This Time for Real (16 page)

“Not many centers have one.” Lydia Allen didn't miss a beat.

“I know, which is why I wanted one,” Malik replied. “It'll be small and run during the evening by volunteers who take donations.”

“I'm impressed.” Her mother smiled.

“Let me show you our true gem,” Malik replied. He walked them outside and over to the separate entrance for the free clinic attached to the center.

“A health clinic?” Lydia sounded surprised.

Malik nodded. “That's right, and it's free.” He opened the door and allowed them to precede him. The clinic's reception area was half full of patients waiting to be seen. Malik waved to the receptionist.

“This is wonderful, Malik,” Peyton's mother gushed.

“We're very happy to provide health care for those who can't afford health insurance. And we couldn't do it without the doctors who generously donate their time and services.”

“I can't believe you're the director of this entire operation.”

“And several centers in Manhattan,” Peyton added. She was proud of the work he did.

“Malik, can you join us for dinner tonight?” her father asked. “My treat.”

“I'm sure Malik is busy, Dad.” Peyton wasn't sure she could share a meal with him with all this politeness between them.

“It's no problem,” Malik replied. “I'd love to come, Mr. and Mrs. Allen.” Malik turned to Peyton. “Why don't we go to Sylvia's, here in Harlem? They've got great soul food.”

“That sounds great.” Her father rubbed his belly. “I could use some down-home cooking.”

“I have to finish up here first. Can I meet you there in about an hour?”

“Sure,” Peyton said, then added, “I'm sure you have a lot to do.” She needed to get away from Malik for her own peace of mind. “Mom, Dad, there's a bookstore nearby where we can kill some time.”

“Lead the way,” her mother replied.

Before Malik walked back inside, he pulled Peyton to him and kissed her again. It was unexpected and brought the same fire to Peyton's belly as all his other kisses.
How is it he could still get her all hot and bothered, when she was so angry with him?

“I can see why you're head over heels,” her mother said as he departed. “He's a dreamboat.” Her mother patted Peyton on the back.

Peyton shrugged.
If she only knew.

 

Dinner was filled with an uneasy tension, as Malik sat next to Peyton, playing the role of dutiful boyfriend. Although she appreciated the effort, she knew he was only doing it for her parents' benefit. He didn't mean any of it. He was ready to toss her out like yesterday's trash.

As they sat enjoying their peach cobbler and vanilla
ice cream, her mother homed in on Malik and finally got personal. “Malik, so tell us about yourself. We've been talking about ourselves way too much.”

Malik bunched his shoulders and reached for his water glass. “There's not much to tell, Mrs. Allen. Along with several of my close friends, I grew up in an orphanage. After that, I went to NYU and went on to get my MBA.”

Peyton noticed how cryptic Malik was about his childhood, but her parents didn't seem to catch on.

“You had to overcome quite a lot at an early age,” her mother stated. “And yet, look at what you've done with yourself. I'm sure that's what my daughter sees in you.” Her mother nudged Peyton knowingly. “She's done nothing but rave about you for weeks. Could we be hearing wedding bells sometime soon?” her mother asked, teasingly.

Peyton lowered her head. She wished she could crawl under the table and die of embarrassment.

“Well, uh, I…” Malik stuttered. “Mrs. Allen, really…we're nowhere near that yet.”

Lydia Allen glanced at her daughter and then back to Malik. Her daughter had a strained expression, while Malik looked as if he was ready to break out in a cold sweat. Clearly, she had misread their relationship. “Oh, I'm sorry I misspoke.”

“No, no, no.” Malik patted Peyton's hand. “You haven't. I think the world of your daughter.”

Just not the kind you want to marry,
Peyton thought. “Wow, look at the time.” She glanced down at her watch. It was well past ten.

Luckily, her mother took the cue. “Oh, I'm so sorry, Malik. You've worked all day and we've kept you out so late.”

“I didn't mind,” Malik replied. “I enjoyed myself.”

“So did we,” her father said, and signaled to the waitress for the bill. Once it was settled, Malik caught a cab for the Allens.

Once a taxi came curbside, Malik shook Mr. Allen's hand, but Mrs. Allen gave him a hug instead. “Thanks for dinner. We had a great time.”

“It was great meeting you,” Lydia said. She slid inside the cab and her husband followed.

Peyton and Malik stood awkwardly at the curb. When it seemed that Malik wasn't going to speak, Peyton finally broke the silence. “Well, thanks for coming.” She leaned forward and gave him a quick hug.

“You're welcome,” he whispered in her ear.

Peyton pulled away and climbed into the cab. As they drove off, Peyton decided not to look back.

P
eyton was quiet on the ride back to her apartment. Tonight she'd felt as if things were still unfinished between her and Malik. She needed to talk to him and find out where she stood.

She retired to her room and began to undress. She'd just finished washing off her makeup and was reaching for a face towel when she noticed her mother standing in the doorway.

“So, do you want to tell me what that was all about?”

Peyton dried her face, threw the towel down and reached for her moisturizer on the counter. “What do you mean?” she asked, pouring a generous amount into her palm.

