Playing For Keeps

by Deborah Fletcher Mello

  “I was so worried about you and that damn gun and knowing how angry you were. . . .” She paused, fighting to make her words make sense. “I just . . .”

  Malcolm reached for her hand, entwining her fingers between his own. He squeezed it gently. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

  She gave him another look, cutting her eyes in his direction. “What would you have done if you’d found him, Malcolm?”

  He looked back at her, pondering her question. “I don’t know,” he said, his answer as honest as he could muster. “Cilla, I have never been as angry as I am now over this mess. That bastard put his hands on my baby girl and I wasn’t there to protect her. I wanted to hurt him the way he hurt her. I want him to suffer like she’s suffered. I hate to think that I’d be capable of harming another human being but I’d be lying if I told you I wouldn’t have killed him. Because I really wanted to see him dead. I still do.”

  “At least you’re being honest with yourself.”

  “I have to be honest. My integrity is all I have.”

  “Romeo was worried about you too.”

  “I know. I called him. He helped talk me down. But he also knew that I had to work through it on my own.”

  “Well, I’m not going to lie. I was afraid you were going to shoot someone. You have a gun, Malcolm!”

  He chuckled softly. “I have a few guns, but they’re all legal and I know how to handle them.”

  “That may be an issue. I don’t like guns. They scare me.”

  “That’s fair but let me teach you how to handle one before you count them out.”

  Cilla paused. “Okay,” she said, “but only if we do something about that bad attitude of yours. You’re moody. And you shut me out. That was not good.”

  He paused, ruminating on her comment. “I agree,” he said finally. “And I’m willing to get some help. I’ve decided that the girls and I need to go back to family counseling and I’m willing to do couple’s counseling if you want me to. Because I want us to work, Cilla.” He squeezed her hand tightly. “I love you, too, and I don’t want to lose you.”

  Cilla squeezed back, his words warming her spirit. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I didn’t know that things with your ex-wife were as bad as they are.”

  His sigh was heavy and void of any emotion. “Neither did I. I thought she might be using again but I wasn’t sure. When I said something she denied it and child services never found anything when I complained to them. Until she showed up at the club the other week I had no idea that she’d gone downhill as badly as she has. And knowing that she purposely put our child in harm’s way? I can’t tell you what that did to me!”

  “Was it that bad when your marriage broke up?”

  He started to shake his head in response, then he paused. “That’s a lie. It was that bad and I should have known better. Shanell hurt my heart. Bad. I understood that her addiction was an illness. I got all that. But I wanted to believe that her love for me and the girls was bigger than her love for the drugs and it wasn’t. When it got really bad I knew that I had to leave if I wanted to survive. So this time I shouldn’t have missed the signs. I shouldn’t have trusted her. But I did and now Cleo’s paying the price. I failed her.”

  Cilla could feel his pain, the knife in his chest feeling as if it had pierced her own heart. She would have done anything to take that hurt from him. She eased into his side, leaning her head on his shoulder. They sat together for a few more minutes, neither saying a word. Malcolm broke the silence.

  “So what’s the deal with you and agent man?”

  Cilla laughed, her head waving. “No deal. He’s just an old friend. I trust him and I knew he could help.”

  “He still loves you.”

  She shook her head. “He never loved me. He loved what he wanted me to be in his life. He never bothered to know me.”

  “So how long has it been since you two were last together?”

  “You mean when did we break up?”

  Malcolm smirked. “Yeah, that too.”

  “Randolph and I dated for two years. We both realized that we wanted different things so we parted ways but we remained friends. He moved to Charlotte. Until yesterday it had been five years since we last saw each other. I didn’t even know he was back in Raleigh. There’s nothing for you to be jealous about.”

  “Who said I was jealous?”

  “I know you were worried.”

  He shook his head. “Nope, I’m very secure in our relationship.”

  “So we have a relationship?”

  “You’re my girl. We better have a relationship.”

  Cilla giggled as Malcolm wrapped both arms around her torso and hugged her to him. He nuzzled his face against her neck. They both felt comfortable in each other’s arms, the sensations sweeping between them akin to a lost soul finding its way home.

  Their lips met in the sweetest kiss and it felt as if fire had erupted from a volcano. Their kiss was pure bliss. Her supple lips were sweet against his and he felt her body melt easily into his. There was a purity to their kisses, rising emotion fueling the experience, the erotic moment telling as their mouths tangled.

  Cilla’s eyes were closed, her whole body falling into a heavenly ride as she imagined the possibilities, her body betraying her feelings. She wanted him, was ready to open herself to whatever he was willing to give. The moment felt like forever as his mouth danced brilliantly with hers.

  The sun was just beginning to rise when the conversation and the kisses between them fell into a lull, Malcolm drifting off to sleep first. His body was curved snugly against hers as he finally succumbed to the exhaustion. Every one of his hardened muscles fit her to perfection as if they’d been perfectly sculpted for each other. He was strong and solid and she felt secure in his arms, grateful for the moment that had brought them even closer to each other. He snored softly, his breathing the sweetest timbre and before she knew it Cilla slipped into slumber with him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Bianca stood with her arms crossed over her chest and her head waving with amusement. The expression across her best friend’s face made Cilla laugh.

