Color Blind Page 7

  He opens the door, taking my hand and helping me out of his large SUV. Iz grabs a hat from the back of the vehicle and secures it around his head, with the bill covering as much of his face as possible. I guess that’s what you do when you’re world famous.

  His pull is not needed as I find myself blindly following him as he asks, “Let me guess, you’ll have the turkey BLT.” I nod my head in agreement, as the many memories we have of them telling us that they don’t have a turkey BLT pop up. Then all the times I would ask for them to add it for me, and yes, I was fine with the additional cost.

  After a couple minutes and our sandwiches at our table, we sit in silence with both our appetites taking over for us. Finally, when I stop to breathe, I simply ask, “Hey, by the way, how is that sister of yours?” Iz’s sister, three years his junior, had always been a bright spot in his life. He didn’t have the type of relationship I did with Candace but honestly, who did?

  “Talia, she’s good. I’m trying to get her to move to L.A. She’s a social worker and some of the doctors at Good Samaritans Hospital want her.” He takes a bite of his ham and cheese sandwich. It takes him a second before he continues, “She’s a mama.” I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Talia has to be at least thirty-two years old. “The fucker of an ex is worthless and it was all I could do to get her to allow me to pay for a good lawyer. That girl is so stubborn.” He looks at me straight in the eyes. “Why in the hell am I surrounded by all these fuckin’ ‘I will do what I want’ women?” I only laugh because it’s one of those questions he doesn’t want an answer to.

  Before I can question, he has more to say, “She won’t let me help with one damn thing, though she finally took my offer of the best divorce and custody lawyer. I made her see reason when it came to my nephew, who I call lil’ Nate. Anyway, I really hope she gets her ass down here from Sacramento.”

  Iz has always been a family man and it does not surprise me he wants to help his sister. That part of Iz will never change.

  It’s five o’clock and I can’t wait to walk the small distance to my apartment, run a bath, and read Judy Blume’s In the Unlikely Event. After getting home after eleven p.m. last night, I want nothing more than to bathe and go to bed. I see my night has other plans for me when Candace meets me at the door with my black evening gown and my bright red stilettos.

  “You going out with Lang?” I ask casually but the way she’s about to pounce on me, I know it’s me.

  “No, I got a message from Iz. You’re to be ready in thirty minutes.” Ah, Iz. That explains this sort of ambush. Give a guy some money and he thinks he owns the world. I’m surprised he didn’t send me a new outfit to wear. This thought hits me as Candace explains, “He was going to send you a whole new fucking outfit, all the way down to the shoes, but I told him that’s not you and then hinted to him to tell Lang that it’s indeed me.” I love how Candy can set Iz straight all the while creating her own agenda, too. She’s not wrong. Iz dressing me would have been a total turn-off.

  “Okay, big sister,” Candace begins. “Let’s get you ready. Your man will be here in thirty minutes.”

  I tighten my eyes her way but she just says, “You can tell me until you’re blue in the face that Israel Laita is not your man but fuck, he’s sure trying to be.”

  The limo drops us off in front of a huge contemporary theatre in Hollywood. I look around, trying to gather my bearings when Iz begins, “This is the Pantages Theatre.”

  “Okay,” I say, making the word much longer than the two syllables it normally is. “So, tell me, why are we here?”

  His smile is so big and we must have stayed still for too long as we’re now accosted by the paparazzi. When he takes my hand, he’s as cool as a cucumber, swooping me inside. In the safety of indoors, he turns me around, and I’m now aware of why we’re at this beautiful theatre.

  “See, Buttercup, new or old, I’ll always remember what’s important to you.” I soak in the sign of the musical I’ve been wanting to see for so long.

  Before I can question Iz, a concierge is escorting us to our private VIP seating for the night. Once we’re left in the privacy of each other’s company, I stand in front of him. “What the hell, Iz? How did you do this?”

  “Liz, I’m Israel Laita. It was not hard to make this happen, believe me. But even if it were difficult, I still would’ve scoured the earth to bring you here tonight. And I bought out the VIP seating, it’s just you and me.” He reaches for my arm and I pull it away.

