Landon's Obsession: An Endless Series: Book 3 (Series 3) (5 page)

     Maya’s face darkened in displeasure, but before I could
question her she flipped on the vacuum. Jerking her arms back and forth
forcefully, she sucked up the debris that had been under the cushion, as well
as the cushions themselves. Her face remained tight with irritation the whole
time and I wondered what I’d said to light this fire in her. Did she think I
was lazy because I didn’t go searching for shit? Or did she resent that I
didn’t need to. It wasn’t my fault I was rich and she wasn’t. It really irked
me sometimes when people without money held people with money in umbrage
because of what we had.     

     Turning off the vacuum she jammed the cushions back on
the settee.

     “What’s your problem? You mad because I don’t go
searching through settee cushions.” I sneered.

     She frowned up at me. “No, I could care less if you go
searching through couch cushions.”

     Now I was really stumped. “So why are you giving
attitude right now?”

      She sighed and pursed her lips, studying me for about
four seconds. “I find it…strange that you all call my mama Rita.”

     I frowned in mystification…and at her use of the word ‘
mama’
.
It made her sound like she was twelve. I didn’t want to think of Maya as twelve
years old. I knew there were many families that used that term for their mother,
but I always found it odd; especially when grown men used it.

     “What are you talking about? Do you think we should
address her formally; as Ms…shit, I don’t even know your mother’s last name.”

     Maya rolled her eyes. “It’s Cornett, and that just
makes it worse. You didn’t know my mama’s last name either.” She picked up the
two throw pillows and slammed them together, dispersing the dust on them.

     I felt like throwing up my arms in frustration. “I’m
sorry I don’t know your mother’s last name. Around here I’ve only heard her
first name. And what are you talking about when you say ‘
either’
?”

     Maya tossed the pillows on the settee at each end, and
then straightened putting her hands on her hips. She was wearing another white
t-shirt that stretched just enough over her breasts to outline them nicely.
Dark pants and a white shirt was the standard attire for the house staff,
though it was usually a white blouse.

     “My mama’s name isn’t Rita.”

     I jerked my gaze from her body up to her face in
stunned bafflement. “What?!” The girl wasn’t making any sense. We’d been
calling her mother Rita for six years.

     Maya turned and hauled the vacuum back toward the wall
where she unplugged the cord. She began winding it up. “My mama’s name is
RaKesha, not Rita.”

     My confusion peaked. “Oaky, wait a second.” I waved my
hands and then rubbed my brow. “Your mother’s name is RaKesha?”

     Maya nodded.

     “Is Rita a shortened version of her name?” I repeated
them in my head; ‘ReKesha’, ‘Rita’. They were somewhat close. They held the
same first and last letter. I would have thought Kesha would have been a better
shortened version of her name though.

     “No. Some people call her Kesha, and my nana used to
call her Keke when she was a child, but there’s never been a Rita.” Maya
answered.

     “So why has she been going by Rita these last six
years?” I exclaimed in utter ‘what the hell’ confusion.

     Maya sighed, looking torn. “Never mind. It doesn’t
matter now. For years you guys have been calling her Rita, so she’s Rita to
you. It’s just strange hearing it.”

     She went to move away but I reached out to stop her,
wrapping my fingers around her arm. There was no way we were dropping this.
“Hold up. I’m not done yet. You make it sound like your mother objects to being
called Rita. I want to know if that’s true.”

     She bit at her lip, looking even more torn, and I
started to get so absorbed by her mouth that I nearly forget what we were
talking about, until she finally spoke. “I don’t think I was supposed to say
anything.”

     I could be pretty persuasive when I wanted. “Please,
Maya, I would like to know. I won’t say anything to anyone if you don’t want me
to.”

     Dark eyes stared up into mine intently, and I stared
down into hers in the same manner. God, she was beautiful. It was amazing how
creamy and flawless her skin was. I couldn’t even see any pores. Our nearness
appeared to be affecting her because she flushed, her arm tensed in my grip,
and her breathing escalated. My body was becoming just as affected, wanting to
pull her closer, but she pulled away, breaking the connection.

