s gone out of his way for you twice.

  “Sandra? Is that you?”

  An eerily familiar voice pulled me out of my musings about the man behind the curtain. The same voice that had been absent from my life for over ten years now.

  I turned my head and looked up to see a ghost. At least, that’s what it felt like. My mouth parted but I had no response to give.

  “I thought that was you. You look … great.” My grandmother’s dark brown eyes moved down my body, her full, glossed lips spreading into an appreciative smile.

  I ran my hand down the side of my pants, smoothing out invisible wrinkles because even though it’d been a decade since she kicked me out, I still seemed to yearn for her approval.

  “Gr-grandmother,” I finally eked out.

  “How are you?” she questioned, lifting a smiling gaze in my direction.

  I started to return the smile but then a flash of memory befell me, throwing me back to that summer day years ago when she tossed me out on my butt. The words she spouted at me and the look in her eyes, as if I was no better than the trash she’d often tossed in jail throughout her time as a judge, and a prosecutor before that.

  I stood up straighter, squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin. “Fine.”

  The brevity of my response obviously surprised her a litt
le.

  “Are you all right?”

  My eyes narrowed and I folded my arms. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  She glanced around. “We’re in a hospital.”

  I ground my teeth. “Not for much longer. We’ll be leaving soon.”

  “We?” Her perfectly arched eyebrow rose.

  “My daughter and I.”

  Her eyes enlarged. “Daughter? Y-you had a little girl,” she stated as if she cared. “Is she sick?”

  “She’s none of your concern.”

  Her mouth snapped shut. I was expecting her to let me have it. I’d never spoken to my grandmother with anything besides respect. Even the day she kicked me out, though I was defiant in my wishes to keep my child, I pleaded with her to understand. But more than to understand, to still love me.

  She’d chosen not to. And in doing so, she’d lost my respect. It wasn’t until that moment that I even realized that.

  “C-could I meet her?”

  She took a step forward, and I moved directly in front of her, blocking her access to the curtain, and most importantly, my daughter behind it.

  “No,” I answered flatly.

  “Sandra, I—”

  “I really need to get back to her.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  I started to turn my back on my grandmother.

  “Sandra, wait.”

  In spite of my anger I turned back to face her.

  “Please, I know … you have every reason in the world not to speak to me again, but please, just take my card. It has my home and cell numbers. I’ve changed them since …”

  You kicked me out.

  I let those four words hanging in the air, unsaid. We both knew they were there. Between us just like the past ten years.

  Out of interest of getting back to Monique without any further delay, I took the card from my grandmother’s hand and shoved it in my pocket. After giving her a curt nod, I turned back to enter the room where Monique and Damon were laughing together as if they were old friend.

  I had no intentions of calling my grandmother.

  Chapter Five

  Damon

  “Don’t thank me again,” I stated a little more angrily than I’d originally intended. I immediately felt like an ass when Sandra’s eyes drooped as she sat in my passenger seat. We were on the way to her apartment. Monique had just been released from the hospital and was she in the backseat. She’s fallen asleep within the first five minutes of our ride.

  When, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sandra turn to me to say something, that’d been my automatic response. I got the sense she couldn’t help herself, but shit, to be honest, I was still pissed she even formed the words to offer to pay me for bringing her to the hospital.

  “What the hell type of men have you been with?” I blurted out due to my own frustration.

  Sandra gasped and looked at me, eyes wide. She then turned to the backseat, presumably hoping Monique hadn’t heard the question. Feeling a little ashamed, I peered into the rearview mirror and sighed in relief to see that she was still sleeping peacefully.

  “What type of question is that?”

  “A real one. I just want to know what type of men you’re used to that would make you believe it’s okay to offer me money for bringing you to the hospital so that you could tend to your sick child.”

  She pushed out a breath, and just when I thought she was going to have some sort of response, she peered out of the passenger side window.

  She was silent for the rest of the drive.

  That was a real fuckboy move you just pulled.

  I cursed my own self out in my head the entire ride to her place. I hadn’t meant to be so harsh, but for some reason her feeling like she owed me something pissed me off. Or was it the knowledge that men in her past had made her feel like she owed them something that got to me more?

  “Monique, we’re home,” Sandra called, sweetly, rousing the nine-year-old girl out of her sleep.

  A few seconds later, Monique, Sandra, and I were entering her building’s elevator on our way up to the fifth floor. Still, it was silent.

  I followed behind Sandra because I wanted to walk them to their door and I was still trying to figure out how to apologize for my words in the car.

  “Go ahead inside and change out of your school uniform. I’ll be in, in a second,” Sandra said to Monique as she unlocked and held their apartment door ajar.

  “‘K. Thanks, Mr. Damon.” Monique gave me a sleepy wave.

  “You make sure to take your medication, short stuff,” I called after her, causing her to laugh. Even at nine it was obvious Monique took after her mother’s height.

