This Time for Real (13 page)

“Mmm, those smell fantastic. What'd you put on them?”

“My secret rub recipe,” Malik replied, placing the platter on the counter and opening the cabinet to take out two plates.

“Well, I might just have to pry it out of you,” Peyton said, setting the potatoes on the plate. She doctored hers up by adding butter, cheese and sour cream from the fridge.

“I'm open to coercion.” Malik grinned devilishly as he added a rib-eye to each plate.

When their plates were full, they brought them to the dining room table. “We can't forget the wine.” Peyton rushed back into the kitchen. She returned carrying two generous glasses full and handed one to Malik. “I was thinking of surprising Jude by having my parents come for a visit to see his show now that mom's foot has healed.”

“I'm sure he'd like that.” Malik cut into his steak. “But I thought you said your parents hate to drive.”

“They do. I thought I'd surprise them with some plane tickets.”

“That's very generous of you,” Malik replied. He'd never seen a caring family relationship with both parents before. Sure, he, Dante, Quentin and Sage had looked out for each other growing up, but they'd had to. Life at the orphanage where they all grew up was no joke. Malik had learned to develop a tough image, along with a bad temper.

It had originally been just the boys. Sage came into the fold after they'd found some bullies picking on her. She'd been short and scrawny and unable to defend herself. When they stepped in the bullying stopped, and so their foursome had been formed.

“I'm sure you would do the same for Quentin, Dante or Sage.”

Malik nodded and took a forkful of salad.

“What about your biological family?” Peyton asked, digging into her baked potato. “You've never mentioned them or how you came to meet your friends.”

Malik sighed. He'd wondered when Peyton would inquire about his family. He'd made a point of avoiding it during their conversations, so he was sure Peyton's curiosity was piqued. “My mother died when I was young.” More like abandoned him, but he left out that part.

“And your father?”

“Never knew him.”

Peyton sighed. She was frustrated by Malik's brief remarks. Why did she have to pry information out of him? What was he hiding? “And? How did you meet your friends?”

“At an orphanage,” Malik replied. “We all bonded because of our mutual misfortune and vowed to stick together. And we did.”

Peyton clutched his hand. “Malik, I had no idea. I'm so sorry. How long were you there?”

“From the time I was ten years old until I was eighteen and considered a legal adult. After that—” Malik bunched his shoulders “—we all moved out and got a place together.”

Peyton digested the information. His mother had died so young and left him alone at such a tender age. It was incredible that Malik and his friends hadn't become a statistic. They'd all persevered and become successful in their respective careers. “So, the center—”

“Was a place of refuge,” Malik finished. “We went there when we needed to get away from the orphanage. We'd do our homework, shoot hoops, or whatever else, to avoid going back to our jail. If it wasn't for Andrew…”

“Your mentor?”

Malik nodded. “Who knows where I would have ended up? You see, I had a humongous chip on my shoulder back then, and the only person who saw through all that bravado was Andrew.”

Peyton nodded. Now it all made sense. The center had been like a second home to him. No wonder he'd been so resistant to Richard, someone he'd seen as a threat to the center. “I see why you respect him so much.”

“I do.”

“Thank you for sharing your story with me.” She was encouraged that Malik had revealed his past to her. “How about I clear up these dishes?” Peyton kissed him on the cheek and took the empty plates back to the kitchen.

As she walked away, Malik felt like a heel. He'd let Peyton assume that his mother had died, leaving him an orphan. The truth of the matter was that although the courts had removed Malik from his mother's custody due to child abuse, Joe had never been arrested, because
his mother had refused to testify against him. What he'd said was dishonest, but he just wasn't ready yet to share that part of himself with Peyton. Malik doubted if he would ever be ready.

“H
ey, Mom, guess who?” Peyton said from her apartment on Thursday. She had no classes and was kicking off her heels and taking a break from lecturing, researching and volunteering, to just relax.

“Peyton, darling, it's so good to hear your voice,” her mother, Lydia Allen, said from the other end, in Cleveland. “How's New York treating my sweetheart?”

“Great!” Peyton replied. “Actually, better than that.”

“Really? How so?”

“I love my new teaching gig at NYU, Mom. I have a great group of students that aren't afraid of getting their hands dirty and volunteering.”

“Sounds good, but why do I have a feeling there's a ‘but' in there?”

“There's one student, Kendra, a single mother who's in a domestic violence situation…”

“Have you given her information on organizations that can help her?”

“Yes. Malik and I both have, but—”

Her mother interrupted her. “There are no ‘buts.' You've done all you can do. The choice is up to her. You can't force someone to get help.”

“I know that in my head, but in my heart I feel so utterly helpless.”

“You know you've always had a savior complex.” Her mother chuckled.

“What do you mean?”

