“Okay, Auntie. I hear you.”
“Mm-hmm. Headache better?”
“You know it is, because you know you got the magic touch even through the phone.”
“Good. Now all you have to do is apologize to whoever you been taking your frustration out on since you been having these headaches.”
“Why you think I been doing that?”
“Like I said, I know you, Leland Randall McClain.”
“What you doing?”
I smiled as I settled in my seat, my phone cradled between my shoulder and ear. He sounded like he was in a good mood, which was a rare and blessed event. “Working. Isn’t that what you pay me to do?”
“Just checking, making sure you ain’t slacking off.”
“No, Mr. Daniels. I am earning every penny you pay me.”
“There you go with that Mr. Daniels stuff. A’ight then, Ms. Hampton. How are things going at King’s Dream?”
“Same old, same old. We’re all overworked and underpaid, but we’re trying our best to make life better for these kids, nonetheless.”
“Y’all want raises? You tryna break me?”
I laughed. “Noooo! We’re working on some grants. The last thing I’m tryna do is bust your bank. You know that. This job is just…hard. Serving the public always is.”
“Then quit. You know you ain’t got to work there or anywhere else if you don’t want to.”
“Actually, I do. This is my—”
“Calling. Yeah, I know. So, look…I just wanted to see how things were going. Gotta go. You know how it is.”
“Yeah, talk to you later, Mr. Daniels—wait, uh…”
“You miss me, don’t you? You didn’t have to move back there, you know?”
“I did. It was the right thing for me and for you.”
“If you say so. Love you.”
“Love you, too. Bye.”
“Bye, Ms. Hampton.”
As soon as the call ended, a text from Zabrina appeared on the screen of my phone: I hope ur having a good day over there. Mine sucks. Ima kill this nigga.
I shook my head. Zabrina’s boyfriend was a really good guy who took excellent care of her while she pursued a crippled singing career. The issue was that she was spoiled, always had been, and things other women would overlook were major issues for her.
Me: What is it? Did he forget to cook you breakfast? Refuse to paint your toenails? Only eat your coochie twice last night?
Z: Ha, ha, ha. No. He proposed.
Me: What????????? And you wanna kill him for that?
Z: No ring. He proposed during sex. Doesn’t count.
Me: You crazy as hell! Of course it counts! Did you accept?
Z: Hell yeah!
Me: So it didn’t count but you said yes?
Z: Yeah.
Me: You are insane.
Z: Whatever. Anyway, I need to get away from him before I kick his ass. Let’s have dinner, celebrate International Caps Lock Day.
Me: Wow, I’m impressed. You did your homework. I’m game for Mexican as long as you’re paying.
Z: Deal. C u at 6.
Me: It’s a date.
Virtually the same moment I’d turned from my phone to tackle the mountain of paperwork on my desk, there was a knock at my door. What the hell was going on? A distraction conspiracy? I’d told Peaches that I didn’t want to be disturbed, because I had to get that paperwork done.
“Come in,” I called, without looking up from my paperwork, sure to lace my voice with disdain so Peaches would think twice about bothering me again.
I heard the door ease open and instantly smelled him. His aroma was a distinct combination of expensive cologne and pheromones that seemed to have been specifically designed for my nose. I hadn’t seen him in the few days since our confrontation, because he was not scheduled to volunteer again until next week. He wasn’t even scheduled to volunteer today. I was sure of that because I had checked the schedule so I could avoid him. I would’ve insisted he stop volunteering altogether, but he’d offered more of his time than anyone else, so his departure would leave a huge hole in the schedule. Plus, he was good with the boys, and dismissing him would make the whole foundation appear guilty of neglect in his eyes, which we honestly were on some levels, a fact that I was ashamed of since I was the captain of this ship. Hell, his persistent harassment had led to me implementing some needed changes in how things operated at King’s Dream, so I should’ve been expressing gratitude to him, but instead, I leaned back in my chair, laid down my pen, and blew out an audibly frustrated breath.
