This Time for Real (8 page)

“Are you okay?” he asked, rolling to his side and glancing at Peyton. He wasn't so sure
he
was. The aftershocks were still rippling through his body.

“Why? Do I not seem fine?” Peyton inquired, even though her breathing was rapid and she was flushed.

“No, it was just that…” Malik was at a loss.

“It was incredible for me too,” Peyton said, stroking his stubbly jaw. “I hope I satisfied you.”

Malik laughed. “Are you kidding? Couldn't you tell? You satisfied me in every way imaginable, Peyton. You were wonderful.” And he was ready for round two. But as he cuddled closer, Peyton's heavy-lidded eyes closed shut.
There's always tomorrow,
Malik thought.

 

The next morning, Peyton awoke to sunlight streaming through her window. She glanced over to her side, but the bed was empty. Rising, she slipped on her lavender satin robe and glanced down the hallway. She found the apartment empty and no sign of Malik.
Where has he gone?
she asked herself, just as he came through the door carrying two Starbucks cups and a bag. Still wearing his tailored trousers and dress shirt, Malik looked sexy as hell. Peyton was sure every woman he'd encountered was wondering whose bed he'd come out of and wishing she'd been the recipient.

“Whatcha got there?” Peyton asked, walking towards him.

“I remembered you liked lattes, so I took the liberty of getting one for you.” Malik handed her a cup and headed to the kitchen, adding, “Along with picking up some bagels and cream cheese.”

“Thank you,” Peyton smiled at his thoughtfulness as she followed behind him.

Malik wasn't surprised to find Peyton's kitchen in meticulous condition, as the lady herself liked everything in its proper place. He opened the cabinets and searched for some plates.

“Second cabinet to your left,” Peyton said, taking a seat at the breakfast bar.

Malik busied himself by taking out bagels for himself and Peyton. He felt somewhat awkward in the morning light. Usually after his relationships took the next logical step, Malik didn't stick around. For the first time, he wasn't in a hurry to leave; he actually wanted to stay.

“So, what do you have planned for today?” Malik inquired.

“Research, research and research,” Peyton answered,
tearing open a bagel. As she lathered the cream cheese on, she knew that wasn't what he meant. “Did you have something else in mind?” Peyton bit into the bagel.

Malik grinned mischievously. “I do, but after breakfast.”

P
eyton stared out of the window in her office. Her mind kept replaying the images of her and Malik in bed together all weekend long. The way he'd touched her, the way he'd made her feel. She hadn't even recognized the sexual creature she'd become with him.

“Ahem.” A cough came from behind her. Peyton turned around and found Amber smiling at her. “Looks like someone was in another world.”

“I was,” Peyton admitted.

“Anyplace special?”

“What do you mean?”

When Amber looked Peyton straight in the eye, Peyton couldn't resist smiling broadly. “Peyton, you are glowing like a kid on Christmas morning. Did you and Malik take your relationship to the next level?”

“Okay, you caught me. I'm busted.” Peyton couldn't
lie. “We did. And it was fantastic!” Peyton sighed dramatically.

“See, I told you there was nothing to worry about,” Amber replied. “It was just like riding a bike.”

Peyton thought back to a moment when she was on top of Malik and was riding him until they both came, shattering in a million tiny pieces. “I wouldn't describe it as riding a bike, but it did all come back to me.” Peyton grinned. “And I'm looking forward to another spin.”

“I bet. It's just really good to see you like this, Peyton. When you said you were moving here, Jude and I were concerned. But it looks like our fears were unfounded. You're thriving, girlfriend.”

“I think New York was just what I needed,” Peyton said. She felt as if she'd come out of a dense fog. She hadn't felt this way in years, and it felt amazing. “Malik is a wonderful man.”

“Well, don't fall too quickly,” Amber warned. “This is your first real relationship since David died. You need to shop around the block first. You know, see what's out there.”

“I've seen what's out there, Amber, and it's not all it's cracked up to be. What's your problem? I thought you liked Malik.”

“I do,” Amber replied. “But sometimes the first man you meet isn't always the right one. Sometimes he's the catalyst to propel you into your next relationship.”

“I don't know. Malik is pretty close to perfection,” Peyton joked.

“All right.” Amber knew when to let a matter drop.

“Care to give me some more advice on how I can get through to one of my students?”

“Are we talking about the single mother?”

Peyton nodded. “I met with her and her boyfriend to
explain our program and how volunteering would benefit her, but it didn't go over very well. And to make matters worse, Kendra didn't show up for class today.”

“So what are you going to do?” Amber asked, leaning against the desk.

“I thought I'd call and check on her. You know? Make sure everything's all right.” Peyton had a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach that something was wrong.

“I don't think that's a good idea,” Amber replied. “Students miss class, Peyton. This isn't high school.”

“I know,” Peyton said. “But that doesn't mean I don't care.” Many times she'd seen her mother, Lydia Allen, make a home visit if she suspected a student was in trouble. Peyton had always admired that about her and she was following her example.

“Okay,” Amber said. “Do as you please, but if you want my advice, I say steer clear. I've got to get going. I have a six o'clock I need to prepare for.” And with that, Amber was out the door.

Peyton disagreed, and once Amber had gone, she immediately dialed Kendra, who picked up after several rings. “Hello.”

“Kendra, this is Professor Sawyer. You weren't in class today. I thought I'd call.”

“Well…uh…” Kendra stammered. She hadn't expected a personal phone call from her professor at home. “Tamara was sick and I had to stay home and take care of her.”

Peyton didn't believe that for a moment. She suspected Omar was the reason she'd missed class. “Kendra, what's going on?”

“I told you, the baby was sick.”

“All right, so you'll be in class on Wednesday?”

“Yes, I'll be there.” Kendra quickly hung up the phone.