  “I really don’t see what you find so funny,” she said. “And you used to complain that I had too much drama going on in my life!”

  Cilla giggled. “I know, right. But I think everything’s going to work out. Unlike your drama which usually just ends in a hot mess.”

  “That has yet to be seen.”

  Cilla shrugged. “Well, I think we’re on the right path. Malcolm and I are talking so that’s half the battle.”

  Bianca nodded. “How’s his daughter?”

  “She’s getting there. She’s been seeing a therapist for the last few weeks and that’s a good thing. I think it’s just all a little overwhelming for her. Malcolm’s not sure what to do so his answer is to just keep her busy. I imagine when they get back to a normal schedule things will get better.”

  “Can you be normal again after something like that?” Bianca asked.

  The two women exchanged questioning stares.

  Cilla inhaled, a deep breath filling her lungs. “I wish I could do something to help her,” she said softly.

  Rising from her seat Bianca moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of cheap wine. She took two glasses from the cupboard and filled them both and moved back to the table, setting one in front of Cilla as she took a gulp of the other. She sat back down meeting her friend’s eye.

  “I’m sure you being there is a big help. Malcolm knowing he can lean on you has to be a comfort. And you doing everything you can for him and his girls, well . . .” She shrugged. “He knows you love him.”

  “I do love him, Bianca. It’s crazy just how much that man means to me.”

  “I want it on the record that I am not wearing taffeta, crinoline, or anything poufy at your wedding.”

  “But I want taffeta and crinoline!”

  “You want your best friend at your side. My ass is wide enou
gh. I can’t have you put me in a dress that’s going to make it look wider.”

  Cilla laughed as she took a sip of her own wine. “I think we’re having a moment, Bianca.”

  Bianca laughed with her. “I know we are!”

  The two women sat in conversation for a good hour. Cilla looked down to her watch. “I have to run. I promised Malcolm I’d meet him at the club. He and his attorney were meeting with the district attorney’s office this afternoon.”

  “Why didn’t you go with him?”

  “I still have to pay my bills,” Cilla said matter-of-factly. “I’ve about used up all my vacation days and I don’t have any personal days left.”

  Bianca nodded her understanding. “Well, call me when you can.”

  Cilla headed toward the front door of her friend’s home. “Don’t I always!”

  Malcolm hated that he could quote statistics on child abuse. He also hated knowing that the numbers reported probably didn’t begin to paint a full picture of the problem because so many crimes against children went unreported. But what broke his heart, what absolutely crushed his spirit was knowing that his child was now one of those statistics. And despite knowing Cleo’s story had a happier ending, he couldn’t help but think of all the sons and daughters in the world who weren’t as fortunate. Children whose innocence had been stolen with no regard. He blew a heavy sigh.

  He’d spent the afternoon learning how technology was now a predator’s wet dream come true. With an estimated ninety percent of teens and young adults online and just as many trolling social-networking sites, the victim pool was endless. The child sex trade was just another horror Malcolm couldn’t fathom, the commercial exploitation bigger business than he had ever imagined. Discovering that Nikko Prince was a big fish in an even bigger pond made Malcolm’s blood boil. Any other time in his life and he would have done everything he could to give Nikko a wealth of hurt the man would have never recovered from. If he only had himself to think about, then the repercussions would have been worth the crime.

  Despite what he would have liked to do Malcolm had to consider how the consequences of his actions would have impacted his family and what he most wanted was for them all to find healing. Just days earlier he learned that Prince had taken a plea deal, avoiding a trial and eliminating the need for Cleo to testify. Knowing that Cleo would be close to fifty years old if Prince ever saw the light of day again was a small victory and he was grateful. Knowing that Prince still had to face charges in four other states and would likely live out his old age behind bars was icing on some very bitter cake.

  Malcolm suddenly realized he was still sitting in the driveway of his home. With the air-conditioning turned off the heat inside had begun to rise. Perspiration beaded across his brow. He blew another heavy sigh as he opened the door, the barest hint of an early autumn breeze billowing inside. It was only then that he noticed Cilla’s car parked at the curb.

  Inside the house his mother called out his name, waving him into the family room. She sat in front of the large-screen television, watching an episode of General Hospital.

  “What time is it?” Malcolm asked, looking from the television program to his wristwatch.

  Mama Claudette laughed. “You’re on time. I recorded my stories earlier. I had a moment to myself so I thought I’d catch up.”

  “Where are the girls?”

  “Claudia’s at dance class. Mrs. Winters, her friend Tara’s mother, is going to bring her home.”

  “What about Cleo?”

  “Cleo is in the kitchen with Cilla. They’re cooking dinner for us all tonight.”

  Malcolm smiled. “How’s she doing today?”

  His mother smiled back. “Moody as usual. But that’s just her personality. Your daughter has a lot of attitude.”

  “That’s a good thing, right?”

  “It is a good thing,” Mama Claudette said.

  Malcolm dropped into the seat beside his mother. He paused, staring at the television screen as the character Sonny Corinthos was pleading his case to yet another blond bombshell. Malcolm shook his head, in awe that his mother was still watching the same soap opera after so many years.

