Mr. Mysterious In Black (16 page)

A tall brunette, dressed in a short white skirt and pink camisole with her breasts full and luscious, bubbling over the curve of her camisole, walked in our path as we passed her house and grabbed his hand, lilting, “Nelly! I’ve missed you. Why haven’t you come to see me?”

Stepping around the rumored couple, I continued my walk to the park.
Right.

I’ve never been fond of Mrs. Forrest’s—the prime community gossiper—daughter, but now, I’ve never been more grateful for her aid in Nelly’s extrication. Because as I much I hate to admit it, I
was
attracted to him. I
do
get on fire for him just like the other girls. Nevertheless, although I couldn’t control how I felt, I could control my actions. I didn’t like the way I felt for him, and I was angry that I did, because I didn’t want to feel
anything
for him.

Especially love.

In the park, I nestled myself at the trunk of a massive oak tree. It was my favorite place to relax when my home was in turmoil; I found solace beneath the giant green fluff of leaves. Opening my pad, I picked up where I’d left off with my design sketches of what I hoped would come to life one day. Even though dad had told me that my dreams were empty and had suffered a brutal death before they were even born. I still dreamed on, nonetheless. What’s life without dreams? Even if they never come true, the most salubrious thing one could do is dream. So I
dream
. Because
dreaming
is what keeps me alive.

My bedroom at home was rife with fashion magazines, for I would keep myself abreast of what was currently in style and created my own designs in tune.

This made me smile. Of only this was I passionate. This gave me peace.

The sunlight dimmed as large fluffs of cumulus clouds passed by it. And at the same time, the air shifted, but I kept my eyes to my pad, focused on my sketching and ignored the pair of Timberland boots that stood before me.

Why won’t he leave me alone?

“Now that I know what makes you smile, I’ll know what to get you,” the irritable pestilence of a voice said from about a mile above me.

“I want
nothing
from you. I’m not one of your boys from the Nine Life Clique. Go pity someone else,” I spat acerbically, my gaze intent on my sketch, my fingers applying enough pressure to break the pencil point.

“I’ve never seen you happy.” His benevolent voice coming from above, gave that impressionistic portrayal of a deity endowing unwanted compassion.

“And what’s that to you? Who the hell do you think you are?” I asked, finally allowing my eyes to drift up his slightly bowed legs snug in faded blue jeans, and up to his firmly built torso with abs that were too proud to lay abased beneath his white T-shirt that was shoved up to his elbows, and then up to his sculptured lips where my eyes lingered a bit before gliding over his perfect straight nose and finally settling on his captivating blues.

“I’d like to make you happy,” he persisted. A thick fluff of cloud moved away from the sun, leaving it right over Nelly’s head, crowning him with a halo, darkening his face and forcing its glare down at me so that I had to squint my eyes. From my point of view, he
was
a deity…

But I was the seed of a curst Diablo. “The only thing I’d like you to do, Nelly, is: Leave. Me. The. Hell. Alone.”

He stooped down and seated himself next to me under the tree, his feet drawn up with his arms resting casually on his knees. “I’ve tried. I’ve failed.”

“Try harder,” I encouraged. The sudden nearness of him triggered that unexplainable curling in my stomach.

Leaning over, he whispered against my ear, “I don’t want to.”

Sweet Lord…his breath…against my skin…

My brow lifted in a curve. “I can find another spot, you know.”

Nelly shrugged. “I’ll just follow you.”

“And I’ll call the cops.”

He laughed. “They’re easy to charm.”

My mouth twisted in disgust. “You think you’re all that and a bag o’ chips, don’t you? Swaggering around here like Solomon in all his glory, thinking that you’re better than others.”

He suddenly looked affronted and I immediately wished to recant my aspersion, because it wasn’t the truth. Nelly was anything but hubris, even though he had every right to be. People who possessed all things desired almost
never
possess the great treasure of humility. But Nelly, surprisingly, did. This, to my view, proclaimed that he was raised by wisdom-bearing parents or guardians, with ethical principles, virtuousness and integrity.

