Ms. Perfectly Imperfect: BBW BWWM Interracial Romance (4 page)

Now…it was disappearing.

Mary wasn’t going to take it well, as evidenced by the color virtually draining from her apricot-colored skin. When she collapsed on the couch, prostate with grief, Layla sat next to her to offer her some consolation. Once more, she was struck by the strangeness of this situation. Mary should have comforted her, but it was the other way around. “It’s going to be okay, mom. I’m sure they’ll find a cure for this.”

“Is it a disease?”

She winced at the same question Gage asked. “They’re not sure as yet. It will take time before the doctors find some answers, but I have to go back to the hospital soon.”

Her mother hunched on the couch. “I should stay over here until all this is sorted out.”

Layla didn’t think it was a good idea. Mary could be a hyperactive, controlling woman who was ridden with anxiety. Her mind had long ago deteriorated and all she could spout were lists of fears and caution. She wasn’t a good influence on Layla and living with her would bring to life all the doubts Layla managed to suppress or deal with ever since she became independent, when she turned 18 six years ago. “Mom, I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Mary stated as she stood up. “I’m going to bring my stuff and stay here in case—anything happens to you. It’s not good to be alone at a time like this.”

At a time like what?
She wasn’t sick… not really. And she wasn’t dying. What did her mom think was going on? “I’m fine, mom. You don’t need to turn your life upside down for me.”

“I insist.” Mary sniffed. “Do you have sherry? I need to calm my nerves after the shock I just had.”

The shock that she just had?
Layla was the one going through shit, but there would be no point arguing with her mother. She was like a force of nature. Once she settled on a course of action, nothing could deter her. “I’ll get some for you.” She went into the kitchen, took out her bottle of sherry and a glass.

Mary came in. “Never mind, dear. I’ll manage myself. Why don’t you go and rest?”

Layla checked her watch. She was running a bit late. Mary’s unexpected visit threw her off her schedule. Just because she was suffering from hair loss didn’t mean she could ditch her assignments. “I actually need to go to work, mom.”

She hoped her mother would take the hint and leave but she poured a glass of sherry. She took a delicate sip and shuddered. “Go ahead, dear. I’ll be right here when you come back. It shouldn’t take me that long to gather my stuff, and don’t worry about letting me in or anything. I have the spare key of your apartment at my place. When I come back, I’ll use it to get in.”

Layla resisted the urge to bang her hands on the counter. Frustration bubbled through her. She loved her mother, but the woman sure could get on her nerves. If they had to stay together for long, she would probably end up saying something that would start World War III, but this wasn’t the time to argue with her mother. When she was on a mission, nothing could stop her.

“Take care, mom.” She kissed her on the cheek and hurried into her room. After putting on her hat, she picked up her purse and phone. Once she got out, Layla took a deep, fortifying breath. The situation would resolve itself soon. At least, that was her hope. Mary’s presence was likely to make her life even more problematic. She wasn’t a calming influence at all.

When she got to the studio, Layla was faced with another problem. “This just wouldn’t do,” said Francis, the hairdresser, as he examined her. “I can’t work with this. Your hair is a mess. You’ll have to wear a wig.”

Tears stung at the back of her eyes but she pushed them back with a force of will. It wasn’t as if she created this situation. “Do you have one at hand?”

“Yeah. But I think we should cut your hair and make it really short for now. That way a wig will fit easily and you can wear it all the time.”

Layla didn’t like it, but the idea made sense. The bald patches were now all too obvious. She couldn’t even hide them, and it wasn’t practical to wear hats all the time. After remembering what happened in the restaurant, she thought it was a better idea to wear a wig instead. Her heart clenched as she pondered over this dilemma. Cutting off her hair was a huge thing but under the circumstances, it was the ideal solution. “Go ahead.”

