Deidra looked at him sideways. "Why? What about independence, and teaching me a lesson, and all that?"
"It is just my way of saying I acknowledge the changes," Edward touched her hand, "and I am proud of them."
"Thanks Dad," Deidra said, feeling humbled by her father's gesture. A few months ago she would have taken this move as a given. Now she had learnt that she couldn't take anything for granted, not even her rich father.
*****
"Why do you keep listening to that song?" Tiffany sat in front of Marcus. Her nose ring glistened in the half-light. "Who do you miss? Better not be anybody because I am right here."
She listened to the hook of the song, “And I miss you” for the third time then got up impatiently. "I am bored."
Marcus looked over at her. "You were the one who insisted on joining me this season."
"Yeah, I know, but it is so not fun, world touring without actually seeing the places, you know? You are always training, or racing, or posing for some sports mag', or the other. It's no fun going out and seeing the sights alone. I can feel my brain vegetating."
Marcus patiently listened to her complaints. He had been distant with her since that Miami meet too. Ever since that day that that he hung out with Deidra, he had sworn that he would not have let her in his head, but she was in there, firmly lodged. He had heard the song “And I miss you like the desserts miss the rain,” blaring from somebody's overly loud iPod at a meet in Brussels, and he had been playing it ever since.
How was it possible to be so caught up with a woman he had seen once? He felt as if he knew her better than he knew Tiffany, whom he saw everyday. He even found himself wishing that she was here with him instead of Tiffany, but then his concentration would have been shot. The crush hadn't crashed, as he had hoped. Instead, it had developed into something else.
He glanced over at Tiffany guiltily. This was her second year with him on tour. Usually, he tried to make time to hang out with her. This time, he spent all of his free time thinking about Deidra, texting Deidra, and talking to Deidra on the phone.
He would have one week in Jamaica before going to Africa for two months, and he found himself wanting to go to Mount Faith for the first time since he left there, just to see her. This had to stop. He focused on Tiffany. She was pacing the hotel floor.
"Let's go out. This is Stockholm. There is a load of things to do here."
Marcus started to laugh. "You don't need me to go out unless you have Stockholm syndrome. Psychologically attached to your kidnapper?"
"Stop laughing Marc," Tiffany frowned at him. "This is serious. It's so serious I am thinking of going to pick up a hot guy at one of the bars here and doing something naughty with him. You are no fun."
Marcus smirked, "I'm tired. The Diamond League is over, got the trophy and the money, and I just want to sleep for the next few days until we reach Jamaica."
"Not fair." Tiffany wrinkled her nose. "Can't we stay here for a few extra days and explore the fabulous parks, visit a theatre, take in some rare cuisine, visit museums… have fun. We're young."
"And we did it all last year," Marcus said wearily. "Tiffy you know how taxing running a quarter mile is on the body? Not to mention a half-mile? He got up from the chair he was slumped in and headed for the bed. Here's the thing, wake me up," he glanced at his watch, "at 9. I will be dragged to any attraction or entertainment that you deem worthy."
He fell on the bed. "No calls okay."
"Aye aye, captain," Tiffany said sarcastically.
She watched him as he fell asleep then took up his phone. He was not the Marcus that she had known up to the day of the Miami meet. A girl can feel when a guy has lost interest in her, and Tiffany knew that Marcus had found that girl, Deidra, attractive—attractive enough to be still thinking about her three and a half months later. She scrolled through his phone. There were no messages from Deidra. He had taken the time to delete them. How suspicious was that?
She grabbed her laptop. She had done some research on Deidra and found out her name was Durkheim and that even though she was a Fashion Design major, she was on the home page of the Media and Communications Department of Mount Faith University.
She went back to the site again and studied her features. She was just another pretty girl, obviously mixed with Indian; she had a nice enough face. She had seen far better looking girls than that off Marcus' radar.
She was not going to sit back and allow Miss Deidra Durkheim a foothold in her relationship with Marcus. She had fought to be where she was in Marcus' life. She had heard about him through a Jamaican documentary about up and coming athletes. They had featured him, and she had taken one look at his pin-up worthy face and knew that she was going to be with him whatever the cost.
She had been only eighteen at the time and had no plans to go to college. She wasn't the school type. She had always wanted to open a sporting goods store, but she shelved her dream and went to The University of Technology, Jamaica, so that she could hook up with Marcus' friends to get close to him.
It hadn't taken her long to befriend Marcus after that. She could write the handbook on how to be an understanding track athlete's girlfriend.
She had wanted Marcus to find her invaluable, and he had. Now she was gunning for a ring. She had even picked it out; bought it with Marcus' credit card in Zurich.
She was twenty-two, and it was time to make it official. Living together last year had been her idea; it would never have occurred to Marcus. Where women were concerned, he was sometimes clueless, she thought.
She pushed everything in their relationship, and she was hoping that this trip would see them on their way to marriage. Her parents were liberal and had raised her as such. They couldn't care less if she lived in a community of naked people, but she wanted the wife badge.
