by Tina Martin
“Okay. I’ll check on you later.”
Chapter Nineteen
Cherish
For movie night, I choose Proud Mary. I haven’t seen the movie but one can never go wrong with Taraji. I’d much rather had gone out to see a movie but here we are, stuck in my living room with popcorn and soda. Monty doesn’t look like he’s into it. He doesn’t look relaxed at all. I have to assume he’d be much more comfortable lying in bed instead of sitting on the couch.
“You don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable, Monty,” I tell him.
“Do you really think I need you to tell me that?”
“Whoa—” I say, hands up. “I was just saying.”
He adjusts his body, attempting to get comfortable again.
“Monty.”
“I’m fine, Cherish!”
“No, you’re not. You’re—” I rub my eyes. Now, I’m getting frustrated. You know how he is, Cherish. You’re doing this for Sylvia, remember?
I hit the reset button, start over and say, “Come here.”
“What?” he asks, frowning.
“Come here—you know—like you tell me to do.”
He smirks a little, slides closer to me and says, “Now what?”
“Stretch your legs out that way and rest your head on this pillow,” I say, placing one of my couch pillows on my lap.
“You want me to lay on your lap?”
“No. I want you to lay on the pillow. Face up.”
“How will I see the movie if I’m face up?”
“Be honest—you weren’t watching the movie anyway were you?”
“No,” he says, resting his head on the pillow finally. “Ah. So much better.”
It’s amazing how he’s so lean and in shape yet muscular and heavy at the same time. I’m keenly aware of the weight of his head on my lap, just like I’m aware of his smell. Oh gosh, that smell. It’s better than the aroma of food. It’s like an enhancement to the oxygen I breathe.
And there goes my heart thumping again…
“You could’ve just gone back in the bedroom and stretched out on the bed,” I tell him.
“I didn’t feel like being in there. Alone. Again.”
I glance down at my lap to see his eyes beaming up at me. I study the hair on his face – never seen this much hair on his face before. And the hair on his head is longer. He usually keeps it around an inch. Now, his curly strands are at least two inches. I’m dying to touch it. I want to play in it so bad my hands are twitching, but I resist. He’d probably run if I made an attempt. I’m so not his type.
“Why are you doing this for me?” he asks.
“Doing what?”
“Taking care of me. It can’t be because you like me.”
I smile. “I do like you. I like this version of you.”
“Oh, the broken down version.” He chuckles. “The version that can’t move without something hurting.”
“No. I just like you more when you’re not so venomous.”
“Wow. Venomous. That’s a bit harsh.”
“Okay, well…mad.”
“That’s not it. And I’m not mad. It’s my personality. I told you that.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I can’t make you believe me. All I can do is tell you my truth.”
Without even thinking, my fingers dive into his hair. “What’s your truth?” I ask him while massaging his scalp. When I’m aware of what I’m doing, I panic. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I—I didn’t realize I was playing in your hair.”
“Sure you didn’t…”
“I didn’t,” I say amused. “I—I—”
“You’re stuttering.”
“Sorry, it was in my head. I didn’t realize I was actually doing it.”
“Oh, so you think about playing in my hair a lot, do you?”
“No.”
“You just confessed.”
“Well, you have nice hair and it’s like right in my face, but I’ll stop now.”
“No. Don’t. I like it.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. It feels nice.”
“I’m surprised you don’t have anything rude to say like asking me if my hands are clean.”
“Shh,” he says. “Do it harder.”
I keep massaging, harder like he apparently likes it.
He closes his eyes. Moans. Then he says, “You shouldn’t like this version of me so much.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not who I really am. When I’m well enough to go back to work—and I think that’ll be in a week or so—I won’t be this person. I’ll be the person you don’t like.”
His words make me sick. All I can hope is that they’re not true. That he’ll hang on to some sort of compassion when he leaves my house and not go back to the rigid man he was before the accident. It also makes me realize that if I want to do my part to rid him of that flawed personality, maybe I should try a little harder to get through to him.
“Have you spoken to your mother since you’ve been here?”
“No.”
“What about Major?”
“That’s who called this morning when we were eating breakfast.”
“Really, because if that’s the case, you talked to him for all of two seconds.”
“I didn’t have much to say.”
“That’s too bad. Don’t you love them?”
“Yeah, I love them.”
“And that’s how you treat people you love?”
“Let me ask you something. When my parents gave me up—me and my brothers—was that love?”
“Maybe it was if they felt they couldn’t take care of you.”
He sits up, places a hand on his chest when he responds, “Then I guess that makes me a product of my environment. How does a man learn how to love when he’s never been loved?”
“Gosh, Monty, that’s so not true.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know Major and Sylvia loves you.”
“You don’t know anything,” he says with cold eyes, “So don’t speak on what you don’t know.”
“Why are you getting upset now?”
He stands and says, “I think I’ve done enough talking for one day.”