     “Okay, that would probably be best.” She nodded,
rubbing at her arm, flustered. “I only found out days ago that you all called my
mama Rita. I asked her why, and she said that your mother wasn’t that keen on
mama’s first name, said it was too ostentatious for a housekeeper.” It looked
like she was holding back an eye roll. “So she suggested that Rita might be
better. Mama agreed because she needed the job, and it really wasn’t that big
of a deal to her.”

     I stared at her in shock, and before I could stop it
laughter erupted out of me.

     Maya looked predictably peeved. “I don’t really think
it’s all that funny.”

     “I’m sorry. This isn’t funny laughter; it’s more like
‘I can’t believe my mother went that far’ laughter.” I clarified, shaking my
head in astonishment at my mother’s behavior. “That’s just…fucking
unbelievable, that she did that. My mother expects everything around her to be
a certain way, and if it’s not than she will make it so anyway she can, but
having your mother change her name is just...” I shook my head in incredulity.

     Maya stared at me worriedly. “You won’t say anything
though, right? I thought everyone here knew about it.”

     “I said I wouldn’t say anything and I won’t, even
though it’s going to be really difficult to call your mother Rita now when I
know it’s not her name.”

     She pushed the vacuum over to the door, and then
reached down into her bucket of supplies to pull out furniture polish and a
cloth. “Actually, it will probably be more strange than difficult. You’ve been
calling my mama Rita for so long that calling her something else would be
difficult.” She corrected with a snap of the cloth, and a raised eyebrow, commanding
my agreement.

     She was right, and adorable in her ‘know it all
attitude’. It
would
be more difficult to call her mother something else
after all this time. I wasn’t going to admit that though, because my mother had
been wrong in what she done. I mean, how fucking elitists could you get that
you felt you had the right to change someone’s name?

     “It would only take about a month for it to become
comfortable.” I stated confidently.

     She pursed her lips—damn, those lips—and moved over to
the coffee table, spraying the top with polish. “Yes, probably, but let’s
follow the wishes of both our mother’s on this subject, no matter how crazy it
is. I don’t want to cause any problems here for my mama.”  

     I slumped down on the settee, trying to wrap my brain
around my mother’s actions, and wondering if my father knew. I’d take bets that
he didn’t. He wouldn’t have condoned it.

     Maya began wiping the table and I reached forward to
pick up the tables centerpiece so she could do it unhindered. She threw me another
‘what are you doing’ glance, shook her head, but proceeded to wipe the table
down.

     “Don’t you have better things to do besides help me?
What I’m doing isn’t all that backbreaking that I need a helper.” She glanced
toward the door, looking uneasy.

     What was she so worried about? My mom wasn’t even home.
“Told you, I’m an adult and can do as I please.”

     She rolled her eyes. “And it pleases you to help me
clean. Maybe you should be the one helping my mama until she gets better then. That
way I can go back to my other job full time.”

     Yeah, her mother had said she had another job. “Where
do you work?” I asked, curious to know.

     “The House of Flavors.”

     “Never heard of it.”

     She gave me a look of shock. “You’ve never heard of The
House of Flavors?”

     Were all her expressions cute as hell? “No, but it
sounds like a house full of escorts where you can order up any type of girl you
want and check off the proclivities you’d like to experience with said girl.
Please tell me that’s what it is.” I begged wiggling my brows.

     Her shock progressed to open mouth astonishment. “You
have some really disturbing things going on in that head of yours, don’t you?”
Her mouth twitched telling me she wasn’t entirely affronted at my depraved
humor.

     Making my face grave, I nodded. “Things that would turn
your hair white.”

     She straightened giving me a nod to let me know I could
return the centerpiece, or maybe she was agreeing with me. “Well, don’t dig too
deep, I’d like to wait until I hit at least fifty before any onset of gray
hairs.” She pointed her finger at me showing me she was serious while moving to
the table to the right of the settee. “Any other guesses of what The House of
Flavors
might be?”

