Crazy for You Read online

  “W-well what happens when I get a boyfriend? I can’t rightly tell him we fooled the world for a sports endorsement deal to go through. So, what then?”

  I’ll pummel him into the ground for even thinking he can take you away from me.

  He didn’t like the turn of the conversation, didn’t like the way it made him feel when she shared her plans to be with another man. The desire to stake his claim nearly bowled him over. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. She deserved more than a guy who ran through women. She deserved a guy who would get up on Sunday mornings and go to church, not a party animal who was too busy shooing women out of his apartment on Sunday mornings. No, she deserved a nice, solid, church-bred boyfriend. And I hope he bores her to death.

  “We’re skipping too far ahead. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. For now, let’s make our rounds, say goodbye, and then visit your folks.”

  • • •

  Charlotte stared at the ranch-style homes in the older neighborhood. She sighed and lightly thumped her head against the passenger-side car window. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried and failed to block out the houses and the memories that rushed through her mind: Homemade pies and family gatherings . . . bike races around the neighborhood . . . her precious comic book collection.

  Her childhood hadn’t been terrible, but it wasn’t warm and loving like the one Jacob had. Neighborhood kids would sometimes tease about her weight, but no more than they did about the kid down the street with the big ears or her next door neighbor, Lonny, who had a crooked nose.

  No, her childhood scars were unknowingly inflicted by those who loved her. What would her parents say when they saw her? She’d rushed out of the house and straight to the airport after Big Mama’s funeral.

  A hole the size of Texas burned her chest. She could almost hear Big Mama’s sweet voice, smell her flowery scent, and feel her loving hug. Her grandmother was the only one who’d truly understood her, who truly accepted her. Big Mama didn’t make her weigh in once a month, didn’t make her steamed veggies and boiled chicken without seasoning, and rabbit-sized portions, while the rest of the family ate more because they had better metabolisms, according to Charlotte’s mother. No, Big Mama would often go head-to-head with her mother, telling her to “Leave my baby alone. She’s perfect.” Now she was gone. Forever.

  “We’re here, Charlotte.”

  Jake clicked off the navigation system. “Are you all right? You don’t seem that excited to see your folks. Aren’t you all close?”

  She sighed. They didn’t have enough time to discuss her weird family dynamics. “It’s fine. They love me, and I love them, but they . . . my parents, especially my dad, didn’t . . . don’t understand me.”

  Jake’s eyes glittered. “Was he mean to you?” His cool voice clipped on the word mean.

  “No, no. Like I said, my family loves me, but they just don’t get me. I was the blerd before the phrase was coined.”

  He laughed. “Blerd? You mean black nerd?”

  “Yeah. As a child, I was into things they just weren’t. Add that to the fact that I’ve always been chubby, unlike my mom, dad, sister, and brother, and . . . there you go. Middle-child syndrome at its best.” She tried to laugh off the pain. But from the look on Jake’s face, he wasn’t buying it.

  Unbuckling their seat belts, he leaned in. “Let’s make a deal. We go in, be polite, and stay for all of an hour. I can fake our having to leave early. Maybe a headache or something, and we’re out of there.”

  “I like that idea.” She grinned.

  “Okay, we need a signal.”

  Had he leaned in closer? His woodsy cologne teased her senses. “Like . . . Ca-caw!” Charlotte mimicked a bird.

  “I’m thinking something a little less obvious.”

  “Okay, then . . . if we’re leaving, that means something bad happened or I just want to get out of there. So maybe we can say something a villain would say.”

  “What about ... kneel before Zod?”

  “Yes! The Superman villain, General Zod. I like it. But instead of saying the whole thing, let’s just say ‘Oh my Zod.’”

  Stroking her cheek, he grinned. His minty breath tempted her to sample a taste of his full lips.

  “We’ve got a plan. You know I have your back, right? No matter what.”

  “Yes. I know. And I have yours, too.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Charlie baby! It’s so good to see you.” Charlotte’s mother, Vera, wrapped her slim arms around her daughter’s waist. “And look at you.” She stepped back, scrutinizing Charlotte like a drill sergeant inspecting a recruit. “You’ve lost a lot of weight. I hope you aren’t doing one of those fad diets.” Her voice was stern. “How many pounds have you lost?”

