Where Trust Lies (Love vs. Loyalty Book 3)

by Nia Arthurs

  The neighborhood in which they lived was not conducive to such a pretty face. Sooner or later someone very like Mali’s father – someone handsome and sneaky – would try to swoop into her daughter’s life.

  Helena only prayed that she’d given Mali the sense to balance her heart with her head.

  “It’s okay, Mom. I’m looking for another job. I can do anything. I just need… a certain amount of money now.”

  Mali pulled at the hem of her T-shirt nervously. Her desire was to return to school, but her mother’s health came first. If they wanted to afford the scans that Helena needed, she’d have to find another job. And fast.

  “I wish you wouldn’t put that kind of pressure on yourself.” Helena pleaded. “Let me apply for my social security benefits.”

  “Mom,” Mali said firmly, “that won’t help.” She lowered her voice so the people on the beds stuffed next to her mother’s wouldn’t hear. “You know that won’t cover a fraction of what we owe. Don’t worry. I’ll figure something out. Now that I can work full-time, I can make more money.”

  “Don’t you dare give up on school now.” Helena insisted. “You promise me, Mali.”

  Shaken, Mali nodded her head. “I promise.”

  Helena winced and Mali saw that it was time to go. Her mother’s weak smile was the only hope that Mali received from this visit.

  “We’ll find a way to make it, Malz.” Her mother used her childhood pet name and instantly it brought to mind thoughts of playing in the park and licking ice cream cones on a Saturday evening. “We’ll make it work.”

  Reaching out, Mali clasped her mother’s bony hand and squeezed it lightly.

  “I’ve got to go, but I’ll be back tomorrow.” Mali promised.

  “I’ll see you.” Her mother shooed her out of the room and closed her eyes, slipping easily into a deep sleep.

  Mali retraced her steps, waving at Al as she passed his booth and stepping quickly down the stairs until she stood in the sunshine once more. She took in great gulps of air. The hospital always felt depressing and sad.

  She hated that her mother was stuck there. She hated that there was nothing she could do to make her well. Mali took a few moments to throw herself a gala of a pity party until she allowed the sunshine to steal back into her countenance. She had access to another place that promised healing to all its citizens.

  She’d hold on to that promise with all of her might.

  Buoyed by the thought, Mali stuck her hands in her pockets and walked to the nearest drug store to purchase a newspaper. Her last job had been as an assistant to one of the Turkish salesmen in the downtown stretch of Belize City.

  The recent dip in the economy had prompted Sirhe, her boss, to let her go. She’d gotten that job based on a recommendation from a friend. Mali really had no idea how to go about securing a job for herself but she was determined to find out.

  How hard could it be for a woman with an Associates Degree in General Studies and half a Bachelors degree in nursing to find a decent job?

  The answer was very.

  Nothing appealed to Mali. She was twenty-two years old and though she knew becoming a cashier or a temp at an agency or working at the call center would be easy enough, her needs extended beyond the pitiful paychecks those jobs offered. She still nursed a secret hope that she could work out a deal with the school to pay a lesser portion of the payment plan a month.

  To do that and afford her mother’s bills, she needed to find a position with a more generous paycheck. Mali tucked a braid behind her ear as she perused the newspaper in the corner of the drug store. She could do this. She had to.

  Giving up was not even close to an option.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Stephen trailed into the drugstore as night descended on Belize City. He was anxious to get back home. Any minute now the stocks could change and he wanted to be near his computer when it happened.

  Becoming successful in buying and selling stocks had a lot to do with good research and intuition. He checked his phone again as Kevin, his local pharmacist, filled his prescription for painkillers. His pale eyes couldn’t deal with the glare of the computer and though his glasses were very strong, he suffered from frequent headaches. The drug store was a part of his monthly routine.

  “Stephen!” Kevin greeted him fondly. “I didn’t expect you until later this week.”

  “I went grocery shopping,” Stephen explained, “so I figured I’d get this order refilled at the same time.”

  The darker man smiled. “You still staring at those tiny screens, boi?”

  Kevin treated him with the same jolly attitude he’d give to a regular guy (which Stephen was). Stephen considered him a friend.

  “I’ve got to keep on top of my game or I could lose a lot of money.” Stephen glanced up at the thick man in the white apron. “It’s consuming so much of my time, I can’t even clean my house properly. I’d give a lot if someone would offer to come take care of the place so I’d have one less thing to worry about.”

  “Ah,” Kevin waved his hand and disappeared into the back, yelling as he continued their conversation. “You just need to take more breaks. Clean your own house.”

  Stomping his feet to shake the itchy numbness climbing up his legs from driving; he pushed his glasses up his nose and checked his stocks again, perusing the web for new ventures to invest in. Kevin reappeared not a minute later and handed him a white bag with the tiny pills that made Stephen’s occupation doable.

  “Thanks man.” He handed the pharmacist the money for the medicine.

  “No prob, Stephen. Take care of yourself. You hear me?”

  “I will.” Stephen grinned at the man, thinking that Kevin was the male version of his mother. He then stepped out of the store, the tinkling bells over the glass declaring his exit. Stephen breathed in the night air and gazed for a minute at the stars overhead before moving to his truck.

