Chapter 14
Daniel
I drive Maggie and Cara home. It is as if Cara has eaten a boat load of sugar; her excitement is through the roof.
After dropping them, I drive back to my place because I need casual clothing as requested by my date.
I’m fucking happy like a teenage boy to be going on a date with Ms K.
During the after party, I watched her so closely that Bruce had to call me out.
“You couldn’t be any more obvious if you tried,” he’d said as he nudged me in the rib with his elbow.
“Fuck you.”
He’d grinned back at me.
“You are getting into the territory of bad like Luke and Declan,” he prods, and I find myself chuckling, realizing I didn’t mind at all. A quick glance at Declan with his hands interlaced with Anne’s and Anne gazing at him looked fucking good.
"If that's bad, then I want bad," I responded, my eyes conveying a challenge.
“Best of luck,” he said, tapping my shoulder. I turned back to see Ms K and Andrea leaving with the guy from earlier. I don’t know what their relationship is yet but I’m certain next time I’ll be taking her home and when I do, it will be permanent.
I pull up to her building and call her.
“Hi, I’m outside,” I say the moment she answers.
“I’ll be right down, and I hope you are wearing comfy shoes.”
“I followed your requirements, Ms K.”
“MAK or Makayla, please,” she says, hanging up. For now, I will call her MAK but I feel like I need some insider connection and name for her, not the name everyone calls her. I heard her cousin call her by a different name.
I see the door to the building open and she’s wearing a ruffled tie neck navy blue mini dress with white chucks, wide sunglasses and a straw hat on her head.
Nice smooth legs. She gets to the car and opens the passenger door, taking her place next to me.
Her floral scent hits my nostrils; I inhale it all.
It doesn’t help that her dress rides up a bit, showing her silky tan legs.
I want to touch and feel her skin, but instead I grip the steering wheel tight.
“Hi, Uncle Dan,” she says with a goofy grin.
“Hi, Ms K” I reply, matching her goofy grin.
“Fine, you win for now.” Good.
“Where are we headed?” I ask. She reads the address out to me and I enter it into the navigation and pull out onto the street. “Hope you had a good night’s rest.”
“I wish. I got lots of calls from my friends at home and abroad. They kept me up all night talking. Much as I kept saying ‘it’s late I’m going to bed’. Soon as I hang up, the phone rings again.”
“They were happy for you.”
“Yes, they were and so was I, but I needed my sleep.”
“I bet. So, what are we getting for the kids? I’m sure Cara would be happy with whatever you give her.”
“I had ordered a few items from a vendor at the market last week to gift the kids regardless of how we perform, even better now that we did great; we can pick the items up and find more items the kids might like.”
“So, where did you study music?”
“Nice try, Uncle Dan. This is my date, and I get to ask all the questions.”
“I thought it was our date, and you only picked the location.”
“Fine, I studied music at USC. That’s where I met Jordan before he dropped out. I learned to play the piano from my mom, other instruments with teachers and drums I am self-taught.”
“How many instruments do you play?” I quietly ask. I’m fucking enthralled by this woman.
“Guitar, piano, violin, drums and saxophone.” She raises up her hand and counts on her slender fingers that I want to be putting in my mouth as we speak. “Lately, I don’t touch the sax as much.”
“Any reason why?”
“No.” For an instant, her eyes turn cold.
Her no is firm like it’s an untouchable subject, so for now, I leave it alone.
I steer the conversation to safer waters. "Cara lights up when she talks about her music lessons with you."
"The feeling is mutual. She has a gift for piano—the violin's still a work in progress, but she'll get there with practice."
"With you guiding her, I have no doubt she'll excel."
"That’s the goal, for every student." I study her beautiful face, noting the genuine warmth of her love for music. "Teaching isn't just a job for you, is it?"
“I love teaching, it gives me purpose, and the best part of my day is when the child gets the musical instrument correctly. Their face light up, it’s amazing,” she says. Even she lights up talking about it. I can imagine the moment with her and her student.
“I bet it is.”
We pull up to the market and find parking. MAK and I get out. I get in step next to her. I want to take her hand, but instead I tuck my hands in my pocket and walk beside her. Our pace is slow as we look around the stalls.
“Yesterday, Mrs DeMoore said that you speak three languages. Is that true or was it all hype?” I ask as we move through the crowd.
“I do speak three languages fluently. If you count the Nigerian pidgin, that would make four, but most Nigerians do not count pidgin, it’s considered our language of interethnic communication and spoken by over a 100 million people.”
“What three languages do you speak?”
“English, Yoruba and Mandarin.”
