Taming Precious Sinclair (12 page)

“How long have you been a smoker?”

He smiled, saying... “Since college. Actually, I didn’t start smoking until my senior year.”

“Have you ever tried to quit?”

“No. But I’ve thought about it.”

“You really should. Smoking isn’t healthy.”

“Yes, I know. It says that on the package.”

“Then why haven’t you stopped? I’ve never understood that about smokers. Years ago, when the tobacco companies suppressed the truth; people didn’t know how harmful smoking could be to their health. But all that changed. Now, everyone knows, but the facts don’t seem to be enough of a deterrent.”

“Alcohol can be dangerous.” He said with a glint in his eyes. When she’d chosen her seat, Hamilton had noticed the wineglass gripped in her hand. He said...

“Drinking liqueur can damage your liver. Not to mention other vital organs essential to life.”

“You’re right, but it isn’t the same.”

“Isn’t it?” he asked but Precious didn’t want to debate this. They would go round and round and still end up in the same place. Sure, drinking could be just as dangerous. But in moderation; drinking liquor wasn’t as harmful as smoking or chewing tobacco. Or at least, that’s what she’d come to believe.

He could see by the way she’d lowered her eyes, looking off into the darkness; Precious wouldn’t continue this topic. So he said...

“Look, you’re right. Smoking is a filthy habit but I’ve never tried to stop because I never had a reason to.”

“Hamilton, are you saying that not even one important person in your life has ever suggested you should stop smoking?”

Hamilton was silent. The answer was right on the tip of his tongue but he wasn’t sure if Precious would understand. So, instead, he answered using his cunning wit and charm; thereby avoiding boldface lies.

“Precious, if I didn’t have at least one vice, reporters would print that I am perfect. Now, I’m sure you would agree; we can’t have the press printing stories like that.”

He smiled at her, and the flickering firelight danced in his eyes; making the gray appear deeper in color. His gaze was cutting right through her. Hamilton was deliberately studying her mood. She breathed in the cool night air but her lungs felt tight and her heart was slamming in her chest. Precious remembered that she still held her wineglass. She dismissed his claims about liqueur, and she ignored her warnings about smoking. Precious drank from her glass to calm her nerves. She didn’t know if it was the fire, the ambiance or the way Hamilton’s eyes glared right through her; whatever the cause, her body was overwrought with a longing to be touched. Precious sipped until the chardonnay warmed her toes. As she did this, Hamilton said...

“If my smoking bothers you. Then I’ll stop.”

Her eyebrows rose in confusion, when she said...

“You shouldn’t say things like that, unless you really mean it.”

“I do.” Hamilton said. He reached his hand in an inside pocket of his jacket. Hamilton pulled out a silver platinum case. The one in which he stored his cigarettes. Without any hesitation, he tossed it into the fire. She couldn’t begin to fathom why he’d just done this.

“Hamilton... You didn’t need to throw the case into the fire.”

“I’ve sworn off smoking, so what good is a cigarette case to me?”

“But... But...” Precious didn’t know what to say. Then when her mind cleared, she said as a warning.

“Quitting isn’t easy Hamilton. Giving up a habit may take years and years before the behavior finally sticks.”

“Not for me. When I set my mind to do something....I do it. No questions asked. No turning back.”

“But smoking is different.”

“No, Precious it isn’t. You’ve tolerated my smoking because I only smoke when I’m outdoors and you’re not around. But since arriving here, I’ve noticed that my habit irritates you.” Hamilton’s gray eyes were serious when he said...

“I don’t want to be linked to anything undesirable where you’re concerned. So you see... Now I have a reason to quit. I can stop smoking because I refuse to take years and years to achieve this.”

“But it isn’t that easy Hamilton.”

“It is for me.” He insisted.

Just like the topic concerning the phone call; Hamilton leaned back on the bench. He’d had his say, and in his mind; this conversation had been laid to rest. Hamilton raked his fingers through his hair; considering another topic of concern. Since arriving at his home, he’d been on the edge of asking her but Precious had seemed to fragile. Now, after drinking the wine; she looked downright at peace. However, if he was wrong, he was certain that later he could repair the damage.

He asked...

“So, tell me... What is it that you have against marriage?”

Precious felt her eyes buck out. She’d just taken a sip from her glass, then swallowed. Had his timing been off by just a few seconds; her gasp would have diverted the wine down the wrong way. She wondered where in the world had that question sprung from. She wiggled her bottom on her seat. Valid question, she thought to herself. Precious inhaled before saying...

“Marriage.... Well.... Let’s see... Marriage is an institution that doesn’t appeal to me.”

His eyebrow raised, clearly he needed further explanation. She inhaled again, then said...

“Marriage is an anchor. An anchor linked to a thick chain, preventing forward momentum.”

“Anchors are a good thing.” He said... “They keep boats moored to the quay. They also prevent drifting or collusions with rock formations.”

“That’s a bad analogy” She said frowning. He laughed then said...

“All right... But you’re the one that started this anchor bit and maybe my comparison wasn’t the best.” He thought for a moment, then said...

“OK, try this one on for size.” In the firelight, she could see the embers shimmering in his silver eyes.

