Loving a Bad Boy (12 page)

Minutes later, she had the peas and rice,
greens, and yams on the stove. After firing up the oven, she set
out the bowl to make the cornbread.

“
Can I have a slice of
this?” Tara asked, pointing at the frosted lemon cake that sat on
the counter.

Glad she wouldn’t be forced to eat the rich
dessert by herself, Pam nodded. “Ask Tex if he wants a slice.” She
heard him answer yes, and handed Tara a knife and two small
plates.

Minutes later, she called Tara to the dining
room. “Here are the plates and silverware for you to set the table.
If you need anything else, just check in here.” She pointed to the
large paneled buffet against the wall. “I’ve got a few things to do
while dinner finishes.”

“
Okay,” Tara said as she
picked up the plates.

Pam strode toward her bedroom, intent on
hanging up the new clothes Tara had urged her to buy from a few
stores in the mall. Once the door closed, she sat heavily on the
bed and closed her eyes.

Once again, her mind
drifted to the Spanish guy from the elevator. She’d been tempted to
ask Tex if he knew who the man was. “
That
would seem desperate
.” She thought of
Tara’s response if Tex did know the guy, and shivered. Her niece
would probably insist on inviting him for dinner as well. Window
shopping was one thing but there was something about him that
screamed he’d never be a light affair. She knew she wasn’t ready to
deal with anyone that deep. Her work schedule was just normalizing.
For sanity sake, she needed closure. The idea of a trip to the
islands was settling on her in all the right places.

“
Why don’t you have any
company? Hmmm?” She turned sideways. “How come nobody’s knocking on
your door?” She puckered her lips, imitating a kiss. “How about a
kiss, baby?” She smacked her lips at her imaginary lover. “Auntie
was wrong. Men don’t want good girls, they want girls who know how
to work it.” She rolled her hips, mimicking what she had seen on
MTV.

Sighing, she hung up the clothes and washed
her hands. Turning off the bathroom light, she headed for the
kitchen.

The silence in the living room was her first
clue. As she walked pass the entrance, Tex and Tara were locked in
an embrace lying on the sofa. Shaking her head, she tiptoed into
the kitchen and checked her pots. Dinner would be ready in a few
minutes. Not wanting to be a voyeur, she leaned against the wall,
and closed her eyes.

Had she ever been that adventurous? Not with
boys. But her aunt had been a big believer in feeding the mind,
body and spirit. Summer breaks were filled with all kinds of
self-defense classes. She learned to fire a gun, box, and even
shoot an arrow. As vacations went, it wasn’t bad. After the first
three summers of begging to return to Cat Island and being denied,
she stopped asking.

Straightening her shoulders, she smiled.
Excitement bubbled within her. No one could deny her a damn thing
now. And on that note she decided to plan a trip to her home within
the next few months. Work obligations prevented her from leaving
sooner. When she visited, she wanted the flexibility to stay at
least a month, hopefully that’d be long enough to get the answers
she needed and take in the views.

The timer went off, signaling the cornbread
was ready. She placed all the food in bowls and set them on the
dining room table. “Dinner’s ready,” she yelled, chuckling at the
scrambling sounds coming from the living room. “Or maybe dessert,”
she whispered, as a bright-eye, tussled-looking Tara walked into
the room.

Chapter 7

The pounding on her door pulled her from a
wonderful dream. Pam had been home on the island, swimming in the
clearest water, picking up small stones from the ocean floor. Her
mom laughed near the shore at something her dad was saying. He
stood tall and strong behind her mom like a sentinel guarding his
charge. As the dream evaporated, Pam rolled over, unsure she had
heard correctly.

The sound came again, although not as strong
this time. Opening one eye, she peered at the clock on the
nightstand and stretched. It was three o’clock in the morning;
she’d had trouble falling asleep earlier and after reading a bit,
she'd finally drifted off after midnight. The sound came again.

Aggravated at the disruption of her sleep,
she growled, threw back the covers, and pulled her Betty Boop night
shirt from the floor from where she’d thrown it earlier. Even with
the air conditioner on, she had been too hot to wear anything to
bed, besides she always slept nude. But a gown was a must to answer
the door, even if it was only Tara. The girl probably didn’t want
to drive all the way back to campus after a night of partying.

After a long stretch, and an even wider
yawn, she made her way to the entryway, fully prepared to explain
to her niece that it was unacceptable to interrupt her sleep just
because she needed a place to crash. More noise sounded from the
hallway. Moving quickly to the red steel door, Pam stood up on her
tiptoes and looked out the peephole.

She gasped. Heart racing, she fumbled with
the keys in the locks and snatched open the door. Tex fell forward,
his hands reached out to break his fall. A sticky palm fell on her
breast.

“
Hey,” she yelled
automatically, before the realization that he was hurt, not drunk,
registered.

Leaning sideways with his arm around his
waist, he winced as though it hurt to speak. “Sorry.” The word
slurred as he stumbled forward. Her quick thinking and even faster
reflexes saved him from kissing the porcelain tiled floor.

She kicked the door closed.

Concern replaced fear as she morphed into
professional-health-care-provider mode. “What happened?” She
modulated her voice, not allowing the strain of carrying his weight
on her shoulder show through. Miraculously, she was able to walk
him to the kitchen with an eye on the high back chairs. Hot water
and an uninterrupted stretch of floor would be a good thing just in
case she needed to lay him down. Once she was sure he was settled,
she flipped on the light switch.

