His Golden Heart

by Marcia King-Gamble

  “Reggie!” Shayna admonished, chastising him with an eye roll. “Isn’t the center wonderful? You checked out those awesome basketball courts and that running track that goes for miles? There’s even a meditation room.”

  “Cool,” Reggie said with little enthusiasm.

  Mohammed led them to the dining room. Beau made a mental note to call his dad and find out all about Reggie’s case. Armed with information, he could figure out if he was being used.

  Mohammed handed the teenager a pen and paper. “We’ll need a recommendation from a teacher,” he said, draping an arm around the still sulking Reggie. “We’ll also need a phone number where we can reach you. Here, write them down.”

  As Reggie scribbled, Shayna leaned over and kissed Beau’s cheek. “Thank you, Beau,” she said. “I owe you big time.”

  “It’s more like the other way around,” he responded. “I owe you for helping me get back my life.”

  In so many ways he had made his life worthwhile again.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Damn it, Shayna, I don’t have time for this. Why did you go shooting off your big, fat mouth, telling that man I would volunteer at his home for losers?”

  Shayna snapped the dated copy of the magazine she’d been reading shut. “Don’t give me lip, boy. You should be counting your lucky stars you’re not arrested. You need every edge you can get. Volunteering at Hill Of Dreams just might provide you that.”

  Reggie pouted. “What’s volunteering at your boyfriend’s place going to do for me?”

  “Beau’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Could have fooled me. You get all nervous and jittery when the cripple’s around. You start fluffing your little bit of hair and fooling with your jewelry. You’ve got a thing for the man. It wouldn’t be so bad if he was still somebody. I could brag that my brother-in-law was a big time skier. “

  “Shut up, Reggie. If you must know, Colin suggested it wouldn’t hurt to keep your image squeaky clean right now. Volunteering at a place like Hill Of Dreams couldn’t hurt.”

  “Why couldn’t we have picked some other place to volunteer? Why does Beau Hill have to own the place? I get to work with all those stinky, homeless people that can’t find their way in life. I’ll be their baby-sitter, while you’re doing Beau. You talk about the guy all the time. Even now you’re reading some stupid article about his accident. He had a lousy downhill run and he’s washed up, a has-been. He’s not even particularly nice to you. All he does is sit in that chair looking like he’s carrying the weight of the world around, and talk to his manager.”

  Why couldn’t she have picked some other place indeed? She could have, but what she’d said to Beau and Mohammed a few days ago was true. It was hard to find a black-owned organization like this one in Denver. One that was clearly not for profit, that truly wanted to help the underprivileged succeed. If she were really honest she would admit that she did indeed have an ulterior motive. She’d hoped that word would somehow leak out to the public that Reggie was working there and that Edward Hill was bent on prosecuting a volunteer at his son’s place. That kind of news was bound to generate negative PR for the prosecution. There would be overwhelming sympathy from the public, which would work in Reggie’s favor. Her brother would not be painted as all bad if he was shown as volunteering at a place where underdogs and misfits found a haven. This wasn’t using Beau. She was doing what any concerned sister would do for a brother she loved more than anything in the whole wide world.

  When Shayna looked up, Reggie had already flounced off to his room. She returned to the article she’d been reading, frowning as it ended. The more she read about Beau and his accident, the more certain she was that it wasn’t an accident. Why hadn’t someone investigated it? Why hadn’t the competitors been spoken to? Beau had been the favorite, the contestant slated to win gold. Sure he was coming up against other good skiers, great ones actually, but based on his record alone, this should have been a pretty easy race.

  Lars, the German skier, had won the World Cup and Goodwill Games previously, but that was only according to the article, because Beau was recovering from a bad sprain and broken collarbone during that time. The Swiss skier, Jan, had been bragging all along that the medal was his. Nothing and no one would stop him from winning. Even Beau’s American teammate had had several scuffles off the snow with anyone who even doubted his ability to place. Ironically, Joshua Vanderhorn, the American, had placed second, the German first, and the Swiss third. Shayna made a mental note to talk to Beau and find out if he had at any point left his equipment unattended.