“In marriage; the partners need something that keeps them centered. An object... Better yet. A purpose that keeps them wanting the same thing. Whatever it is that brought the couple together...that thing, or purpose is their anchor. It centers them. It reminds them why they got married in the first place.”

“Baloney.” She said, then Precious laughed.

“Not buying it huh.” He said, as a statement and not a question.

“Not on your life. Marriage is an anchor all right. An anchor tying the woman to her house and home. An anchor that highjacks her uterus then traps her with its responsibilities. Then, before she knows what hit her... She’s taking an extended leave from her job... Or maybe never returning at all.”

“Come on...” He hedged. “You cannot be serious. You’re talking like a suffragette. We live in the twenty-first century. Married women can have whatever they want. However they want it.”

“Believe the hype if you want, but I’m not willing to risk my life on myths and dreams.”

“Precious... Please tell me that you’re joking.”

She couldn’t believe that she was having this conversation with Hamilton Gantry. The man whose presence had fueled her dreams and all of her most recent orgasms. Now, that was a topic for conversation.

She tucked her knees in tight, pushing her feet beneath the bench. Holding her ground, she said...

“Look... You’re a man and this is a subject you could never possibly understand.”

“Try me...” and Hamilton really meant it. He wanted to know what made her tick. He needed to understand her.

Precious hemmed and hawed. Pushing branches and twigs that lie near her with her feet. Then she said...

“Hamilton, I want a life that I can control. I want to work as long as I want; without worrying that a husband will be angry when I come home late...or if I don’t come home at all. I don’t want a husband reminding me that couples typically make babies or that a wife should tend to her husbands needs. I don’t want the bother and I don’t want the hassle. I saw what my moms life was like and I’m an only child.”

“But, your mother didn’t appear to be unhappy.”

“I didn’t say that she was. My mom is happy and my parents have a loving, healthy relationship. But we’re two different people and when she was my age; my mom wanted to be a wife and a mother.”

“But you don’t.” Again, she noticed the inflection in his voice. His words had not been phrased to form a question. She stared at eyes that knew her so well.

“No, hamilton, I don’t want the same things that my mother wanted. And that doesn’t make me a bad person.”

“I didn’t say that you were a bad person.”

“No, you didn’t. But the people marching in front of my home... They think that I’m bad.”

“Precious... The people in front of your home... They don’t know you. They know the person that they saw on television. The image that you portrayed for the reality television program.” He stared at her saying... “That person isn’t the real Amelia Precious Sinclair.”

Until arriving at his home, Precious couldn’t recall a time when she and Hamilton had simply sat and talked about absolutely nothing. They had never had one of those, ‘
shoot the breeze’
sort of casual conversations. She knew the value of those easy going talks. People tended to relax, saying things that they might not otherwise say under different circumstances. Even so, Hamilton had pegged her. He knew Precious as well as her dearest friends. In a sense, it was frightening how much he saw into her soul. She’d always assumed that Hamilton Gantry favored her over the other women cast on the reality show. But until now, her thoughts had been nothing more than gut instincts. But over the past few days, Hamilton had given her more than a few hints. His remarks and stares made her know with certainty; in the past his observations had not been fleeting, and his attention to her character explained why he knew her so well. Nonetheless, even though the idea of him admiring her was pleasing; she couldn’t allow herself to dwell on that now. Precious wanted to continue their conversation about marriage. She said...

“So, do you believe in marriage?”

“Yes. I do.”

Hamilton didn’t pause nor hesitate and that startled her for a moment. She asked...

“Then, why aren’t you married?”

Precious was curious but oddly, she was glad that he wasn’t legally attached.

“I do believe in marriage as long as it’s with the right person. For me, that person will be someone that I can respect and build a life with. I want a woman who knows her mind and isn’t afraid to stand up for what she wants or believes in. I’m looking for the right woman to hold my heart. A person who cares about her dreams as well as mines.” Hamilton stared at her, and he waited a beat; giving her time to absorb what he’d just confessed. Then after a few more heartbeats, he sighed and said...

“When the time comes... I’ll married that woman. Until then, it’s me and me alone.”

She took a stab in the dark...

“I hope your assistant knows that.”

“What...?” He laughed.

“I saw the way she drooled over you.”

He stared at her for a moment, wondering if she was being serious. Then he considered that perhaps, this was another one of her deflections to steer the topic away from her. But as he took her in, inch by inch; her posture and expression had not changed. She was waiting for a response and he was fairly certain that she expected a serious answer.

He cleared his throat, then he wondered how much he should say.

“Well, as for my assistant. I’m not her type.”

“Not her type?” She couldn’t imagine Hamilton not being any woman’s type. She hedged saying... “Is she gay?”

He laughed...

“I wouldn’t have been surprised if she was...but no, she isn’t. My assistant prefers dating black guys. She once told me that she likes them tall, dark and hanging. Whatever that means.” Precious noticed that he didn’t appear to be jealous or injured by her snub. His assistant was a bit of an eccentric and he wasn’t at all bothered by this. Hamilton added...

“Actually, Audrey limits her picks to professional basketball players. I’ve never seen her date anyone that didn’t fit that bill.”

“She’s a groupie...?” She said shocked. Hamilton laughed, then he said...

“Every year, her Christmas gift is the same. Court side season tickets to the Lakers games.”