Her Kind of Man. Pamela Yaye

Her Kind of Man - Pamela Yaye


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scribbled it on his notepad and tucked it into his back pocket. “Cool. I’ll call you next week.”

      “I’d like that.”

      As Makayla watched him go, she wondered why she hadn’t been that confident when she talked to Kenyon yesterday. Stop thinking about the man, for God’s sake, she ordered herself. But blocking thoughts of Kenyon was impossible. He was outspoken, had the face of an Adonis, the body of a sculpture and although she didn’t have telepathic powers, she had a feeling he was a first-rate lover. If he didn’t have so much personal baggage, Makayla might have gone out with him.

      Cordell returned to the table with her drink, then escorted her inside. While she skimmed the salad bar, he told her more about himself. He worked two full-time jobs, took night classes at the local community college and hoped to be a concert promoter one day. Despite his tight schedule, he offered to take her out for dinner next week. Makayla was weighing the pros and cons of dating someone eight years her junior when she spied Reggie standing at the bar. He was talking to a taller, lighter, more handsome version of himself. Funny, he had never mentioned having a brother.

      If Reggie saw her, he’d stick to her like glue and Makayla couldn’t stomach any more of his worn-out lines. Water had spewed out of her mouth when Reggie had labeled himself “the last good man around” and squeezed her thigh. Laughing at the memory, she said goodbye to Cordell and hurried back out to the patio. If Reggie Ford was the best the world had to offer, then Makayla would die a lonely spinster.

      Chapter 4

      The breeze whipped Makayla’s face, sending shivers down her spine. Muffling her neck in the collar of her coat, she rocked aggressively from side to side. Her fingers felt like icicles and her hair thrashed around her face. Rubbing her hands together, she imagined her hands wrapped around a piping-hot mug of herbal tea. Any minute now, the bell would ring, signaling the end of recess, and Makayla would return to the warmth of her classroom.

      Makayla glanced around the field at the children. Multicolored leaves whirled around them on the wind, but the kids played on, ignoring the stiff wind.

      “Boys and girls, be careful,” she warned, watching two girls slip and slide on a pile of wet leaves.

      Makayla felt a tug on her coat and looked down.

      “Teacher, Terrance took my money.”

      She stared down at the boy and smiled. He was the cutest little thing, his thin face bitten by the frigid wind.

      “Then he told me to—to—” Embarrassed, the boy lowered his eyes. “He said a bad word to me, Teacher.”

      “Are you sure?”

      He nodded furiously.

      Makayla’s eyes scanned the playground. If she had any doubts about Terrance’s innocence, they vanished when he scurried up the slide and dove behind one of the plastic pillars.

      She stormed across the field to the troublesome first-grader. “Terrance, come down here now!”

      “No! I don’t have to listen to you!” Terrance emerged from behind the slide, a defiant expression on his face.

      Makayla could not allow the disrespect. She climbed the steps. “You’re coming with me to the office.”

      Terrance stepped back. “No, I’m not!”

      “Oh, yes, you are.”

      “You always pick on me!” he whined, stomping his foot. “I didn’t do any—”

      Makayla reached out and grabbed his arm. To her shock, Terrance threw himself against her, freed himself and took off running. He leaped off the play structure and landed in the sandbox with a thump. A second later, an earsplitting scream shattered the morning silence.

      “Don’t tell me I’m overreacting! That bitch hurt my baby and she’s going to pay!”

      Kenyon tried calming down his sister-in-law, but Veronika only became more irate. Her recent tirade brought a nurse into the room who told them, “Excuse me, but it is far too loud in here.” She went over to the wall-mounted TV and turned it down, too.

      “Hey! What are you doing? I was watching that!” Terrance snatched the remote off the table and punched up the volume.

      Kenyon looked contrite. “I apologize.” Ever since they’d taken Terrance to The Children’s Hospital, he’d been apologizing for Veronika’s behavior, and his nephew’s. “We’ll keep it down from now on.” He looked at his nephew sternly. “Terrance, apologize. That is no way to talk to the nurse.”

      His eyes remained fixed on the screen.

      “Did you hear me?”

      Nothing.

      Kenyon put a hand on his shoulder. “Apologize. Now.”

      “Stop yelling at him!” Sitting on the edge of the bed, Veronika cradled Terrance’s head to her chest and rocked him back and forth. “Can’t you see that he’s been traumatized? His teacher attacked him, for goodness’ sake! How do you expect him to behave?”

      Unmoved by Veronika’s performance, Kenyon took the remote control out of his nephew’s grasp and switched off the TV. “Terrance, if you don’t apologize to the nurse, I won’t take you and your friends to the arcade next weekend.”

      Terrance fiddled with his ID bracelet. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

      “That’s better.”

      “Any word on the X-rays?” Veronika asked the nurse, cradling her son in her arms. “I don’t need X-rays to know my baby broke his arm, but my lawyer said it wouldn’t hurt to have some hard evidence.”

      “Doctor Harvick should be here any minute with the results.”

      “Thanks.” Kenyon smiled at the nurse as she turned to leave. “And sorry we’ve been such a pain.”

      Veronika smoothed a hand over Terrance’s cheek. “Mommy doesn’t know what she’d do if anything ever happened to you. You’re all I have.” Hugging him to her chest, she closed her eyes. “I love you, baby. More than anything in this world. Don’t you ever forget that.”

      It was moments like this Kenyon truly admired his sister-in-law. It had to be tough being a single parent but he knew no one was more important to Veronika than Terrance.

      Checking the time, Veronika released her son and pulled out her cell phone from her jean pocket. “I’m going to go call my lawyer again.”

      Sighing, Kenyon drew a deep breath. “Don’t you think you’re blowing things out of proportion? Terrance is fine. He doesn’t even have a scratch—”

      “You’re not a doctor,” she pointed out, cutting him off. “He may have internal injuries for all you know. Why aren’t you more upset? That woman could have killed him!”

      “We don’t know what happened.”

      “Terrance said Ms. Stevens pushed him and I believe my son.”

      “But his classmates said he jumped.”

      Her eyes narrowed. “Are you saying my child is lying?”

      “I care about him, too, Veronika.”

      “You have a funny way of showing it. You weren’t at his hockey game last week, now were you?”

      Kenyon swallowed a retort. Every time something went wrong, Veronika reached back into the past and brought up his mistakes. His sister-in-law was hard to please, rarely satisfied and always angry. If she had not gotten pregnant, his brother probably never would have married her.

      “I already apologized for that. It was a scheduling conflict that couldn’t be changed. I had to work.” Terrance was listening in and he hated arguing in front of him. If Kenyon wanted to, he could put Veronika in her place.


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