She pulled out a bowl of what he recognized to be Jared’s homemade salsa and faced him with a sigh. “It was easier to be Tony’s girlfriend than the easy girl who sleeps around at parties.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Come on, Devin, just because you stopped talking to me afterward doesn’t mean you didn’t know what was going on. Suddenly, I went from being the girl whose father slept around to the girl who was just like her father. Guys assumed I was an easy lay. I was fighting off the advances of two of your teammates when Tony came down the hall and told them to back off because I was his girl. They stopped. Everyone stopped. It was easier to go along with—”
He spun away. “It was easier . . . it was easier. That was always your excuse and I’m sick of hearing you say that.” He turned back. “It was easier to just lie there and let Tony handle his business than say no. It was easier to offer me sex this morning than let me console you.”
“I don’t need consoling.” She marched toward him. “I don’t need you, or anyone, feeling sorry for me and trying to tell me how to handle my life. I get by just fine.”
“No you don’t. You get by pretending as if you haven’t been royally screwed over. Don’t pretend with me, I know the real Shayla.”
“Really, because you have a messed up way of showing it. You’re constantly judging me.”
“I don’t judge you, Shayla, I want to help you.”
She scowled. “I’m not your damn charity case.”
He rubbed his eyes with frustration. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then how do you mean it, Devin? Now that you know what happened you suddenly want to sweep in and make things better?”
“I just . . . want to be a friend.” She sucked her teeth and turned away. “But you make it impossible to do that!”
Tasha came in the kitchen followed by Jared. She had a frown on her face as she looked between the two. “Is everything okay? We could hear you shouting upstairs.”
Shayla flipped her hair over her shoulder. “It’s all good. Look, Tasha, I’m gonna head out. I’ll give you a call later.” She walked over to Tasha and held out her hand. Tasha glared at Devin before pulling a set of keys out of her pocket with a sigh.
She dropped them in Tasha’s hand. “Let me know you got home okay.”
Shayla nodded. “Sure. It was good seeing you, Jared.” Then she was gone.
Jared walked over. “Devin, what was that about? I thought you two were vibing upstairs.”
Devin shook his head and patted Jared on the shoulder. “I’m gonna bounce, man. I’ll holla at you tomorrow.” He hurried past his friend and out the door before Jared could ask any questions. Shayla’s car was just disappearing out the driveway when he got outside. He could follow her and explain, but what would it serve. Shayla wasn’t his charity case, and she didn’t want his advice. No need getting his heart any more wrapped up in her than it already was.
Chapter 13
Still shaken up after her conversation with Devin, Shayla put on her running clothes and escaped to Hangman’s Woods as soon as she got back to Helena. Even though she was angry that Devin considered her a charity case, she was mindful of her promise to him to leave the woods before dark. Her run was short due to this, but the brief time she spent surrounded by the silence was enough to calm her.
She’d been more shaken than angry. He’d hit a nerve when he’d accused her of taking the easy way out. Her “it’s easier” motto had gotten her through too many hurtful situations. It was easier to pretend as if the emotional pain she suffered didn’t bother her. As if she were immune to the fact that so many people she wanted in her life didn’t feel the same. She’d only gotten the attention of those who wanted to use her, and because she’d craved attention, she’d taken whatever she could get.
Tasha was right, she needed therapy. She was completely screwed up. But didn’t it make her crazy if she saw a therapist? It was tough telling the few people she did trust how she felt, and even now found it easier to breeze over the difficult situations in her life than go into detail. Maybe it would be easier, to confide in someone who was supposed to judge her and tell her why she made such bad decisions?
One problem: her lack of a job, and therefore lack of a way to pay a therapist. That idea would have to go on hold until there was a break in that department. She had enough savings to cover her living expenses, but not regular visits to a shrink.
