Lovers' Dance (78 page)

Madi eased out from under his arm. “Nowhere. I’m not about to get my butt beaten. Jenny’s right. Auntie Cleo would go mental if she caught us and she moves like a ninja. Sneaks right up on you, then boom.”

Matt frowned at her. “You’re twenty-seven years old, Madi, not a child.”

“This is my aunt’s house, Matt. She’s old school, and I want her to like you.”

“I think we should both stay at Hannah’s condo for the duration of this holiday. I’m not happy with this set up, Madison, not one bit.”

She grinned impishly at him. “Think of it like we’re dating, hon.”

“Cruel,” he replied, unable to fight his answering grin. “You’re a cruel woman, Madison DuMont.”

“And you love me desperately,” she said.

“Desperately,” he agreed, while she stretched over to grab the remote.

“Let’s watch a game instead, Matt. It’s almost one and you have a choice. Cleveland Browns against Atlanta Falcons, Tennessee Titans against Philadelphia Eagles, Detroit Lions against New England Patriots. Oh look, the Jets are playing. They’re a New York team. Let’s watch them.”

“Those names mean nothing to me, poppet,” Matt drawled, pulling her back into his arms. “It’s backwards over here. You call football ‘soccer’, which is bollocks. Football is played with the feet, hence its name. Then you call rugby ‘football’, and it’s a pansy version of the real game, wearing pads and protective gear over the body. That actually makes the game more dangerous you know, because the players go in with a reckless tackling technique.”

She turned in his arms to stare at him, a little curl at the corners of her luscious lips. “First of all, wow, I didn’t know you liked sports—”

“I rarely have the time to watch sports,” he corrected.

“Second of all, don’t bring that snotty British ‘tude in here, Matt. You’re on my turf and I will not hesitate to teach you manners—”

“I’d love to see you try,” he mocked.

“Thirdly—wait—I don’t have another point to make. Let’s watch the game.” 

Matt manoeuvred her around so she was snug against his chest and relaxed into the sofa. As far as things went, today was turning out to be better than he expected. Hopefully the rest of their holiday continued along this stream, and her family would accept their relationship. Once that happened, and he was certain it would, he could have a private word with her uncle to discuss his intentions. Matt had made his mind up and he wasn’t willing to wait anymore.

<><><>

I waved goodbye to Matt, hating the fact we would have to spend another night apart and glad Thanksgiving was tomorrow. It would be Saturday soon and we could go home, I mean, England. It was strange when I came home. It took a couple of days for me to get back into it, then it was like I’d never left. All too soon, I was heading back to England with a New Yorkian frame of mind, which sometimes clashed with my life home, I mean England. I sighed and shut the door, knowing I would have to deal with the mountain of dishes left by the people who’d come to my uncle’s pre-Thanksgiving party. They did this every year as a way to see everyone before the holiday. Thanksgiving was a day for family, and family only, according to Uncle David.

Matt was taking things in his stride like I knew he would. There were a few awkward moments, though. Like Monday night. He’d insisted on taking us out for a meal at Masa. How he’d managed to get us in the small but exclusive restaurant without a reservation I had no idea. I enjoyed the food, trying everything Matt suggested, while Auntie Cleo and Jenny constantly whispered to me about the perceived self-superiority of the clientele. I told them to be quiet and eat their
wagyu tataki
with truffles. Uncle David looked uncomfortable in his dinner jacket throughout the meal, and Jamal kept making eyes at this woman, which wouldn’t have been that bad, except her husband was next to her and he took offense and said something to which my horn dog cousin had to reply. Matt ended up paying for the couple’s dinner, too. I felt sick thinking about the overall bill. The wine had been flowing much to Auntie Cleo’s consternation.

