Love T.K.O.

by Pamela Yaye

  “I was until Mr. Santos came down with a fever. I begged him to stay until the end of the six o’clock session but he could hardly stand. His wife came to pick him up a few minutes ago.”

  Yasmin’s face crumpled. “B-b-but he’s facilitating the M.O.I. session tonight! Who’s going to lead the group now that he’s gone?”

  “I’ve called and left messages for Walter, Tarik and Emilio, but I haven’t heard back from any of them.”

  Yasmin knew Melba was trying to help, but she secretly hoped her calls weren’t returned. Walter was a pleasant middle-aged man who spoke in a dull monotone and was known to put the kids to sleep, Tarik was a recovering drug addict, fresh out of rehab, and Emilio flirted relentlessly with the female staff. No, she would just have to chair the meeting herself. “Thanks for giving me the heads-up, Melba. Let the boys in the Men of Initiative program know that—”

  “Men of Initiative? What’s that?” Rashawn asked.

  “It’s a new program designed to get teenage boys off the street,” she explained. “The purpose is to help kids between the ages of thirteen and eighteen develop a positive sense of self and to set high education goals. Tonight’s was supposed to be an open forum, basically a question-and-answer period where the boys could speak freely about the struggles they’re having at school, at home and on the streets.”

  “I don’t mind helping out,” he said, directing his comment to Yasmin.

  Melba eyed him warily. “Normally we do an extensive background check before we let anyone around the kids, but since we’re understaffed and Yasmin will be supervising, I guess it would be okay. What’s your name, son?”

  “Rashawn.”

  “You’re not a drug dealer are you?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Don’t smoke pot, do you?”

  “No.”

  “Do you abuse or exploit women?”

  “No. Never.”

  Melba stared into his eyes to judge his sincerity. Confident he was telling the truth, she said, “Don’t mind me, Rashawn. I’m just mighty careful about who I let around these boys. As you can see we’re short-staffed and we could really use your help.” Clapping her hands together, her eyes expanded to the size of cue balls. “This is going to be swell! I can feel it in my bones. Why don’t you follow me to the kitchen? We’ll get some food into you before the session starts. Do you like red beans and rice?”

  Yasmin glanced at her watch, amazed that a five-minute discussion about respect could last three-quarters of an hour. At the back of the room, away from the group, she wrote a brief outline of the goals, objectives and purpose of the Men of Initiative program. The more teens who joined the program, the more government funding the center would receive.

  Counting the number of teenagers seated in the semicircle, she noticed the intense expression on each young face. Rashawn easily held the attention of his young audience. Not only did the man have a way with women, he appealed to children and teenagers, as well. Affable and laid-back, he had the type of personality people took to immediately. In the cafeteria, kids had crammed onto his bench and more than half of the adults had made their way over to chitchat. Yasmin had sat across from the charismatic boxer, in the hopes of discussing the charity fund-raiser, but every time she opened her mouth, they were interrupted by an adoring fan. Eating dinner with Rashawn had been an eye-opener. Strangers clamored for his attention and made utter fools of themselves just to have ten seconds of his time.

  Yasmin watched him now, sitting in the middle of the circle. His arms dangled between his legs and he had a relaxed, carefree expression on his face. His body language suggested he was open, bare, willing to share himself with the world. And he was.

  Yasmin had learned some shocking truths about Rashawn Bishop, facts that further underlined just how different they were. His father had abandoned the family when he was five, his mother had raised him and his three brothers single-handedly and had struggled to provide food and shelter. But it was the story of his life on the streets that had left her slack-jawed. He’d stolen cars, went joyriding with his crew and had a lengthy rap sheet by the time he was thirteen.

  Tate, one of her favorite kids at the center, lifted his hand and waited for the discussion to die down before he spoke. “Did you ever sling rock?”