  Charlotte smoothed the non-existent wrinkles from her shirt. “Um . . . I don’t know, Mama. I don’t focus on the scale.” Charlotte didn’t want to get into a weight loss discussion with her mom.

  Vera shifted her attention toward Jake. “Nice to finally meet you. I would say I’ve heard so much about you, but this young lady,” she pointed to Charlotte, “hasn’t told me much.”

  “Sorry, Mama. It’s been a whirlwind.”

  “Yes, I heard that from the sound bites on Entertainment Tonight.” Her mother shook her head. “Where are my manners? Come in, come in.”

  Charlotte stepped into the living room that had previously been a garage. She slipped her ballet flats off at the door and turned to Jake. “Take off your shoes.”

  Smirking, he shuffled his black and green Nikes off on the tile floor and then placed them on the shoe rack.

  A bubble of amusement rose in her chest. She, Charlotte Gayle Jones, just told Jacob Ross, hottie millionaire baseball player, to take off his shoes in her childhood home.

  “C’mon, Charlie, everyone’s here to see you and your new beau. Even Priscilla and David.”

  Ughhh. Not Perfect Priss.

  She was so not looking forward to her siblings’ nosy questions. They could be worse than their parents.

  Her feet sank into the fluffy dark brown carpet. A warm, calloused hand slipped into hers, startling her.

  Jake winked and gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. Jake the Great was now Jake the Protector.

  She gave him a reassuring smile and followed her mother. Passing the galley kitchen and rounding the corner, she found her brother, sister, and father seated around the walnut dining-room table.

  Letting go of her hand, Jake immediately strode toward her father. “Mr. Jones.” He extended his hand.

  Her father gave him a tight smile, stood, and shook his hand. “Nice to finally meet you, young man. Call me Vance.”

  “Nice to meet you too.” Jake offered his greetings to Perfect Priss and her brother David.

  Her mother clapped her hands. “Charlie told us you all were coming from a cookout, so I didn’t go all out.” She waved her hands at the spread of hummus, carrots, pita bread, and tomato and cucumber salad. “But I did whip up a few snacks for us to nibble. Are you two hungry?”

  “No, Mama. I’m full.”

  “Okay. Jake, honey, what about you? Can I get you food or anything to drink? We have water, tea, lemonade, and diet cola.”

  “I’m fine. Thank you, Mrs. Jones.”

  She waved him off. “Mrs. Jones makes me feel old. Call me Vera.” She pointed to the empty seat at the foot of the table. “Have a seat, honey.”

  Charlotte’s heart thumped loudly as she stared at the empty chair. Pressure compressed her chest. She couldn’t breathe, but she had to get it out. “No, that’s . . . ” She gulped a breath. “Big Mama’s chair.”

  Her mother furrowed her brow. “Charlie, honey . . . she’s . . . she’s gone. We only have six chairs.”

  “How about I grab another one from the kitchen?” Jake offered. His voice sounded so far away, but she could see her grandmother as clear as day, smiling that secret smile that she did only for Charlotte and sneaking a piece of chocolate under the tab
le when her mother dumped steamed veggies and tasteless chicken in front of her.

  “Charlie?” she heard her sister call out, voice laced with concern.

  “S-sorry. I’ll get the chair from the kitchen. Be right back.” She rushed from the room before anyone could stop her.

  Whispered voices filtered in. Most likely her mother was explaining her erratic behavior. Big Mama had died just six months ago, and they were already trying to erase her memory. Charlotte wouldn’t have it. No, she would scoot her chair right next to Big Mama’s seat. If she breathed deeply enough, maybe she could even smell her grandmother’s rose oil fragrance.

  “I’m back everyone,” she announced before reentering the room.

  Giving her a tight smile, Jake sat to the right of Big Mama’s chair. Charlotte sat to the left. A bit crowded, but she didn’t care.

  Her family and Jake settled into conversation, mostly about the baseball season. David asked what he thought about the trades rumors of a few of Jake’s teammates. Her parents asked how he’d liked growing up in Alabama. After a few minutes, Charlotte’s shoulders began to relax, and she settled into her chair. Maybe her family wasn’t so bad after all.