“Your receptionist isn’t at her desk,” he said, answering my unspoken question.
“I see. Wish I had been made privy to that information before now. Well, what can I do for you today, Mr. McClain? Here to evaluate my job performance again? Thinking about giving me a raise?”
He smiled, revealing straight white teeth. “You got jokes, huh? See how you’re acting with me, and I actually came to apologize to you.”
I straightened in my seat as my mouth involuntarily dropped open. “You what?”
He shrugged, looked around my office, then let his eyes land on me again. “Can I sit down?”
“Oh, yes. Sure. Have a seat.”
He settled in the chair in front of my desk, stretching his impossibly long legs before him and gripping the arms of the chair with his humongous hands.
Licking my lips, I crossed my legs and tilted my head to the side. “You were saying?”
“Yeah…look, I know I been riding you, and I’m sorry for that. I thought about it and realized you’re just one person, the director, and you ain’t exactly out in the trenches every day. You hired people to handle certain things and it’s not necessarily your fault if they drop the ball.”
“Hmm. Well, I appreciate your understanding. I actually inherited the entire staff rather than hired them. This center was already established when I was brought on as director.”
He leaned forward. “I thought this place belonged to Daniels.”
“His charitable foundation bought it from the city almost a year ago. Otherwise, they were going to shut it down. Anyway, when I took over as director a few months back, I kept most of the employees on. It was already named King’s Dream, already in this building. The only thing different is me, but as you have so astutely pointed out to me several times, it might have been a mistake not to hire new people. Nevertheless, I’m working hard to shape things up around here. So honestly, thank you for showing me the holes I needed to repair in our operations, and thanks for your apology.”
“You’re welcome.”
Then we both just kind of sat there, our eyes on each other, as if neither of us knew what to say next, but neither wanted to end the conversation.
“You had lunch?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“Um…no. It’s only like ten. So, no,” I stammered.
“I was thinking maybe I could buy you lunch, try to make up for harassing you before and for messing with you about No Panty Day. I mean, if you want to celebrate going commando, who am I to judge?”
I grabbed my forehead. “About that…look, I kind of try to celebrate every day, so every morning, I look up what holidays there are and pick a random one to observe, but I wasn’t actually celebrating the day in the way you think I was.”
“How do you think I think you were celebrating it?”
“By…not wearing panties?”
“I don’t see nothing wrong with it if you were. A woman like you can get away with it.”
With peaked eyebrows, I asked, “Exactly what kind of woman do you think I am?”
“A beautiful one.”
“Uh…”
“I’m just saying, it’s cool with me if you were celebrating it like that. Shit, when is No Draws Day? I’d love to celebrate that one. Nothing like being free. Know what I mean?” He punctuated his statement by adjusting in his seat and giving me a grin. Did I mention the red jogging pants he was wearing?
&n
bsp; Yeah.
“Uh, Mr. Mc—”
“You can call me Leland, or just McClain.”
Licking my lips, I ran a finger around the collar of my blue blouse. “Le—McClain…what was the question?”
“Will you have lunch with me?”
No, no, no. Say no! You can’t do this!
It’s just lunch, I told myself.
Yeah, right. Look at him. You go to lunch with him and he’ll be the meal. Or you’ll be the meal, because he looks like he wants to tear your ass up! Don’t do it, sis! You and men don’t work! Never did! Never will! And you ain’t no cougar. Don’t. Do. It.
He’s like twenty-six and I’m thirty-five. How does that make me a cougar?
Whatever. Just don’t do it! You know you shouldn’t do it!
I looked up from the spot on my desk I didn’t realize I’d been staring at to see him giving me a curious look, and said, “Uh…um, I’m fasting today.”
“For real? All day?”
I nodded a little too vigorously. “Yes.”
“You gonna be weak as hell, ain’t you?”
“I hope not.”
“Okay. Raincheck?”