I don’t know why I try so hard when he tries so little. The minute I think I’m getting through to him, he reverts back to his old ways. The old Montgomery. I don’t think he’ll ever change.
I toss the popcorn in the trash, fix my hair, put on a dress and call Major. I need to vent. Need to talk to somebody who understands this dude before I lose my freakin’ mind.
We meet up at Sticky Fingers, a barbecue rib joint in Concord across the street from the mall. He walks in looking casual in jeans, a black shirt and a sports jacket. Like Monty, he wears suits on a daily. I’m surprised he didn’t come up in here on a Saturday night dressed to kill.
“Hey, girl.”
“Hey, Major.”
“Your houseguest haven’t driven you to check into a mental institution yet?” He laughs.
“I’m getting there. Trust me,” I tell him then take a sip of my drink.
He laughs more.
I can get used to being around someone with Major’s upbeat spirit. Major is refreshing, especially after being in the house with his twisted brother. Major has been kind to me since I started working at The Hawthorne Estates. He makes me eat lunch sometimes because he knows I have a habit of skipping meals. And he always has a joke. Always lurking around the corner trying to scare me since he knows the place like the back of his hand. I know it now, but back then, it wasn’t a thing for me to get lost.
“Nah, you’ll be alright,” he tells me.
“You think so?”
“Honestly? No,” he says and laughs harder. “By the way, you look pretty tonight.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m surprised Monty let you leave the house looking like this...got these men in here eyeballing you—‘bout to leave their
wives.”
“Shut up, Major? Ain’t nobody in here looking at me and your brother definitely ain’t looking.”
“That’s what you think.”
“No, it’s what I know.”
Major flags down the bartender to get a beer, then says, “So, what did he do this time to have you sitting in here getting white-girl wasted?”
“This is the only drink I’ve had, silly.” I take a sip of it. “And as for your brother, I can’t get through to him. The guy wrecks his car, cracks his ribs—he almost died, Major, and I still can’t get through to him. He drives himself to my house, asks for help and he won’t let me in. What in the world is wrong? What am I doing wrong?”
“Did you ask him about his inner demons?”
“Yes, but does he give me a straight answer? Nope! I can never get to the root of the problem. I mean, he talks about how you two were abandoned by your biological parents, and—”
“He has a point there. We were abandoned.”
“But you’re not bitter. He is. Why’s that?”
“How do you know I’m not bitter?”
I glance over at him. “You don’t walk around acting like the world owes you anything. You smile. I actually know what your teeth look like.”
“I got some pretty teeth, don’t I?”
He has me laughing again. It’s what I do when we’re together – a far contrast from Monty.
“Me and my brother may look the same, Cherish, but we’re as different as night is from day.”
“I know. He hasn’t spoken to Sylvia since he left the hospital. Has he even talked to you?”
“I called him this morning, asked him how he was. He was short with me like he was in such a hurry to get off the phone, but that doesn’t faze me because I know how Monty is. If you don’t want to be let down by him, you can’t care as much because I can assure you, he doesn’t. All Monty has ever cared about was making money and inventing gadgets, almost like he’s trying to be better than dad was.”
“It’s more to it than that, though. Something is totally wired wrong with him.”
“He’s always been like that. Trust me. Oh, and then there’s some contracts and stuff he had to sign.”
“Had to? Nobody forces Montgomery St. Claire to do anything.”
“Don’t have to when money is involved. When dad died, he left me and Monty five million dollars a piece.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep, but he gave Monty the option to get his hands on an additional five billion if he ran the company and honored a specific request by mom.”
“What request?”
“That she got to choose a woman for him—more specifically, a wife—and he couldn’t back out of it because if he did, he’d forfeit not only the five-billion dollars but the original five million and the company.”
“So, he’d have nothing.”
“Exactly.” Major takes a swig of beer.
“What did he do?”
He chuckles. “What do you think he did? He signed the papers! Got that moola! Next thing I know, Paige is walking around there wearing Wifey shirts.”
“They’re a couple?”
“To be honest with you, I don’t know what they are. I just know what went down. What makes me think mom chose Paige for him is, Paige acts like she’s entitled around there. It’s the strangest thing. She doesn’t live there but she does lives in a property owned by the estate. They set her up real nice.”
“Is that why Monty doesn’t get along with Sylvia so much? Because of Paige?”
Major shrugs. “I’m sure that’s part of it, and he could never get over the fact that we weren’t officially adopted. I don’t see why that makes him so angry but I do know it’s been a thorn in his flesh for a while.”
“And what about your other brother?”
Major sighs. “Cherish, I’ma be honest—I want to look for him, but each time I think I’m ready I back out. I’ve gotten to the point of dialing his number but not pressing send.”
“Wait—you know who he is?”
“Yeah. His name is Magnus St. Claire. He lives in Charlotte.”
“You know all of this and you’ve never met him?”
“No.”