  “Iz, you still don’t believe me that I was doing the best I could at the time and I didn’t leave you voluntarily.” We’re in the back of what looks like an old box seat but it’s been converted. No one can see up from the audience. I’m still nose-to-nose with him as his gaze diverts from my eyes.

  Without looking at me, he almost pleads, “Then help me understand.”

  “I can’t, Iz. I really can’t. I need you to believe me.” My job is to convince people with my words. Sure, it’s normally in the sense of getting what my client demands. I never falter nor do I beat around the bush. Why is telling the truth with Daddy now gone, so hard for me?

  He takes a step back, breaking the proximity of our closeness. “Liz, can we just have this night together? No fighting, no convincing me that world peace was in question—that being the only reason that would have parted us.” I laugh because he’s being a jerk but at the same time, it’s kind of hot.

  He leads me to my seat and I let it go for now. After all, I’m seeing Hamilton for the first time. With us being in our private seating, I can entertain Iz as I sing along with the entire musical.

  16 years ago

  Opening my eyes, surely the sleep in the corner of them is affecting my vision when I zero in on the large black man asleep in the chair across from my bed. Shaking my head for clarity, I comprehend that I’m not seeing random objects from my dream where Israel Laita brought me medicine and Gatorade; it was in fact real. Sitting up barely, since I still seem wobbly, I watch him sleep.

  Shit, he looks so uncomfortable in that small chair, his large body taking up every inch of inhabitance it offers. He’s peaceful, though, with a small little snore escaping his mouth. Hell, he’s fine and easy to look at. Some would say sex on a stick, but for me he’s sex carrying a football.

  Being a huge football fan, in every aspect of the sport, I’d heard of him. It wasn’t until after my first week of class that this bimbo behind me asked if I’d switch spots with her. I didn’t ask her why, but knew it had to do with the good-looking man of muscle next to me who would certainly be on his way to the pros.

  When he bends his neck, as though he’s working out a kink, he opens his eyes and immediately smiles my way. “Hey, Buttercup.” Stretching his hands over his head and his legs toward my bed, it’s not hard to see that he’s very stiff. Poor guy, all six-five of him has to hurt.

  “Iz, you have to be uncomfortable. Go home. I’ll call you if I need you.”

  Is it funny to say his teeth were one of the first things I was attracted to? They’re perfect and the white against his dark skin makes his smile even more brilliant. With his little smirk, he says, “No can do, Buttercup. No way I’m leaving you.”

  It’s sweet and sweet men have never been something I’m used to. They want my daddy’s money or a piece of me, never wanting to know me for me. “Iz, really, I’m okay. I think my fever broke.” He closes the distance, putting his hands on my forehead. There’s so much more than a physical connection.

  With his hand still on my head, our bond is forged. Grabbing my own hand, he continues, “Damn, you’re so stubborn. I’m not goin’ anywhere, Liz.” It’s then I acknowledge his presence feels good.

  10

  Liz

  With the weekend upon me, I wake bright and early and for once, excited to have the time to work out in the gym. I’m ten minutes into my three-mile run on the treadmill, jamming out to “The Greatest Love Story.” I glance up and see my greatest love story smiling, standing
in front of me. I can’t put him behind me when he’s always in front of me.

  “Mornin’, I see you still like to run.”

  I remove my headphones and clarify, “Like has nothing to do with it. Unless I want an ass the size of my home state, I have to do it.”

  He takes no time as he snakes his body around the treadmill. “Whatever you’re doin’ looks mighty fine to me, Buttercup. Always loved you with a little bit of a booty anyway.”

  I’m not sure what comes over me when I turn off the treadmill, stopping abruptly. Holding onto the sides, I’m able to look straight into those chestnut eyes that normally are my demise. “That’s it. This fucking stops right now. Tell me right this minute you trust my decision from so long ago or get the fuck away from me.”

  When his mouth opens, I place my finger at his lips. “No, don’t ask me or beg me to tell you. Either I’m the girl you fell in love with so long ago that you need to trust or I’m not. Tell me now before this gets any further.”