  She snapped the magazine shut and headed off to make dinner. In the midst of seasoning chicken, the phone rang.

  “I’ll get it,” Reggie shouted from upstairs.

  “Fine.”

  It was probably just another of Reggie’s noisy crowd. She had no real friends in Denver. She hadn’t had the time. Most of her acquaintances were people she’d met at the rehabilitation center, women like Maryjane Coppola, whom she still hadn’t taken up on her invitation to go out and have drinks. She would have to remedy that soon.

  “It’s for you,” Reggie called after several seconds had elapsed.

  “I’ll get it in a minute,” Shayna said, carefully washing her hands and drying them on a towel before picking up the extension. “Hi, this is Shayna.”

  “How are you?” Colin Johnson asked.

  She hadn’t been expecting him. The last time they’d spoken was the night of their date when he’d driven her home, settled for a chaste kiss on the cheek, and then seen her inside. He’d seemed to be okay about being friends. This call must be about Reggie, she decided.

  “Great but busy. Very busy,” Shayna carefully answered. “What’s new? Did we get another lead?”

  “Yes, we have.” We just found ourselves a witness who claims to have seen the boys at McDonald’s. He describes them in detail, down to the clothes they were wearing. Could be he’s been looking at the news. A word of caution though, he’s not very credible. The man has a drinking problem.”

  Shayna’s excitement bubbled over. She’d always been an optimist. “Now we’ve got two witnesses. Isn’t that better than none at all?”

  “What’s your weekend look like?” Colin asked.

  What was this about her weekend? She thought she’d made it clear to Colin that she wanted to be friends, at least for now. She didn’t answer right off, and he must have sensed her hesitancy.

  “Hey, no pressure, hon. I thought you might enjoy hiking. I’m going with another attorney from the firm and her significant other. The weather this weekend is supposed to be beautiful.”

  While the thought of getting exercise and being outdoors appealed to her, she didn’t want to encourage Colin. If she went traipsing off with him and some other couple he might get the wrong message. She didn’t want to lead him on.

  “I’ve already made plans for the weekend,” Shayna lied. “Maybe another time.”

  She did indeed have chores, like going to the grocery store, cleaning house, and reading up more about Beau.

  “You will call me if things change?” Colin said, his tone light “I’d like to show you another side of Denver.”

  Shayna thanked him for thinking of her, and then went back to her dinner preparations. She’d done the right thing. It wouldn’t do to tick off Reggie’s attorney, who was definitely making his interest known. She felt no attraction for Colin, so why encourage him?

  Shayna thought of the contrast between Colin and Beau. Both men were so different Colin was suave, well groomed, and definitely a man about town, while Beau, with his one gold earring, marched to a different drummer. Beau was competitive, driven, committed to causes. He had this compelling need to see the underdog succeed. Colin, she would guess, probably donated money to designated charities, but only because it provided him with a good tax write-off. Otherwise he would not care, she sensed.

  Shayna placed the chicken in the oven and the phone jingled again. She cou
nted the rings, waiting for Reggie to pick up. After the fourth, she grabbed the receiver.

  “Hello.”

  “Shayna?”

  Her heart did a rapid thump-thump and breathing did not come easy. Beau. How had he gotten her number at home? That’s right, Reggie had given Mohammed his phone number.

  “Something wrong?” she asked, when she finally found her voice.

  “Nothing that two new legs wouldn’t fix.” He chuckled self-consciously. Shayna waited for him to go on.

  “By the way, I finished your book.”

  “Good for you. And how did you find it?”

  Was he really calling because he’d finished her book or did he want something else?

  “An interesting take on life. You must feel I need motivation. A little inspiration in my life?”

  “So the message wasn’t lost on you, eh?” Shayna teased.

  “Did I say that?”

  Reggie came traipsing through the kitchen, tossing her a puzzled look. He headed for the refrigerator, helped himself to a can of soda, and downed it in a couple of gulps. “When’s dinner?”