Her hand flew to her mouth as the light
brightened the room and she got a good look at him. “Oh my God!”
The words flew from her mouth before she could stop them. Blood
covered the right side of his tan polo and streamed down his
jean-clad leg. With his right arm, he tried to wave down her
questions, and offered a lopsided grin that looked more macabre
than anything else. “Nothin’ much. Got shot.” His glassy eyes
sought hers. “No hospital,” he hissed as his face contorted
sideways.

Alarmed, Pam took two steps past him, intent
on calling 911. His bloody hand snatched at her arm, bringing her
to a stop. The strength in his hand, coupled with his feverish
gaze, surprised her.

“
No hospital. Please…” he
begged. “Press one. Julio’ll come.” He inhaled and grimaced again.
Licking his lips, he continued. “Do this one favor for me. Julio’ll
get the doc, he’ll take care of it. I promise you won’t get in any
trouble.” He breathed heavily through the last of his sentence, and
she knew it had cost him big time to make his statement.

She removed his weakening grasp to assure
him, as well as to get moving. “I was going to get some bandages to
stop the bleeding,” she lied as she stepped around him. This time
he held up his hand and opened it to reveal a phone. The fact that
it was covered in his blood was not the reason for her hesitation,
at least that’s what she told herself. As a medical professional,
she knew the dangers of contact with body fluids.

“
Call him.” His gaze
sharpened, and then as though he lost the battle, they dimmed.
“Please,” he whispered, and slumped in the chair. The phone
clattered to the floor. Heart racing, she pulled him down to the
floor, glad he was out of it as his body landed with a thump. Then
she ran from the room, anxious to stop the flow of
blood.

The thought of him dying in her kitchen
trumped his request for no hospital. Despite his pleas, it was
irresponsible for her as a registered nurse, not to call for
additional assistance. First, she needed to stop the bleeding, and
then she would call.

In her closet, she found her training bag,
leftover from her school days. Grabbing it, she headed for the
kitchen, determined to do what she could to save her friend and
neighbor. As she cut away his shirt, she wondered what'd happened.
Why had he come here? They had eaten dinner together several times
over the past two months, and she’d say they were cordial, but not
close friends. He knew she was a nurse, Tara had told him that the
first time they’d gotten together for dinner, but that didn’t
explain why he came here. As a nurse, he knew she would be bound by
certain oaths.

“
What have you been up
to?” she whispered, as the evidence of a bullet entering his side
became evident. Turning him onto his side, she looked at his back
and released a sigh. The bullet had passed through. After pulling
on a pair of gloves, she got to work sterilizing and cleaning her
tools and the area.

“
Good thing you’re out of
it, because this is going to hurt,” she murmured.

His muscles quivered and jerked once or
twice, but otherwise he remained unconscious throughout her
ministrations. She got to work cleaning and dressing the wound.
Applying pressure to stop the flow of blood, she decided to leave
the stitching for Tex’s doctor after more thorough tests.

Ten minutes later, she looked at his side.
There was minimal leakage. A long sigh escaped her dry lips. No
telling how much blood had already been lost. Pleased that the
blood flow had slowed to a trickle, she covered his injury with
gauze and a bandage. Tex still needed medical care, but this would
hold him until he saw his doctor. Standing, she stretched and
twisted, working the kinks out of her back as she peeled off her
gloves.

Just as she stepped into the hall, intent on
grabbing a blanket to cover her sleeping patient, an unfamiliar
jingle rent the air. She jumped, startled at the unexpected sound
this time of the morning. Her gaze swung around the room searching
for the location of the noise. The jingle stopped, and then started
over again.

After realizing it was Tex’s phone, she
walked over to where it had fallen onto the floor. It was one of
those fancy models with all types of pictures on the front screen.
The noise stopped, but she knew it would ring again.

Tex had asked her to call someone. No doubt
that person was calling him. He had been adamant that she contact
this fellow. What was his name? Her mind blanked as she stared at
the small device. Now that Tex was stabilized, she remembered the
quandary she had found herself in. If she talked to this guy, the
chances of Tex getting the professional medical care he needed
might be slim if he refused to take Tex to the hospital. She bit
down on the corner of her lip as she gazed at him on the floor. Did
she want to get more involved than she was already? Professionally,
this might damage her. But she couldn’t let him bleed to death.
Part of her job was doing what she knew was right.

Just as she predicted, the phone jingled
again. Gathering her courage, she wiped the phone before answering.
“Hello?”

There was the shortest pause on the other
end, and then what she would’ve sworn was muffled cursing. “Put Tex
on the phone.” The menace in the voice sent chills down her spine.
He certainly didn’t sound like a friend. And then another thought
pushed through her fatigue. What if this was the person who'd shot
Tex in the first place. He certainly sounded more like an enemy
than a friend.

Shoulders squared, she made a snap decision.
Tex couldn’t fend for himself, so she’d take care of him. “Can’t do
that,” she said and disconnected the call. A feeling of
satisfaction roared through her as she cleaned more of the dried,
sticky blood off the device. Her finger paused over the number one
to make the call per Tex’s request when it jingled again. The
Caller ID said private. But she knew it was the guy she’d hung up
on.

Answering, she said, “hold on.” She pushed
the pause button and dialed the number one.

It was answered before the first ring
completed. “What game are you playing?” the same angry voice
asked.

Swallowing hard, she glanced at the phone.
“He wanted me to call…you?” The question in her voice wasn’t meant
to be rude, but she was baffled. Who was this guy? Was this Tex’s
boss? She had no idea. Now that she thought about it, Tex had eaten
Sunday dinner at her place at least four times in the past two
months and they had never discussed personal stuff. At the time she
was grateful because she didn’t want to delve into her family
history. But what about him? She knew very little about the
handsome black guy she’d considered a nice dinner companion. They'd
talked about current affairs, lightweight politics and music, but
nothing personal.