Your Love Is King Page 8

  “Hey, did I wake you?” It was Chris on the other end.

  I squinted and checked the time on the screen of my phone. “Well, yeah. Chris? Is everything okay?”

  “Are you worried about me, Ms. Meadows? That’s sweet.”

  “Chris, it’s 1:00 A.M. What’s going on?”

  “Sorry about that. We just finished our last set and one of the songs made me think of you. So I had to call you.”

  “What? Y’all played a song called ‘Marli’?”

  He chuckled. “No. Can I play it for you?”

  “Over the phone? Where are you?”

  “In my room, at the hotel.”

  “You’re gonna play your trumpet at the hotel at this time of morning? Do they allow that? They might kick you out or something,” I said through a yawn.

  He laughed again. “I’ma just play a little bit. Maybe it won’t be bad enough for them to throw me out.”

  I rubbed my eyes. “Okay. Well, go ahead.”

  “All right.”

  I leaned back against the sofa and closed my eyes as he began to play. I quickly recognized the song. It was one of my favorites and before I knew it, I was humming along with the melody. Chris’s trumpet sounded beautiful. He played so well that I really wished he wouldn’t stop. I smiled when he picked up the phone and sang a line from the song.

  “That was beautiful,” I said. “That’s one of my favorite Michael Jackson songs.”

  “Ah, so you know it?” he asked, sounding a little surprised. “Not many people know that one.”

  “Well, ‘I Can’t Help It’ is actually my favorite song from the Off the Wall album. But then again, I like most all of MJ’s stuff.”

  “Yeah, me, too. Esperanza Spalding did a good job with that song, too.”

  “Did she? I’ll have to check her version out. So, um… what are you trying to tell me? What can’t you help?”

  “I can’t help thinking about you. Woman, you linger on my mind,” he said huskily.

  I felt another smile begin to creep upon my lips. “Really, now?”

  “Really. There’s something about you that makes me think I don’t wanna let you slip away from me.”

  Dang, this guy was smooth. “You know, Chris? You sure can talk a good game.”

  “Naw, no game. I’m 100% serious. I mean what I say. Something inside of me is not gonna let me rest until you’re mine.”

  “What if I told you that won’t happen?”

  “I’d say that I don’t believe you.”

  “I’m only here for another six weeks, Chris. And then what?”

  “And then I convince you to stay.”

  “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

  “The only thing I’m sure of is this connection I feel between us. You feel it, too. You just don’t wanna admit it.”

  “Presumptions and assumptions. You jump to a lot of conclusions, don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t, Marli. If you didn’t like me, you wouldn’t be on the phone with me at one in the morning, now would you?”

  “Whatever, Chris,” I replied with a grin on my face so huge, he could probably see it through the phone.

  “Uh-huh, I got you dead to rights. Anyway, I’ma let you go. I gotta read my Bible, pray, and then get some rest. Good night, ‘Mean Marli.’”

  I laughed. “Good night, ‘Cool Chris.’”

  “And you know this,” he said before hanging up the phone.

  I sat there for a moment with a silly smile on my face, feeling like a teenager. Speaking of teenagers, I stared at my phone and wondered about Tiffany. I’d left a couple of messages and had only received a text from her telling me she was fine, but busy, and would call when she had a chance. I sighed and said a prayer for her before heading to bed for the rest of the night, or, morning, actually.

  Twelve

  “Kiss of Life”

  Thursday zipped by and I was kind of glad that it did. Carla had been MIA except for a few chain text messages, and I was beginning to feel a little lonely. Chris’s phone calls had been my only consolation. I was definitely looking forward to seeing him again. He was really beginning to grow on me and I knew that when I returned home to Arkansas, I’d miss him.

  I spent most of Friday reading a novel, trying to rest up for a weekend of work, and thinking about my life back in Arkansas. To be honest, I really didn’t miss it at all. I had called my mother a couple of times, but other than that, I hadn’t had any contact with anyone back home. If I was real with myself, I’d have to admit that with Tiffany all grown up and gone off to college, there was really nothing tying me to Arkansas.

  Maybe I could stay here a little longer.

  I shook my head at my own thoughts. Was I actually considering staying in St. Louis to be around some guy I’d only known a couple of weeks? That would be worse than what Carla was doing.

  As if I’d conjured her up in my thoughts, Carla arrived back at the apartment about three hours before our shift at the hospital.

  “Hey,” I said, being as friendly as I could. But she was really getting on my last nerve.

  “Hey, girl,” she said cheerfully.

  I picked up the book I’d been reading and tried to ignore her. I was doing my best to avoid a confrontation with her.

  “So, what you been up to?” she asked.

  “Not a thing,” I said tersely.

  She sighed. “Okay, so you’re mad at me again. Look, I’m here way before our shift. I didn’t leave you hanging this time.”

  “Gee, thanks for the consideration, Carla. I really appreciate it.”