  Breaking my gaze, he turns away without another word. At least I know that reconciliation is not an option. It doesn’t hurt any less, though.

  Moving to L.A. was a new start for me and before we arrived here, I’d agreed to go out with an old boyfriend from law school. I’d been meaning to cancel but then again, I couldn’t put my life on hold for Iz. It’s a catch twenty-two I’m asking of him—to trust me blindly but in the time we’d been together, I swore I wanted nothing to do with Daddy’s money.

  Putting my life on hold for Iz for something that may never happen is a hard pill to swallow and while I’m changing my clothes, Candace enters my room, assuming I'm off with Iz for the night.

  “I knew you couldn’t stay away from your football man,” she teases.

  When I don’t meet her eyes, she pokes a little more. “You’re meeting Iz, right?”

  “Um,” I answer her casually. “My life doesn’t revolve around Israel Laita. No, a boyfriend from law school is here in L.A.” Sure, I’d dated here and there but Logan Merren was never my soul mate, but he was fun, smart, and not bad in bed.

  “Liz, are you messing with me? Iz, he’s it—and—he’s back in your life.” Candy is never one to disagree with me or lobby for anyone so it catches me off guard.

  Pulling my pink dangly earrings from my jewelry box and sliding them in my ears, I simply reply, “He’s pushing me for answers. As much as I insist I didn’t leave him for the money, he wants more and I can’t give him all the answers.”

  “Why not? Daddy’s gone. It doesn’t matter now. Just be honest with him, Liz. He’ll understand.”

  What I want to say is that it’s much more complicated and Candace is the last person I can share this with. Before she has a chance to grill me more, the doorbell rings.

  “Saved by the bell,” I say, heading to the door, slipping on my two-inch heels. If I remember right, Logan isn’t much taller than me and I settle on a smaller shoe.

  Leaning over to slip that last heel on, Candy only laughs as I come face-to-face with Iz. I’d given Logan the code for the side door. How in the hell did Iz get in? Before I can ask, his eyes fall on me and his smile lights up his face. “Ah, you look great, Buttercup. Grab your coat, let’s go get a bite to eat. I’d like to talk to you.”

  It’s not my intention to make him jealous but maybe he needs a wake-up call. Though, this could get very awkward, very quickly.

  “Um, Iz, I’m sorry. I’ve got plans.” I barely get it out when I see Logan turning the corner, heading right at me, with flowers in his hands. I can’t help but stifle a laugh while Candace—behind me—actually laughs out loud.

  “This is better than a night out with Lang,” she adds as I turn to flip her off.

  Logan’s smile is fixed on me while I side-step Iz. “Logan,” I say.

  His arms envelop me. “Wow, Eliza. You look wonderful.” He kisses me on the cheek and hands me yellow roses. “These are for you. I remembered they’re your favorite.”

  I give them to Candace. “Can you put these in a vase for me, Candace?”

  Iz is still standing near me and the heat of his anger could wilt my yellow roses.

  “No way, this is Candace.” He looks at me and I only nod. “You’ve grown up. I remember you from the weekends I’d stay with Eliza. I’d make you chocolate pancakes.”

  I can’t look at Iz, but I hear his irritable groan that would fill the room whenever he was so pissed, he couldn’t speak.

  “I remember that. I was eight or nine. That’s right,” Candace replies. Knowing my sister, she now understands that I’m fucking uncomfortable with two men I’d slept with in such close proximity.

  It’s only then that Logan turns to Iz and smiles. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude to one of Candace’s friends, I’m Logan Merrin.” This gets better. He thinks Iz is here for Candace.

  Logan extends his hand as the tick in Iz’s jaw gets harder. Iz finally offers his own hand when he says, “Hey man, I’m Israel Laita.”

  Logan was never a huge sports fan so the name means nothing to him and I think that fuels Iz’s anger even more. “Well, we’ll leave you two to be,” he says, looking back at Iz as he puts his hand around the small of my back, leading me down the hall. We aren’t out of Iz’s earshot when Logan leans into me. “Man, Eliza, I’ve missed you.”

