Only Skin Deep

by Mahalia Levey

  “We have plans to make,” Derek said, returning to the pizza box to get another piece, his gaze not wavering from her.

  “About what?”

  “I’d like you to think about getting a sports utility vehicle or a truck. I don’t want you pregnant and getting stuck in bad weather for a second time.”

  “I have a perfectly fine car,” Deja argued.

  “Riiiight. That’s why you ended up in the hospital? Your car will be fixed in a few days Deja. I’m just asking for you to give some thought to a better vehicle, one that would better suit children anyways.”

  “Derek. I haven’t even decided if I’m keeping the child. This is premature. I—this is just really sudden, not at all what I’d planned.”

  “What the hell do you mean? You’re not keeping our baby?” The barely constrained rage in his voice scared her.

  Deja squirmed and shrugged. “Nothing, never mind.” She shoved pizza in her mouth for something to do, not able to meet her lover’s disturbing gaze.

  “You definitely meant something.”

  Swallowing, she took a tentative look up. “You’re pushing me too fast. Just stop.”

  “After you explain your remark.”

  “Jesus, Derek.” Deja rose from the bed and left the room, to get away from him. Appetite gone, she needed space for a few minutes. He, however, didn’t think so, since she turned and smacked into his chest. Derek steadied her with his hand but didn’t drop the hold on her arm. “I left to have a few moments to myself.” A red flush stole across her face.

  “You left to run.”

  “You are the most controlling ass I’ve ever met. I was talking about getting an abortion,” Deja snapped at him.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Why not? Women choose that option all the time. I’m career oriented Derek, not family oriented. Not at this time in my life.”

  “You’d abort my child?” he asked on a snarl.

  Deja knew she treaded on dangerous waters. The timber and break in his normally whiskey smooth voice sent shards of unease down her spine. “If I thought the decision best for me, yes.”

  She watched the control he held in check disappear. Hurt and rage simmered in the depths of his gaze. His presence in front of her changed. In fear of what he’d say or do, tension rolled thick and heavy making breathing difficult. Would he hurt me? The question ran through her brain, his sudden silence further terrifying her. His body language had her backing away from him, but his grip tightened on her arm, the only thing keeping her rooted in place.

  “You want me gone? Forever out of your life?” Derek pressed forward until her back hit the hallway wall. “Do. It. Then.” He struck the wall beside her head.

  The sheetrock at her back vibrated. “Derek,” Deja began.

  “When I get back, I want you out of my place. You know where the phone is, call a cab. I can’t deal with you right now.”

  “Derek don’t… I’m sorry.”

  “Are you really? Somehow I have my doubts. I never believed you’d be so cold Deja, maybe scared but cruel enough to throw my words back in my face and then tell me you’d have our child ripped out of your stomach and thrown in the garbage. I know now where I rank in your life. I’d be a fool to stick around.”

  Deja watched him walk out of his own home to avoid being near her. Suddenly she felt vile. When he didn’t return some ten minutes later, she gathered he meant what he said and called her sister for a ride home. The feeling of extreme loss surprised her. She hadn’t anticipated the desolation that crept in, making her weepy. In the back of her mind a tiny voice questioned her reaction and her motivation to keep so much of herself locked way, inaccessible to another.

  Derek deserved better for a multitude of reasons.

  Telling herself she’d be all right got her through the first hour while she waited for her ride. Would anything get her through her lonesome days? Or seeing him when she saw her friends? If she chose to keep their child could she take seeing him while she was no longer part of his life?

  What have I done? Deja curled into a ball in his bed and hugged the pillow, with his scent all over the casing. As sleep dragged her under, she didn’t have the will to fight it.

  Chapter Three

  Derek sat on a stool at the bar of Club Mist swirling a shot of whiskey. He’d lift the two ounce glass up, sniff the strong spirits and then set it back down to stare intently at the contents. Anger clouded his judgment and hurt seized his heart. In his gut he hoped she wouldn’t get rid of their child.