Even though Layla was aware of the low murmurs that continued when he began chopping off her hair, she didn’t bother to check to see who might be talking. Naturally, the news regarding this would spread far and wide. Gossip traveled at the speed of lightning in the modeling industry. People thrived on it. Her competitors were bound to have a big laugh over this, but she couldn’t allow them to bring her down. She would fight this till the end.

After being fitted with the wig and the makeup done, Layla walked to the set to start the photo shoot. Much to her surprise, no one commented as she continued with her work. Surely, the photographer knew about her hair loss by now, but he didn’t even bat an eyelash at her new hairdo. The wig she wore looked quite similar in color to her own hair, and it was a good fit. Once pack up was announced, she collected her belongings.

“Layla, wait a minute.” The photographer came over. “Good job today. I believe we’re working tomorrow with another client.”

“Yes, we are.” She couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He rubbed his jaw. “I just wanted you to know I’m glad that you’re continuing with your work despite—the troubles you’re facing right now. This is true professional behavior, and I just wanted to congratulate you on it.”

Amazed that he would show such support, she hugged him. “Thank you.”

Feeling slightly better, she hailed a cab and went home. It was already eight in the evening. All she wanted to do was take a hot shower, have a meal, and go right to sleep. All this worrying about her hair and the continuous pressures of work made her feel tired. Entering her house, she felt surprised to find it dark.

Perhaps her mother didn’t bother to come back.

With a sigh of relief, she strode in and dropped her keys in the bowl next to the main door. She pulled the wig off and shucked off the wig cap, thankful that Francis didn’t use a lace-front wig, in which he might have had to use glue or tape, making it a little more complicated for her to take off.

A loud, piercing scream reverberated in the silence and Layla jumped. She ran back to the room and switched on the light. When the light flickered to life, she saw her mother, her arms wrapped tightly around her body, and rocking back and forth on the couch.

“Mom?”

“Go away.”

“Mom—?”

“You—you—bastard.” It seemed Mary could barely control her rasping breaths.

“Mom, what’s going on?” Layla rushed over to her mother and stretched out her hand to comfort her.

Mary’s eyes bulged. “Get away from me!”

Layla’s stomach churned. She couldn’t figure out what could have triggered this episode.

Mary slapped Layla’s hand away from her shoulder. “Don’t—don’t hurt me.” Mary was visibly trembling throughout her entire body. “Please don’t…” Mary curled herself in the fetal position and clapped her hands over her ears.

Layla tried to understand her mother’s rants. Mary’s eyes were bloodshot and her disheveled appearance told Layla that she was drunk, but hallucinating? Or having a bad dream maybe?

“Oh, God—don’t rape me—please—don’t…”

When her mother continued to scream and yell while trying to push herself into a corner of the couch, Layla finally realized that her mother wasn’t merely imagining stuff. She was reliving a horrific time of her life, the night she was raped in a dark alley on her way home from her job, then was left lying on the ground. A month later, she discovered that she was pregnant and since she didn’t believe in getting an abortion because of her strict Catholic upbringing, she had Layla and raised her on her own. But not without the trauma of being a victim of rape…not without silently resenting a rape-conceived child, reminding Layla on more than one occasion how she looked so much like her father, and nothing like her, except of course, for her hair.

While Layla never made light of her mother’s experience that night, the life she knew growing up with the single parent, Mary, was extremely difficult. Yes, her mother was a victim, but she, Layla, became the forgotten victim.

Layla ran a hand over her barely-there hair. With this new haircut, she probably looked more like her father, the man who still preyed on Mary’s peace of mind, even after all these years. “Mom, it’s me.”

Her mother continued to shriek in a loud voice. “Get away. Go away. Leave me alone!”

Seeing her so distressed, Layla didn’t think there was any point talking to her. She ran to the door and picked up her keys from the bowl. After opening the door, she rushed out and banged the door shut.

Immediately, Mary’s screams stopped.

Tears poured down Layla’s cheeks as she realized that her mother linked her with the man who raped her. It’d been too overwhelming a thought for her to make peace with it. She’d lost her one and only connection with her mother—her hair that her mother prized.