  Rashawn locked eyes with Yasmin. He couldn’t read the expression on her face. Trepidation fell upon him. Was she regretting her decision to let him lead the session? Or disappointed about what she had learned about him? This was not how she was supposed to find out about his past, but he couldn’t let this opportunity to share with these teenagers pass him by. If Yasmin couldn’t appreciate the fact that he’d changed his life and made something of himself, then she wasn’t the right woman for him anyway. “I didn’t sell dope, but I used to run errands for the local drug dealer. I’m not proud of it, but I did what I had to do to survive. I was the oldest and had to help my mom take care of my brothers. Everyone else was doing it and I wanted to fit in with my crew. They were my family.”

  Nods and murmurs of assent filled the room.

  “In tenth grade I discovered boxing and that changed my life for the better. Boxing was my ticket out of the ’hood and I took advantage of all the opportunities afforded to me.”

  “But what if you ain’t got no talent?” asked an unsmiling kid with buck teeth. “What if all you know how to do is jack cars and beat down punks for what they got?”

  “I don’t believe that, Chaz. Everyone’s good at something.”

  The boy shook his head. “Not me. I hate school, I suck at sports and I don’t get along with my step-dad.”

  “Ever tried boxing, martial arts or wrestling?”

  “Naw, that’s not my thing.”

  “How do you know unless you try? You look strong, you could probably be one hell of a wrestler. “

  He shrugged a shoulder. “I ain’t got money for shit like that.”

  “Chaz, you can come by the Boxing Institute of Champions and work out with me whenever you want.” Standing, Rashawn said, “Anyone else want to get in shape, look good and impress the honeys?”

  Chuckles broke out.

  “If you’re interested in a serious workout, meet me at the gym tomorrow at three. If you’re late, I’m starting without you.”

  One by one, participants stood and approached Rashawn. Some of the younger kids even hugged him. Conversation was put on hold while tables were returned to their rightful place and chairs were stacked against the wall.

  As the teens trickled out into the hall, Yasmin gathered her things. She wanted to talk to Rashawn privately but he was speaking to Tate and Brandon. Remembering that she had wanted to leave a note for the health nurse regarding the new date for the next health and nutrition clinic, she exited the room.

  “You’re not leaving without me, are you, Doc?”

  Yasmin slowed her pace and did a half turn.

  “What’d you think of the session?” he asked, as they continued down the hall.

  “I think you really connected with the kids.”

  “I don’t know about all that, but I hope they give some thought to what I said. Far too many kids are getting killed and it’s up to us to put a stop to it.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” Deciding she would call the health nurse in the morning, she tucked a hand into her pocket and pulled out her keys. Rashawn pushed open the door, and her shoulder brushed his chest as she passed by. Yasmin felt like she’d been zapped with a stun gun. Her pulse quickened. She glanced at Rashawn and was surprised to find him watching her. He must have felt it, too, she decided, tearing her gaze away.

  Outside, the sky was clear. It was quiet on Keeler Street, but Yasmin knew from experience that could change at any minute. A week earlier, a father of three had been mugged on his way to his night job. Luckily, some of the center’s volunteers had heard the commotion and come to his aid. Thanks to their bravery, he hadn’t been seriously injured.

  “Bye, Dr. Ohaji
.”

  Yasmin turned at the sound of her name. A group of boys were standing on the curb, talking. Broken bottles, cigarette butts and food wrappers littered the sidewalk. Tomorrow she would have to ask the caretaker to clean up the mess. Waving, she smiled at the teens. “Bye, boys. Get home safe.”

  “Catch you later, Bishop.”

  “Bye, champ,” another hollered.

  “See you next Thursday!”

  Yasmin glanced at Rashawn. “You’re coming back?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “I don’t know, I just thought this was a one-time thing. Mr. Santos should be back by the end of the week.”

  “That’s cool. Then he can lead the discussion and I can listen in. I promised the kids I’d be back and I always keep my word.” Rashawn motioned toward the silver Volvo S80 parked beside his Mustang. “Is that you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Figured as much.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Rashawn chuckled. “It’s safe, practical and probably gets great gas mileage.”