  Shayna signaled with one hand that dinner would be ready in fifteen minutes.

  “Hey, you still there?” Beau queried, his voice bringing her back to the present.

  “Sorry. What were we talking about? Yes, the message not being lost on you. As the author says, why dwell on why me? Instead, ask yourself what now? Well, Beau, what now?”

  “You never let up, do you?” His chuckle came from deep within his belly.

  “Just doing my job,” Shayna said cheekily.

  “Is Reggie there?” Beau asked. “Mohammed’s tied up and I have some questions for him. Call it preliminary screening, we need to determine if he’s a good fit for the center.”

  Shayna looked up to see Reggie, openly listening, his back pressed against the refrigerator door.

  “He’s right here. I’ll put him on.”

  “See you tomorrow at therapy.”

  Tomorrow they were going to try something new. Aquatic therapy had been successful with so many of her patients. Shayna’s breath whooshed out of her lungs at the thought of seeing Beau in swimming trunks. She’d had erotic fantasies of seeing him naked. This was the next best thing.

  “Beau wants to talk to you,” she said, holding out the receiver to Reggie.

  “More likely he wants to talk to you. I’m just the excuse,” Reggie muttered.

  Shayna ignored him, concentrating on the appetizing aroma wafting its way from inside the oven. Glad for the convenient excuse to see how her chicken was doing, she practically buried her head inside the open door, welcoming the heat.

  Just talking to Beau had produced its own glow. She grabbed plates, napkins, and cutlery from the cupboards and pretended not to listen to Reggie’s one-sided conversation.

  “Yeah, I suppose I could make it…. Yeah, I’ve ridden before. No, I never worked with adults. Why are you asking if I want to do this?”

  Reggie looked frantically in Shayna’s direction.

  She came to his aid, mouthing words at him. “Because… I want to make a contribution. I need extra credits to graduate.”

  Amazingly, Reggie parroted her. “Sure, I’ll tell Shayna,” he said before hanging up. He flung himself into a chair, grabbed his napkin, and waited for Shayna to serve him.

  “Help yourself,” she said, pointing to the kitchen counter, where the chicken, pasta, and tossed salad had been dished out.

  Snorting loudly, Reggie lumbered to his feet and heaped his plate full. When he was seated across from her, she asked, “What was it Beau wanted?”

  “I’m not sure. I think he was feeling me out. He wanted to see if I was really interested in volunteering. He says we’ll talk in person and that we should stop by this Sunday. Since it’s easier for me to get around he wants me to come to his house and fill out paperwork. He asked if we liked horseback riding.” Reggie swallowed a mouthful of pasta. “The guy’s weird. You think the accident went to his head?”

  Shayna laughed at her brother’s assessment of Beau.

  “Not weird, just different. Beau’s an original thinker.”

  “You always stick up for him. Do you two have something going on?”

  “No,” Shayna said, though a part of her wished they did.

  Trust Reggie to call it as he saw it. She hoped he didn’t see the telltale signs of heat flooding her cheeks. “It was nice of Beau to invite you to ride,” she said.

  “Us,” Reggie corrected.

  “Whatever. It will give you a chance to get to know each other. He’s an interesting man. His legs may no longer function but there isn’t a thing wrong with his mind.”

  “I was planning on playing basketball this weekend,” Reggie grumbled.

  “You can still play basketball. Just bear in mind you need extra credits to graduate. And you need to stay out of trouble.”

  “Right, like that would make a difference.”

  Shayna heard the catch in his voice. The stress was starting to get to him.

  “You can’t give up hope, Reggie.”

  “Why not? I’m a young black male. That means I’m trouble. White women clutch their purses, and cross the street when they see me.” He continued to shovel food into his mouth, the idea obviously bothering him.

  “Maybe volunteering at Beau’s will help you,” Shayna said carefully. “He’s well respected and you would be providing a much needed service.”