“Is that what people think?” he despairingly asked. “That I think I’m better than them?” He brought his knees to his chest and began trailing his index finger around in the sand, drawing concentric circles.

Oh no. What have I done?

“No,” I tried to placate. “No one thinks that. I’m sorry I said that.”

“If it didn’t appear so, then you wouldn’t have said it,” he replied, now drawing a hypnotic coil. “You said it. That means you think it.”

“I’m sorry, Nelly. I didn’t mean it.” I placed my hand on his, stopping him from trailing that hypnotic coil in the sand. It was…disturbing. “I’m just having a bad day, okay? Disregard what I said.”
I just hate that I have feelings for you. I was hoping I could turn these unwanted feelings into hate. I’m truly sorry.

Accepting my apology, he made a slight nod. Then asked, “Why were you crying?”

Quickly removing my hand from his, I resumed sketching. “No reason.”

“You can tell me. I’m good with secrets,” he coaxed.
Well, that’s perceivable, seeing that no one knows jack shit about you.

“No. Leave me alone now.”

“Please, Sadie.”

Oh heavens he’s relentless
! “Dad’s beating my mom to a pulp, I tried to stop him and he knocked me and sent me away,” I said in a rush. “There now. You’ve heard why. Goodbye.”

“He hit you?” Nelly exclaimed. “Holy hell, are you okay? You’re not hurting?” He turned to me and began making a fuss. His hands were feverish on my face, my shoulders, and my arms, checking for bruises. But all I could think about was how searing his touches were. My palm that I’d placed on his hand moments ago still stung with an inexplicable electric current.

Swatting his hands away, I assured him, “No, I’m not hurt. I’m fine. Now leave me alone. Please.”

“Does he hit you often? I want to help,” he said solicitously. “Let me.”

“Nelly, piss off! Take your nose outta my life now,” I half-shouted in exasperation.

“I won’t ‘piss off’ and I won’t ‘leave you alone’. But I also won’t harry you anymore, for I’ve perceived your mood’s in the bitters.”

Shifting sidewards, he removed a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “I
will
sit here and keep your company, though. Because you don’t deserve to be alone.” He gave life to a cigarette and then puffed it as he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep quiet. I’m only a blivit when I want to be.”

Contempt twisted my face. “That’s disgusting. Out it.”
So much for ethical principles.

Nelly shook his head. “It’ll keep me quiet. It’s either this, or talking your ears off trying to persuade you to be my girl.”

“There’s no such chance, because I loathe anyone who smokes. Out it.”

He winked as he took another draw and blew it in my direction. “Make me an exception.”

“Out it,” I insisted.

“No.”

Narrowing my eyes at him, I set down my sketch pad then launched at his hand, snatched it from his fingers and tossed it away. Then sparing not a second, I grabbed the box and twisted it, crushing them all.

Gazing at me through wide blue eyes, rimmed with long, dark lashes, he said, “You’re a bossy little thing, aren’t you?” Then gripped me by the waist and pulled me onto his lap. “Be mine,” he solicited.

Oh my…

“No. Let me go.” I tried and failed at extricating myself from his firm grasp.

“Why not?”

“Apart from you being unacceptably ugly with crossed eyes, a humongous black wart on your nose and hairs growing from your ears?”

He laughed out. “Yeah, apart from that.”

“Well, for one, you’re too old.”

“I’m twenty-one,” he stated simply, unperturbed.

“And I’m
seventeen
. I’m too young for you.”

“No, you’re not. You’re just perfect for me, Sadie.” He flexed his fingers on my hips and I started to protest again but he talked over me. “Age is but a number. Stop seeking impediments. We’ll have a platonic relationship until you’re ready. Patience is my best friend. I just…I just want you to be mine.”

“I’m nobody’s,” I whispered, even though the words,
“Yes, I want to be yours”
danced on my tongue
.
He was laboring at selling himself to me. And it made me feel special for once in my miserable life.

“
Mine
,” he insisted.