  “You’re right, it does.” Yasmin didn’t like him teasing her, especially when his car was decades old. She guessed the coral-blue two-seater was a late seventies model, and though it was in pristine condition with chrome wheels, leather seats and flashy front and rear spoilers, it was still old. “Do you have a minute? There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

  “Go ahead, ask away,” he told her, leaning against the bumper of his car.

  “How would you feel about emceeing the charity fund-raiser? I know this is short notice, but all my calls to other celebrities have been ignored. Your involvement could mean hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars raised for the center and—”

  “Oh, I get it, I’m sloppy seconds. You couldn’t get Steve Harvey or Cedric the Entertainer so you decided to ask me.”

  Yasmin was caught so off-guard by his remark, she didn’t notice the twinkle in his eyes. “No, no, it’s nothing like that,” she insisted, raising her voice. “If I had known how popular you are around Tampa, I would have contacted you first.”

  “Sure, sure, Doc.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Why don’t we discuss this tomorrow when we have more time? There’s a boat leaving the pier at seven-thirty.” Rashawn leaned forward, his breath against her ear. “Let me take you out. You already know I’ll take good care of you.”

  Yasmin resisted the urge to smile. The reference to how they’d met wasn’t lost on her. He was her knight in shining armor and she would always be grateful for what he had done that night at the Laurdel Lounge. Courage was damn sexy, and he personified the word in more ways then one. “Now’s not a good time,” she told him. “I have a lot of work to do for the fund-raiser and very little time. The program needs to be planned and I have silent auction prizes to organize.”

  “We’ll brainstorm together. I’ve done this sort of thing before and it’s really not as hard as you’re making it sound.” Rashawn hoped Yasmin couldn’t see his nose growing. Aside from helping plan his mom’s surprise birthday party last year, he had never planned a major event like a charity fund-raiser. How hard could it be? As long as there was food, wine and music, it would be great.

  “Why don’t we meet at the clinic?” she suggested, her tone light. He was flirtatious and straightforward, but in an unexpectedly disarming way. Going on a cruise was much too romantic and there would be other couples. The last thing Yasmin wanted was to be seduced by him in the presence of other people. Pleased that she had come up with a suitable alternative, she said, “I’ll order in some sandwiches from the deli up the block.”

  “No offense, Doc, but your office is kinda stuffy. I want to go somewhere we can kick back and relax.”

  “I’d be a lot more comfortable at my office.”

  “Do you have a little old lady living inside you?” he joked, a grin on his lips. “If it’ll make you feel better we’ll call it a business dinner, okay?”

  “I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “I do,” he countered, his eyes beating down at her with the intensity of the sun. “I read somewhere that Puerto Rico ranks as one of the happiest places on earth. Most people live below the poverty line, the crime rate is ridiculously high and the average family survives on just pennies a day, but you know why they’re so happy?”

  Intrigued, Yasmin asked, “No, why?”

  “The motto in Puerto Rico is simple, ‘Don’t take life too seriously. Eat, drink and be merry!’” Signaling the end of the discussion he strolled confidently over to the driver’s-side door. “I’ll pick you up at six.”

  “No!” Yasmin coughed to clear the panic in her voice. There was no reason to overreact. This was a business date. Sure, they were going to be surrounded by candlelight, champagne and soft music, but that didn’t mean she had to get caught up in the magic of it all. “I’ll just meet you there.”

  Grinning, he slid into his car, revved the engine and backed out of the space. “See you tomorrow, Doc.”

  Chapter 5

  Yasmin spotted Rashawn as soon as she pulled into the Bahia Mar Dock. It was hard to miss him. He was surrounded by a bevy of attractive women. All weaves galore and heavy makeup, the buxom quartet resembled high-class call girls. Not wanting to give him the wrong idea about tonight, Yasmin had selected a loose, flowing blouse, slim-fitted pants and sandals. But as she watched stylishly-dressed couples exit their vehicles and head toward the boat, she had second thoughts about her conservative attire.

  Once the car was locked, she walked briskly through the parking lot and joined the throng of sightseers. A slight breeze rose and with it the scent of spring flowers. Dark, somber clouds drifted peacefully across the sky. The air was thick with rain and mingled with the perfume of the sea.

