“Thanks.” Peyton hopped out of the car. She walked up to the buzzer and was about to press it when a resident came out, so Peyton slipped inside. The apartment building was old and rundown, but Peyton didn’t let that deter her. She climbed the squeaky stairs to the third floor. When she found apartment 203, Peyton knocked on the door.
When Kendra opened the door, she was shocked to find Peyton on the other side. “Professor Sawyer, what are you doing here?” she blurted out.
Peyton stared back at her student and her heart went out to her. One of Kendra’s eyes was black and blue, even though she had tried to cover it with makeup. Had Omar struck her?
“When you didn’t come to class, I decided to come see for myself—and I’m glad I did.” Peyton pushed herself inside the apartment. She found Kendra’s six-month-old daughter cooing in a nearby bassinet. The baby looked perfectly healthy. Peyton spun around and faced Kendra. “So you lied.”
Kendra hung her head low. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?” Peyton asked. “Has Omar said or done something to you?”
“Why would you ask that?” Kendra replied defensively.
“Kendra, you look terrible.”
“Do I really look that bad?” Kendra rushed over to the hall mirror.
“I’ve seen the signs before,” Peyton replied. She’d been to enough shelters to recognize a battered woman. “What happened?”
“I tried, Professor Sawyer.” Kendra’s voice broke. “I tried to come and volunteer, but Omar caught me on my way out after I’d told him I wouldn’t go, and he got really angry.”
“Did he hit you, Kendra?”
“He didn’t mean to. It was an accident,” Kendra explained. “I tried to move past him and he accidentally struck me in the face. He didn’t mean to, Dr. Sawyer. Omar loves me.”
Peyton nodded. “Kendra, I’m not sure if it’s safe for you here. You should come with me. I can take you to a shelter.”
“So me and my baby can be homeless?” Kendra shook her head. “No, thank you, Dr. Sawyer. I know you mean well, but I think it best if you go.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Omar said from the doorway. “I think it’s time you left, Professor, especially if you want to keep that taxi that’s waiting downstairs.”
Shocked, Peyton rose to her feet and glanced at her watch. Her fifteen minutes were nearly up. She’d come to talk some common sense into Kendra, but today was not going to be her lucky day. Omar’s presence was looming. Peyton knew when to toss in the towel, at least for now. “I took the liberty of contacting one of my students, and they were kind enough to copy their notes from today’s lecture.” She handed Kendra a manila envelope.
Kendra glanced at Omar as if she needed approval to accept the package from Peyton. He nodded, so Kendra took the envelope. “Thanks, that’s real kind of you, Professor Sawyer.”
“No problem. I’ll see you in class.” Peyton gave Kendra a halfhearted smile and turned on her heel. She flew out the door, and she was nearly down the hall when Omar caught up with her at the landing.
“Don’t come here again, Professor,” Omar said, walking towards Peyton.
“I came here to help Kendra.” Peyton would not be intimidated by some twenty-year-old abuser. “And I will continue to do that, Omar, whether you like it or not.”
Omar pointed a finger at Peyton. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He turned his back on her and went back inside the apartment.
Peyton rushed down the stairs in the nick of time. “Thanks for waiting,” she said when she reached the safety of the taxi’s interior.
“You’re welcome,” the driver replied.
Later that afternoon, Malik reviewed the center’s financials. After his interview appeared in Manhattan Weekly, he’d expected offers to come poring in, but all he’d had was a few small donations. Sure, he appreciated those, but he still needed a large donation. Malik was tallying the donations when he was paged to reception. It was probably one of the parents from the center or someone from the community. With his open-door policy, Malik was used to unexpected visitors.
He rushed through the double doors. A man’s back was to him, so Malik walked forward and touched his shoulder. “May I help you?” he asked.
Malik was ill-prepared when the man turned around. Malik stared into the darkest, coldest eyes he’d ever encountered, he was standing face-to-face with his stepfather, Joe Johnson.