  “So that’s why you insist I work for him? You think if I volunteer at Hill Of Dreams, I might get off?”

  “That’s not guaranteed, Reggie, but working there will keep you out of trouble.”

  Reggie still didn’t know about the connection between Beau and Ed Anderson. He would go ballistic if he knew that they were father and son, and that she’d knowingly chosen to associate with Beau. There wouldn’t be a prayer in the world of him volunteering at Hill Of Dreams. She’d also hoped that if Beau got to know Reggie he would recognize that under the bluster was just a frightened little boy. Maybe he’d use his influence to come to an equitable solution for all. Even if Reggie was placed on probation or assigned community service, it was better than going to jail.

  “If I volunteer at that homeless persons’ center it doesn’t mean the judge would be lenient,” Reggie said, voicing what Shayna refused to even think about

  “Hill Of Dreams doesn’t just cater to homeless people,” she corrected.

  “Could have fooled me. The place seems to have more than its share of displaced homeys. I don’t understand why no one believes me. I didn’t beat up some old lady, nor did I steal her possessions.”

  Shayna believed him even if the rest of the world didn’t. He was a typical teenager and hadn’t exercised good judgment He hung around with the wrong crowd and had been a magnet for trouble. There’d been that group of boys in Seattle he’d hung with who stole cars and joyrode them out of boredom. Next had been the crowd of thugs who sold herb to their buddies and anyone else willing to buy. The final straw came when Reggie had been picked up for shoplifting a couple of comics, and a handful of candy bars. The sum total being less than ten dollars. He’d had plenty of money on him. The shopkeeper knew the Da Costas and had declined pressing charges. But the embarrassment had almost killed them. Her parents had kept Reggie on a short leash until he’d been sent off to Shayna’s.

  “So you’re telling me Beau Hill might be my savior, that’s why you’re so chummy with the guy? He’s a patient. Didn’t you always tell me business and pleasure don’t mix?”

  “They don’t.”

  Reggie rose and taking his empty plate with him went to stick in the dishwasher. It was the first time since coming to live with her that he’d done that. It must be a good omen. “I hate it when you treat me like a child,” he sulked.

  “You believe that a few hours of volunteering is going to make a jury look favorably on me. Know what I think? I think you’re just using me to get close to Beau H
ill. That stinks.”

  Shayna cut her eyes at him. He was starting to get on her nerves. “You are a child,” she said. “One that’s costing this family a lot of money.” She’d never spoken to him so sharply.

  Reggie’s eyes practically popped out of his head. The veins on the sides of his neck bulged. His temper was well known. Shayna braced herself for the explosion but his voice came out deadly quiet.

  “Everyone makes mistakes, Shayna,” he said, sounding for once like the adult he was on the verge of becoming. “You made a whopper with Michael, but no one keeps throwing that in your face.” He stomped off, muttering something about her expecting too much of him.

  Chapter Twelve

  “You’ll never guess who’s been trying to get in touch with you.” David’s voice boomed through the receiver, forcing Beau to hold the earpiece several inches away.

  “Not Chandra?”

  Beau was just about to wrap up an interview with a caregiver, and the phone call had come at an inconvenient time. He signaled to Mark, a young blond man, that he would be only a moment.

  David guffawed in his ear. “Nah. Your ex has been otherwise occupied. Even you must read the paper. This morning’s feature was a doozie.”

  Beau hadn’t seen the morning paper. He’d scheduled this interview first thing, and right after this, he was heading off to the rehabilitation center for aquatic therapy.

  “What’s Chandra up to?” Beau asked, curiosity actually getting the better of him.

  David snickered. “Looks like you’ve been publicly dumped, my boy, replaced by Santana, the Bellissima heir. You might think of your engagement as off but the public doesn’t know that. This morning’s paper was filled with pictures of your ex and Franco looking mighty cozy. The caption read ‘Heir to the Bellissima fortune negotiates another successful merger.’ There’s speculation an announcement is in the works.”

  “What kind of an announcement?”