  Speaking of …

  “Sandra, I’m sorry—”

  “You want to know about the case currently I’m working on?” she questioned, abruptly turning to me and folding her arms.

  Feeling the anger suddenly rolling off her, I took a step back. Damn she was fine when she was pissed. Her brown skin glowed, full lips pinched, button nose flared, and those huge maple syrup saucers she called eyes took on a certain glow that sent my damn body on full alert. And it wasn’t out of fear.

  Shit.

  “I’ll tell you. A little over a week ago—the same day my car died, as a matter of fact—a twenty-two-year-old woman came into the office. She told us a story of how for the past four years she’s worked as a waitress at a popular diner. And at said diner, her bosses have fondled her, locked her in a deep freezer when she refused to have sex with one, kept her late hours, and stolen her tips, refused to give her her paycheck unless she sat on her boss’ lap while he got off and so much more. She’d recently been fired for finally standing up to one of her managers and threatening to call the police on him.”

  “That’s wild.”

  “No. What’s wild is that the same owner and manager have gotten away with this type of behavior for years. Because when I worked at the same diner while heavily pregnant with my daughter, I endured or witnessed the same treatment. So, I learned most interactions with the opposite sex were transactions. And these days, the only form of currency I’m willing to give is in the form of money. That is why I offered to pay you. Because I know very few men who do things out of the goodness of their heart or simply because they’re a nice guy. I would apologize for offending you but I’m not sorry.”

  How the hell did her statement piss me off and turn me on at the same time?

  I took a step closer.

  “You didn’t know any man like that, until you met me.”

  Her eyes widened, and I watched as the rise and fall of her chest increased beneath the white silk blouse she wore.

  “I’m not willing to take what you aren’t willing to give.”

  “I don’t have anything to give besides money.” She tried to sound firm and strong in her decision. But the wobble in her voice ripped her lie to shreds.

  Leaning down, I brushed my lips across hers. “You sure about that?” I asked just before brushing my lips against hers again. She shuddered and then parted her lips ever so slightly.

  Everything in my body wanted to move in for the kill. To pull her little ass into me and take possession of those lips, wiping away any ideas she may have had that I was only being nice to get a piece of ass.

  Instead of listening to my base self, however, I placed a kiss to the corner of her lips before rising to stand straight again and taking a half a step backwards.

  Her eyes held a considerable amount of confusion. I wondered if mine were a mirror of hers. But instead of voicing that concern, I said, “Saturday. We’re going car shopping.”

  Her forehead wrinkled. “Car shopping? How did we get on that topic?”

  “You need a new one, and to be shown not every man you meet is just looking for some type of transaction.”

  Her eyes widened. “My car—”

  “Is dead and you need a new one.”

  “I thought you didn’t know much about cars.”

  “I don’t but I kn
ow people who do and can point you in the right direction.”

  “I have some money saved … for a new car. I’ve known for some time I’d be needing a new one soon.”

  I nodded, not bothering to press that issue.

  “Saturday at ten a.m. I’ll see you then.”

  “Saturday.” She nodded reluctantly but confirming.

  I released a breath in relief, glad she wasn’t going to try to give some excuse as to why I couldn’t help her car shopping. I pulled out my phone to get her number. Then I sent a text to her phone so she’d have my number.

  I watched as she turned and opened the door to her apartment. A stronger man would’ve left but I stood there, watching her entire body from head to toe, from behind. It wasn’t the first time I’d done that. At Joshua and Kayla’s wedding, I’d noticed the short chick with the thick thighs and ass to match. But unlike the Instagram models of our times, this particular woman didn’t flaunt the figure she’d gotten naturally. I could tell there had been no surgical enhancements where Sandra’s assets were concerned. If the natural sway of her backside and thickness of her thighs didn’t give it away, the reticent demeanor, bordering on an innocence that couldn’t be faked, would’ve.

  It was that innocence that had forced me to keep my hands to my damn self where Sandra Robinson was concerned. But shit, I had to remind myself she wasn’t too innocent. After all, she did have a daughter. One who looked just like her so she had to have some type of experience.

  And as soon as that realization formed in my head I had to shake it loose. The thought of another man … Yeah, every woman has a past. Whatever. But I didn’t need to think about it. Because the level of anger that rose in me was irrational at that thought.

  I forced myself to think on work matters as I strutted down the hall to take the stairs back to the parking lot where I’d left my car.

  ****

  “You finally decided to show up.”

  Here we fucking go.

  I pushed out my frustration through my nostrils while I stood upright, across from my mother as she opened the door I’d just knocked on.

  “I don’t know why you didn’t just use your key.” She shrugged and turned, leaving me to enter and shut the door behind me.

  “Good to see you, too, Mama,” I retorted, sarcasm apparent in my voice.