Peyton was worried. Something was definitely going on and she intended to find out what.

 

“How are things between you and the professor?” Dante asked when Malik strolled into his restaurant for lunch.

“Things couldn't be better, Dante,” Malik replied, grinning. Now that he and Peyton had finally become lovers, everything was as it should be. “Peyton and I are finally on track.”

“So when's the wedding?” Dante joked as he dried off several glasses.

“Slow down,” Malik said. “You should be asking Q that question, not me.” Q and Avery were inseparable these days, as evidenced by the fact that they'd even ambushed him together. “Peyton and I are in the ‘getting to know each other' stage. We are nowhere near marriage. I doubt she'd be ready to take that step anyway.”

“Why would you say that?”

“She was married before and her husband died in a car accident.”

“That's terrible.”

“Yeah,” Malik said, nodding. “So she won't be ready to jump the broom anytime soon.”

“Which is music to your ears,” Dante replied. Malik didn't fool him for a moment. Say the word “commitment” and he went scurrying in the other direction.

“You know my opinion on the subject of marriage.”

“You came in walking on air. You mark my words, Malik, you'll be eating those words,” Dante predicted. “And I for one am going to laugh my butt off.”

 

Peyton took a taxi over to Kendra's residence in the Bronx later that afternoon. She didn't know what she
was going to do when she got there; Peyton just knew she had to try something.

When she arrived at Kendra's address, the taxi driver looked back at her. “Are you sure you want me to drop you off here?” he asked, looking around. This sure didn't look like the place a classy lady such as Peyton should be.

She glanced around the lower-income neighborhood. “Yes, but can you do me a favor? Stay for fifteen? I won't be long.” As an added incentive, Peyton handed him a twenty.

The taxi driver thought about it for a moment. He'd hate to see her stranded, so he nodded. “Fifteen minutes is all you got. After that, I'm gone.”

“Thanks.” Peyton hopped out of the car. She walked up to the buzzer and was about to press it when a resident came out, so Peyton slipped inside. The apartment building was old and rundown, but Peyton didn't let that deter her. She climbed the squeaky stairs to the third floor. When she found apartment 203, Peyton knocked on the door.

When Kendra opened the door, she was shocked to find Peyton on the other side. “Professor Sawyer, what are you doing here?” she blurted out.

Peyton stared back at her student and her heart went out to her. One of Kendra's eyes was black and blue, even though she had tried to cover it with makeup.
Had Omar struck her?

“When you didn't come to class, I decided to come see for myself—and I'm glad I did.” Peyton pushed herself inside the apartment. She found Kendra's six-month-old daughter cooing in a nearby bassinet. The baby looked perfectly healthy. Peyton spun around and faced Kendra. “So you lied.”

Kendra hung her head low. “I'm sorry.”

“Why?” Peyton asked. “Has Omar said or done something to you?”

“Why would you ask that?” Kendra replied defensively.

“Kendra, you look terrible.”

“Do I really look that bad?” Kendra rushed over to the hall mirror.

“I've seen the signs before,” Peyton replied. She'd been to enough shelters to recognize a battered woman. “What happened?”

“I tried, Professor Sawyer.” Kendra's voice broke. “I tried to come and volunteer, but Omar caught me on my way out after I'd told him I wouldn't go, and he got really angry.”

“Did he hit you, Kendra?”

“He didn't mean to. It was an accident,” Kendra explained. “I tried to move past him and he accidentally struck me in the face. He didn't mean to, Dr. Sawyer. Omar loves me.”

Peyton nodded. “Kendra, I'm not sure if it's safe for you here. You should come with me. I can take you to a shelter.”

“So me and my baby can be homeless?” Kendra shook her head. “No, thank you, Dr. Sawyer. I know you mean well, but I think it best if you go.”

“I couldn't agree more,” Omar said from the doorway. “I think it's time you left, Professor, especially if you want to keep that taxi that's waiting downstairs.”

Shocked, Peyton rose to her feet and glanced at her watch. Her fifteen minutes were nearly up. She'd come to talk some common sense into Kendra, but today was not going to be her lucky day. Omar's presence was looming. Peyton knew when to toss in the towel, at least for now. “I took the liberty of contacting one of my students, and they were kind enough to copy their notes from today's lecture.” She handed Kendra a manila envelope.

Kendra glanced at Omar as if she needed approval to accept the package from Peyton. He nodded, so Kendra took the envelope. “Thanks, that's real kind of you, Professor Sawyer.”

“No problem. I'll see you in class.” Peyton gave Kendra a halfhearted smile and turned on her heel. She flew out the door, and she was nearly down the hall when Omar caught up with her at the landing.

“Don't come here again, Professor,” Omar said, walking towards Peyton.

“I came here to help Kendra.” Peyton would not be intimidated by some twenty-year-old abuser. “And I will continue to do that, Omar, whether you like it or not.”

Omar pointed a finger at Peyton. “Don't say I didn't warn you.” He turned his back on her and went back inside the apartment.

Peyton rushed down the stairs in the nick of time. “Thanks for waiting,” she said when she reached the safety of the taxi's interior.

“You're welcome,” the driver replied.

 

Later that afternoon, Malik reviewed the center's financials. After his interview appeared in
Manhattan Weekly,
he'd expected offers to come poring in, but all he'd had was a few small donations. Sure, he appreciated those, but he still needed a large donation. Malik was tallying the donations when he was paged to reception. It was probably one of the parents from the center or someone from the community. With his open-door policy, Malik was used to unexpected visitors.

He rushed through the double doors. A man's back was to him, so Malik walked forward and touched his shoulder. “May I help you?” he asked.

Malik was ill-prepared when the man turned around.
Malik stared into the darkest, coldest eyes he'd ever encountered, he was standing face-to-face with his stepfather, Joe Johnson.