“Even when you were a child, you'd want to take in every stray cat and dog. Remember when you were eight and you wanted to take in a bird whose wings were clipped? You nursed that poor bird back to health, and when it finally found the strength to fly away you were utterly devastated.”

Peyton nodded. “I remember that. I was so heart-broken. I cried for days.”

“You can't save everyone,” her mother replied. “You can only do what you can with the tools you have. Now that we've tackled that subject. Why don't you tell me who this Malik person is? And why am I just now hearing about him?”

“Oh, Mother, he's great.” Peyton sighed and fell back against the sofa. “His name is Malik Williams. He's the director at the community center where I'm volunteering. He's compassionate and giving and totally gorgeous.” It amazed her that just like with David, she'd fallen hard and fast and there was no looking back.

“Sounds like you really fancy him?” Lydia asked happily.

“I do. We share the same interests and value system. We believe in family and in helping others. Can you
believe it, Mom? I finally found someone who is as philanthropic as we are.”

“He sounds too good to be true.”

“You have to meet him,” Peyton stated.

“Do you really think that's wise? You've only been in New York a short time,” her mother commented. “You don't want to scare the poor man off by meeting the parents too soon, do you?”

“Of course not. But you guys have to come, because how else are you going to see Jude's new show?”

“You have a point there.” Lydia had heard nothing but great things from Peyton and the New York newspapers that Jude had e-mailed her.

“It's settled then,” Peyton replied. “I bought two round-trip tickets from Cleveland to New York for you for next week. You'll come and see Jude's show and meet Malik.”

“Thank you, dear, you really are a wonderful daughter.”

“And you're an even better mother,” Peyton said. “Tell Dad I said hello.” Peyton was excited when she hung up. She couldn't wait for Malik to meet her parents.

 

Malik had just returned from making a special trip over to the Brooklyn center and treating the entire staff to pizza and sodas so they wouldn't feel neglected, when Loretta buzzed his intercom. “Malik, you have a visitor.”

Malik anticipated it might be Logan Hayes, his contractor. He suspected that they'd received their early start permit and be able to start demolition in the kitchen as early as next week. The contractor was sure he wouldn't have a problem getting the drawings approved. “Send him in,” Malik said.

Malik glanced up and, instead of seeing Logan, he found Joe Johnson at his doorway. “What are
you
doing here?”

“I came to see if you had a change of heart,” Joe said, barging into his office. “It doesn't look like anything has changed since the last time I was here, so you're probably pretty desperate right now and ready to negotiate.” Joe smirked.

Malik rose to his feet. “Sorry to disappoint you, Joe, but I'm far from desperate. The center has a sponsor. A multimillion-dollar-conglomerate backing the renovations.”

Joe's smirk quickly turned into a frown. “Who would be dumb enough to donate money to this shack?”

“Richard King,” Malik replied smoothly.

“The business mogul?”

“The same,” Malik said, smiling. “So, as you can see, we will not need Johnson Construction's services—not now or in the future.”

“Oh, you think you're a big shot now, huh,” Joe replied, walking towards Malik, “just because you conned King into giving you some money. King probably feels sorry for you.”

Malik paused to gather patience. “That's far from the truth. Unlike you, Joe, some people do things out of the goodness of their hearts.”

“Oh, please, I'm sure you laid it on thick. Poor, pathetic Malik grew up as an orphan. When you and I both know the truth, which is that your mother didn't want you because you were a worthless little punk.”

Malik took a threatening step towards him. “I've had just about enough of you. Get out!” Malik pointed to the door.

“Am I getting to you, Mr. Director,” Joe taunted. “Surely, nothing can get under your skin.”

Malik reached out and grabbed Joe by the collar. He wanted to beat the crap out of him, but instead he counted
to ten and shoved him backward. “You get out of here before I call the police and have you escorted out.”

Joe straightened his back and brushed off his collar as if Malik weren't good enough to touch him. “You came from nothing and you will always be nothing, Malik Williams.”

Joe's words lingered long after he'd left, causing Malik to slam his fist on the desk.

 

Peyton was determined to speak with Kendra after her lecture on Friday. She'd given the young mother a wide berth in the hopes that she would take Malik's advice, but Kendra had said nothing.

As soon as class was over, Kendra darted out of the room. Peyton grabbed her satchel and flew off down the hall behind her. When she exited, Peyton found Omar and Kendra arguing in front of the building.

“Get in the car!” Omar grabbed Kendra by the arm.

“No!” Kendra jerked her arm away. “I told you we're staying at my grandmother's until you get some help to deal with your anger issues.”

“You are not taking my daughter away,” Omar replied, “so get in.” Omar pushed Kendra towards the passenger door.

“What do you think you're doing?” Peyton called out, running down the stairs. “Get your hands off of her.”

Omar whirled around. “The lady professor again.” Omar shook his head. “Don't you ever learn? I told you to mind your own business. This is between Kendra and me.”

