A Good Excuse To Be Bad (2 page)

“Of course, you don't, because you're a good girl.” He stood up and reached for my hand. “Surprisingly, I'm not a clubber either. How about you leave your car and I take you for a quiet night drive through the city, then over to the Cupcakery for some dessert. By the time we get back, Dusty will be closing up this place.”

“I don't know. I don't think Dustin would like that so much. Sounds too much like a date.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He scratched his head like his cousin, another Taylor trait.

“Besides, your girlfriend would be upset if you left her here.”

“What girlfriend?”

I pointed toward the ladies' room. “Her.”

“Oh, her. We're not together.”

I came closer and whispered in his ear. “Neither are Dustin and me.”

He smiled and his eyes outshined the VIP lounge.

“Why don't you escort me to my car and follow me home instead, just to make sure I get there safe?”

He placed his hand at the small of my back. “I can do that.”

Because Cade almost carried me out of Night Candy, I couldn't text Big Tiger to let him know that I was coming outside. All I could do was hope he was where he said he would be.

We stepped outside. No Big Tiger. I hit the hands-free Talk button on my phone earpiece and voice-activated Big Tiger's phone number to dial. I got nothing. My heart began to race. Where was he?

“Is something wrong?” Cade asked. His hands were all over me.

I removed his hands, but said nothing. I had no words.

Sometimes bail bondsmen needed women locators to lure a defendant out of their hiding spot. I didn't mind doing it. Honestly, I needed the money, but we had a deal. I brought them out; he rode them in. So why was I out here alone? Well, not entirely alone . . . with Octopus Cade.

Cade watched me. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“I have a confession to make.” I scrambled for something to say while fiddling for my handcuffs. They were trapped somewhere under the chiffon.

“So do I.” He pulled me toward him. “I can't keep my hands off you.”

I wanted to cuff him, but I couldn't, because he had wrapped his hands around my waist.

“Not here, not like this.” I removed his hold on me again, but held on to one of his hands.

He smiled until he felt—I assumed—my cold handcuffs clank against his wrists. “What the—”

“You've violated your bail agreement, Mr. Taylor,” I said. Still no Big Tiger in sight. “So you'll have to come with me.”

He chuckled as he dangled my handcuffs—the ones I thought had locked him to me—over his head for me to see. A piece of my dress had wedged between the clamp. They were broken. My heart hit the floor.

“Unless these handcuffs are chaining me to your bed, I'm not going anywhere with you, sweetie.”

Then, quicker than I anticipated, he head-butted me. I saw stars and fell to the ground. A pain so bad crossed my forehead, it reminded me of labor pains. I couldn't scream. I had to breathe through it to ease the pain.

The head-butting must have stung Cade, too, because he stumbled before he could get his footing. I caught one of his legs and clutched it. I closed my eyes and groaned as he dragged me down the alley. Through the excruciating bumps and scrapes I received holding on to Cade, past the onlookers who didn't care to help this poor damsel in distress, I asked myself, “Why wouldn't I let go?”

My forehead and my skinned knees throbbed now. I'm pretty sure Whitney's dress looked like wet trash. To make matters worse, I was angry with myself for putting myself in this position. I couldn't afford to be so cavalier anymore. I knew that before I took this stupid assignment. I knew it while I sat at the bar. I knew it the day I became a mother, but I did it anyway. What's wrong with me? I couldn't leave my daughter alone without a parent. Now I had to hurt this fool to get back to my baby in one piece.

Cade stopped and cursed. My heart beat so fast and loud, I prayed it would calm down so I could prepare for his next move.

“Angel, sweetie, I think we need to have a little talk.”

He pulled me up by my hair, my store-bought hair. I wore a combed-in hairpiece because I didn't have time to go to a hair salon and I didn't want to damage my hair. However, Cade's tugging made the plastic teeth dig deeper into my scalp. I screamed to keep from fainting.

“Shut up!” He slapped me. “You stupid—”

Before he could say another word, I grounded my feet then threw a round kick so high and hard with my left leg that I heard his jaw crack against my stilettos. He hit the ground, unconscious. While he was knocked out, I turned him over and handcuffed him again, but from the back this time and with the chiffon visibly gone.

I dialed Big Tiger. “Where are you?”