  Almost a week goes by and I’ve not seen Iz since the evening of my date with Logan. Though it was nice to see Logan, I knew the second I hugged him, what we once shared was gone. As always, he’d been the bigger man—insisting I still needed a friend in this large city. I certainly can’t argue with him.

  I’ve not had to put distance between Iz and me. He’s avoided me since that night and maybe it’s for the best. The two nights I spent with him at his practice and at the play brought back the memories of my yesterdays but with that comes the painful years I lived without him by my side.

  But now, with the end of a whirlwind week, it’s Friday. Candace brings my luggage and hers to the reception area, in order to meet Langston’s town car in the adjoining garage.

  “I’m so fucking excited for the weekend,” Candace exclaims as I wonder when she became old enough to say the f-bomb, though it’s constant in her life now. I still remember how young she was when Daddy blackmailed me to break up with Iz. One of the conditions to the breakup was I could take Candace with me to Harvard to an apartment with a live-in nanny.

  Though I loved Iz, my ability to rescue my little sister from the step-witch was worth my sacrifice. Candace is my everything, though Iz was a very close second. I’m still remembering Candace as a little girl, knowing now she’s an adult. One who is broken from the mental abuse of our step-witch. Candace looks like the epitome of cool and collected, but on the inside is a fragile child who was told for years she was worthless.

  She was not able to make it through the first year of college, even attending a local school, because she never had the confidence in herself. All she sees is the pretty girl in her that can have things because of sex and not because of all of the good that encompasses Candace.

  She’s different but I’ve been so scared to broach the subject of sex with Langston. I’m not stupid, Candace isn’t a virgin, not even close. And since the step-witch got her hands on Candace when we moved back from Massachusetts, she has trained Candace that the only thing she’ll ever be good at is looking pretty. With the beginning of my law career and my buy into the business, Candace was left with the step-witch too much and it eternally damaged her. Of course, any time was too much. Now, I’m here to repair her.

  We have a few minutes so I decide to touch the subject of Langston with a ten-foot pole. “What is going on with you and Lang?” I ask, it’s general.

  “We haven’t fucked if that’s what you’re asking.” The sparkle of her aquamarine eyes twinkle in the natural light. Her words are too matter of fact as she’s typing a text message on her phone.

  “Candace, you’re so crude. You could have said we haven’t had
sex but now that you mentioned it, why? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining.” I’m ecstatic. Our stepmother used to tell her she’d never get a good man if she didn’t spread her legs from the beginning. Then again, I often wondered why the sick bitch never received the mother of the year award.

  Her nails aren’t quite as pink as Kendra Kendal’s was earlier in the week but they catch my attention when she brushes the almost white-blonde hair from her eyes. “Um, I’m trying something new. I mean, so many men think of me as a fresh piece of meat. I want to see if I wait, maybe I can keep one.”

  Her words sadden me. With her tone, I sense the worthlessness that has been built in her. Before I can stop, her eyes fall on me and I’m surprised when she says, “Anyway, I think he may be different. I can see me caring for him. He’s older and a little bit of a playboy but I think he may feel the same way.”

  When she says this, I almost sense a little more confidence and I’ll take this win for now. If Candace can find someone who can build up belief in herself, fuck the fifteen-year gap.

  When a text comes through her phone, she strolls to her luggage and says, “Okay, sis, Lang is here. Let’s go.” When a little spark of happiness covers her face, my heart stills. I love this girl in front of me; more than life itself.

  16 years ago

  We’re in my domain—the basketball court. But Iz being the monster he is and an all-around world-class athlete, the idea of winning one-on-one against Israel Laita is really a pipe dream, especially with my injury that sidelined me.

  Dribbling the ball past him, I ascend for a lay-up and turn, screaming in his face, delighted I scored the first two points. With a small smile escaping his mouth, he doesn’t even dribble, shooting the ball for a fucking three-pointer. “How about that? The football player schools the basketball superstar.”