And there was the bodyguard incident. Same freaking night. We were heading back to the limo. I had told Matt we didn’t need a limo but he hadn’t listened. I think he was trying to impress my family the only way he knew how. It was sweet but I could see my aunt’s face as she had mumbled to Uncle David about certain people showing off their wealth. I had also heard the words ‘rubbing’ and ‘noses’ interspersed between her whispers. Anyway, we were heading back to the limo when a crowd of exuberant revellers morphed around us on the sidewalk. Matt’s bodyguards, who were freaking ghosts, appeared out of nowhere. His bodyguards jumped into action and, unfortunately, Hulk had grabbed my aunt’s arm in a totally unnecessary attempt to move her to safety. My aunt did not take kindly to some giant stranger putting their hands on her person. In her defence, it was an instinctive reaction to being grabbed. Aunt Cleo began throwing punches and kicks at any part of Hulk she could touch, while screaming blue murder and calling him a purse snatcher. Uncle David, of course coming to his wife’s aid, had tried to yank Hulk away in the melee and ended up with an elbow in the eye. We still couldn’t decide if it was Aunt Cleo who landed the unintended blow or Ryan the Hulk. Matt was being tugged away by another one of his people while trying to gain control of the situation.

I had stood there, clutching my purse to my chest with my mouth hanging open and certain the flash of lights was not from someone’s cell phone. Oh God. If this made the news, I would die. Matt eventually calmed everyone down and we were hustled into the limo with Aunt Cleo complaining all the while, asking Matt why he needed bodyguards and if he thought New York was Afghanistan. We think alike, my aunt and I. Crap.
That was a scary thought.
My cousins couldn’t stop laughing as I apologized profusely to Ryan the Hulk, while Aunt Cleo said he should be apologizing to her and only a crazy man with a death wish would grab a black woman like that at night. He had matching red palm prints on both his cheeks and his right eye was starting to swell. Yeah. Don’t mess with my Aunt Cleo.

Matt hadn’t said more than four words after that. Things could’ve been worse, though. Aunt Cleo could’ve whaled on him. Monday wasn’t the best of times for me and my knight. Tuesday, I had spent a large proportion of the day in bed with Matt at his sister’s condo. It was my way of trying to make up for the night before. Matt was appreciative of my efforts.

This afternoon we’d had people around for the get-together. I had spent most of my day in the kitchen cooking with Aunt Cleo, while Matt quietly sat in the sitting room working on his laptop. Jamal and Uncle David had gone to work, and Jenny had disappeared with some of her friends. It gave me alone time with Auntie Cleo, but she wouldn’t talk about anything serious. I think Matt’s presence caused her to hold her tongue. Plus, she was still smarting over him staying at the condo instead of her house. She thought Matt felt our home wasn’t good enough for him. Coward that I was, I refrained from telling her the actual reason I asked him to stay at the condo. If I had told her that, then I would have needed to explain the whole security issue which would worry her further.

“Madi, you gonna take the rubbish out like you said you would?” Jamal called from the kitchen.

I sighed and hurried back into the kitchen to finish cleaning up. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving, another day in the kitchen. Uncle David’s family would be joining us. Neither I nor Aunt Cleo got along with them. Whatever beef was going on, it had transferred onto me since I was Aunt Cleo’s blood relative. Having to call Uncle David’s mom, Ms Regina, while Jamal and Jenny called her grandma, had freaked me out as a child. It was another reminder that I wasn’t viewed as ‘family.’ Aunt Cleo had tried to make me feel better about it. I remembered getting birthday and Christmas cards from Ms Regina with money inside up until I was nine. Then Jenny had pointed out in her little precocious manner that the writing in her and Jamal’s cards were different. The cards stopped coming after that, but I always got a little extra at Christmas from my aunt and uncle.

“Where’s Jenny?” I asked Jamal as he swigged a can of beer.

“Out back with that trifling nigga, Omar,” he replied in disgust.

I stopped knotting the full garbage bag and stared at him. “She’s still with him? But he’s—”

“A trifling nigga,” Jamal reiterated. “But you know Jen, ‘Don’t tell me what to do.’” He mimicked her voice.

I chuckled, trying not to let my worry show. I never liked Omar. He was crass and not deserving of my younger cousin. “Don’t let Aunt Cleo hear you using that word, Jamal.”

He took another swig of his beer and watched me finish tying up the garbage bag.

“Cuz, you know that man is using you, right?” He didn’t blink as he voiced his unwarranted thoughts.

“Shut up,” I said.