  “Sonny hasn’t changed a bit, has he?” Malcolm said, the statement more comment than question.

  Mama Claudette laughed. “Don’t you worry about Sonny. He’s handling his business. You need to be handling yours.”

  Malcolm cut an eye at the woman. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m talking about Cilla.”

  Malcolm blinked. “What about Cilla? Things are good with us.”

  Mama Claudette smiled. “I think they are and I’d like to see things continue to be good. So you need to handle your business.”

  “I thought I was doing that.”

  His mother blew a soft sigh. “At some point, son, you’re going to need to let us all get back to being normal.” She emphasized the word “normal” with air exclamations, her fingers flicking along the sides of her gray head. “You’ve been hovering over Cleo for weeks now. She is never going to know just how strong she is if you continue to hover over her likes she’s going to break.”

  “I’m not hovering.”

  “Yes, you are, and you’re treating her like she’s damaged. She is never going to move past what happened to her if you don’t stop. And you being so focused on Cleo has you ignoring Claudia. That’s going to cause a whole host of other issues that we don’t need.”

  Malcolm bristled at his mother’s comment. “I don’t . . .”

  Mama Claudette held up her hand, stalling his denial. “You’ve got to start living again, Malcolm. If you don’t get back to the business of living your life and doing what you need to do for you, then neither will the twins. You and Cilla were building a beautiful relationship. You need to get back to that before what you started falls by the wayside and you don’t have anything.”

  Malcolm shook his head in disagreement. “Cilla and I are fine. We’re happy.”

  Mama Claudette met his gaze, denial puddled deep in the corneas of his eyes. “When’s the last time you and Cilla had a conversation that wasn’t about the girls or the case or what you learned about crimes like Cleo’s or . . .”

  A wave of understanding suddenly washed over Malcolm’s spirit. He held up his hand, his expression dropping. “I get it.”

  “You know from experience that you can’t ignore your relationship no matter what hand life deals you. You have to stay focused on keeping your foundation solid if everything else is going to stand up to what gets thrown at you. Not only for each other but also for your children. A woman needs to know that even when times are hard and things get rough she’s still a priority in your life. If she trusts that then she will always have your back.”

  Malcolm sat in reflection for a good while, pondering his mother’s words. It wasn’t until two commercial breaks later that Mama Claudette spoke again.

  “Maxine is coming this weekend to spend some time with us. We’re going to make it a granny and girls weekend. You might want to disappear for a few days.”

  A momentary wave of confusion washed over Malcolm’s face. “Disappear? Where . . . ?”

  Mama Claudette laughed. “Boy, I didn’t raise you to be so slow!” she chuckled.

  Malcolm suddenly found himself laughing with her. “Oh, okay, I get it!”

  The matriarch shook her head, her eyes shifting back to the television. “I always wanted your daddy to take me to Sea Island and that Cloister hotel. But we could never afford it, bless his soul! I hear it’s a very romantic spot for couples.”

  “You don’t wear a lot of makeup, do you?” Cleo asked, turning her gaze toward Cilla.

  The woman shook her head, her eyes shifting from the onion she was chopping to the young girl’s face. “No, I don’t. I learned many years ago that less is more.”

  Cleo’s gaze narrowed, confusion shimmering in her eyes. “Huh?”

  “The less makeup I wear, the better I look, and the more I don’t need it.
”

  “Oh!” Cleo said. “Grandma Claudette doesn’t wear a lot of makeup either. She says too much makes you look cheap.”

  “That’s why your grandmother has such beautiful skin.”

  Cleo went back to mixing the batter for the cornbread Cilla was teaching her how to make. “My daddy likes your butt. ’Cause it’s so big! He’s always staring at it when you walk away.”

  Cilla laughed heartily, her cheeks flooding with color. “Well, the next time you catch him staring you tell him to stop, okay?”

  Cleo smiled back. “It’s really not that big,” she said. “I mean it’s big but it’s not, it’s . . .”

  “I know what you mean,” Cilla said. She changed the subject. “How are things going at school?”

  Cleo shrugged her narrow shoulders. “They’re okay. I hate my science class. The teacher is stupid and he’s always yelling at people.”

  “That’s not good,” Cilla said.

  Cleo nodded. “Supposedly he had a nervous breakdown last year. The seniors started throwing erasers and wet tissues at him and he snapped. The vice principal had to come escort him away. So now some of the kids in the class throw things at him to try and make him cry. So he yells a lot.”

  “Would you like the class more if you had a better teacher?” Cilla questioned.

  Cleo shook her head no. “Science is crazy. I just don’t like it and we had to dissect a frog! It was so gross!”

  Cilla shuddered. “I remember doing that when I was in school. I hated it too.”

  “Claudia always gets A’s in science. She likes it.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that. You like math, right?”

  “Yeah!”

  “And you’re good at it. That’s your strength. That’s why you always ace your exams.”

  “How do you know I get good grades in math?”

  Cilla laughed. “Your dad is always bragging about it. That’s how I know.”

  Cleo blushed, color tinting her cheeks. “He’s such a goofball!”