     I raised my arms hooking my fingers behind my head,
thinking, actually enjoying myself. I hadn’t expected Maya to be this
entertaining. Girls as hot as her were normally too into themselves to be
engaging. Girls were also so focused in trying to get my attention and into my
pants that they poured on the sexuality completely bypassing intelligent and
witty dialogue.

     “Let me see; flavors…flavors. Is it a beef jerky meat
processing business?”

     Her brows pinched and she shook her head. “What kind of
flavors are you thinking of?”

     “The standard; teriyaki, pepper, original, barbeque, but
then I’d like to see something like hot tamale, Kung Pao, and sour cream and
onion. You know, standard guy flavors.” I grinned cockily.

     She snorted. How could a girl snort sound so endearing?
“Have you checked on the internet? They doubtless have those flavors. Give me
another guess.”

     “Uhm, Willy Wonka’s gum factory?”

     She gave me a partial grin. “Headed in the right
direction, if a little fictional.”

     “Jelly bean factory, and not the standard jelly beans,
but the
every
flavor
jelly bean. You know, the kind with the ear wax
flavor, and belly lint.”

     “You’re naming your favorites, aren’t you?” She smiled,
eyes twinkling, and my heart sped up double time in my chest.   

     Shit, this girl had an incredible smile, and her
teasing was making me hard…harder.

     I stretched my arms high over my head. “Okay, my last
and final answer. Is it some kind of ice cream shop?”

     She twirled the dusting cloth in the air with a huge
smile. “Ding, ding, ding. Give the man a prize.”

     Without thinking I twisted, leaned toward her, and gave
her a sexy grin. “And what prize do I get?”

     She froze and blushed, staring at me like a deer caught
in headlights for moment before giggling nervously. Not the reaction I was
expecting. I guess I was too accustomed to girls jumping me after I delivered a
line like that.

     Maya reached into her pocket and tossed me the pen
she’d fished from under the cushions of the settee. “There you go. It even has
your name on it.”

     Looking down I saw that it did have
McKay Electrics
on it. “It’s like my own engraved trophy.” I stated with sarcastic wonder.  

     She grinned. “Too bad there are two million of those
things out there. I have five myself.”

     I scowled. “You’re ruining my moment.”

     Lowering her head but still holding her grin she moved over
to another table ten feet away. I stood up to follow her instinctively, but
then halted. What was I doing? I didn’t trail. Instead, I moved over to the
window. 

     “I’m still in shock that you’ve never heard, or
visited, The House of Flavors. They are pretty well known and have seventy-five
flavors of ice cream.” Maya gave me a side glance as she removed objects from
the table.

     My brows shot up. “Damn, that’s a lot of ice cream.” I
turned my back to the window resting my ass on the sill.               

     “They don’t offer all seventy-five at the same time,
only half. They rotate the flavors every week, only keeping the best sellers as
a constant.”

     “So what’s your favorite ice cream flavor?” I surprised
myself with that question. I never asked girls personal questions about
themselves because I didn’t care to know anything about them, but I found I was
curious about Maya.

     Maya was dusting the table but she engaged me
completely with her eyes, a smile playing at the corner of her lips. “I have
two flavors and I like to eat them together; chocolate chip and strawberry
cheesecake. And what would yours be?”

     You, served with whipped crème and a cherry on top. Oh,
wait, scratch that cherry. I lowered my hands to inconspicuously conceal my
noticeable erection. “Well, I want to say Butterfinger blizzard, because I’m
more of a soft serve blizzard fan, but if they have that in a hard variety I
may be open to amend my preference.”

     We were talking about cold desserts, but I was heating
up like crazy. I hadn’t fantasized about a girl since after my first time, but
lately I’d had some doozies about Maya. 

     Her eyes brightened. “As a matter of fact we do have
that flavor, and since I have tasted all of them I can tell you it is
scrumptious. Much better than that trite soft serve substance.”

     I grinned. “You dissing my soft serve.”

     “It’s la-ame.” She sang, resetting the table.

     Grinning, I crossed my ankles and folded my arms,
settling back against the sill. It felt a bit weird standing here doing nothing
while she cleaned, but there really wasn’t much I could help her with. “So you
work here during the day and go to that other job at night?