“Look, I’m calling it like I see it. He’s having his bit of fun before settling down with a wifey who looks like him. Don’t be mad ’cos it’s the truth. If you’re in it to live the high life, that’s cool. You do you, cuz, but, if you think he’s serious about you, I have to tell you that’s not reality.”

“Shut up,” I said, this time in a low, hard tone.

“All right.” Jamal shrugged as he started out the kitchen. “As long as you know that no matter how nice they act, at the back of their minds they see us as beneath them.”

“Matt’s not like that,” I said. “How can you say that anyway? We both have white friends. Are you implying that your friends think they’re better than you? Look, I’m done with this ongoing head fuck. You tidy up the mess. I’m going for a walk.” 

“Your business is out there, Madi,” Jamal warned as I stormed off. “People are talking about you, and they’re talking about us because of you.”

“Let them talk,” I yelled. “Those people should learn to mind their own damn business.”

As Matt would say: Bollocks. I didn’t need this right now. I grabbed my coat on the way out and stepped into the crisp night air, taking a few deep breaths to soothe my boiling anger. Couldn’t they see how hard Matt was trying? I saw it. Why couldn’t they?

<><><>

Thanksgiving morning was tense around the breakfast table. Jamal and Jenny were glaring at me over the freshly squeezed orange juice, silently judging me in sync with their stupid sibling bond. Auntie Cleo and Uncle David were aware of the tension between us three, but in the dark about its origins.

“So,” Uncle David said to break the unspoken tension. No one spoke. I shovelled eggs into my mouth and chewed stoically. How dare they judge my relationship? I had never once complained to their faces about their love life.

“Everyone should arrive at noon,” he continued. “What time is Matt coming, Madi?”

“He should be here soon, Uncle David,” I replied coolly, ignoring Jamal’s roll of eyes.

“Hmph,” Aunt Cleo muttered. “Bodyguards. Who does he think he is? Justin Timberlake? Ha.” She was clearly still annoyed over Monday’s night outing.

I exchanged a look with my cousins and the three of us burst out laughing. It was so funny we forgot about the strain between us.

“What do you know about JT, Ma?” Jenny asked between her giggles.

“Oh, she knows,” Uncle David said dryly, shooting her a mock scowl. “She knows a whole lot about that boy. Your mother thinks I don’t know she’s got the hots for him. Oooh, Justin.” Uncle David ended in a falsetto, then added with glee, “But he’s married now, so there.”

I laughed so hard I swear a trickle of pee came out. Aunt Cleo batted her eyes at Uncle David and started humming one of his songs. I missed this craziness.

The doorbell went and I jumped up, mouth stretching in a wide grin. I caught Jamal’s look, and my smile wavered before I gave him defiant eyes and strode out of the kitchen to go open the front door for my knight.

Matt’s was staring at my head. “Good morning, poppet.”

Shit. My head scarf. Of all the darned things to forget. I snatched it off my head while he laughed at me.

“Happy first Thanksgiving, Matt,” I said, stepping back to let him in.

He entered the house, cast a quick look around to check we were alone, then grabbed me up in a hug that included hot kisses.

“Damn it,” he murmured, forehead resting against mine. “I miss waking up next you.”

“Me too,” I whispered back.

He kissed me once more, then pulled away, constantly scanning for interruptions in the form of my family.

“I haven’t wanked this much since I was a teenager,” he muttered, voice strained with sexual frustration.

“Matt,” I hissed, trying to fight my laughter.

“What? It’s the truth, poppet. Tuesday was ages ago—”

“It’s only Thursday,” I advised tongue-in-cheek.

“As I said,” he replied, while slipping a hand inside the waist band of my pyjama bottoms. “Ages ago.”

I tugged his hand out and wagged a finger at him. “Think of this as a character-building exercise. I did when we were dating.” I used air quotations for the word ‘dating.’

Matt’s eyes darkened to a sensuous chrome silver. “The next time we’re alone, I’m tying you to the bed with your legs wide open, then I’m—”

I clasped my hand over his mouth, muffling the words he uttered. Damn. Matt had a way with words. My breathing was no longer even as he gave me the look. It was the one where I knew he was considering the delightful things he could do to me. That look was lethal.