“Where did I tell you I was gon' be?” Big Tiger's voice seemed crystal clear. “Right here.”

Someone tapped my shoulder. I jumped.

“It's a good thing I showed up when I did. You could have killed the man. I'da lost my money and then I would have had to take care of your raggedy bond.” Big Tiger laughed, then helped me hoist Cade up. “Why didn't you wait instead of messing up your sister's dress? How many dresses have you slaughtered now?”

I looked at him and growled. “Say that again. I dare you.”

“And your face, Angel Soft.” He squinted. “I think we'd better call 911 after we put homeboy in my truck.”

I walked toward Big Tiger with the intent to give him a right hook across his jaw. When I lunged, I think I fainted. I don't know what happened next and I almost didn't care until the EMS worker asked me whom I should call to let them know I was being taken to the emergency room.

“Call my sisters. Tell them where I am and make sure Ava comes to get me.”

Then I faded back to black and it felt good. In my dreams, Dustin was on his knees proposing to me with some chocolates and a pink diamond.

His voice was so clear. “Angel, will you . . . be healed in the name of God.”

 

I
awoke in an ER examination room to find a familiar stranger praying at my bedside. I sat up, squinted, and blinked until his face came into full view. It was my pastor, Justus Morgan, not Night Candy's Dustin, as I had dreamed. Tonight had been crazy enough, but what in the world was he doing here?

I wanted to ask him, but he was at the tail end of praying for me.

“God, show your providence. Show her that she doesn't have to do it all. Amen,” he whispered.

I touched my throbbing head and groaned. “I'd like to see Him try.”

“As soon as you let Him, He will.” He looked up and grinned.

I smiled back. Suddenly losing dreamy Dustin didn't feel so bad.

“How are you?”

I said nothing because I was fixated on his smile. Whitney and I likened Justus to a frosted glass of lemonade iced tea: tall, golden brown, and refreshing. He had cinnamon-and-russet-colored twists that fell past his shoulders. His eyes were the color of cane syrup drizzled over golden flapjacks, and he had a dimple in his right cheek deeper than the slits in Aunt Frankie's hot apple pies. A bronzed angel was what the other ladies in the Women's Ministry called him. To me, he was perfect, and looking at that man now kneeling before me, I wished to God I were perfect, too.

Justus touched my leg, which wakened me out of my crush haze. “Are you okay, Angel?”

“I will be, but I'm curious.” I sat up straighter. “Why are you here? Where's my sister?”

“Your sister Ava was tied up with an emergency of her own, so I'm here to bring you home.” He stood up. “I know you weren't expecting me, but I assured Whitney that I would take good care of you. She sent these for you.”

He handed me my favorite pink Hello Kitty duffel bag. “She assumed your clothes would be confiscated for evidence.”

My little sister Whitney was pre-law at Emory University, which translated in real speak as her mind was set on thinking way too much. In lieu of paying for room and board, she was also my on-call au pair, but if she asked me to spot her any more cash for her sorority activities, she would involuntarily become my law records researcher, too. Nonetheless, I was glad she gave Justus some clothes for me. I didn't want him to see me in that ripped cocktail dress.

I don't know what impression he had of me, but I would die if he thought I was the woman I was paid to pretend to be.

“Actually, Justus, they took photographs. Besides, it was a simple AB charge stacked on top of Cade's failure to appear, bank robbery, and God-knows-what-else charges. I think the DA's office has their hands full with enough stuff to put him away without needing my dress.”

“I'm sorry that happened to you,” Justus said; then he patted my leg again.

I looked down at his hand on my leg. I hadn't realized how touchy-feely he was. But I noticed that every touch from him excited me more. That realization troubled me very much. Was I becoming just as perverted as the criminals I seized? Justus was my pastor, not some dude I met at a bar. This crush with my pastor was stupid. I had to stop it now.

I shifted in the bed.

I assumed he noticed my discomfort, but instead of removing his hand from my leg, he held me tighter and leaned closer to me.

“I know because we're here in a hospital that you're not physically okay, but how are you feeling?” he asked.

“Sore and embarrassed.”

“I'm sorry.” Finally, he removed his hand. “Don't be embarrassed. What that man did to you was wrong. Perhaps you need a pick-me-up.” He reached down beside the bed and pulled up a glass vase filled with white roses. “I was told these were your favorite.”

