You Called Me-ARE and Apple epub (10 page)

“Auntie, what’s worse than being killed?”

“Being raped, mutilated, or left a vegetable any number of things,” she warned, fingers clutching Kenya’s in a tight grip.

Kenya's heart tightened. “Well don’t worry because he had a family emergency and had to cancel. But I called the ski lodge and they could use the help so I’m set to get my hours.”

“Who is this guy, somebody from work?” her mother asked, always the more reasonable one of the two women.

“No, I met him outside of work and he invited me to chaperone a ski trip next weekend.”

“Just out of the blue some stranger asked you to go away…”Her aunt touched her arm, pulling her in closer. “Let me know when you see a red flag or hear bells ringing because that's your conscious trying to get your attention.”

Her mother held her arm. “You're going away with a stranger for the weekend? We taught you better common sense than that.”

“Momma, I exaggerated a bit, but he’s not going now. I need the volunteer hours for work, so it’s the perfect opportunity for me to get the hours. I’m going.”

“Met him outside of work—is that code for we met on the Internet or at the club?”

“I got sick at work, and he made certain I made it home safely.” Her aunt swung one of the beaded pillows and Kenya ducked seconds before it made contact with her head.

“Oh sweet Jesus this man knows where you live! Kenya, he could be stalking you. Now he wants you to go away for the weekend.”

“He’s not stalking me.” Why did she even bring it up? This was awful. “We went out last night and listened to Jazz at The Pink Diamond.”

“Aw, sookie sookie now. This man is starting to sound better. At least he has taste and class,” her aunt said, hands animated.

“Kenya,” her mother started. “Can you take someone with you? What’s his name from your building?” Snapping her fingers, her mother pointed. “Randall, the young man that lives down the hall from you? He’s handsome, polite, and professional. Tell me again why you two aren’t dating.”

“He’s a client of the bank. Dating him is unprofessional.”

“You have a point. Well, can’t he volunteer with you?” Her mother picked up a package of ceramic votive candleholders, setting them in her basket. Kenya knew if she asked, Randall would go and they’d end up downtown, her bailing out the both of them. A financial client and a Mafia king pin in the woods. That wasn’t about to happen.

“It’s too late to get someone to go.”

“What about your sister…”

“Morgan—Momma—never backs me on anything. She’s too uptight for outdoors anyway.” 

“Your sister is just cautious.” Her mother covered for her sister…once again. “I hate that you two don’t get along.”

“We get along, just not for more than an hour. Morgan has her way of seeing the world and I have mine.”

“She's going through a divorce. It's not easy for her right now.” Kenya stared at her mother. Morgan's been a thorn in her side ever since Kenya started high school, treating her as if she were a burden to the family.

“Many women go through divorce it's not a pass to be evil to other women.” Kenya pushed her purse strap up her on her shoulder. “Morgan still blames me for our mother's death and daddy leaving. If you and Uncle Marcus hadn't taken us in that would have been my fault too.” Having her aunt and uncle adopt her and her sibling after her mother died was the only thing that kept them from going into foster care after her mother died and father left.

“We love you three the same as if I gave birth to you. Morgan has to deal with that on her own. You can't make her or Michael move past the hurt until they're ready.”

“Momma, I know. I have never thought of you and daddy as my aunt and uncle. Sometimes I just wish my biological father could have stuck in there long enough for me to get to know him.”

“Not every man's cut out to be a father,” her aunt said. “Your biological father's life wasn't a place to raise three children.”

“Then he shouldn't have made any children,” she barked and threw up her hands. “I'm sorry, it just gets to me sometimes when Morgan's standing around pointing the finger when I'm not the one that left their children to be raised by another man, daddy was.”

“All three of you are my baby's now and our sister wouldn't have wanted it any other way. Now, I’ll leave it alone between you and Morgan,” her mother said, hands in the air. “Back to this Blakemore man.”

“I can handle myself with Mr. Blakemore.”

“Blakemore, that’s this man’s name?” her aunt asked, head tilted.

Kenya caught the way her aunt’s eyes roamed over her, cutting her a sideways glance.

“You know a Blakemore?”

“I saw something about a Blakemore Industries owning an estate in Ireland. I caught it on the travel channel. A castle or manor, I’m not certain which way you refer to it, but you can stay there, ride horses, heck.” Kenya watched her getting excited. “I saw where falconry is big in the area.”

“Auntie, you know about falconry?” They moved down to the pillows and rugs.

“Watching Falcon Crest years ago was about as close to a falcon as I’ll ever come. Maybe your new man will have one.”

“I met Jonathan, never mind,” Kenya said to her Aunt, picking up one of the pillows off the shelf. “I’m not willing to do three to five and I’m close to pulling you behind the pillows. It won’t be pretty. I’ll use one of the beaded ones.”

“Kenya, honey, you think this is the same guy as the one you met?” her mother questioned, taking the pillow from her. 

Kenya absorbed her aunt’s words. If they were one in the same, she could relax. She really wanted to get to know this guy after she finished volunteering. “Could be,” she said.

“Tall, red hair,” her aunt stated suspiciously. “When did you start dating white men, Kenya?”

“I don’t...I date men, and when did I say anything about dating? I’m volunteering to help a ta ski lodge with some kids he sponsors.”

“I’m not judging. You know me, Kenya, I don’t normally notice this kind of stuff,” she said, waving a hand through the air dismissively.

Her aunt noticed which way a strand of hair grew on the mailman, and she would prove it. “Randall is white.”

A laugh burst from her aunt. “That man I saw in your living room was so brown he was burgundy...a glass of red wine.”

“I thought you didn’t notice.” Kenya jabbed her aunt’s shoulder. “Nothing gets past you. Don't worry about me. Jonathan Blakemore is an upstanding citizen in the community.”