  A small amount of guilt tugged at him for demanding she be out of his place by the time he returned. In one moment, when he had her against the wall, all the progress he’d made in the past ten years disappeared. In his place was the angry unrepentant, authority hating young man he was before.

  Derek had no choice but to leave his own home to regain his senses. An agitated groan escaped his mouth and he slid his hand in his pocket to flip his sobriety medallion between his fingers. The overwhelming urge to say fuck it and slip into a drunken stupor called to him, but the angel on his shoulder advised him to reconsider. So there he sat, alone at a hoppin’ bar contemplating his next move.

  “Hey bro.”

  Derek glanced up and saw Nadja’s man. “Donato.” He returned to staring at the amber liquid in the clear glass.

  “I didn’t think you drank. Been here over a dozen times and never once seen you order a stiff one.”

  “Times change.”

  “You look like you need a friend.”

  “Thanks but I can handle it,” Derek dismissed him without looking up.

  “Enough to fall off the wagon? I know an alcoholic when I see one. Is whatever that’s pushed you this far worth losing your sobriety? If you want to talk I’ll be around. If you need a lifeline, don’t let your pride make you regret your actions come morning.”

  Derek gave a perfunctory nod.

  Deja’s haunting words affected him, had the power to destroy all he believed in. As a man, he never believed anyone could hurt him, let alone on the scale of which she had. If anyone had told him ten years ago, there’d be times when his control would slip, he wouldn’t have believed them. He prided himself on composure under the stress of any circumstance. To think, he’d come so far. That one small woman possessed the power to knock him on his ass bothered him. Just thinking her name instigated a rage he felt powerless to control. He knew if unleashed, the repercussions would be staggering.

  “You drinkin’ or not? My friends would like to sit down and you’re occupying space.”

  Derek turned his attention to the man speaking to him. “Drinking or not, I’m sitting here, go find another place to sit.”

  “Fuckin’ prick.”

  Derek clenched his jaw but ignored the asshole attempting to draw him into an altercation. Self-discipline won. He pushed the shot glass back and pulled money out for the bartender, tossing a few bills on the bar.

  The asshats remained close to the bar, hitting on any skirt walking by. He picked up his keys, knowing they were none of his business. Taunts met his ears as he made his way past the group of guys blocking the only exit. “Comin’ through.”

  They didn’t budge.

  Derek flashed a look of impatience as they continued their conversation, ignoring him. The urge to plow a fist through the man separating him from the door appealed to him. Instead, he spoke above the raucous music. “Move.” They shoved and he returned the sentiment pushing his way forward, his shoulder striking frat boys. The sound of beer sloshing hit his ear. Fuck it. He made his intention to get by politely the first time. A little spilled brew didn’t hurt anyone.

  “Yo.”

  Derek didn’t look back but continued his way out.

  A hand gripped his shoulder. “Get your hand off me,” he said, in a low gravelly voice.

  “Dude, you owe me a beer and you’re not leavin’ until you get me one.”

  “Go get it yourself, you should have moved.” Derek k
nocked the arm from his shoulder and smoothed his jacket. “Any other problem, if not I’ll be going.” He didn’t back down.

  “Not ‘til I get my drink.” The stranger shoved him.

  Derek scrutinized his opponent for a moment, and took in the close proximity of the guy’s buddies. “I’m not looking for trouble, just leaving.”

  “Looks like trouble found you.” A punch was thrown that didn’t make its mark.

  Derek snarled, struck hard and fast, hitting the college boy square in the jaw, taking him down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Micah, Tomas and Donato heading his way. Deflecting the buddies worked for the first few blows, not for all of them. He took a hit in his lip. A metallic tang met his taste buds and he saw black.

  Three on one he could take, but four on one? Over bullshit? Derek engaged delivering steady blows, receiving a few dealt his way. He grinned when one resounding crunch of a hand breaking met his ears, the bastard’s hand swelled instantly from direct contact to the metal plate in his skull. Derek didn’t go down. Instead he braced himself, widened his stance, plowing straight through them, until the bouncers arrived—he delivered punishing blows and kicks, ignoring the burn in his ribs and his screaming bloody knuckles. Adrenaline pumping, he stayed poised, ready to strike again, but security engulfed him.