Chapter 7
Even though time had aged Joe with lines, wrinkles and a receding hairline, Malik would never forget the evil bastard’s face. Except that now Joe Johnson no longer intimidated him. Malik wasn’t the same nine-year-old who’d quivered in the corner of a closet hoping Joe wouldn’t find him. He not only equaled Johnson in physique, he was also several inches taller.
“Malik, it’s good to see you.” Joe extended his hand as if Malik would shake it. Instead, Malik glared at him.
Joe continued speaking. “I saw the humanitarian article about you in the Manhattan Weekly and heard you needed a corporate sponsor.”
Malik found his voice. “And why would what I need matter to you?” He hadn’t heard a word from Joe or his mother after they’d failed to show up for the hearing that would place him permanently in child protective services. His own mother had wiped her hands clean of him when he was only ten years old, because that’s what Joe Johnson had wanted. Several years ago, he heard she’d died of cervical cancer. He’d been so angry at her for all the hurt she’d allowed to be inflicted on him that he hadn’t attended the funeral, all because of this man.
Malik’s mind sprang back to an incident that had happened when he was nine years old and had stayed out after dark. When he returned, Joe punched him in his face and blood had poured out of his nose and lips. He’d lived in constant fear and loneliness. He wanted to die at first, but thankfully the law had stepped in. He guessed that after too many black eyes, broken arms and hand prints around his neck where Joe had choked him into submission, there had been enough evidence for his teachers to call Department of Children’s Services.
“I thought my company, Johnson Construction, might be able to help you out. As you can see, I’ve done quite well for myself.” Joe motioned to the tailored slacks, blazer and Rolodex watch he was wearing.
“I don’t want nor do I need any help from you.”
“Oh c’mon, Williams.” Joe circled Malik. “I see it like this. I help you.” He poked Malik in the chest. “By renovating this dump for free and in turn you give me all future construction work at the community centers. It’s a win-win situation.”
Fury boiled inside Malik’s veins and he thought he would explode. “Do you honestly think I’d ever accept anything from you?”
“No, but your center is in desperate need of money, isn’t it?” Joe asked testily. “Well…I can help.”
“I would never let a wife-beater and a child-abuser anywhere near this center. Now get out!” Malik yelled and pointed to the door. “And don’t ever come back.”
“How dare you talk to me like that, you little snot-nosed punk?” Joe took a threatening step towards Malik.
“Don’t even try it, Joe,” Malik warned. His eyes were as cold as steel as he spoke. “You’re not the man you once were, and if you ever lay another hand on me, I promise you it will be your last move.”
“So you’re all high and mighty, now that you’re over this center. Well, I remember when you were nothing but a crying little wuss begging for his mama to save him and I had to teach you a lesson.”
Malik had heard enough and lunged at Joe shoving him up against the wall.
“Ohmigod!” Malik heard Loretta gasp from behind him, but he didn’t care. He held his arm firmly up against Joe’s throat, restricting his air passage. He’d waited a lifetime to show Joe Johnson what he was made of, and there was no time like the present. When Joe began to fight, Malik squeezed down harder.
Suddenly, Andrew walked through the center doors. When he saw Malik choking the m
an, he rushed over and pulled Malik off, but Malik lunged for Joe again.
“Malik, what’s going on?” Andrew kept a firm grasp around Malik’s arms. He hadn’t seen Malik act this way since his youth, when he’d been an angry and distant young man. Back then, he’d been prone to getting into fights with the center’s youth for no apparent reason. The only person that had been able to talk any sense into him back then had been Andrew. What had changed?
“This is the bastard that beat up me and my mother!” Malik shouted. “And I want him out of here now, or I swear, Andrew, I’m going to hurt him. And hurt him bad.”
Andrew turned to the man who was still holding his throat. “I ought to sue you for assault,” Joe growled in Malik’s face.
“Try it!” Malik took a menacing step towards Joe.
“You need to take hold of that young man.” Joe clutched his throat. “He’s out of control. I came here today to help. I offered to renovate this center free of charge and he attacked me without cause.”
