Her Kind of Man. Pamela Yaye
Makayla was lounging under a tree, listening to Salt-N-Pepa, munching on a bag of potato chips. She felt a shadow fall across her face and opened her eyes. Lucas Shaw was towering over her, his thin, chapped lips moving at a rapid pace. Makayla couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the sinister expression on his face told her it wasn’t good. She slowly pulled off her headset. “Yes?”
Lucas kicked the side of her leg. “Beat it, moo-moo. We need to use this tree for an end zone and your fat ass is in the way.”
Hot tears burned her eyes as she gathered her things. Ever since Makayla wiped out in the cafeteria, Lucas had made it his personal mission to make her life a living hell.
Makayla was running across the field when she heard Lucas holler behind her, “Come on, QB, we’re ready to play.” She looked up just in time to see Kenyon and his girlfriend-of-the-month trot down the steps. After a long, sloppy kiss, the two love birds parted ways.
“What’s the hurry?” Kenyon asked. “You’re running like Freddy Krueger is chasing you!”
Makayla didn’t realize she was holding her breath until he waved a hand in her face. “Hello? Anybody home?”
Suddenly deaf and mute, Makayla blinked rapidly. The sun was blinding her eyes, so she arched a hand over her head. She had had a crush on him from the first day of high school, much like the rest of the girls in the freshman class. In a navy-blue football jacket, a white T-shirt and blue jeans, Kenyon looked like the poster boy for the U.S. Marines. His low top fade was neatly cut and his eyes, which twinkled whenever he was talking to a member of the opposite sex, were concealed by dark sunglasses. He was carrying his two most beloved items: a football and a camera.
“I’m Kenyon. I sit behind you in Mr. Ivanovich’s class. What’s your name again?” When she hesitated he said, “You do have a name, don’t you?”
“M-M-Makayla Stevens,” she said, finding her voice.
“You’re the smartest girl in our class and I couldn’t pass math if I had a cheat sheet. I bombed the last pop quiz while you got a perfect score.” His voice was tinged with sadness. “My pops said if I don’t pull up my grades, I’m off the football team. Can you tutor me? I can pay you ten bucks a week. Sound fair?”
Makayla spoke in a whisper. “Y-you don’t have to pay me. I’ll tutor you for free.”
“No, my dad says if you want something done right you have to pay for it.”
Lucas yelled across the field, “QB! Why are you talkin’ to fat ass? Hurry up, man, we’re waitin’ on you.”
Kenyon smiled down at her. “Can you meet me tomorrow in the library? Say twelve-fifteen?”
Too excited to speak, Makayla simply nodded in response.
Flashing those pearly whites again he said, “Thanks, Makayla.” With a smile and a wink, he sprinted across the field toward his friends.
For the rest of the semester, Makayla had been in her glory. Three days a week, she worked with Kenyon to complete his assignments and helped him prepare for the final exam. They chatted over lunch when they finished studying. Rather, Kenyon talked and Makayla listened. He shared his dream of one day playing football and taking care of his mom and stepdad. He never asked Makayla about herself and she didn’t volunteer any information. Unfortunately for her, Kenyon aced the next three tests and as quickly as their friendship had begun, it was over.
The sound of Kenyon’s voice jarred Makayla out of her daydream.
“I’m still waiting for that name,” he teased.
Makayla doubted Kenyon would remember her if she told him her full name, but it was better to be on the safe side. “Everyone calls me Kay,” she told him. It was only a fraction of a lie, she reasoned, ignoring the jab from her conscience. It grated on her nerves when people shortened her name but tonight, Kay would suit her just fine.
“How long have you been teaching?”
“Ten years. I graduated from Bryn Mawr College in ’96 and I’ve been at Springs Park Elementary ever since.”
“You went to Bryn Mawr?” he asked, his fork suspended in midair. “The all-girls school?”
“Yes.”
“For four years?”
“Yes. Why do you look so surprised?”
“Because most of the women I’ve met from there are—are—” Kenyon’s voice trailed off into silence.
“They’re all butch, bra-burning feminists, right?”
He shrugged. “Pretty much.”
“Bryn Mawr College is an exceptional school with high standards and top academic programs.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Her lips were a tight line. “I’m not offended.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not. You’re entitled to your opinion.”
Kenyon studied her face for a few seconds, then said, “Let me just go on the record as saying you’re the finest woman I’ve ever met from Bryn Mawr College.”
Her anger vanished and her lips relaxed into a smile. As far as Makayla was concerned, the compliment was better than the Prize Patrol showing up on her doorstep any day. Makayla felt a twinge of guilt. This was wrong, very, very wrong. Flirting with a married man was asking for bad karma. To divert the conversation away from herself, she asked Kenyon about his career. “You mentioned earlier that you’re a freelance photographer. How did you get into the business?”
“I’ve always loved photography, so when I busted my knee and my football scholarship fell through, I decided to get my associate degree. After graduation, I traveled across Europe, Asia and Africa building up my portfolio. When I returned to the States, I settled in New York. I was lucky enough to work with some of the biggest names in the industry.”
“It must have been hard being away from your family.”
“It was.”
“Do you travel a lot?”
“Too much,” he admitted, his eyes probing her face. “But I plan to be around a lot more. Terrance needs me now. I set my own schedule, which gives me the freedom to choose which jobs I take. I turn down any gig that’s going to keep me away from home longer than a week.”
Not much had changed since high school. Makayla still loved hearing Kenyon talk. She had more questions, but the waitress returned to collect their plates. Since neither one of them wanted dessert, Kenyon asked for the check.
“I had a good time,” he confessed.
It didn’t seem right agreeing with him, so Makayla smiled politely.
“Maybe we can get together once I get back from Fiji. We could catch a movie, or go for drinks. Dave Chappelle is doing a set at the Big Dog Comedy Club the last Saturday of the month. Interested?”
Caught off guard by his question, she took a few seconds to collect her thoughts. He didn’t even ask if I have a boyfriend. Is my single status that obvious? Makayla tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Beneath her straitlaced, university-educated facade lurked a very lonely woman. Sure, she had friends and an active social life, but Makayla yearned to find her soul mate. That one special guy who would love her unconditionally. “I don’t think that would be appropriate.”
“Why not? I won’t tell if you don’t,” he joked. “I can be discreet. Nobody has to know we’re kicking it.”
Is he suggesting we have an affair? Her feelings bubbled over like a pot of boiling water. Makayla hit him with an icy stare. Kenyon had been making passes at her all night and she was sick of it. He must think he’s something special! she thought, struggling to maintain her composure. Flirting