“Interesting. So, I might need to hire you some time in the future for your Mandarin skill.”
“Maybe.” She smirks, I return a chuckle. She keeps coloring me intrigued.
We arrive at a store; an old Hispanic man sees her and grins. “You are here!”
“I am. How are you Manuel?” She smiles.
“Good. Rachel should be here soon, but for now, I get to serve you.” He looks happy.
“You are too kind. This is my friend Daniel,” she says, turning to me and Manuel reaches out to shake my hand.
I accept his handshake, and he goes inside and brings out boxes.
He opens them and shows her the customized T-shirt.
Each shirt design is based on the instrument her student plays with each child’s initials inscribed on the shirt.
Another box is water bottles with musical stickers and medium sized pinback buttons with the program logo.
“They are perfect, thank you so much.” She hugs the man who happily hugs her back and behind him comes a voice.
“You know he has a crush on you; he’s going to be grinning all day and annoying me.” A middle-aged black woman says behind him. MAK pulls back and smiles. The lady comes to hug her. “I heard Chicago gets to keep you.” She looks happy.
“We did it,” she answers and the woman cups her face.
“So proud of you my dear.”
MAK nods.
“Thank you.” I see the happiness on her face. “I love the items, and the kids will be happy.”
“They better like it or I’ll come and smack their little behinds.” We all laugh. “Who’s this? He’s cute.” She moves closer to me. “See, Manuel? Strong, young and good-looking man like him is good for MAK, not old and bald like you,” she says.
“You are just jealous,” Manuel responds, waving the woman off. She turns to me.
“I’m Rachel, and that old and bald man is my husband,” she says. Her hand is out for a handshake.
“I’m Daniel, MAK’s friend.”
“Nice to meet you, Daniel. I hope MAK brings you by again.”
“I hope so too.” I answer.
“I have sent the payment,” MAK says, and I notice Manuel stacking the boxes onto a pushcart.
“Where did you park dear?” Manuel says to MAK.
“We are parked close by, in the first lot.”
“I can take the boxes and bring the cart back,” I say.
“It’s best Manuel comes with us; we won’t be coming back this way,” MAK says.
“Happy to come with you, dear,” Manuel is quick to respond.
“Of course you are,” Rachel mocks. Manuel grins at her, she shakes her head at him, probably tired of him.
“Ready?” MAK asks and Manuel nods. We turn to leave, and Manuel goes to kiss Rachel.
“Be right back, honey,” he says.
“Yes, old man,” she says, kissing him back. We wave and leave the stall. I pull the cart, and Manuel walks next to me.
“I can’t leave without kissing my girl.” His voice is steady. I nod to him.
“How long have you two been married?” I ask
“Forty years. Best decision I ever made. My friends called me stupid when I married her within months of dating at 22. They now call me smart.” He looks back again and waves at her. He’s a happy man and still calls his wife of forty years my girl.
We get to the car and load the trunk with the boxes. MAK goes to hug him again and he leaves waving at us. MAK turns me, nodding in the opposite direction.
“Where to now?” I ask. I watch as she grabs her tote bag
“Now, we walk around, eat all the junk food and buy anything good we find.”
I glance at my watch.
“Don’t tell me you are ready to bail on me already?”
Work can wait. “No bailing here, MAK.”
She nods. I get in step next to her and we walk in palpable silence as she weaves through the crowd. I’m sure she knows where she’s headed.
“There’s a butter pretzel that I can’t resist every time I come here.”
“Pretzel it is.”
“Come on, we must move fast. There’s always a line.” Our pace increases, and we stop suddenly. I realize we are in a long line.
“The line is long,” I state the obvious
“This is good, it moves fast. Another ten minutes, it would be longer.”
I nod, hands in pocket next to her. I get a few minutes to gaze at her.
“Why Mandarin?”
“My dad was the Nigerian ambassador to China; we lived there for six years. I picked up the language.” The line starts to move. “When we moved back to UK, dad didn’t want me to lose the language, so he got me a tutor, and I continued to learn and speak.”
“That’s pretty cool. I’m guessing you can read and write.”
She smiles.
“I read better than write in Mandarin. My writing isn’t very good.”
“It’s certainly better than mine,” I say, making her chuckle.
“Cara says Uncle Dan is an awesome lawyer. Are you an awesome lawyer?”
“If my niece says so, then I am.”
“Very funny.”
She’s right; the line does move fast. I look back, and the line is now longer. “What would you like to get? I know what I want,” she says pointing to the menu board.
“I’ll have whatever you have; trusting you on this one.”