Now, she didn’t have anything in common with her own mother anymore. Layla realized she was trapped in a much bigger bind than she originally assumed and she didn’t have any idea if she would ever get back to having a normal life again.

Chapter Four

The cost of not following your heart, is spending the rest of your life wishing you had.
~Amanda Helm

Clint Collins strolled into the hospital, feeling haggard and tired. He’d barely reached his apartment when he got an emergency call. Of course, he didn’t have any option but to turn right back and attend to his patient. He loved his job and enjoyed interacting with young children while helping them get on with their lives. The sad part was Clint hated it when his patients lost their battle with death. “Are his parents here?” he asked the receptionist.

“No, Dr. Collins. They’re on their way.”

“I’ll be in the room with him. When they come, send them straight in.”

“Room 241, sir? Patient’s name is Ethan Thomas, right?”

He sighed, ran a hand through his hair that probably already stood up in straight spikes, and nodded. Dread settled in his heart. “Yes, that’s right.”

Although he noticed the tall, svelte, yet voluptuous woman who stood with her back to him, he didn’t pay her much attention as he strode towards his patient’s room. He hated this part of his job. Even after years of experience, he couldn’t get used to this aspect of medicine. He wanted each of his patients to go home, healthy and happy. Pushing open the door, he walked inside and held the hand of the boy who was already in a deep coma.

Tears gathered in his eyes, but he hastily blinked them away. When the parents came in, he comforted them and stayed there until the Ethan stopped breathing. Clint noted the time of death in the chart. “I’m deeply sorry.”

The mother was crying and incapable of speech.

The father put his hand on Clint’s shoulder. “You did all you could, Doc. There were others who didn’t even want to take a chance with him, but you tried your best. Ethan was very fond of you, and we had four beautiful years with him because of your hard work and persistence. We can’t ever thank you enough for those.”

Clint felt like a fraud and a loser. If he was so dammed good, he could have saved Ethan, but instead he failed him. He didn’t have any words to express the grief he felt. He hugged Ethan’s parents and left them to say goodbye to their son.

When he got out, he wiped a hand over his cheeks to brush away the last of his tears. Ethan was gone, but there were others who needed his attention. He felt optimistic that most of them were going to make it, but the ones who didn’t—he never forgot them. His gaze strayed to the beautiful woman who was sitting on the bench against the door.

She looked very familiar, but there was something different about her hair.

“Hi. Do I know you?” When she stood up, he suddenly remembered. “Layla, right?”

“You have an excellent memory.” She smiled a little hesitatingly. “I just came in to see if any of my test results were in, and then I heard about the boy—and I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but follow you. Is he—is he…?”

Clint nodded. “He’s gone.” He could tell that she was deeply troubled about something. Surely, it couldn’t be the death of his patient since she didn’t know him, although he could tell that the news of Ethan’s death disturbed her. Why was she here at this time?

Her gaze darted to the closed door. “I’m sorry. It must be hard to deal with the death of a young child.”

“It is.” Clint felt the urge to stay with her and talk, even though he didn’t know her. Yes, he’d asked her out because she was beautiful and he’d been drawn to her, but there was also some other quality about her…her empathy. The way she’d talked to Charlotte and now, sadness she showed about Ethan’s death told him she was highly sensitive. He felt an immediate attraction to her. It wasn’t just for her beauty, but also for her good heart which he could see easily. “Would you like to have a smoothie with me? There’s a smoothie bar right outside. They serve coffee too, if that’s what you prefer. I can’t handle caffeine too well this time of the night.”

She tilted her head. “Sure.”

Amazed at his luck, he gestured with his hand.

She fell into step beside him.

“I’m sure you’re wondering how I can ask you out at a time like this.”

“You need to go on with a normal life, so you can help others.” She adjusted the strap of her purse. “I appreciate the fact that you can deal with your grief and yet, continue to live.”