  And with him by her side, she didn’t feel so awkward or so different or so alone. Jake was a natural charmer and a perfect match for her family. Everyone was fit and in shape, and he could talk about everything from the latest Tyler Perry movie to football and politics. Big Mama would’ve loved him at first sight.

  “So . . . ” Priscilla chirped from across the table. “How did you two really meet?”

  Her brother David snorted. “Like you don’t know. You and Mom are practically inhaling those tabloids.”

  “Hush, David,” her mother admonished. “Everyone knows those things are full of junk.”

  Jake chuckled. “No worries. Charlotte and I met about two years ago. Her boss Damien used to be my publicist before he switched jobs to work at the nonprofit. We reconnected because I’m a regular volunteer there and I see your daughter at the center all the time. We got to know each other better and realized we enjoy the same things and . . . well . . . you know your daughter best. What’s not to love?”

  “Mmm hmm,” her sister muttered. “Our Charlie is unique. She used to drive Mama crazy with her comics and video game obsessions. I’m sure she’s much different from the women you usually date.” Her sister dropped the teasing look when she peered over at Charlotte. “I mean no harm. I just want to make sure you both get along.”

  Charlotte’s hands shook with anger. No, with disappointment. Always the same with Prissy. Charlotte’s tear ducts had dried and she was all cried out. Still, the tickle in her nose and the pressure behind her eyes were muscle memory, and it egged her on to run away and cry. Memories from years upon years of being the square peg, middle child that didn’t quite fit in with her round hole, perfect family.

  “Right,” Charlotte bit out, her voice laced with bitterness. “Because Jake the Great would never look twice at someone like me.”

  Her father cleared his throat. “I think what your sister means is that we want to make sure you’re the right fit for each other. Jake, you seem to like sports and the outdoors and our Charlotte is a homebody. And, no offense, son, but from what the media says, you are a bit of a player.”

  Jake exhaled and turned to Priscilla. “I enjoy comic books and games, too. We actually grew up quite similarly, which is why she and I connected. I get to be the real me with your sister, not the person people think I am. And even if we were opposites, that wouldn’t matter.” He nodded to her father. “Vance, I appreciate your concern for Charlotte, but I would never step out on your daughter. She’s a wonderful woman, and I’m lucky to have her in my life.”

  Oh, God. Here we go. Charlotte reached for the square white plate placed neatly on the corner of the table and then piled on a lump of hummus and a few slices of pita bread.

  Her mother gave the same concerned look she’d perfected over the last twenty-six years. “Oh, Charlie, honey. I thought you said you were full from the barbeque? Let’s just drop the subject. You know,” she looked at Jake and whispered, “Charlotte is a stress eater.”

  Charlotte dropped the plate. The ceramic square made a sharp crack against the table. She jumped from her seat. “Zod!”

  “What’s that, honey?” her mother asked.

  “Zod, Zod, Zod, Zod, Zod!”

  “Sit down, Charlie,” her father commanded.

  She shook her head. No, she wouldn’t sit down. Jake stood, grabbed her hand, and nodded. Thank goodness he supported her.

  Jake cleared his throat. “I have an early day tomorrow. Charlotte and I need to leave. Now.”

  “Leave?” Her mother stood and wrung her hands. “But you just got here, and we haven’t seen you since . . . since Big Mama passed.”

  “I guess she’s too good to come see us after running off to the big city with her celebrity boyfriend.” Priscilla’s catty voice bit Charlotte like a persistent mosquito.

  She ripped her hand from Jake’s. Congo drums pounded in her chest, and fire shot through her veins. They didn’t get it. After all these years, they still didn’t get it.

  “I haven’t been back because I’m trying to build up my self-esteem. The only person who understood and loved me for me was Big Mama.”

  “What?” her sister yelled.

  “What are you talking about? We love you.” Her mother’s brows knitted and her brown eyes sparkled with tears.

  “You think you do, but you don’t. You’ve always made me feel different. Charlie, why don’t you play sports or be a cheerleader like Prissy? You aren’t losing weight from dance classes. Charlie, why are you always holed up in your room with your head in the clouds? Charlie, you have such a pretty face. You’d be a knockout if you lost some weight.” Her voice broke off on the end.

