Back to Me (10 page)

She kicked his leg and then stood up. “Forget you.”

He smirked. “I doubt that's possible. Wait here,” he said, collecting their shoes and suit jackets. “I'll put these in the car, and then we'll walk.”

“It's not like I have a choice.”

Sergio-Xavier considered pointing out the obvious but recognized the self-preservation tactic and continued on to his vehicle. When he returned, the table was empty. Paige had started down the beach.

For a moment, Sergio-Xavier stood watching her hold her skirt up as she gingerly stepped in the sand. The sun glistened against her ebony skin, giving her calves a glow. Even on the beach, her body language was tense. Something was driving her to “work out her salvation,” as she put it, but Sergio-Xavier wasn't sure he wanted to dig deep enough to learn what that was.

“Having fun yet?” he asked once he caught up with her.

“Maybe.”

Her smile said what her mouth would not. She was having fun, all right, but she would never give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd given her any joy. Her arm interlocked with his, but he doubted she realized the two resembled a couple.

“How do you manage being a minister and a doctor and remaining so normal?”

He shrugged. “I don't know what you call normal, but I handle my vocation and my profession by keeping my role in perspective.”

She stopped walking and looked up. “What do you mean?”

“My role is the same with both. I am not a healer or a savior. I am just one of the many vessels He uses to fulfill His plans. I have to totally rely on Him to do anything. I pray before I exam every patient, and I pray for everyone I counsel spiritually. I
try
to do only the things He tells me to and to refrain from things that are not His will. Do I always get it right? No, but that's where the blood of Jesus comes in.”

Her eyes glossed over before she turned toward the ocean. She maintained that position the remainder of the walk, without talking. Sergio-Xavier didn't talk, either; he spent the mile walk in silent prayer for Paige.

Blue streaks had already begun to break through the dark sky when Paige placed her coffee cup in the dish rack to dry on Monday morning. Normally by this time she'd be waiting in the drive-through line at Starbucks, but today she'd decided to enjoy an extra half hour of relaxation before starting her hectic week. Instead of racing to Starbucks for a caffeine fix, she had brewed a cup of herbal tea in the Keurig and had sipped it while reading a daily devotional.

Although the previous day's events had left her emotionally drained, stiff muscles and fatigue didn't plague her body this morning. After a hot bubble bath the night before, she'd slept like a baby. The realization that yesterday was the first Sunday she'd attended only two church services in three years hadn't come until her head touched the pillow. Even more surprising had been the absence of condemnation for hanging out on the beach on the Lord's day. “The church mothers would be proud,” she'd moaned before drifting off to sleep.

Sergio-Xavier had been the perfect gentleman, not that she was looking for one, but the man had turned out to be everything she thought he wasn't. He'd sensed and fulfilled her needs without her having to articulate them. He'd known when to allow her to talk and when to be quiet and let the ocean's waves speak for her. Most importantly, he hadn't cracked jokes about the corns on her feet or her rough heels. She hadn't had a pedicure since the beginning of last spring, but she vowed to get one as soon as possible.

“I can't put this off any longer,” she mumbled while drying her hands. She didn't want to make the call, but she had to for her own peace of mind. She picked up the landline and punched in the numbers. “Lord, please don't let me say something stupid.” She finished the plea just before he answered.

“Dr. Simone speaking.”

Paige's breath caught. They had talked on the phone before, but this morning Sergio-Xavier sounded different. His voice was deeper and, Lord help her, downright sexy.

“Hello? Is someone there?”

“It's me. Good morning,” she managed to say after clearing her throat. “I was calling to remind you of our appointment tomorrow afternoon.”

She heard his chuckle and envisioned those full lips parting into a mischievous grin.

“Let me guess. You misjudged your assistant, and she quit. Now you have to make reminder calls at seven a.m., right?”

She joined in his laughter. “Something like that. Is this too early for you? I assumed you'd be getting ready for work as well.”

“You know what they say about assumptions. When you—”

“Watch yourself, Preacher.”

“As long as I have you to keep me straight, I'll be fine.” His laughter subsided, and Paige wished it hadn't. It was warm and soothing. “Actually, I'm already at the hospital, preparing for rounds.”

“Well, I won't keep you, then—,” she began, but he interrupted.

“What's the real reason you called?”