  “Damn. Want a job?”

  “Odd sense of humor, Donato.” Derek swiped his hand over his bloodied lip.

  “You took down four guys. It’s either that or hand you a tissue.”

  “A napkin would be appreciated.” Derek reined in the beast that glorified in being let free.

  “Take a sec to calm down. When you’re ready we can go to my office for a minute. Tomas, get the man a wet cloth and some ice. Micah head on back to VIP.”

  “Boss.”

  Derek watched the men leave to do his boss’s bidding. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

  “You handle yourself well under pressure.” Donato accepted a towel filled with ice chips from Tomas a few minutes later and handed Derek the ice pack.

  Derek shrugged.”It’s nothin’ just self-defense.”

  “Bullshit. Only street fighters and trained fighters have such quick responses.” Donato led Derek to his office and took a seat, motioning for Derek to take the other. “I’d offer you a drink but we both know you don’t need a drink. What you need is a friend.”

  “Yeah…” Derek struggled to reply.

  “You got my interest. Nadja and Deja are best friends, hell might as well add Taleena into the mix. I know Jason, but you, there’s something different bout you that doesn’t match with the picture you present.”

  “Not much of a talker.”

  “All right. Satisfy my curiosity. Where’d you grow up?”

  “Los Angeles.”

  “What part?” Donato leaned back in his chair.

  “The hood.”

  “Yeah? Barrio?”

  “Something like that.” Derek remained vague.

  “Damn man. Must’ve been hard being a white boy stuck in a neighborhood of nothing but a majority of Latinos and blacks.

  “I survived.” Derek didn’t appreciate having his privacy invaded. “Look. I don’t talk about where I’m from. Nothin’to say. Outgrew my life then. Moved forward. Thanks for not calling the cops.” He rose to leave.

  “I’m not your enemy,” Donato said, rising himself.

  “So we’re good?”

  Donato nodded. “If you want to join my staff, call. If you want to spar, just to kick the shit out of someone, call. We’re always geared to hire more muscle with brains.”

  “And ruin my white boy corporate persona? No thanks. That lifestyle was a few lifetimes ago. I’ll stick with ruining people by bankrupting them. Feels so much better to exact revenge the new way or at least making sure they have a difficult time staying out of the red.”

  “Coldhearted.”

  “Bastard. Yeah. Later Donato, and thanks.”

  “Anytime.”

  Derek left the office and headed out of the club, colliding with a waitress who dumped a pitcher of beer on his chest. “My fault.” He dug in his pocket to give her some cash.

  “No. I’m sorry Sir.”

  The waitress’s panic became abundantly clear as she tried to mop up his soaking wet shirt. “It’s all right Miss. No harm.” Irritated, but careful not to make her feel worse, he peeled off two large bills and tucked them under her pad.

  “Thank you.” A smile lit her face. Maybe she’d have a better night with his generosity, he was sure she’d seen her fair share of assholes like he’d once been.

  Derek laughed at the irony of the situation as he exited the establishment. Cold air broke through his barriers, chilling him to the bone in addition to hardening his shirt. He made a quick jog to his four wheel drive and entering to get out of the frigid below zero temperature. No sign of the trouble makers outside meant he didn’t have to worry about fighting off property. Donato must’ve kept him in the office while the college boys were escorted off the property. As his car warmed up, he felt around in his back seat for his gym bag and hefted the duffle over the divide to check for another shirt. Unfortunately he hadn’t repacked. The contents included a bottle of water and basketball shorts. Irritated, he snorted at smelling like stale beer. After looking both ways, he carefully pulled into traffic.

  Three miles from home, the whap of sirens sounded. Thinking an accident must be close, he pulled to the side of the road, to a rolling stop. He kept the car in idle while waiting for the cruiser to drive by. Instead of passing, he looked out his rearview mirror to see the cruiser stop behind him, the flashing lights blinking like mad.