“Thanks, Rev.” Smiling hurt, but I couldn't help it. He had a way with me. I shook my head. “You're such a nice guy.”

Justus pointed upward. “He's nice, not me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Please tell me that you're going to be human today.”

He chuckled. “What does that mean?”

“No offense, Rev, but I can't deal with the preacher talk tonight. I've already had my Jesus moment. Okay?”

“Gotcha. But in the future, call me Justus. That way we won't start the conversation so preachy.” He winked.

“Okay.” I placed the flowers on the bed stand, then unzipped the bag and looked inside. Whitney had packed a white tee and a pair of jeans. I smiled. Dull, just like I liked it. “How's Bella?”

“Bella's fine. According to Whitney, she's asleep. She doesn't know that you're not home, but you'll have to explain the shiner on your forehead.”

I reached for my purse, which was also on the nightstand, and pulled out my compact. I looked at myself and gasped. My face was swollen, and my forehead looked like someone had sketched a tic-tac-toe game on it.

“I look hideous. I can't be seen in public like this.”

He shook his head and chuckled.

I frowned. “What's funny? My face?”

“No, your face is gorgeous. Your reaction to what I said about the shiner on your forehead was funny, but that's beside the point.”

A normal woman would have found a compliment in what he just said about me being gorgeous, but I'm not normal. I had to say something smart. “And your point is?”

“When your sister called me and told me what happened, I . . .” He blushed, then looked away. “I shouldn't have said anything. Bella will be fine. I'm sure you will come up with a reason that won't cause her to worry about you.”

“No . . . that's not what you meant. Go ahead and spit it out. I'm a big girl.”

“It is what I meant.” He paused and rubbed his head; then he looked at me, opened his mouth, closed it, then exhaled. “I didn't think you would flip out about the scars on your face when I mentioned them to you. I was just preparing you for when Bella noticed. After all, she is a child and they notice everything. She will be as worried as I was.”

I looked up. “You're worried?”

He nodded. “More than you know.”

“Don't worry.” I pulled my legs in closer. “Scars can heal or be hidden.”

“You don't have to hide from me, Angel. I see you.”

“What if I don't want you to?”

“It's too late.” He paused, then stood up. “Now, stop being so extra. I gotta get you home before Whitney rings my neck.”

I lowered my head. “Now on top of feeling ugly, I feel foolish.”

“Just feel better.” He bent toward where I sat, then rested his hand on my left shoulder. Touchy-feely. “I'm going to step outside so you can change into something—”

“Less revealing. I wondered when you would get around to that.”

“Calm down,” he scoffed. “I was about to say change into something more comfortable.”

How embarrassing. I covered my head with my hands. “I'm sorry, Justus. For whatever reason, I can't seem to keep my foot out of my mouth. That's no excuse for being so abrasive with you. It's not right.”

“In my experience, we act out because we're hurt. What's really hurting you?”

“My head hurts.”

He sat down beside me again. “No, I mean, what's hurting your heart?”

“I can't tell you that.” I pursed my lips. “No offense, but you wouldn't understand if I told you.”

He touched my hands. I jumped. “Oh.”

He removed my hands from my eyes with his hands; then he touched my forehead with one palm. I peeked and held my breath. His eyes were so close to mine I saw the twinkles from the hospital light shimmer in his eyes. Did all the men in Atlanta have such nice eyes?

He lowered his hand and sat back. “Feeling better?”

I nodded.

“Then try me. I may understand more than you know.”

The sour bleached scent of the hospital room no longer destroyed my sense of smell. Justus's heady cologne warmed up the room and stirred something inside me that I hadn't felt before—an urgent need to spill my guts.

“To be honest, I'm self-conscious about you being here. It's quite the surprise, but more than that I'm really bummed that Ava isn't here. She's only ten minutes away, but she didn't come. She didn't want to come. I don't understand her anymore.”

“From what Whitney told me, Ava had a good reason for not being here. But if it's any consolation to you, I'm glad I was the second choice. Actually, I was shocked.”

So was I. I would thank Whitney later
. “Well, I'm full of surprises tonight.”

“I have a feeling you're full of surprises any night.”

“Why do you say that?”