Tiffany Bancroft sounded better than Tiffany Lewis. Even though her parents were long standing business people who owned several hardware stores and were wealthy in their own right, she wanted some of the recognition that Marcus had—some of the respect. Girlfriend was too transient, and easily changed, whether you lived with a guy or not.
She threw down the phone and thought of Deidra. She had shaken groupies before. This girl should not be that hard to shake.
Chapter Four
Marcus turned into the small town square that marked the township of Malvern and turned right to Mount Faith. He was finally going home; last year he had made a brief stop for the Easter holidays. His mother had chided him on neglecting his family, and his father had questioned him about his lifestyle in Kingston.
His dad had the idea that he partied until midnight and had loads of girls on his arm. That was the farthest thing from the truth. An athlete just could not afford to be undisciplined and expect to have a professional track career, even off-season. He had repeatedly reassured his father of that fact, but his father still treated him as if he had some sort of disease. The non-conformity disease, Micah had jokingly said at the time.
He smiled fondly as he turned onto Mount Faith Road and slowly passed the school. It looked beautiful from the entrance as usual. He slowed down and turned onto Mount Faith Drive, which was a mere three minutes from the school's entrance. The entrance to the drive was lined with palm trees. From the entrance of the drive to the top of the hill, where his parents lived, was half a mile. This year, his season's best in the half-mile was one minute and fifty-seconds flat.
When he was a child, his brothers, Adrian and Micah, would time him as he ran it in five minutes. He smiled fondly as he imagined himself, at age seven, struggling to cover the distance in world record time, always with the dream to run on the world stage, to conquer the field, to come out victorious, and to make his father proud of him for something.
Now it was commonplace for him to win on the world stage. Last year, at the World Championships, he had come second in both the quarter mile and the half-mile. Silver in both events and now, at the age of twenty-two, he was celebrated and feted.
His father was still not proud of him, but he had gotten over pleasing his father as motivation. He needed to get an Olympic Gold medal; not only for himself, but to prove that he could do it. Two years ago when he went to the Olympics, he placed fourth in the final of the 400m. He had lost a bronze medal by a fraction of a second; it had been so close he could taste it.
For the next Olympics, he wanted the gold. It was something he dreamed about. Some days, when he went into the gym, weary and bone tired, and not wanting to train he would think about the gold—Olympic gold—the ultimate pinnacle of his hopes and dreams.
He slowed down at his parents’ gate. He had not told anybody that he was coming by. He had not even told Tiffany where he was going when he left out in the morning. He had just gotten back from Europe, and he had to see Deidra. They had arrived in the night from London. In the morning, he got up, got into his car, and drove to Mount Faith.
Usually, he would find a million and one excuses not to go see his parents, but this time, coming back home was like a compulsion.
He paused at the gate, wondering if he absolutely had to see his parents, then the voice of wisdom repeated the 'honor your mother and your father that your days may be long upon the land' mantra and he nodded to the prompting of the voice. Maybe Deidra was right when she said that his parents' values rubbed off on him. He was not half as bad as he could be. He chuckled to himself and dialed his mother's number.
"Hello, Mrs. Bancroft." He said, when she answered.
"Marcus?" she squealed. "How are you? Are you back from Europe?"
"Yes, Mommy," he said softly. "Are you at home?"
"Yes dear. I leave out at nine this morning. It's only just eight-thirty. Why'd you ask?"
"Because you have a special delivery at the gate."
"I do?" his mother sounded curious. He could see the curtains at the front windows moving then his mother came to stand on the verandah.
"I see a car. " His mother thought for a while—she was not very good with car recognition—then said, "It’s a red Mercedes Benz."
He waved to her through the window and she gasped.
"Marcus, is that you?"
"Let me in," Marcus said, simply.
His mother was squealing and jumping on the veranda as if she had just won some prize.
Note to self, he thought, ashamed, return home more often and not just for a girl.
When he drove up the driveway, he saw his little sister, Jessica, standing beside his mother, eagerly waving. His father was at the door with his arms folded. His face looked joyful though. Marcus breathed out in relief. He knew he was not up for a lecture as soon as he got home.
So where's Deidra? he thought, panicked. She had said that her father was begging her to move back into her old house, but she was sticking to her guns about staying with his parents for the semester.
He hugged his mom tightly then hugged his little sister who was not so little anymore. Every year when he saw Jessica she looked like she shot up a foot more than the year before. How old was she now? Seventeen?
He briefly hugged his father, who gave him a pat on the back. Marcus looked around for their houseguest, but still did not see her. What was going on?
"What's all the carrying on about?" Deidra came out into the hall. She had a towel wrapped around her head and was in a skinny black jeans and a turquoise blouse.
"Just the prodigal returning home," His mother replied.
He was staring at Deidra, eating her up with his eyes, and she was staring back at him.
"Oh," she whispered.
"This is Marcus," his mother was saying, "but of course I don't have to tell you that since you see him on television all the time."
Deidra nodded and cleared her throat. "Hi Marcus."
"That's Deidra," his mother said, "she lives with us."
"Since she sent Micah to jail," Jessica piped in.