  Back in the store, Mali was biting her lip. The tall man with the white, white skin was an albino. She knew that. It had something to do with melanin, white hair and pale features. She didn’t particularly care about his appearance.

  Her mind recalled the words, “I’d pay anything”.

  After staring at jobs that would offer minimum wage while sucking the life out of her, she wondered if the guy would be interested in a cook and cleaning woman. She could do both and charge her own fee. That way, she’d have autonomy and be able to demand more money than she’d make staying all day behind a desk in the call center.

  Biting down on her lip, Mali watched the tall man make his order and then receive it, chattering non-stop with the pharmacist behind the counter. Pride held her in her seat. Though she was far from rich, her mother had needled into her mind the downfalls of begging for anything. The Staine women were wildly independent and it was a hard habit to break now.

  Mali watched the white, white man stride outside and still she sat down. Glancing again at the newspaper before her, she tried to reason her way out of getting up. What if he laughed at her? Outright rejected her? What if he insulted her and she walked away with nothing to show for it but a bruised ego.

  Time was running out. If she didn’t move now, she’d miss her window. With determined steps, she stood and rushed for the door.

  The jangle of the bell disturbed Stephen from his reverie and he once more strode for his car.

  “Sir! Sir!” He heard. Unsure if the salutation was directed at him, he did not bother turning around.

  “Sir!” He heard again and since no one was responding to the call, he turned to discover a young woman in her early twenties jogging toward him.

  She was of average height and build, nearly five inches shorter than he was. Dressed in a plain T-shirt and blue jeans, she could be a student at the junior college or a worker at the hospital across the street.

  “Miss?” He asked, pointing with uncertainty to himself.

  “Yes, you.” She said, breathlessly running up to him. Shoving her hand out, she g
lanced pointedly at him. It took a second for him to process this meeting and return the shake. Her hold was warm and firm. “Good evening,” she said when she had taken a deep breath. “My name is Mali Staine. I’m a …” here she trailed off, “I’m currently enrolled in the University of Belize.”

  She released his hand and Stephen regarded her with a surveying glance. She didn’t look like a beggar. Her clothes, though plain, were not dirty and her hair was neatly done in braids. Perhaps she needed a donation for her school fees.

  He often held his face straight on the street to discourage people from asking for money for if they did, he would offer as much as he could. He was a soft touch that way and everyone in his family knew it. It was how his mother corralled him into so many blind dates.

  He was fully prepared to go for his wallet when the mystery woman, Mali, said. “I overheard your conversation in the drug store. I’m trying to meet a few… obligations, sir. If you’re serious about hiring someone to cook and clean your house, I would be honored if you’d consider me for the position.”

  Stunned, Stephen stared blankly at her. He’d expected her to solicit him, not seek a means of employment.

  While his gaze stayed on her face, Mali’s grazed each facet of his features.

  Oh no! She thought. I just made a huge fool of myself.

  The longer he remained silent, the longer she wished the ground would crack open and swallow her up.

  After a few beats in which Mali thought her pride would surely cause her heart to combust, Stephen came to. “I’m sorry, ma’am.” He apologized. “I was joking back in the store… about that. I – I’m sorry.”

  “Of course,” the woman bowed her head and Stephen felt horrible. It took a lot of guts for her to come up to him. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

  She turned on her heels and fast walked back toward the drugstore. He searched his memory and realized that in his initial sweep of the store, he’d seen a woman reading a newspaper. Perhaps, even then she was searching for a job.

  He shuffled on his feet, watching her move farther and farther away. Groaning within himself, Stephen jogged to catch up with her. “Wait.” He said coming to stand in front of the woman. “On second thought, I could use some help.”

  Her eyes lit up and he steeled himself against the appeal in them.

  “But-” he added seriously, “I’ll need to see some references and your résumé.”

  “Yes, sir.” She nodded her head.

  He frowned at the title. He was only twenty-seven. Her constant use of the word ‘sir’ made him feel old. “I can’t guarantee anything but I’ll take a look.”

  “Thank you, sir. Thank you!” She clapped her hands and bit down on her bottom lip to keep from saying anything more.

  Stephen nodded once and handed her his business card. “Call me tomorrow at two and email me all of your documents. The references can be delivered when we set up a face-to-face meeting. You need to see my house before you agree to the job.”

  “Yes, sir.” She said again and, again he withheld a frown.

  How old was this kid compared to him? In Stephen’s opinion, he appeared younger than his age, but perhaps this mentality was mistaken. Was he that badly off?

  “Have a good night.” He said.

  “You too,” She called, walking back inside the drug store and waving at him.

  He blew out a breath and trailed to his car. What a strange meeting. He’d never encountered a woman so bold before. And though she’d seemed jittery, he sensed her discombobulated state had nothing to do with his fair skin at all.

  That was a new sensation.

  He pressed the key fob for his car and climbed in, checking his phone one last time before he drove home. Stephen returned to his office and was quickly immersed in his work.