He blushed again. “Get dressed and I'll tell you on the drive home. By the way, Bob Buisson, one of our church members, has towed your car home for you. No charge. And I have your gun and all the tiny weapons you had on you when you arrived at the hospital. They're in a plastic bag. I've already put them in my car.”

“Got to be more careful.” I covered my face with the hospital sheets.

“It's fine.” He walked toward the door, then turned around. “Did you hear my prayer for you earlier?”

I nodded. “Some of it.”

He shrugged. “I don't want to sound preachy, just want to remind you that what we think we see isn't always the truth. Give Ava the benefit of the doubt. Truth reveals itself in due time.”

I bobbed my head, but didn't buy it. The benefit of the doubt never applied to Ava, and as for time, she hadn't come clean with me yet about what happened at the
Sentinel.

As soon as Justus left, I reached for the hospital phone and dialed my home.

Whitney answered on the first ring. “How is she?”

“I'm fine, Whitney. It's me.”

“Oh, I thought it was Justus. Cool. Cool.” She paused. “Were you as surprised as me that he came?”

Her velvety voice held a hint of mischief. Good thing she was on the right side of the law.

I shook my head. “I'll deal with you later about that. Where is Ava?”

“She couldn't come. Don't get upset, but I think she and Devon are having some problems.”

“Not the Adam and Eve of Holy-wood. Can't be.”

Ava was the wife of Bishop Devon McArthur. He ministered to the largest church in Atlanta, Greater Atlanta Faith. The church had 30,000 members and had made my sister and brother-in-law Christian household names. They became famous with their couple's ministry program and Wedding Guild. There was no way they could be having marital problems. Ava was just being Ava, too goody-goody to come down to grimy Grady Hospital to see her unladylike twin. That's the problem.

“Angel, not for nothing, I believe her,” Whitney said. “When I called and told her what happened to you and where you were, Ava was so hurt and scared for you, but she couldn't come. She was crying. In fact, she offered to send a driver to bring you home, but then I thought of Justus.”

“Yeah, you sure did.”

“You can thank me later, but anyway . . . Angel, something is going on at Ava's. She said she would tell us when you're feeling better. So you get your butt home, so we can find out.”

“Okay. Did you call Mom?”

Our Mom lived in Marietta but was spending the week in Myrtle Beach with her new hubby. I couldn't remember his name. Saturday they would travel to Italy for their honeymoon. I was happy for her and a little jealous, too. If we didn't tell her about my beat down before one of our nosy aunts did, I would be in more trouble than Cade Taylor.

“Yes, ma'am. She said she would deal with you when she returned.”

“Whatever,” I huffed. Honestly, I was a bit scared. “Justus is waiting outside and I haven't gotten dressed, so I need to go. Thanks for the clothes.”

“You're welcome, but one more thing.”

“One more, Whitney.”

“Ask him to drive you home slow.” Whitney giggled, then hung up.

 

 

It was such a nice ride back to Sugar Hill, I didn't want it to end. The sky was a deep, but clear, romantic midnight blue. The Atlanta smog had taken a nap, because I could see the big, full moon guiding us home. The stars sparkled so bright they reminded me of Dustin; then I realized I was heavily medicated and seriously craving male companionship. As I watched Justus run around the front of his truck to open my door, I reminded myself again that he was my pastor and nothing more.

He opened the door. “Did I get you home safe and sound?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir, you did.”

He smiled and leaned down toward me. “Good.”

My heart raced as his arms moved around me. Wow, the cologne he wore made me swoon in a good way until I noticed his eyes weren't on me, but my seat belt buckle.

“May I?” he asked.

“Sure.” I sucked in my tummy and chided myself for thinking the man was about to kiss me while he removed the safety belt from around me.

When he was done, he helped me out of the car and up my steps. He even unlocked the door for me. I shook my head and chuckled. I had had the pleasure of two gentlemen's company tonight. Maybe this was God's way of telling me that my prince may come after all.

I turned toward him. “Justus, I don't know how to thank you.”

“Stop sitting on the back pew in church.”

I shuffled my feet. “That might be hard.”

“Why?”

“Because most of the time I don't feel like I belong there.”

“Angel, if you're so self-conscious about your job, then why do you do what you do?”