“Oh, I’m sure he had cause, Mr. Johnson.” Andrew was well aware of who he was.
“How do you know my name?”
“Your reputation precedes you,” Andrew stated. “I think it’s best if you go. Leave your name and number with the receptionist and we’ll review your offer.”
“Thank you.” Joe bowed his head, then sauntered over to Loretta, scribbled his info and quickly left the building.
Once he was no longer within range, Andrew released Malik.
“What did you say that for?” Malik asked, turning around and confronting Andrew. He had no right to speak for the center.
“What do you mean?”
“You said we’d review his offer,” Malik replied. “When hell freezes over!”
“Malik, you’ve been looking for sponsors for months now, and the CAN board has already turned you down. Perhaps Joe is here to right the wrongs he’s done.”
Malik ran his fingers through his dreads. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Andrew of all people should understand Malik’s anger because he’d been on the receiving end of it during his adolescence. “That’s bull and you know it, Andrew. Joe only cares about himself and what’s in it for him. I will not let that man anywhere near this center, so he can terrorize innocent women and children. I swear if he comes in here again, I’ll…”
Andrew grabbed Malik by the arm and pushed him towards the door. “Let’s talk outside.”
“I don’t have anything else to say.” Malik snatched his arm away and stormed off. “The subject is closed,” he shouted over his shoulder. Seconds later the swinging double doors closed behind him.
“You did what?” Malik asked later that night when he and Peyton were snuggled on her couch watching movies and eating popcorn. He pushed away and looked at her like she had suddenly arrived from Mars. “What were you thinking, going to that area by yourself?”
He’d already had a hard enough day seeing Joe Johnson after twenty years, he didn’t need to hear that the woman he was seeing was putting herself in harm’s way unnecessarily.
“I was trying to help my student,” Peyton said, defending her actions. She didn’t care for Malik’s tone. “Or at least I thought I was. But then her boyfriend came bursting in all big and bad. That’s when I knew I’d made a gross miscalculation, so I retreated.”
“Peyton, you should never have put yourself in that situation to begin with. It was dangerous. If you think her boyfriend is capable of hitting Kendra, imagine what he could have done to you? You’ve put yourself smack dab in the middle of a volatile situation…” Malik hugged Peyton close. The thought that something could have happened to her made him feel powerless and he hated that feeling. He felt as if he were a child all over again and he never wanted to feel that way, ever.
“I’m sorry, Malik.” Peyton saw the fear in his eyes. She hadn’t realized how deep his feelings for her went until now. He was genuinely worried for her well-being.
Peyton allowed Malik to hold her because it felt good. She’d missed the security that came with being held in a man’s arms.
She hadn’t realized the danger she was in until after she’d left Kendra’s building. Omar could have gone psycho on her and she would have had no one to blame but herself. Perhaps Amber had been right all along. Maybe she was getting in too deep.
“Promise me you won’t ever do something like that again.”
“I promise.”
Malik sighed. “Good. Now as for Kendra, it’s clear this girl needs some help, but this time I’ll talk to her—and on neutral territory. Say, after your next class.”
“You would do that?”
“Of course. Don’t you know you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger?”
“If I do,” Peyton said, snuggling closer to Malik and teasing his earlobe with the tip of her tongue, “why don’t you tell me what else has got you so upset?”
“There’s nothing wrong.”
“C’mon, Malik,” Peyton said, kissing his neck. “I know something is bothering you. Why don’t you tell me what it is. Did you have a bad day? Maybe I could fix it.”
“You could say that,” Malik replied, then turned stone-faced.
Why was it so hard for Malik to talk about his feelings? Peyton was willing to share her past and her story with him. What was it going to take for him to let her in? She paused from her teasing movements to look Malik in the eye. “I’m waiting…”
“Andrew and I had a disagreement over a sponsor for the center. His name is Joe Johnson and he’s a real piece of work.”