  Yasmin saw Rashawn glance around the harbor. His admirers were trying fruitlessly to hold his attention, but his mind was obviously somewhere else. He probably thought she’d stood him up. He wouldn’t be far from wrong. The idea had crossed her mind more than once, but blowing him off wouldn’t be right, especially since she needed his help. He hadn’t agreed to host the fund-raiser yet, but she was confident he would.

  Rashawn’s face broke out into a grin when he spotted her. Mumbling good-bye to the cosmetology students, he strolled down the pier toward his date. A flabby Hispanic man acknowledged him, but Rashawn didn’t stop. Tonight wasn’t about meeting fans or signing autographs; it was about spending time with Yasmin.

  “You’re late,” he said, when they were a few feet apart.

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  His eyes gleamed. “I was about to come looking for you. Thought maybe you weren’t going to show.”

  Yasmin looked at the beddable and willing women standing behind him. “I’m sure you would have been in good hands.”

  “Hardly.” He leaned in and whispered, “They’re not my type. I like sophisticated women who know how to leave things to the imagination.”

  “…Said the man with the harem,” she teased, raising her eyebrows.

  Rashawn took her hand, pressed it to his chest and said, “Did you feel that?”

  “Feel what?”

  “My heart skipped a beat.”

  Yasmin melted like an ice cube in the sun. Rashawn definitely had a way with words. On the drive over, she had told herself nothing was going to happen between them, but deep down she knew something would. Rashawn wasn’t her type, but she was drawn to him.

  It was his sensual bedroom tone, his sexy swagger and his killer smile. Or maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t be more different from the men she usually dated. Eric had been a plastic surgeon, owned a lavish six-bedroom home and had a fleet of luxury cars. Rashawn was from the inner city, made his money beating his opponents to a pulp and drove a Mustang. But God help her if she didn’t want him. When he was around, she had that walk-on-water feeling and was short of breath. Like now.

  “You’re lo
okin’ good, Doc. Real good.”

  “Thanks. I hope it’s not cold tonight because I forgot my jacket in the car.”

  His eyes sparkled with lust. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you warm,” he promised, admiring her classy outfit. Rashawn liked how Yasmin had a different look every time he saw her. She kept him guessing and it didn’t matter if she was wearing a dress, a business suit or gym shorts, she always looked sexy.

  “You know what we should do?”

  “No, what?”

  “Kiss now, so we’re not thinking about it all night.” Resting a hand on her lower back, he gently pulled her toward him. A whiff of her perfume tickled his nose and elicited images of them making love on a bed of roses. “One kiss, that’s all I want, but if you’d like to go further, I won’t stop you.”

  Desire zipped up her spine. A wave of excitement swept over her as she leveled a hand over her stomach. His confidence bordered on arrogance but made him even more appealing. “I, um…”

  “All aboard!”

  The gray-haired captain stood at the portal of the boat, his hands propped on his hips like Long John Silver. Behind him was a smiling crew of both male and female stewards.

  Rashawn broke the silence with a soft chuckle. “Looks like that kiss is gonna have to wait until later. Ready to go inside, Doc?”

  “Can I interest you in a Bahama Breeze?”

  Rashawn glanced up at the waiter. “Sure, what’s in it?”

  “Coconut rum, pineapple juice and a splash of tequila. It’s our most popular drink,” he finished, setting the cocktails down on the table.

  Yasmin tasted it. “This is delicious.”

  “Yeah, keep them coming!”

  The server pulled out his pen and notepad. “Do you need a few more minutes to look over the menu or have you decided on the ribs-and-chicken buffet?”

  Rashawn and Yasmin spoke at once, drawing a light chuckle from the twenty-something waiter. “I’ll give you guys a couple of minutes to decide.”

  When he departed, Rashawn put his menu off to the side. “You’ve gotta have the buffet. Ribs, chicken and three-cheese lasagna. It’s a meat lover’s paradise.”