Why do you always have to be so direct?
she wanted to scream but instead swallowed her pride. “Thank you for yesterday. Well, actually for the entire weekend. I had an emotionally draining weekend, and you helped me through the rough spots. Thanks for being patient and understanding. I really needed that. Every time I see a beach, I'll think of you.” She envisioned him gloating during the long silence that followed. “You're the best client I've ever had, and I haven't sold you anything yet.” Nervous giggles flowed uncontrollably from her.

“You're welcome.” His staid tone threw her off balance. She'd expected laughter or a joke. “I have to go, but I will definitely keep our appointment tomorrow. I want to get this project off the ground before spring.”

That was a nice dismissal, she thought but said, “Okay, well, have a good day.”

“Paige,” she heard him call just as she was about to disconnect the call.

“Yes, Dr. Simone?”

“Feel free to use this number in the afternoon and evening hours as well. If you need me, I'm just a phone call away. Have a good day and a great time with the divas tonight, sweetheart.” Then the line went dead.

Paige replaced the cordless phone on the charger and then collected her briefcase and jacket from the closet and prepared to leave for work. She'd backed halfway out of the driveway before Sergio-Xavier's last words registered, causing her to slam on the brakes. “He called me sweetheart!”

 

 

“Divas!” Paige hollered uncharacteristically upon entering the classroom. She'd expected a few surprised expressions from the DWAP girls, but the looks of distain and disgust were uncalled for.

“Hi,” the group chorused, greeting her collectively with the dryness of the Mojave Desert.

Jasmine, now with burgundy curls resting on her shoulders, stepped forward. Her twisted lip and scrunched nose made Paige second-guess her decision to wear the gray- and black-checkered, floor-length broomstick skirt and gray sweater instead of the usual black suit. “What's up with you?”

Totally deflated, Paige looked down and lifted the skirt to show off the new pair of gray leather boots she'd picked up after her last client. “What do you mean? This outfit is cute and modest.”

The other girls snickered, but Jasmine outright laughed in Paige's face.

“I've got to work with you,” Jasmine said and at the same time grabbed Paige by the hand and led her to a regular-size chair that had been placed in the middle of the room. Once Paige was seated, Jasmine added, “You'll never hook a man as fine as Dr. Simone, looking like this.”

Paige bolted upright from the chair and stood toe-to-toe with the young girl. “What are you talking about? I'm not trying to hook a man, especially not him. I'm saved. I'm waiting on the Lord. I am—”

“You'll be waitin' awhile,” one of the girls interrupted, “because won't no man be able to find you under all that fabric.”

“I'm sure the good doctor knows how to feel his way, but at some point he's going to want to see what he's working with,” another girl added.

Paige gripped the back of her chair. “Now wait a minute!” Paige was not about to let these unsaved, oversexed, and half-educated high school students insult her about her lack of sex appeal. “You are way out of line to discuss my personal life here. I am not one of your girlfriends. I am your instructor. I volunteer to train you, not to discuss some imaginary relationship with Dr. Simone.” With every word, she shook more violently. “We will not discuss my personal life!”

“We know, because you don't have one,” someone hollered.

Uncontrollable laughter filled the room, but Paige stood her ground. Her chest heaved and her cheeks burned, and she was on the verge of tears, because the jesting words carried the truth. “That is none of your business!”

“Wrong again,” Jasmine said, correcting her. “You made it our business when you made him part of our training session. We saw how he was checking you out.”

“That's not true. He was here only to observe,” Paige retorted, defending herself.

“He did. He checked you out, and we peeped him out. He likes you, but you're going to have to step your game up to get him.”

What little professionalism and tolerance Paige had left vanished. “I don't want him!” she screamed. “And I do not want to discuss this any further. Now, get down to business, or I'll cancel the session and quit this group.”

Jasmine's lips smacked. “Whoa, Miss Paige. What happened to all that professionalism you was teaching us?”

“Little girl, how dare you turn this around on me?” Paige screamed so loudly that her voice squeaked.

The room echoed with a collective “Shh!” from the girls.

“Will you tone it down before an administrator comes in here and shuts us down?” Jasmine pleaded with both hands raised, and then stepped into Paige's personal space. “For the record, I am not a little girl. I am eighteen years old, which legally makes me an adult. I am the same height as you, and my body is just as curvaceous as yours, but tighter, considering your age.” She pointed to the chair. “Now, sit down so we can get started.”

“Started on what?” Paige snarled.

“Not
what.
Who.”

“Who?”

“You, Miss Saved and Sanctified, and running over with a spirit and speaking in an unknown tongue that even you don't understand.”