I nodded again, slowly this time, and watched as he stood from the chair, his big, muscular—hell, fine—body towering over my desk. “Yes, raincheck. Definitely.”
“All right. See you later, Ms. Hampton.”
“See you later, Mister—See you later, McClain.”
He flashed me another grin before turning to leave my office.
7
“Ms. Kim?”
The voice on the intercom jolted me awake, and my mind was so full of the static and fog of a sound slumber that it took more than a couple of minutes for me to realize that for the fiftieth time in the past couple of months, I had fallen asleep at my desk. Checking the time on the office phone’s little screen, I was relieved to see it was after hours, so I technically hadn’t fallen asleep on the job. Still, this was becoming a problem, an issue that was directly correlated to my inability to get any sleep in my own bed at night. I was really going to have to do something about this. When my eyes finally managed to focus, I could also see that the call was coming from the front desk.
“Ms. Kim?” the voice repeated. I was sure whoever it was had seen my car out on the lot, so there was no sense in me pretending not to be there.
Taking a deep breath, I pressed the intercom button, and replied with, “Yes?”
“Um, this is Pamela, one of the counselors? You wanted us to let you know if there were any issues with Shemar Townsend?”
I sat up straight. “What’s going on?”
“Well, we’ve been rotating making sure the kids get picked up every day like you asked us to, and his ride hasn’t shown up yet this evening. He’s the last child left here, and he says his mom’s phone is still off. I’ve tried his emergency contact, but they’re not answering.”
“Uh, okay. I’ll be right there. Keep him in the lobby with you. I know he likes to sit on that bench out front, but I don’t think he should be out there alone.”
“Oh, he’s not alone. Mr. McClain is out there with him.”
Shit. “Okay. On my way.”
I hadn’t spoken to Mr. McClain since he apologized, had somehow forgotten this was one of his volunteer days, and hated to have to see him on an occasion like this since we were on better terms with each other, because well, no progress had been made in trying to get to the bottom of this child’s home situation. Elrich had continued his attempts to get in touch with his mother, which was nearly impossible since her phone was off and she worked at a nursing home where they had something against giving her his messages. He’d even solicited the help of a county case worker. We were trying, really trying, but trying wasn’t enough and I knew it.
Still, I had to face the music, and even if I had to take him home and talk to his mother myself, I needed to find out what was going on in her life that she kept picking up her child late or not bringing him at all. There was a van he could ride, but she hadn’t signed the transportation permission slip. And besides all that, I could see in the way that young man carried himself that something wasn’t right with him. Yeah, something was very wrong.
I grabbed the lanyard that held my King’s Dream ID badge from my desk, hung it around my neck, and with my keys in hand and my purse on my shoulder, headed from the area of the huge building where my office was located to the front lobby, informed Pamela she could leave, and stepped outside to find Leland McClain and young Shemar sitting side by side on the bench looking like a giant and an ant—a big, sexy giant and a timid little adorable ant.
“You two out here enjoying the weather?” I asked in the most upbeat, lighthearted voice I could manage.
Mr. McClain’s head snapped up and his eyes met mine. The concern in them melted away as he gave me a small smile then nodded toward Shemar. “Naw, waiting with Lil’ Man here again. His mom ain’t made it yet, so we just out here kicking it.”
I nodded and fixed my eyes on Shemar, who was staring out at the parking lot. “Well, how about I just go ahead and give you a ride home, Shemar? I need to talk to your mother anyway.”
Shemar gave me his attention, staring at me like he wasn’t sure how he should react.
“You can do that? I mean, is that allowed?” Mr. McClain asked.
I nodded. “We can transport the kids in case of emergency. It’s after six and I’m sure Shemar is hungry and ready to go home, so I count this as an emergency. Come on, Shemar. My car is right over here.”
Shemar hesitantly stood from the bench with Leland McClain mimicking the action. “Hey, wait. I’ll drive you two,” he offered.
I smiled up at him and shook my head. “No, I got it. We’ve taken up enough of your time today, but thanks.”