  Two huge monitor screens sat mounted on the smooth surface of his desk and every document was magnified to cater to his visual disability. The technology available today catered to his needs more effectively than those in the past. This, however, didn’t allow him to slack off.

  Growing up, Stephen had worked extra hard to achieve good grades. Sometimes, he’d get up from his seat and peer closely at the blackboard over and over again to see the words. Though he was medically declared near-sighted, he needed to be extremely close to an object to make out certain phrases.

  His mother always told him that he was just as smart as the other kids, so Stephen was not allowed to rely on his poor vision as an excuse. He did his best in every subject though it took twice as much effort to learn. In the long run, his discipline had done well for him. Working from home could be very distracting, but Stephen held himself to strict work ethics and his online investments had grown with time.

  Stephen worked late into the night before climbing into his bed and shutting off the lights at one o’clock. The last thing Stephen imagined before he fell asleep was the bright eyed gaze of the woman on the street. She had a strange name. Melanie or Melissa or…

  Mali.

  Her name was Mali Staine. Something about Mali Staine piqued his interest. He closed his eyes with the image of her face in his dreams.

  The next morning, Stephen woke up and got ready for the day. That included stuffing a protein bar into his mouth and spreading open a curtain on the far corner of the room to let in the light. He booted up his computer while checking his phone to track the progress of a potential investment. He yawned and adjusted the glasses on his nose.

  The morning was brutally hot already. Wishing he’d installed the air conditioning when his mother had suggested it years ago, he slipped out of the office chair to turn on the standing fan and point it directly at his chest.

  The best thing about working from home was dressing how he liked whenever he liked. Stephen quickly stripped to his underclothes and then logged into his email. He had several emails from his associates.

  On the side, Stephen kept up a podcast, instructing others like him on the tricks of the stock broking trade. It wasn’t wildly popular and Stephen wouldn’t consider the show a business for it generated little revenue, but he liked the idea of giving back. It soothed his need to change the world, even if he only touched a tiny corner of it.

  After answering a few messages, he finally clicked on the young lady from the drug store’s email. He wasn’t sure that she would reach out given his less than enthusiastic response to her proposal.

  Stephen downloaded her documents and read through her résumé file. Mali Staine was twenty-two years old and studying to be a nurse. His eyebrows rose at that. He had not pegged her as someone interested in the medical profession.

  Why? Because she’s pretty?

  He turned from that particular train of thought and continued his perusal. She had no experience in housekeeping but Stephen didn’t mind. He had no idea what he was doing either.

  His quirks and requirements might frustrate a more experienced businesswoman who was used to having things a certain way. Stephen could be stubborn too. Mali Staine’s eagerness to land this job meant she would be open to his suggestions and preferences for an ordered chaos.

  His mother would certainly frown at the idea. Jenny McCord had taken care of her house and her children for many years and she had never seemed to succeed in corralling Stephen’s messy ways. He threw things in all manner of random places and it was a habit that she could not break. Stephen smiled at the memory.

  While his mother stayed home, Stephen’s father had a job as a store owner in the Romax plaza and his income paid the bills. It was a set-up that worked for his parents, but it had also given his mother some rather old-fashioned ideals about how things were supposed to run in a household. Stephen suspected that these ideologies had played a part in Erwin, his older brother’s, divorce.

  These thoughts zoomed through his head as he scrolled down and checked the references Mali had identified. Perhaps he’d give them all a call. His nature was so trusting that he had to take precautions. He would rather avoid unwittin
gly letting a thief into his house and handing her the keys.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Mali pressed the key into the lock and pushed the door handle to make sure it held fast. You couldn’t be too sure in a neighborhood like The Gungalungs. Gangs, prostitutes, drug trafficking, this street saw it all. The dusty potholes, the sunken board houses, the shifty young thugs hanging out at the street corner, there wasn’t much that The Gungalungs didn’t offer in the way of depravity and depression.

  Her mother had tried her best to shield Mali from it. She stayed inside, forbidden to hang with the girls who roamed the street corners looking for a man to take care of them. Mali had not known any other way of life. She wasn’t rich so she couldn’t hang with the rich people who snubbed their noses at her. But her mother’s insistence that she distance herself from this life even though she lived amongst it meant she didn’t fit in with the girls around her neighborhood either.

  When Mali sought a friend, she’d often visit her elderly neighbors lounging on their verandah or baking bread and bun to sell to the community to make a little change. Her association with the people who had seen more life than she could fit in a cup influenced her to pursue nursing.

  Though her biological family circled around only her mother, her adoptive family included Mrs. Banner down the street who braided hair in her living room or Mr. Patrick who would come over anytime something in their house broke. In the Gungalungs, Mali was surrounded by pain, greed, and fear. But she was also surrounded by family.

  “Hey, Mali!” Mrs. Bailey, her next door neighbor called.

  Mrs. Bailey lived in a yellow painted house with tiny potted plants on the ledge of her small verandah. Her son was a known drug dealer and so Mrs. Bailey had plenty of amenities in her small government issued bungalow house. Didn’t keep her from spending more time on her verandah than inside enjoying those amenities.

  “How’s it going?” Mali asked as she pocketed her house keys in the slit of her jeans pants.