“Have you shared any of this with Monty?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because he doesn’t care. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Monty does not care, and you best watch yourself if you don’t want to get hurt.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I’m not blind, Cherish. You’ve taken a liking to my brother.”
“No, I—”
“You can deny it all you want, but when I saw you with him in the hospital that day, I knew for sure. Don’t let your infatuation with him land you with a broken heart. He has enough on his plate to deal with already. I hate to sound harsh, but he doesn’t have time for you or any other woman.”
I sigh. Now, I don’t know what to do. The nurturer in me wants to help Monty, but I can’t ignore a blatant warning from his brother – someone who knows him better than I do.
“What if I can put a meeting together between you, Monty and Magnus?”
Major looks at me for a moment then finishes his beer. “I won’t turn it down.”
“Okay. So, I just need to get Monty on board.”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
“Major, at least give him the benefit of the doubt.”
He shakes his head.
“Well, I’m going to head back home. I need to make sure Monty’s okay.”
“See—that’s what I’m talking about. You’re too invested.”
“What do you want me to do, Major? Kick him out on his tail?”
“Listen at you—kick him out on his tail.” He smirks. “The man is worth five billion dollars. Do you really think he’d be out on his tail? No, he wouldn’t. He would hire round-the-clock nurses. He already got maids. Chefs. Let’s keep it real for a minute—if the situation was reversed and you were the one in the car accident, do you think Monty would let you live with him? Do you think he would’ve brought you food in the hospital? Do you think he would’ve visited you at all?”
My immediate answer to all of Major’s questions is no. I don’t think Monty would do any of those things for me, but I don’t say it out loud. Had I crashed my car and went to the hospital, he wouldn’t have shown up to see how I was doing. He wouldn’t allow me to stay in his home. Wouldn’t wait on me hand and foot. Wouldn’t bandage me up. Make sure I was comfortable. Cook for me. Clean for me. Wash my clothes.
“Don’t worry, though,” Major says. “I’d let you live with me.”
I nudge him. “Thanks, Major.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. How many of those drinks have you had?”
“I told you, just this one.”
“You good to drive back home?”
“Yeah. I’m good.”
“Okay, girl. I got the check,” he says, placing a fifty on the counter.
“Thank you.”
“Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”
It wasn’t nighttime when we arrived, but it is as we prepare to leave. Major walks with a lazy stroll to the car like he’s prolonging our time together. Like he’s not ready for us to part ways. I fall in stride next to him.
“I’m curious about something,” I say. “What are you doing free on a Saturday night, Major?”
“Free?”
“Yeah. You’re an eligible bachelor. I’m sure you got women by the boatload.”
“You’d be wrong. I don’t have time to date.”
“No?”
“Nope. I’m just as much involved in the business as the rest of the family.”
“So, am I correct in saying that working for Hawthorne Innovations equates to a lack of a personal life.”
“That would be an accurate assessment.”
“See, besides biological parents, you and Monty do have something in common.”
“Guess we do.”
I unlock my car door. He grabs the handle, opens the door for me like a gentleman. “Thank you, Major,” I say looking into his green eyes – eyes that match Monty’s but doesn’t affect me the same way Monty’s eyes do. I find it amazing how that works because while I’ve always viewed Major as a friend, I’ve gotten certain vibes from him. Like he has a thing for me, but never acted on it, probably because he knows how much I like his brother.
“You’re welcome, Cherish.” He flashes a faint smile. Then he does something he’s never done before. He wraps his arms around me and while he’s holding me, he says, “Don’t let my brother drive you crazy, girl.”
“I won’t.”
“And if you need anything, you know where to find me,” he tells me as he releases me.
“Yes, I do. Thanks, Major.”
“You’re welcome. Always.”
I get in the car.
He says, “Drive safe,” before he closes the door.
“I will.”
I begin the drive home, purposely driving below the posted speed limit. My mind is so far inundated with everything he’s told me about Monty. I’m thinking about their older brother they’ve never met. And then there’s Paige and the contracts Monty had to sign that supposedly tied her to him. I think about Major’s warning the most – to not get too attached to Monty. To keep my guard up. I’d bend over backward for Monty, but according to Major, Monty isn’t the type to show the same consideration. Let Major tell it and Monty wouldn’t even so much as visit me if I were to fall ill. The only person Montgomery St. Claire cares about is Montgomery St. Claire. As much as I don’t want to believe that, how can I ignore the advice of the person who grew up with him?
Chapter Twenty
Monty
I battle with a lot. Most things I like to keep private, but this girl wants to know my entire life story. Wants to know what makes me who I am. At times, I’m willing to tell her, then when the time comes, I back away. I’ve been yo-yo-ing all night like this.
Ready.
Not ready.
Ready.
I finally came out of the bedroom to find that she wasn’t here. I wasn’t aware she’d left. I don’t know what time she left or where she went and that bothers me.