  She plopped down on the couch. “Look, Marli, I’m not gonna just sit around here and twiddle my thumbs. I’ve done enough of that. It’s time for me to live. I’m doing me now.”

  I lowered my book and looked her in the eye. “Humph, seems to me like you’re doing everyone else, too.”

  She let out an exasperated sigh. “Look, Greg offered to take me to Chicago with him for a couple of days and I took him up on his offer.”

  I frowned. “Who the hell is Greg?”

  “Oh, yeah. You don’t know him. I met him at the church last Sunday.”

  My frown deepened. “You went to Chicago and spent two nights with a guy you met at church? What are you doing, Carla?”

  She shrugged. “He paid for everything, and I had a great time. I’m a grown woman, and I’m not doing anything wrong.”

  “I bet you paid for it one way or another.”

  Carla squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “Ugh! There you go judging again! I’m not doing anything any other single woman wouldn’t do.”

  I rose up on the couch. “That’s just it! You are not single, Carla! You’re wildin’ the freak out! I don’t understand you. You’ve cornered the market on selfishness and inconsideration. I mean, you’ve just thrown all caution to the wind. Is this the way you’re gonna act when we get back home or is this just your ‘St. Louis persona’?”

  She was as cool as a cucumber as she said, “Who said I was going back home?”

  “Carla, you’ve got your boys to raise. What are you talking about? You’ve gotta go back!”

  She waved her hand in the air as if dismissing my comment. “Hell, Bryan can raise ’em. I was doing everything for them before and after we separated. It’s his turn now.”

  Was she serious? I searched her eyes. Her expression was so cold, I had to look away. “Carla, those are your sons, your babies. You act like we’re discussing the family pet or something. You can’t mean what you’re saying.”

  She nodded. “Oh yeah, I mean it. Tell me, what did sacrificing your life and happiness to raise Tiffany get you? She’s called you, what, two times since you’ve been here? I’m not doing that to myself. I’m gonna enjoy my life while I still can.”

  I was speechless. She was really going for the jugular to prove her point. She was using my life as some type of an example of what not to do.

  I sat there and stared at her for a moment
and then I stood and left for my bedroom. I shut the door behind me, collapsed onto the bed, and cried. She was right about one thing—I had sacrificed my life for Tiffany’s happiness. I’d also bitten my tongue far too many times trying to stay on everyone’s good side, and the product of it all was my own misery.

  I didn’t agree with what Carla was doing, but I could see how she could’ve reached that point of selfishness and I could see how her actions mirrored my own. To be honest, what Carla was doing was tame compared to what I did after my divorce. Maybe that’s why her behavior was bothering me so much. Maybe watching what she was doing reminded me too much of myself. Lord knows, I wanted to help her, but truthfully, I needed just as much help as she did.

  ~*~

  Friday night was so ridiculously hectic that I didn’t have the energy to have lunch with Chris on Saturday as we’d planned. Saturday night wasn’t much better, and I don’t even want to discuss Sunday night. I was relieved when my shift was over Monday morning, and I was thrilled to make it home and crawl into bed.

  Carla and I really hadn’t spoken to each other much since our last conversation. We’d both been so exhausted from work that we’d mostly just moved around the apartment in silence. Our rides to and from work were tense and silent as well. I really, really regretted not driving my own car to St. Louis.

  Monday morning, I’d planned to sleep most of the day and get up and call Chris that evening. Well, my plans were thwarted pretty quickly. Maybe thwarted is not a good word to use, but they were certainly altered. Around noon, I heard banging on the front door. I rolled over in bed without opening my eyes, hoping that Carla would answer it since it was probably for her anyway.

  The banging continued, and finally, I sat up in bed. Disgusted, I grabbed my robe and wrapped it around me as I schlepped to the front door, ready to cuss out whoever had disturbed my much-needed sleep.

  I swung the door open without even checking the peep hole and said, “Yes?!” in as disgusted a tone as I could muster.

  There, standing on the other side of the door, was Chris looking too good, grinning from ear to ear, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. His clothes fit him so well, I was beginning to wonder if he had them specially made or something.

  “Did I wake you?” he asked.

  “Well, yeah, me and probably Carla, too.”

  “Nah, not Carla. I just saw her downstairs, getting in the car with Quinton.”

  I shook my head. “Figures.”

  “Can I come in?”

  I stood there for a moment, staring at the fit of those jeans he was wearing. Then I came to myself. “Uh, yeah, come on in.”

  I backed out of the doorway and allowed him to enter the apartment. As he passed me, his cologne filled my nostrils. He looked and smelled good, and at that point, I was really feeling me some Chris King.

  I offered him a seat on the sofa and sat down next to him before realizing I was only wearing my nightshirt and robe. I rubbed my hand across the scarf that covered my head. I must’ve looked a hot mess.

  “Hey, let me take a quick shower and get decent,” I said.

  He nodded. “Okay, dress comfortably. I’ve got a lot to show you today.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “What makes you think I’m going anywhere with you?”