  Derek clenched his jaw, clearly not needing the added aggravation. He dug in his back pocket to grab his wallet for both his license and insurance cards. When the uniformed officer tapped on his window, he pressed on the automatic button, flinching at the frigid cold hitting his face. “Sir.”

  “Going a bit fast for the weather. License and registration, please.”

  In the silhouette of the high beams, the officer stayed one hand on the butt of his revolver. “Just want to get home, is all. Wasn’t aware I was breaking any laws going the speed limit.” Derek punched the dome light on to retrieve the insurance from his wallet. “Here you are.”

  “I’ll be right back with you.” The officer trekked back to his vehicle.

  Derek raised his window up and put his car in park. When he looked back, a second cruiser pulled up. Minutes turned into what felt like an eternity before the officer returned.

  After he lowered the window a second time, the officer peered down at him.

  “Step out of the car please, Sir.”

  “What’s this about? I haven’t done anything illegal.” A bounding tick formed, telling him his ire was dangerously close to exploding.

  “I need for you to step out of the car.”

  Derek cut the engine off and opened the door, following the officer’s instructions. “Can you tell me why I’m freezing my balls off?”

  “Routine Breathalyzer.”

  “I haven’t had a drink in seven years.”

  The officer doubted him, if his expression was any indication. He pieced together the instrument, advised Derek of the use and handed it over.

  Derek waited and blew on command.

  “Anything?”

  “No, you’re clear. You may return to your car, drive careful and have a good night.” The officer returned his license and insurance card.

  “Thanks.” Derek slid back into the driver’s seat and buckled up, waiting for the two vehicles to pull away before starting his engine. His anger dissipated a few minutes later. Once clear, he entered traffic again.

  * * * *

  Home sweet home. Derek unlocked the key to his place, glad the remaining drive home turned out uneventful. Darkness surrounded him. After taking the time to secure his place, he flipped on the dim light in his office and tossed the keys on the counter in a haphazard manner. Exh
austion washed over him, threatened to pull him under. A hot shower called to him. He toed off his shoes and pulled his shirt over his head. With no one in his home, he’d pick up later. His hands ached and head throbbed.

  If he remembered correctly, he’d tossed a bottle of aspirin in his top desk drawer. Shuffling around the desk, he extracted the bottle, and popped the lid open as he walked through to the master bath. A lump lay in his bed. With a frown, he backed up to take a second look.

  Fuck. She hadn’t left. Was he glad? Sad? Maybe she’d had a change of heart and wanted to recant her hasty words. A man could only hope.

  Derek pulled the blanket over her. She slept peaceful, lightly snoring. A vibrating sound drew his attention away from her. In the dark of his bedroom, he moved toward the noise and ducked down. Under the bed her phone fidgeted on the carpeted floor. Derek flipped the phone open. Katrina’s face flashed on the screen. He hit talk and walked into his bathroom, setting down the aspirin bottle. “Hello?”

  “I’m sorry I must’ve hit the wrong number.”

  “Deja is sleeping.” Derek reached to turn on the shower to heat up.

  “Oh. You must be the guy I met at the hospital. She’s okay then? She left a message for someone to come get her. Mama’s working double shifts, and I just got out of school.”

  “Deja called you earlier but no one made time to pick her up?” It seemed to him she did more for her family than they did for her.

  “Yeah. Our brothers are normally incommunicado and our parents both work two jobs. Like I said, I was in school and my younger sisters aren’t old enough to help.”

  “She just got out of the hospital. You’re telling me no one could rearrange their schedule to take care of her?”

  Silence.

  “Tell your family not to worry. Deja’s in good hands, she will stay here with me and I’ll make sure she’s taken care of.” He had to until she made a decision, no matter how pissed off he was, she carried his seed and every moment with her gave him the power to help her change her mind. Not that he’d grovel or ask to be with her.