“If this is the same man,” her aunt said, “you’re going be in the spotlight in his world.”

“Kenya, honey, check this man out...be safe.”

She needed her volunteer hours regardless of Mr. Blakemore's celebrity in the financial world. 

“Let's go before you rub that candle any harder and a genie pops out.”  

Her mother walked away from the pair of them, knowing they’d just gotten started.

“You know Pier One sells rocks by the bag, glass rocks...one swing, that's all I need, one swing and you’re flying without a plane.”

“Get those toes done first...anything but orange,” she joked, picking up an orange candle from the display over a shelving of plate settings. Held it to her aunt’s arm. “Oh yeah...please no orange.” Kenya dropped in the chair and laughed, loving her family.

Kenya slid the long line of charcoal, black, and navy dresses down the closet rod to slip in the plastic dry cleaning bag of wool skirts. No Woolite for those expensive outfits she paid far too much to bother washing those by hand or on a delicate cycle. Backing out, she lifted the bright white ski jacket from the garment bag, unzipping it, and draped it over her bed. 

All the research she did on Mr. Blakemore revealed he’d told her the truth, at least about the ski trip and the kids. The police department vouched for his helping the kids. Said this was his fifth year of volunteering his time once a month. Him being a friend of the court was the name the police nicknamed him. As far as his limo service, he offered free rides to kids on the street if they agreed to get help and call a loved one to let them know where they were. If the police caught or picked them up again doing something illegal, he wouldn’t make his service available to them again. She found out Jonathan helped with the expenses that many parents, mostly mothers, couldn't afford because the other party came up short on child support. This man had more layers than she could keep up with.

Her stomach muscles clenched and unclenched. She was ready to spend the weekend with a stranger for volunteer hours at work. What was she thinking?

Hearing her doorbell she tossed the coat on the bed and made her way down her hallway to the front door. Peering out the peephole, she could only make out…more white flowers. Her shoulders tensed, what was this guy up to?

Twenty minutes later, sitting on the bar stool at the counter in her kitchen she stared at the room filled with twelve dozen perfect white roses. Her home smelled like White Diamonds and she knew close to nothing of the man sending her romance through the mail? It made her body tingle in memory of the kiss they’d shared on her couch, the jazz club, and at the kitchen door. Sheesh.

An hour later, she opened her front door to find Julia standing with a pair of ski boots in hand and Randall’s handsome wide shoulders behind her. 

A hand fisted beneath her jaw she sat and watched Julia angle and re-angle the vases.

“Are you sure he didn’t have sex with you while you were asleep? This many flowers says you had hip-dislocating, peel-me-off-the-ceiling, carpet-burn-on-the back, four to the floor, hot sex.”

“One kiss,” she told her and wished she hadn’t.

“Where did you kiss him?”

“He kissed me.” Kenya’s face heated. She eyed Julia tipping a glance to her lap. “You’re just nasty. My mouth, girl…was sitting on the couch looking a disheveled mess when he knelt and…kissed me.”

Catching Randall’s disapproving glower pouring from his fire backed brown eyes. She wouldn’t mention going to the club or Julia would conclude that he was ready to marry her next. No, she’d give it some time and see what happens.

Julia’s mouth hung slack. “And you checked him out?”

“Tell me you checked this guy out, Kenya,” Randall warned under dark lashes.

“Everything’s in order. He’s legit. Plans have changed for him at least. He had a family emergency and won’t be able to make it. I checked with the lodge, said they could still use my help. One of the officers would take the group.” The doubting Thomas stare in front of her made her question her decision to go.

Here she stood at the door of the proverbial boys club at the bank, contemplating dating a guy she was certain had Mafia ties regardless of what she’d learned. Looking at the two faces, she knew they read her thoughts, most likely, displaying on her face. Seldom had a man filled her thoughts in one day and Jonathan Blakemore became a commercial showing up every thirty minutes.

Thick snowflakes blurred the windshield enough to have the wiper blades going mock five. Randall angled the SUV into the parking lot of the office supply store down from the courthouse. It was the only space large enough for a bus to park.  

She felt like a snow bunny already. Her white coat glowed on the dashboard in the trucks cabin. Leather snow white Isotoners were too white she knew but they matched her biggest indulgence—accessories. What was the point in buying a white coat just to slap on a pair of old cracked brown gloves?

“Last chance, Kenya,” Randall started, shifting the truck in park. “I can get back on the freeway before anybody sees you.”

“Randall, the police chief said Jonathan is a well-trusted citizen, and I’m certain none of the parents would allow their children, especially the girls, to go away if he had a criminal record. It’s a non-issue because he couldn’t make it.”

“Who is that talking to the lady holding a thermos?”

Looking out the window, she couldn’t believe he was here. Jonathan stood by the bus’s luggage panel door handing the driver duffel bags. They came in every color, green, pink, purple, black, and leopard print. She stepped out the truck, pulling her backpack purse from the truck’s floor. Why hadn’t he called? He knew how badly she needed the hours. Maybe he’s brought another woman.

Randall jumped out and stood in front of her. He was all model lean with swimmers shoulders. The bright snow sparkled over his soft nose.

“Next time I invite you to the Bahamas…no excuses.”

She punched his chest teasingly. “When you take a bus load of city kids with you let me know and I’ll pack my luggage.” She smiled and the warmth turned to a cold chill as Randall’s toothy grin faded to a tight, straight line. Something or someone behind her caught his attention and it wasn’t good.

She spun around, purse strap sliding down her arm as her jaw dropped. Just that fast her heart dripped down to her stomach melting in the acids. She wanted to throw up. Jonathan had a luscious, dark-haired woman draped around him.

“I knew something wasn’t right about that guy,” Randall groaned.

“Take me back home, Randall.” So much for his family emergency.