  “Because you are,” he said, then brought his face close to mine and looked me in the eye.

  I watched as his eyes slowly fell to my lips. We sat there for a moment—me holding my breath with my eyes glued to him, him with his eyes glued to my lips. And then he kissed me—slowly, softly. As he pulled away from me, he gently tugged on my bottom lip with his teeth. And with his eyes still on my mouth he said, "I knew it."

  “You… you knew what?” I asked as I tried to catch my breath.

  “I knew your lips were soft.”

  “Oh, uh, thank you.”

  He lifted his gaze to my eyes and smiled. “You’re welcome.”

  We sat there and stared at each other. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. “Um, I think I was about to do something,” I whispered.

  He nodded. “You were gonna get dressed so we can head out.”

  “Oh, yeah, I… I’ll be right back,” I stammered as I left the living room. I stumbled and had to grab the wall as I walked down the hall to my room.

  For some reason, I was trembling as I showered. It must’ve been that kiss, because I swear I felt electricity when his lips met mine. I felt tingly in places I’d forgotten even existed on my body. It was as if he’d jump-started every part of me.

  As I toweled off, I searched through my closet and finally settled on a pair of jeans that fit my wide hips just right, a sleeveless red blouse that showed just the right amount of my ample cleavage, and a comfortable pair of gold sandals. I quickly dressed, picked out my ’fro, put on some gold hoop earrings, and headed back to the living room. If that kiss was any indication of how things with Chris were going to be, I couldn’t wait for more!

  Chris stood to his feet and shook his head when I entered the room. “My, my, my, Ms. Meadows. Don’t you look beautiful.”

  I looked down at my outfit and shrugged. “It’s just some jeans and a blouse, but thank you.”

  He walked over to me, took my hand, and kissed it. “You sure do wear it well.”

  I dropped my eyes and tried to hide the giddiness that was rising up inside of me. “Um, thanks, again.”

  He smiled down at me. “Come on, let’s go.”

  I followed Chris out of the apartment and we walked to his car hand-in-hand. Once we were in his car, I asked, “Where are we going?”

  “Well, I figured we’d grab something to eat and head to Pacific.”

  “Pacific? Is that a town?”

  Chris glanced at me and smiled. “Yeah, it’s a little under an hour away. There’s something there that I wanna show you.”

  I nodded. I bet there’s a lot you could show me.

  “But if you wanna see the Pacific Ocean, that can be arranged, too.”

  “Hmm, so are you saying that my wish is your command?” I asked as I gave him a little side-eye.

  He shot me a sly grin. “All day, every day, baby.”

  I tried not to smile as I turned my head and gazed out the window. I tried and failed.

  After grabbing a couple of biscuits at a fast food restaurant, we hit the highway, headed toward a destination unknown to me. The conversation was light along the way until I asked a question that had been burning my brain.

  “Chris, what did you mean when you said you didn’t know if your son lived here?” I asked.

  His grip on the steering wheel tightened and the smile he always wore disappeared from his face. “Um, it’s a long story.”

  I reached over and placed my hand gently on his arm. “We’ve got time. Tell me.”

  Chris took a deep breath and slowly released it. “Um, well, I met his mom, Fatima, back in college. She was from St. Louis, too. We were together a couple of years, and after I graduated, she moved to Texas with me. I’d gotten a job teaching music at a high school there. I really cared about her and was thinking about marrying her. So anyway, she got pregnant after we’d been there about a year. When Russ was born, my life changed in so many ways.

  “I asked Fatima to marry me, but she said she wasn’t ready. It seemed like while I was trying to settle down and grow up, she did the exact opposite. After she had Russ, she started staying out late, disappearing for days at a time. Later on, her mother told me that mental illness ran in her family. She said that Fatima had been dealing with some emotional issues for years. I never saw it in her until she had Russ, though. Anyway, when Russ was about eighteen months old, she up and left. Moved in with some guy she’d met and left Russ with me.”

  He paused and shook his head. “My parents eventually talked me into coming back home so they could help me with the baby. I got a place here and quit working so I could spend more time with him. He had a lot of respiratory infections and ended up being diagnosed
with asthma, so I liked to stay close to him.

  “When Russ was three, Fatima called me crying, saying that her boyfriend had left her and that she had nowhere to go. She said she missed me and Russell. So like a dummy, I sent her a ticket and flew her back here.”

  “You weren’t dumb. She was your son’s mother and you just wanted to help her,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, true to form, she bit the hand that fed her. She was only here for like five months before she ran off again. Only this time, she took Russell with her and moved in with some drug dealer. I tried to get him back, but since we were never married and had no legal custody agreement, there was nothing I could really do. I decided to sue for custody and won—mostly because she didn’t even bother to show up for court. When the police went with me to pick Russell up, she’d left. She’s been on the run ever since. There’s even an Amber Alert out for him. I’ve hired all kinds of private detectives, but I haven’t found him yet. It’s… it’s like they just disappeared.