“No, I’ll drive. I got it,” he insisted.
“Mister—”
I heard a series of beeps and watched the headlights of Mr. McClain’s SUV pop on. “Aye, Shemar,” he said, “go ahead and hop in the backseat. We’ll be there in a second.” Then he turned to me, lowering his voice as Shemar headed to his vehicle. “Look, something is obviously not right with his home situation. He got a stepdad that I think is terrorizing him and his mom. I’m not letting you drive over there alone when we don’t know what you gonna be walking into. Let me drive you. I’ll stay in the car once we get there, but just…let me take you there.”
His eyes searched mine, and upon seeing that he was sincere and determined in his suggestion, all I could do was give him a slow nod and follow him to his truck.
She was quiet on the ride to Shemar’s crib. She seemed uncomfortable in the way a lot of independent women tend to be. The look on her face told me she hated receiving help almost as much as she hated asking for it. I swear I’d never dealt with a grown woman who didn’t feel this way. It was just as frustrating to me as it was attractive. I loved independent women, but at the same time, I needed to feel like they needed me. It was the magic combination I’d never found in a woman. In the past, I’d heard them say, “I like you, Leland,” or “I want you, Leland,” shit, even, “I love you, Leland,” but never once had a woman told me, “I need you, Leland.” I’d never even heard that from family members since my brother, Everett, literally took care of everything and everyone.
“Turn left at the next street,” Shemar directed me.
“A’ight,” I replied.
A few more directions later, I found myself parking in front of a small, dingy white house with a yard full of brown grass and dirt. Surrounding it up and down the block were other worn-looking houses with old cars and/or toys in the yards—yeah, we were most definitely in the ‘hood. The small driveway to what I assumed was Shemar’s house was crowded with two cars, including the one I’d seen his mom pick him up in. So his folks were home? Why didn’t anyone pick him up? What kind of shit was this?
“This it?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Shemar said softly.
“Ok
ay, come on. Let me walk you to the door.”
Shemar had hopped out onto the street when Ms. Hampton grabbed my arm before I could climb out my truck. “I thought you were going to stay in the truck. You’re not King’s Dream staff. You’re not authorized to bring him home, so it’s not a good idea for you to walk him to his door, and anyway, should you be out here without a bodyguard or something? I’ll go. Stay here,” she nearly whispered.
I leaned in close to her. “Let me get this straight. You think my big ass needs a bodyguard, but I’m supposed to let you go to that door alone? Naw, you stay here.”
She shook her head. “I don’t like this. It’s not…it’s not safe.”
“For me or for you?”
“For either of us, really.”
I stared out at the house and at Shemar who was now waiting for me at the tip end of the driveway. “Okay…if something pops off, I’ll give you the signal to call nine-one-one. You got your phone, right?”
“Yeah, what signal?”
“I don’t know. I’ll hold up a finger, like a number one. You see that, call the cops.”
“I still don’t think you should go up there.”
“Yeah, I know. Just watch for the signal.”
She sighed. “Okay.”
As I walked Shemar to his door and glanced around, I thought about how Everett was always telling me I needed to hire some security. This was one of those times when I knew I should’ve listened to him. “You got a key, Lil’ Man?”
He shook his head and knocked on the slanted screen door. When there was no answer, I knocked, putting more power into it and rattling the handicapped door on its hinges. I was ready to get myself and Ms. Hampton the hell up out of there before someone recognized me and robbed my ass at gunpoint or something. Almost unconsciously, I tucked my gold rope inside my t-shirt.
A short dude wearing a wife beater and a frown opened the door, then he grinned up at me. He wasn’t all that young, but he wasn’t exactly old either. He looked like he’d lived a hard life. “Aw, shit! I thought this lil’ muh-fucka was lying about knowing you! Fastlane McClain! Wassup, my nigga?”
Let Me Hold You (McClain Brothers Book 2) Page 4