“C'mon, Peyton. You could cut the tension at the table tonight with a knife. What's going on? I thought you were crazy about Malik.”

“I am.” Peyton massaged several dollops of mois
turizer onto her face. “I'm just not sure that he's as crazy about me.”

Her mother shook her head. “I disagree. The man I saw tonight is in love.”

“Then why,” Peyton asked turning around, “is it so hard for him to let me in? I know he had a painful childhood, Mama, but he won't open up to me.”

“I didn't say he knows he's in love,” her mother said, lightly stroking her daughter's cheek. “It's hard for men to be vulnerable. You just have to stick in there and show him you're not going anywhere. Maybe he's used to people coming and going in his life. He did say he lived in an orphanage.”

“Yes, but there's something more, I'm positive of it.”

“Then be patient. All will be revealed in due time.”

Should she continue to stand by Malik's side until he realized he couldn't live without her? That was the question that haunted Peyton as she drifted off to sleep.

 

As he stood on the balcony having a Dirty Martini, Malik didn't know why he'd agreed to come with Quentin and Avery over to Richard King's for dinner. He supposed he'd accepted to keep himself busy so he wouldn't think about Peyton, but he'd done nothing else for the last two weeks. His mind would wander to her creamy, mocha skin and how soft it felt to his touch, or he'd remember the way she tilted her head to the side when she laughed. Or the way she moaned when she was on the verge of coming.

“Malik!”

Malik heard his name being called in the midst of his reverie, and he looked up. “Hmm?”

“Didn't you hear me calling you?” Quentin stared at Malik, but his friend looked like he was a million miles away.

Malik shook his head. “I'm sorry, I didn't hear you.”

“Dinner is ready.”

Malik followed Quentin inside and found that Richard, his wife, Cindy, and Avery were already seated at the dining room table.

“Glad you could join us,” Richard said when he arrived.

“Sorry,” Malik mumbled to everyone.

The butler served chilled shrimp to start, followed by herb-crusted salmon, jasmine rice and steamed asparagus. Although everything looked and smelled divine, Malik hardly tasted it. He wanted to call Peyton, but how could he, when he was the one who had broken her heart? No, it was better this way, better they'd made a clean break. He'd done his part with her parents and now they could go their separate ways. He would have to find someone to cover her mentoring at the center, however, because Malik wasn't sure he could take seeing her week in and week out.

“How's the renovation coming?” Richard inquired.

“Just fine,” Malik answered. “The reception area and the administrative offices are complete. Now the contractor's tackling the computer room and the gymnasium.”

“Has he received the permit for the kitchen?”

Malik shook his head. “Any day now. He's hoping to have it completed in time for Thanksgiving, so we can feed more people.”

“I'd love to pitch in and help,” Avery said.

Quentin and Malik both looked at her. They'd never known Avery to want to get her hands dirty. “With the ordering and preparation,” she clarified.

“Now that makes more sense, my darling,” Quentin said, lovingly pecking her cheek.

Avery slapped him on the shoulder. “Manual labor isn't really my forte, but I can pitch in you know.”

Malik chuckled and reached for his nearly empty martini glass. “Wouldn't dream of it, Avery. I think your talents are best served behind the scenes.” He finished off the martini and set it on the table. Like clockwork, the butler appeared with a fresh one. “Thank you,” Malik told the butler, putting another to his lips.

From across the table, Quentin watched as Malik put away several martinis. Although he didn't act intoxicated, it was a good thing he'd driven because Malik was in no shape to drive.

“In addition to feeding the homeless, we'll have our annual turkey giveaway,” Malik continued.

“Do you ever stop helping the disenfranchised?” Richard asked.

“No. Do you ever stop building an empire?” Malik queried.

“Touché.” Richard lifted his wine glass. He'd found someone just as dedicated as he was. “To Malik Williams.”

“To Malik.” They all lifted their glasses.

As they drank to his service to the community, Malik wished he had someone to share the moment with. He wished he had Peyton.

 

Quentin drove Malik home later that evening and nearly had to carry him up the stairs of his brownstone. He was fumbling in Malik's leather jacket, looking for his keys, when Avery stuck her head out of the passenger window.

“Do you need some help?” Avery asked, shivering. It was awfully chilly out.

“I've got them,” Quentin yelled back from the landing after producing the keys. He slid one of Malik's arms over his shoulder and carried him up the flight of stairs.

Once inside, Quentin helped Malik to his bedroom
and watched him fall onto the bed.
Poor fool,
thought Quentin. Malik didn't realize he was besotted with Peyton until after he'd broken up with her. Malik
would
have to learn the hard way.

 

“Are you going back to the center today?” Amber asked after their weekly educational department meeting had ended.

“Why wouldn't I?” Peyton asked as she walked to her office for some herbal tea.

“Well…I don't know. Perhaps you don't want to run into the man that just kicked you to the curb, but maybe that's just me.”

“I won't disappoint the girls that I mentor. I made a commitment and I'm going to keep it.”

“That's very noble of you, Saint Peyton,” Amber replied, taking a seat. “But not very wise. Think about how you're going to feel if you see Malik with another woman.”