“I will not allow you to make mockery of—”

“Let me break it down for you this way,” Jasmine interrupted. It was good that she butted, as Paige heard every curse word she knew floating though her head. Jasmine looked around the room. “Everyone who has more than black, brown, blue, and gray in their closet, owns at least one pair of open-toe shoes, and doesn't wear a bun, please slide back one step.”

Everyone retreated but Paige, who remained planted where she was standing and seething with anger.

“Now do you get it?” Jasmine asked.

“I know what's in my closet, and I look in the mirror every morning. So I don't need for you to tell me what I look like,” Paige snapped. “For the last time, let's get to work on this project before I leave.”

“Ugh!” Jasmine frantically waved her hands in the air. “You still don't get it. DWAP's work is done. We met at my house yesterday, after church, and filled this week's orders, balanced our accounts, and restocked our inventory.”

Now Paige was totally confused. “Why would you do that, knowing we would meet tonight?”

“So we could have the whole time to help a sista out.” Jasmine pointed to the black case on the table. “We're giving you a makeover, and I'm going to show you some quick and easy hairstyles so you can get rid of that bun. We went online and determined your color palette and printed it out so you can take it with you when you shop. Seriously, we know you're not
tryin'
to get a man, but you can look good for yourself. I mean, you're pretty already, so you just need some enhancement.”

Jasmine pointed to the chair again. “Now, sit down so we can get started. We promise not to have you looking like a fifty-dollar hussy. It's just that you've helped us so much, and this is our way of showing you some appreciation for taking time out of your schedule for us.” Jasmine giggled and then added, “You better take this, 'cause we ain't got no money to raise you an offering.”

Paige didn't realize she was falling until her bottom hit the seat of the chair. She hadn't seen this coming. Her purpose was to help forsaken inner-city youths, not the other way around. The idea of her learning something from them had never crossed her mind. Neither had she thought that any of them cared about anyone or anything other than themselves. She'd been wrong again.

She scanned the table more closely. The table contained not only make-up and color swatches and fashion magazines, but also a bowl of grapes and plastic cups, along with two bottles of store-brand apple cider. The girls' dead silence enabled her to hear the jazz music playing from someone's smartphone. They had planned what they considered a girls' night, and seeing the anticipation on each of their faces, she knew she couldn't disappoint them.

“Okay, let's get started,” Paige said between fake coughs, meant to camouflage how much the grassroots effort touched her.

Cheers of “Great!” and “Let's get started” filled the room, but only momentarily. The ladies were on a mission and went right to work. Jasmine disassembled the bun and plugged in the curling iron.

“Have some of this,” one girl said, handing Paige a cup of cider and a small bunch of grapes.

Another girl held up swatches of colors that would look good with Paige's skin tone. Paige nodded and tried to remember the fashion tips. “Don't worry if you can't remember it all. I made some note cards for you,” the girl told her.

As soon as Paige finished the cider and grapes, two girls grabbed each of her hands and proceeded to give her a manicure.

“You have beautiful hair. I don't know why you insist on hiding it in that throwback bun,” Jasmine said and then instructed someone to hold up the hairstyles that would do Paige's foot-long tresses justice.

A giggle slipped from Paige, and for once she didn't try to stifle it. She was actually having fun with the girls. The idea of her sitting motionless in a chair while these kids helped her look good was hilarious, and all because they thought Sergio-Xavier was interested.

While the curls cooled and rested, Jasmine started on Paige's make-up. “Now before you start speaking in tongues and rebuking the devil,” Jasmine said, holding up the M•A•C color palette, “we didn't steal this. My cousin works at Macy's, and she gave me a deal, but don't ask me what kind of deal. Just trust me, it's legal. We know your whole body is saved, sanctified. Won't no stolen product adhere to your face. It would just slide right off.”

Paige wanted to laugh along with the girls, but she couldn't move or talk. She settled on grunting to communicate that she got the dig, but made a decision not to complain later. They were only having fun, and to be honest, so was she.

“Get the mirror,” Jasmine ordered with only twelve minutes of their scheduled time left. She tilted Paige's head upright after adding the finishing touches to her hair.

Paige opened her eyes to find the girls had packed the leftover snacks and had cleared everything away. Next to her briefcase were the note cards and the pictures they'd shown her earlier. A big square mirror was thrust in front of her face before she could finish surveying the room.

“Well, what do you think?” they all asked at once.