Oh God, I’m losing hold.
“You have all those girls out there primped for you, and more than willing to give it up. They’re old enough. Go chivvy them and leave me alone.” I tried to wring free of his grasp again but he was much too strong.

“Banal. Not interested. A more mature and entertaining conversation is what I have with you than I do with any of them. Even when you’re shooing me,” he chuckled. “All they talk about is me taking them to bed. Hoping to ensnare me with some future pregnancy even if I’d donned ten condoms. I won’t be the one. Oh no, Sadie. I’ll only play into
your
hands. Let me.”

Pointing my finger at his nose, I said smoothly, “That’s not a very nice thing for you to say about the women of my neighborhood. I’ll tell them what you said.”

“It’s the truth.” He shrugged, unfazed. “Take me. Play me. Do whatever you want with me, Sadie. As long as you give yourself
only
to me, I’m yours.”

“And what about Tanya, Mrs. Forrest’s daughter? The rumors, are they true?”

Nelly rolled his eyes. “Falsity. We’re not together. I’m here with
you.
I want
you.
”

With my face inches away from his, I whispered, “The cover is alluring. The beginning may be enthralling. But there’s no culmination and no happy ending. So I sagely advise you to stop chaptering. I’m badly written.”

His nose met mine. “Give me the rights, and I’ll edit and rewrite. Polish you to perfection. But you won’t make best sellers, for you’ll never be published. You will be on my shelf only.”

Oh, don’t make me melt…

I allowed my finger to slide down his perfect straight nose, his lips, his chin to his neck, before grasping the ends of his pigtailed braids and twisting them in opposite directions around his throat. “If you don’t release your hold on me, I’ll choke you to death,” I threatened.

Nelly’s eyes widened momentarily at the sudden attack, then he smiled. “Oh god, I want you
so
bad.”

When I tightened the braids around his throat, he gasped. “This is the perfect way to die. By your hands, the only girl I yearn for.” He stubbornly refused to loosen his hold on me, instead he gripped me tighter.

“You don’t think I’ll do it?” I tested.

“I trust you,” he breathed.

“That’s not a clever thing to do, Nelly.” Leaning forward, I pressed a soft kiss on the tip of his nose and released the braids.

Grinning helplessly at me, he said, “I need to be more vigilant around you. You’re far too agile.”

Nelly shifted my legs so that I was straddling him, and I inhaled his woodsy scent. He was so…
male
. “So, you little cognac-eyed imp, will you be mine?”

No reply came from me. I just stared at him, at his beautiful face, his sinful blue eyes, his too-pink sculptured lips.

Yes, I wanted to be his. I liked him that much. The first person I’ve ever liked. Ever wanted.

The answer to his question must have been present in mine eyes, because he grasped my face between his palms and brought his lips to mine…

I jolted upright from my sleep. It was morning. The sun was bright in the sky, lighting up the room with its penetrative glares. My eyes darted around the room assessing who and where.

As my mind adjusted, I remembered that I was at Natalio’s loft and in his immense bed. A yawn tore my mouth open, and I spotted Natalio out on the balcony in deep conversation on his phone. He looked up and saw me, smiled, then frowned. Replying with a shy smile, I rested my palm on my forehead at the emergent headache and flopped back onto the bed. Flashes of what I’d just dreamt blinked before my eyes, they were there, and then they were gone.

I tried for shit to remember what my dream was about, but all I could come up with were obscured snaps of my mom, my dad and the community I’d grown up in.

My headache grew more severe and my heart triggered into ponderous beats. And soon my eyes closed and I was asleep again.

M
y eyes flickered open, and I found myself gazing into warm blue irises. Natalio was sitting in a relaxed pose at the edge of the bed, in black T-shirt and slacks, watching me.

“I thought you’d never wake up,” he said quietly.

I rubbed my eyes and stretched. “What time is it?”

“Nigh noon,” he answered. “If I hadn’t seen you when you were briefly awake at seven this morning, I would’ve thought you were comatose. You’ve slept for fourteen hours.”