Peyton stopped midstep. She hadn't thought about that. She would die inside if she saw Malik with someone else. “Maybe you're right. But I should at least finish out the rest of the year, and then the center can find someone new.”

“All right.” Amber had forgotten how stubborn Peyton could be. “It's your funeral.”

After Amber left, Peyton returned to preparing for her next class. She was deep into research when her office phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Peyton Sawyer, please,” a feminine voice said from the other line.

“This is Dr. Sawyer.”

There was a short pause before the woman spoke. “Peyton, this is…Sage Anderson, one of Malik's friends.
I don't know if you remember me, we met once at Dante's.”

“Oh, yes, I remember you,” Peyton replied. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, Malik asked me to call. He mentioned that you were spearheading Sister-to-Sister, and he thought that, after everything that happened, it might be easier if someone else took over mentoring the girls.”

“You mean, after he broke up with me?”

“Yes,” Sage reluctantly admitted. “I was trying for delicacy.”

“Don't bother,” Peyton replied, fuming on the other end.
How dare Malik try to get rid of me!
“You can tell Malik that I—” And then a brilliant idea hit Peyton. Perhaps Sage knew about Malik's past and could shed some light on why he was trying to cut her out of every aspect of his life. So she changed her tune. “Listen, Sage, I'm not upset with you. I know Malik put you up to this.”

“Thank you.” Sage sighed. “I feel terrible for calling.”

“Could we talk over a cup of coffee later today?” Peyton queried. “You know, about the program.”

Sage's voice became light. “Okay, there's a coffee shop in my office building. But I'm busy until about six-thirty.”

“That's fine. I'll meet you there.” Peyton hung up after Sage supplied her with directions. Maybe now she'd finally get the answers to the questions that Malik refused to give her.

 

At six-thirty sharp, Sage Anderson strutted into the Starbucks in her building in a power-red pantsuit, three-inch heels and a Fendi purse. Peyton thought Sage was a knockout.

Peyton rose when she came forward and extended her hand. “Sage, thank you for meeting me. Would you
care for anything to drink?” Peyton had already ordered herself a chai tea.

“No, thank you,” Sage replied and sat down at the table.

“I brought some of the ideas I had for Sister-to-Sister.” Peyton pulled out a folder and slid it towards Sage. “If you'd like to assist me, that would be great, then you could take over next year.”

Sage smiled, revealing perfectly white teeth. “C'mon, Peyton, it's just us girls. Why don't you tell me why I'm really here?”

Was she that transparent? Apparently so.

“Malik broke up with me because he claimed our relationship was moving too fast, but I don't think that's the real reason, Sage. He's never liked discussing his past, and I've always felt like he was keeping something from me. I know I'm right.”

“I see.” As she looked across the table at Peyton, Sage wanted to kick Malik. This woman genuinely cared for him and Malik was acting like a complete and utter jerk. “So you're hoping I'd fill in the details?”

Peyton nodded. “I know I'm putting you in a terrible position by asking you to betray Malik's confidence, but I wouldn't ask if I didn't care, and if I didn't think I could help.”

“You mean, if you didn't love him?” Sage returned.

Peyton opened her mouth to protest, but closed it since it was true. She
did
love him.

“I can tell,” Sage replied, patting Peyton's hand. “And only because you love him am I going to tell you what happened. I just pray Malik will forgive me for this.”

Peyton scooted her chair closer.

“Malik was physically abused by his stepfather.”

“No.” Peyton was horrified.

“And his mother did nothing to stop it, because she was abused as well. Child Protective Services stepped in when he was ten and took him from their care. For two years, Malik was moved in and out of foster homes.”

“How horrible,” Peyton gasped.

“The abuse had a terrible effect on Malik and turned him into an angry kid that no one wanted to keep. Eventually, he was placed in the same orphanage as Quentin, Dante and me, which is where he stayed until turning eighteen.”

“And his mother?”

“He never saw her again. She didn't even show up at the hearing that permanently placed him with the state.”

Peyton's hand flew to cover her mouth. “How could a mother do that?”

Sage shook her head. “I don't know. I can only assume the nightmares are because his stepfather Joe Johnson came to HCC a while ago, saying he wanted to donate his services to renovate the center. I'm sure that's when all those old memories started to resurface. He's always been afraid if anyone knew the truth, he would seem weak, vulnerable.”

Peyton nodded as she thought about Malik's silences.

“So, now that you know, what are you going to do with this information?” Sage queried.

“I'm going to fight for him, that's what. Malik Williams is not going to get rid of me that easily.” Now that she was armed with knowledge, Peyton knew what she needed to do.

Sage smiled. “A woman after my own heart.”

 

“Why are you walking around here like someone stole your bike?” Theresa asked as they put the office back together. Malik had been moping around for the
last few weeks. She'd thought he'd be happy that the renovation was going well.

They'd finally received the permit for the kitchen, and the work was progressing smoothly. The kitchen would be ready in time for their big Thanksgiving dinner, and they'd all received new furniture, courtesy of the King Corporation.

“What are you talking about?” Malik asked from near the floor, as he connected several computer plugs into the outlet.