The sun was falling beneath the skyline when she finally left Hangman’s Woods. There weren’t any crazy looking people hanging around when she left. Devin probably made it all up as another way to “help” her. As she jogged the remaining distance back to her home, the sky darkened and there was a chill in the air. She shivered as a breeze cooled the sweat on her back. Her pace increased on the last block to her house. When she stopped in her driveway another shiver went down her spine, but this one was in trepidation.
Her mom looked up from where she sat on Shayla’s porch. Her lips were twisted in a frown. She shook her head as her gaze skimmed over Shayla.
“Do you have to run around town almost naked?”
Shayla suppressed an eye roll. “I’m not almost naked. A sports bra and running pants are perfectly decent.” She said stretching her legs.
“You could run in a sweat suit.”
“I don’t think so. Even though it’s cool now, it was warm when I started. Try that suggestion again in February.” She continued to stretch and Marcella watched in silence. A few minutes later, Shayla met her mom’s gaze, who quickly looked away.
“Did you come here just to talk about my clothes?” It was a redundant question. After her show in Club Voracious, her mom could only be there to lecture her.
Marcella shook her head. “No, I came because you missed church today. I know why you missed. I had to hear it all day about Devin dragging you . . . drunk . . . from that club.”
“Would you rather he had left me drunk at the club?”
“I’d rather you didn’t embarrass me like that. I shouldn’t be surprised. Your daddy used to go out and get drunk like that.” Her mom looked at her briefly. “You look and act just like him.”
Another breeze drifted through the trees. Crossing her arms to ward of the chill, Shayla walked up the stairs. “Let’s go inside, it’s getting cold.”
Her mom stood, but shook her head. “No, I’m not coming in. This will only take a minute.” She reached into the pocket of her house coat and pulled out a blue sheet of paper. “They’re looking for volunteers for the church’s fall festival. I signed you up.” She shoved the paper in Shayla’s hand.
Shayla quickly scanned the paper, a flyer outlining the volunteer needs for the annual fall festival. It was held on Halloween night as an alternative to trick-or-treating. Spending a night helping kids bob for apples and do the latest line dance wasn’t her idea of fun.
“I’m not doing this.”
Marcella’s eyes hardened. “Yes you are. You’ve barely been home two weeks and already people are talking. I won’t let you drag my name through the mud.”
“Your name?”
“Yes, whatever you do reflects on me. This will give you something to do besides go clubbing with your friends, drinking to excess, and seducing Devin Jones.”
Shayla furiously tapped her toe. “I’m not seducing Devin Jones.”
“Good, because he deserves a good woman. Someone like Kia, who won’t embarrass him. Believe me. I know how hard it is to be tied to someone who doesn’t give a damn about how they make their family look.” Her gaze scathed coldly over Shayla.
The comment could refer to her or her father. They’d both had caused a fair amount of embarrassment and pain for her mom. Marcella hated the ties to both of them. Swallowing the pain, Shayla lifted her chin. She gave her mom what she hoped was a look of boredom.
She held out the paper. “Don’t worry yourself. Devin agrees with you and everyone else in this town. We’re not getting together.”
/> Marcella reared back. “Are you telling me you tried?”
Shayla’s lips lifted into a frozen smile. “No, we actually laughed about the way everyone assumes I’ll seduce him. We’re friends, that’s it; we’re too different to be together.”
Relief flashed in Marcella’s eyes. “Good, so you’ll have plenty of time to help with the festival.”
“I don’t want to help.”
Her mom finally met her eyes. The resentment and anger in her gaze was enough to silence anything Shayla had to say. “You will help with the festival. You need to be around decent people for a change. Learn how to carry yourself with some respect. I don’t ask you for much, but I’m telling you you’re gonna do this.”
Shayla’s frantic toe tapping stopped. Slowly, she pulled the paper back and pressed it against her chest. She wanted a mom that loved her. That may be disappointed in the mistakes she made, but would still welcome her home. But she didn’t have that. And fighting Marcella damn sure wouldn’t give her that.
“Fine,” she said.