  “I . . . I didn’t mean it like that.” Her mother massaged a temple. “We just wanted you to be active.”

  “No, you wanted me to be a perfect Barbie like you and Priscilla. You sent me to fat camp. Then you told Ms. Nancy, who gossiped to everyone in the neighborhood!”

  Her father pounded his fist on the table. “That’s enough, young lady. You will not yell at your mother in our home!”

  “No. It’s not enough. I’m not enough. I’ve never fit in with this family. You all have always made me feel bad about my weight. No one but Big Mama—”

  “Big Mama,” her mother cut in, “God rest her soul, died from diabetes. And your grandfather, God rest his soul, died from a stroke. Your father’s brother is also a diabetic and has high blood pressure. Now maybe . . . maybe I went about things the wrong way. But I have always loved you, you’ve got to know that. I just wanted to make sure you were healthy.”

  Charlotte looked around the room. Her mother wiped tears from her eyes. Priscilla, for once, was quiet. Contemplative. David was, as usual, quiet with his arms folded across his chest. Her father avoided her eyes, staring at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room.

  “Let’s go, angel.” Jake grabbed her hand, grabbed their shoes, and dragged her out of the house. He clicked the key fob. The chirp from the car barely registered. “In you go.” He guided her into the passenger seat, buckled her seat belt, and then walked to the driver’s side.

  Movement from the blinds in the front window caught her attention. She couldn’t make out who it was. Most likely Priss or her mother.

  “So . . . I’m thinking Zod was a bad choice.”

  Charlotte turned to face him, tossed her head back, and laughed. Could be from the hilarity of his random statement or the exhilaration from finally telling her family the truth. Either way, she knew she would be okay.

  “I’m sorry about your grandmother.”

  “Thanks,” she whispered. “She was a good woman.”

  He gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. “I want you to know that everything that went down in there . . . you can talk to me. About anything.”<
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  Charlotte sighed. “Sorry for all the drama. I know you didn’t sign up for my family issues.”

  “Speaking of issues . . . ” He drummed his fingers on the wheel.

  “Yeah?” Her heart thundered.

  “The diabetes thing . . . seems like it runs in your family. Are you okay?”

  “Am I okay? Doesn’t it look like I’m okay?” She playfully nudged his shoulder and gave him a plastic smile. His question had thrown her for a loop. She’d forgotten her mom had given Jake the rundown of their unhealthy family tree.

  He didn’t move, didn’t smile. Jake used his lecturer voice, the one he used for the kids at the center. “What I’m asking is are you diabetic?”

  Her foot frenetically tapped against the door. “Umm . . . no. No I’m not diabetic.” Technically.

  He smiled and then leaned over to kiss her cheek. “I’m relieved. Uncle Gus is diabetic and I know he’s had it rough. I’m glad you’re taking the steps to be healthy.”

  Throat closed, Charlotte fiddled with the seat belt and gave him a tight smile. She didn’t want to say anything more to pile on to the sky-high stack of lies.

  “All right. Let’s get you home. We’ll be back to New York in twelve hours. We can binge watch a few episodes of Daredevil, and I’ll even throw in a foot rub.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Anything for you.”

  Chapter Nine

  Charlotte upped the treadmill speed from a brisk warm-up to a full-out sprint. Long and steady breathing turned to short and frequent spurts, but the familiar burn in her lungs didn’t deter her focus.

  This type of pain she could manage. With more practice and conditioning, the aches and soreness would fade. The trip south to her childhood home had taught her that even after twenty-six years of being conditioned to her parents’ disappointment, the pain would never disappear.

  She resolved to avoid painful situations. Avoid her parents. Avoid her siblings. Avoid Jake. Just thinking about her fake boyfriend squeezed her overtaxed lungs.

  Jake represented all the things she couldn’t have but so desperately wanted. She’d lied to everyone—her family, friends, the entire world about their relationship. But she wouldn’t lie to herself anymore. She had fallen head-over-heels in love with him. Unfortunately, he was biding his time. Time, her Big Mama used to say, heals all wounds. Charlotte was banking on that. It would take a lot of time, but her plan, as cowardly as it was, seemed to be working. Guard your heart.