"Oh for heavens sake, that was like a year ago." Deidra came closer to him. She smelled like French vanilla perfume. She held her hand out for a handshake, but he was fearful of touching her again. He was fearful of the jolt and yet he wanted it. He had driven all the way from Kingston just for it, just to see her and touch her. He walked up to her but ignored her hand. She reached him at chin height.
"Hey you," he whispered to her softly before he hugged her. He realized that it was a mistake the moment their bodies touched. One handshake was a jolt, but their bodies touching was fireworks.
He heard Deidra's muffled gasp and knew once more that they were on the same page.
Though the hug was brief, he could still feel its effects on his body when he moved away after a brief cough from his father. When he looked back, his parents and sister were looking between him and Deidra with varying levels of shock.
"I met her this summer," he said in explanation.
Deidra cleared her throat. "He was at the track meet in Miami."
His mother nodded and gave them a small knowing smile. His father was looking skeptical.
"Do you want some breakfast?" his mother asked briskly. "I have to call the home, I can't go in early today. You are here. I hardly ever see you anymore."
"Can I stay home from school too?" Jessica asked eagerly.
"No, young lady," his father said swiftly. Jessica came over to him, hugged him, and then headed for her room. She looked behind to her father and beseeched.
"It's not even proper school. It's orientation week, and I'm officially a sixth former. I don't have to be there."
Marcus grinned. She was walking as if somebody had kicked her, dragging herself to her room.
"Some breakfast would be good, thanks," he said to his mother, who was heading into the kitchen.
Deidra cleared her throat, "I am going to allow you guys to catch up on your family time. I have a tutorial right now."
He held on to her hand as she turned away. "Surely you can do lunch?"
"Sure." Deidra was self-conscious about the skeptical raised eyebrow of Dr. Bancroft, who had not moved from the doorpost and was watching the two of them with interest. "I'll call you when I am free."
He nodded and let her hand go and turned to his father. "So how is it going, Dad?"
"It's going," His father said simply. "How is that girl you live with?"
"Tiffany." Marcus said abruptly. His father knew Tiffany's name. He had had her investigated before she moved in with Marcus and had highlighted to him the many men Tiffany had slept with before she got together with him.
"She's fine."
"So, why are you here?" His father looked at him with a deep investigative look that he always had when he wanted to ferret out information. Marcus had hated that look ever since he was a small boy.
"Can't a guy visit his old home anymore?"
His father nodded. "Yes, you can, and we are always happy to see you. We wish you would come back here often."
Marcus nodded.
"But don't play around with Deidra," His father said warningly. "You live with that creature, what's her name, Tiffany? You made a commitment to her, though it galls me to think of it. Deidra is not supposed to be on your radar unless that other girl is gone."
Marcus opened his mouth to protest. He had no idea what he was going to protest about. His father was right. What he was doing was tantamount to cheating.
In an abrupt change of topic, which had Marcus reeling, his father looked outside. "Nice car. I hope you are not spending your money on frivolous things and a party lifestyle. There is life after tracks."
"I know that," Marcus said, relieved that they were off the topic of Tiffany and Deidra. "You drove the fear of that in me a couple years ago. That's why I did that degree in business management… I also have some smart investments."
"Good." Bancroft grunted. "Now go make your mother happy, and remember what I said about Deidra."
"Yes sir," Marcus said, glad to escape his father's knowing looks.
*****
Deidra called him at eleven. He had be
en home alone, sitting in the old living room, staring at the mementos from years gone by. His mother had recently left for work and Kylie had come over to see him for a brief while. Just when he was alone again, his phone rang.
"I can't believe you are up here," Deidra said breathlessly.
"I had to see you. Are there any nice restaurants on campus that we can go to for lunch?"
"Well there is The Cha which offers Asian cuisine, and then there is Kaleidoscope. The Cha is more private," Deidra said. "We could sit at a back table and talk. I don't have classes till two."
"Two?" Marcus chuckled. "That's good."
He stepped into the Business Center, admiring its glass exterior, and looked around. There was a courtyard in the center of the building, which led to different stores. It had excellent architecture. He had no idea that the business center, which his brother, Micah, managed had been finished so nicely. It had been a while since he had been on campus.
"Marcus Bancroft." He heard a voice calling him as he headed for the restaurant. It was Micah.
"How are you doing bro?" Micah came up to him and gave him a friendly hug. They were almost on the same height, but Micah was leaner. He had a pile of papers in his hand and was grinning from ear to ear. "I heard you were here and that there was going to be a family dinner later."
Marcus groaned. "I told Mom I was not sure that I was spending the night. I am just here for the day."
Micah grinned. "Stay for the night, man. Will be fun for all of us to have dinner together. We haven't had that in years. Besides, you haven't met Taj yet?"
"Dad's love child?" Marcus chuckled. "I might just stay to meet him."
"So where are you off to?" Micah asked.
"Lunch," Marcus said, pushing his hands into his pockets, "with Deidra," he added. He thought it best if Micah found out that he was seriously interested in Deidra from him.
Micah's eyebrows rose and he whistled. "Deidra Durkheim?"
"Yup. Met her at a track meet in Miami this summer. I think she's great."
Practice Run (Mount Faith Series: Book 5) Page 3