Her mom tipped her head in a stiff nod. “Alright.” She took a deep breath then looked away. “I left a plate for you on the stove. Come and get it after you put on some clothes.”
“Fine.”
Her mom walked off the porch and down the street toward her house. Her stride was stiff, as if she were in pain. She must have waited on the porch for a long time.
After Marcella entered her house, Shayla went into her own rented home and looked over the flyer. No telling what task her mom signed her up to do. She was tired of fighting her. It was too hard. This was easier, and something she could do well. One thing she was good at was promotion. Every church in Helena had a fall festival for as long as she could remember, but none stood out from the rest. She’d put all of her efforts into making Mt. Grove Missionary Baptist Church’s fall festival the best one the town had ever seen. She’d make members from other churches leave their festivals just to come to this one. She’d get along with everyone on the committee, smile until her face cracked and become the best damn decent church volunteer Helena, South Carolina had ever seen.
Chapter 14
Devin followed his dad into the basement kitchen of Mt. Grove Missionary Baptist Church. They both smiled and nodded at the few church members who made up the volunteer fall festival committee. His dad had attended Mt. Grove and helped with the fall festival for years. Devin’s stepmom had first twisted Roscoe’s arm to help, and even though his father complained, every year he answered the call and came. Over the years it was getting harder to find volunteers, and this year Roscoe finally convinced Devin to help.
Roscoe hadn’t had to try too hard. Devin welcomed some type of distraction in his free time. During the day his job kept him so busy with patients, he didn’t have time to think about Shayla. It was during his free time that he couldn’t stop thoughts of her from entering his mind. Thoughts of why things seemed to continue to go from bad to worse when he was with her.
Reverend Jenkins, a tall thin man with a tuft of white hair around the perimeter of his head and jet black eyes, approached Roscoe and Devin with a smile on his lips. “Ah, good to see you Brother Roscoe.” He shook Roscoe’s hand before turning to Devin. “And Dr. Jones, so glad you came.”
Devin smiled and nodded. “Happy to help, Reverend.”
Roscoe looked around at the group of people gathering at the table and rubbed his hands together. “Is that one of Mrs. Jenkins’ lemon pound cakes?”
Reverend Jenkins laughed. “Wouldn’t be a proper meeting without it. We just made a pot of coffee, grab a cup and sit down.”
Roscoe patted the Reverend on his shoulder. “Sounds good to me.”
Devin shook his head as his dad headed for the coffee pot. It was useless to argue about the sweets. Mrs. Jenkins made the best lemon pound cake in Helena; even he was looking forward to a piece.
“Is this everyone?” Devin asked.
Reverend Jenkins shook his head. “It usually would be, but we’ve got another new committee member.” The Reverend’s eyebrows rose and he motioned with his head toward the door. “There she is. We can get started.”
Devin turned and had to clench is jaw to keep it from dropping. Shayla came in, and once again she took his breath away. Did the woman own a pair of pants that didn’t look like they were molded to her body? These were black and clung to her luscious backside, which was lifted up by her high heels. She’d pulled her hair into a sleek ponytail at the top of her head, which emphasized the exotic flare of her eyes, and the shiny silver camisole and olive see through blouse only made him want to go digging for the treasure beneath it.
He shook his head and turned back to the Reverend, wondering when he developed such an interest in women’s fashion. “Shayla Monroe volunteered?”
“Not quite, her mother signed her up last Sunday. But surprisingly, she called the next day and asked how she could help. She seems excited about the fall festival.” The reverend watched her cross the room and nodded his head. “I know some people don’t care for her ways, but it’s not my place to pass judgment. Besides, what better place for a lost soul than surrounded by church folks?”
Devin looked back at Shayla who smiled. Someone on the outside would never know their last encounter ended in a shouting match. She walked over and shook hands with Reverend Jenkins.
“Sorry I’m late. I lost track of time at the library.”
Reverend Jenkins shook his head. “You’re fine, we haven’t gotten started. What were you doing at the library?”