“Not again,” Peyton replied. He’d already turned down Richard King’s offer, and now another company. Peyton didn’t understand his logic. “Malik, if the man is trying to help the center, you should consider him. If you’re looking for perfection, I doubt you’re going to find it.”
“This man represents everything I’m against, Peyton.”
“What do you mean?” She was confused.
“He’s just someone I used to know,” Malik said, rising from the couch.
“What aren’t you telling me, Malik?” Peyton inquired. “Who is this man to you?”
“Can’t you just drop it?” Malik said. “I’m sorry I even brought it up.” Malik pushed away from her and stormed to the bathroom. She had no idea who Joe Johnson was and what he’d done to him, and Malik was in no way ready to share his past. He’d come a long way from that scared little nine-year-old boy, and he wanted the past to remain buried.
Andrew stopped Malik the following day, just as he was locking up his office.
“I’m busy right now, Andrew,” Malik said. “Your lecture is going to have wait.”
“No can do.” Andrew stood in his path.
Seeing that he was several inches taller than Malik, and that that he respected Andrew, Malik acquiesced.
“Fine.” Malik opened the door. “Say what you have to say, but my mind is not going to be changed on this subject.” Malik motioned for Andrew to enter.
Andrew came inside his office and sat down. “Listen, son.”
Malik rolled his eyes upward. Whenever Andrew called him “son,” Malik knew he was in for a lecture.
“I know what this man did to you. I know how he hurt you and your mother, but this could be good for the center.”
“I am not thirteen anymore, Andrew,” Malik replied. “This man didn’t just steal my Packman. It goes much deeper. The man physically abused me for years.”
“Don’t you think it’s time to heal those wounds?” Andrew asked.
“That’s not the reason Joe is here, Andrew. If he’d come here admitting the things he’d done and asking for forgiveness it might have made a difference, but he didn’t. He came here with his chest all puffed out, acting like he was doing me a favor.”
“Does it really matter, if the center benefits?”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Malik replied. “You didn’t live through what I lived through.”
“Oh, Go
d, Malik.” Andrew slid his fingers through his short salt-and-pepper Afro. “I’m not trying to downplay what happened to you. No one deserves the type of abuse that you and your mother endured at Joe Johnson’s hands. But Joe is offering to do the work for free. Maybe he’s changed.”
Malik rose. “I’ve heard everything you’ve said, Andrew, and you know I love you. You’ve been not only a mentor to me, but a father figure. And I respect you greatly, but my mind is made up. I am the director of HCC, not you, and if that man shows his face here, he will be shown the door.”
Andrew’s shoulders sagged as he stood and headed for the door. “Thank you for hearing me out.” Malik nodded and followed Andrew out and relocked his door.
Boom. Boom. Boom. Malik’s fists hit the punching bag in quick succession at the Harlem YMCA later that evening.
“Easy there,” Dante said. He was holding the bag and Malik was punching it like there was no tomorrow. Any second his veins were going to pop out of his temples.
“Sorry, man.” Malik eased back on his heels for a few minutes before throwing two double jabs.
“All right,” Dante said, stepping away from the bag, “what’s going on?”
Malik hung his head. “Nothing’s wrong, Dante. Don’t punk out. Just hold the bag.”
Dante threw off his gloves and walked away. Ever since they’d arrived Malik had been punishing him. First, he’d insisted on running for thirty minutes, forty-five minutes of weights and now boxing. Had he known that he was in a foul mood, Dante would have passed on the workout. His body was crying out for a hot shower. Although he kept himself fit and lean by eating right, he was nowhere near a fitness buff as Quentin and Malik, who constantly visited the gym.
“Dante, wait!” Malik jogged behind him. “I’m sorry, okay? I was having a bad day and I took it out on you.” Ever since that sleazy scuzzball had come into the center a couple of days ago, he had not had a good night’s sleep. It was like he was reliving his childhood all over again, but this time in his dreams.
This Time for Real (Kimani Romance) Page 8