Peyton reached inside her handbag for her cell phone. “Either you take your hands off her right now, or I'm calling campus security.” Peyton held up her cell.

Omar stepped away from Kendra and walked around
to the driver's door. “I don't need that kind of hassle,” he said and jumped into his Mustang. Once inside, he turned on the engine and rolled down the passenger window. “Know this, Kendra,” he yelled, “it's not over.” Seconds later, he was speeding away.

“Are you okay?” Peyton asked, touching Kendra's arm.

Kendra nodded and rubbed her arm. “I'm fine. Just a little shaken.”

“If you like, we can talk in my office,” Peyton suggested.

“You don't mind?”

“C'mon.” Peyton wrapped her arm around Kendra's shoulder. “My office is a couple of blocks away.”

They walked a short distance to her office and climbed the stairs to the second floor. Peyton unlocked the door and switched on the light. Kendra followed her inside and sat down.

“Why don't I make you some tea?” Peyton suggested, and plugged in a hot water kettle that she kept on hand for stressful occasions. She pulled two mugs and a box of herbal tea out of her drawer and placed two bags inside. “So, when did you move out?”

“When Omar was at work one night, I packed up a few things and left. After reading those horror stories in the pamphlets that Malik gave me, I realized I didn't want me and my daughter to be another statistic. And that, as much as I love Omar, he needs some help. He's only hit me once or twice, but he's manhandled me lots of times. And if I let this continue it's going to escalate and I could wind up in the hospital.”

“What you did took bravery and courage, and I'm really proud of you,” Peyton replied.

“Thanks, Dr. Sawyer. You've really been amazing,”
Kendra said. “I would have never found the courage to leave Omar on my own.”

“Don't give me props just yet. I want to get you the help you need.”

“You think I might be able to meet with Mr. Williams again?” Kendra asked, “I have those forms filled out.”

“Of course. Mr. Williams has an open-door policy,” Peyton replied. She felt strangely odd, being so formal about Malik. When the tea kettle whistled, Peyton poured steaming water into the two mugs. “I'm sure he'll be very happy to see you. And if you'd like, I can come with you. I'm done with classes.”

Kendra smiled. “I would like that.”

After they finished their tea, they hopped a train to Harlem and walked to the center.

“Hey, Loretta,” Peyton said when they walked through the reception doors. “Is Malik in?”

Loretta smiled. “For you, he certainly is. Go on in.”

“C'mon, Kendra,” Peyton said, pushing through the double doors.

Malik's door was open, as always. “Hey there!”

When he looked up from his computer and saw Peyton, Malik smiled. Peyton was just what he needed after Joe Johnson's visit.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Malik rose from his desk and walked towards Peyton, but she halted him with her hand.

“I didn't come alone,” she said, and Kendra peeked from the other side of the door.

“Kendra! I'm so glad you came. Come on in.” Malik winked at Peyton and waved them inside. “Please have a seat.”

“I filled out all those forms.” Kendra reached inside her knapsack and produced the folder Malik had given her.

“Great. We have a volunteer that can look it over for you and make sure there are no problems. Then she'll file it for you. It typically takes as little as four but up to eight weeks to actually see funds.”

“But…”

“I know what you're thinking. How are you going to get by in the interim? We get a lot of job postings here, and they are posted in our computer tech room if you'd like to peruse them.”

“I think I'll do that,” Kendra said and abruptly left the room.

“Hmm, now that I have you all to myself…” Malik pulled Peyton out of her seat and onto his lap.

“Malik, the door is wide open.” Peyton glanced at the door. “What if someone sees?”

“Peyton, I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you this—” Malik grinned “—but everyone already knows about us. This is a small office, you know.”

Peyton colored. “Are we that obvious?”

“Apparently so.”

“Are you okay?” she asked. Tension was etched across his face.

“It's been a hellacious week here,” Malik said. He couldn't tell her the real reason behind his unrest, which was that he'd come face-to-face with his past again, and it had made him see red.

“I understand,” Peyton said. “Why don't you come over to my place and I can help you relax?”

Malik sighed. “That's sounds great.”

“I'll see you later.” Peyton leaned down and gave him a searing kiss before leaving his office. When he came by her apartment, Peyton intended to give him a night he'd never forget.

 

Peyton stood in front of the full-length mirror in a satin flyaway baby doll with matching bikini panties she'd purchased from Victoria's Secret, staring at the sultry image reflecting back. She'd never worn any of their sexy ensembles before, even though she'd always wanted one. She'd been content to sleep in one of David's old T-shirts. Malik would be surprised when she opened the door in this hot number, Peyton knew as she slipped on the matching satin robe.

Earlier, she'd sensed that something was bothering Malik, though he put on a good show when she stopped by the community center earlier. She couldn't put her finger on what it was, so she'd determined to cure him of his funk with a little TLC.