She shrugged. “I haven’t called to install cable or internet at the house I’m renting. I go there every day to search for a job.”
“Any luck?”
She smiled. “Still waiting, but I’ve only been at it for a few weeks.” She finally looked at Devin. “Hello, Devin.”
“I’m here with my dad,” he said, and then wanted to slap his forehead for sounding like an idiot.
Her smile brightened. She looked toward the table and waved her fingers at Roscoe sitting with a huge slice of cake in front of him.
Reverend Jenkins motioned toward the rest of the group. “Let’s get started.”
“Great,” Shayla said.
Devin followed them to the table. Greetings were quick; the group only consisted of eight people. Besides Reverend Jenkins, his wife, Roscoe, Devin, and Shayla, one of the deacons—Mr. Porter, the owner of Shayla’s rented house—was there. He scooted his chair in the opposite direction when Shayla sat next to him. Martha Taylor, the children’s choir director smiled tightly and gave Shayla a stiff nod. Devin’s receptionist Anna smiled at Shayla, but threw him a warning look.
Thankfully, Reverend Jenkins went directly into plans for this year’s festival before the lukewarm greetings became more awkward. Devin tried to pay attention as the reverend went over discussions for the trunk-or-treat, where church members offered candy out of the back of their car, and games for the children. But he found himself paying more attention to Shayla than anything else. She smiled and nodded whenever the Reverend looked around the table for affirmation of his ideas, typing notes on her iPad. It was surprising to see her so interested in helping with something her mom signed her up for.
Volunteering didn’t seem like it would take much effort. From the way the meeting was going, Reverend Jenkins told them what he wanted and the rest of the committee agreed. The reverend was ready to assign duties when Shayla raised her hand.
“I had some ideas of things we could add to the festival.” She spoke clearly and with confidence that perked up many of the eyes that had dimmed during the reverend’s speech.
Reverend Jenkins pursed his lips before nodded. “Okay, what were you thinking?”
Her shoulders relaxed slightly before she slid her finger across the iPad. Devin leaned forward after she stopped and looked back at the reverend with a smile.
“I looked up the names of a few local bands that we could bring in to perform.”
Martha Taylor shifted in her seat. “Bands? We don’t need no secular music playing at a church function. The children’s choir can sing like they always do.”
Shayla held up her hand. “Let me clarify, I’m talking about young adult Christian bands. There’s this one that specializes in Christian rap, I watched a few of their videos on YouTube today. I think the younger kids in the church would really like it.”
Martha rolled her eyes. “Noise. And an excuse to get some young kids in here with their pants sagging to their knees. No, we don’t need them.”
Shayla cocked her head to the side, but her smile didn’t waver. “It’s not noise and it’s not a group of kids with sagging pants. You probably have a lot of little kids coming to the festival with their parents for candy and toys, but do the teens come out? This would be a way to draw then in. You can also have a signup sheet to start a Christian hip hop choir at the church. That way they’ll continue to come.”
Mr. Porter scoffed. “This is ridiculous. Our church isn’t a club.”
Reverend Jenkins held up his hand. “Wait a second. That isn’t a bad idea. We don’t have a lot of teenagers in our church. And you’ve said yourself, Deacon Porter, that we need more young men in the congregation.” He looked at his wife. “What do you think?”
Mrs. Jenkins stared at Shayla for several seconds before nodding. “I like it. What other ideas did you have?”
Devin suppressed a cheer when Martha and Mr. Porter both sat back frowning. He did look across the table at Shayla and gave her a reassuring smile.
She blinked, uncertainty flashed in her eyes before she looked down at her iPad. He’d forgotten they were not on the best terms.
She lifted her head and met his eyes. “I’m glad Devin is here, he’d be perfect to handle my next idea.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
“A health screening during the festival. You know, blood pressure, diabetes screening, body mass index.”
Anna spoke up. “This isn’t a health fair.”
Hearts Are Wild Page 11