He remembered that she was engaged. Or was that an excuse she gave, so she wouldn’t have to say yes to his offer for dinner the other day? He didn’t want to ask and spoil the moment. He also felt astounded at her keen perspective. “Are all your tests finished?”

“They might have to run a couple more of them.” She sighed. “I’m losing my hair, and the doctors are trying to figure out why.”

He didn’t spare a glance at her wig. Naturally, she must be using it to hide the bald patches. Sympathy welled in his heart. She wasn’t here to know about her test results at this time. Something else drew her here so late at night. He wasn’t sure if he should ask her. “It must be very distressing for you.”

“It was, until I overheard your conversation with the receptionist and then I realized that there were kids dying while I was moaning and groaning about my hair.” She marched forward with an easy grace as they crossed the street. “It gave me a big jolt, and that’s why I followed you.”

He opened the door of the smoothie bar. Now, he understood her reasons. It wasn’t often that people could put things in such perspective so early on. “Ethan was a very strong boy. Although he wanted to live, he was a little tired of all the injections and treatment, but he didn’t want to go, because it would make his parents distressed. But in the end, he lost. He left behind two younger brothers who have learned a lot from him about resilience and love. I’m sure he would be delighted to know that in some small way he could help you deal with your problems.”

She slipped into the booth and put her purse on the side. “Thank you for saying that. You’re a very kind.”

He laughed. “That’s not the impression I was trying to make.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What impression did you want to make?”

“Cool. Competent. Charming. Those are the traits that I would have chosen to highlight.”

Her lips lifted in a smile and she leaned back. “That too, doc, but what impresses me is that you can come back to see a patient when you’re off duty. Most of us don’t think that much about doing something for others.” Her eyes brightened as if she had a sudden idea. “Is there a volunteer program at the hospital?”

“Yes, there is. Would you like me to give you some information about it?” Clint sensed in her a need to do something, and he wanted to encourage it. “Let me order first. What would you like? Coffee or a smoothie.”

“I’ll stick with a mango smoothie.”

He ordered and got their drinks, Clint returned to his seat. After he gave her some information about the volunteer program at the hospital, he sat back to observe her. He tried to recall any magazines on which he might have seen her or some billboards. His work kept him quite occupied and he barely got time to even watch TV. Also, he preferred to read or catch Broadway shows rather than sit in front of the idiot box. “I know you said you’re a model but I…can’t seem to recall any of your ads.” Suddenly, something clicked in his memory. “Wait a minute. You’re the IT girl, the cologne, right?”

Her lips lifted in a smile. “That was two years ago, but yes, I’m the IT girl.”

“You’re still doing their campaign?”

“Among others, yes.” She sighed. “Now with this hair problem, I don’t know how long I will continue to get work.”

He understood her distress. It must be tough to deal with something that she didn’t have any control over but might affect her work. If he were asked to leave his job, he wouldn’t know what to do. “This isn’t permanent, I’m sure of it.”

“What if it’s cancer or a tumor, or something like that?”

He sat back to observe her. “You look healthy to me. Your eyes are clear, and there are no obvious signs of fatigue. Have there been any changes in your skin?”

“No.”

“Any fever? Bleeding? Trouble swallowing? Weight loss?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“These are just basic questions, but based on that, I can say with a great amount of certainty that you don’t have cancer. Have your test results come back?”

“A few did, and they are clear, but I’m waiting for more results.”

He sipped his smoothie. Although he’d been tired before, being in her presence, Clint suddenly felt invigorated, energized. He didn’t want the conversation to end. Somehow, he felt the need to talk to her. She needed him right now, and in a strange sort of way, he also wanted to spend more time with her.

“You must be thinking that I’m self-obsessed. I mean, after dealing with these sick children. Here I am boring you with my problems.”

Clint leaned forward. He hoped that she could see the sincerity in his eyes. “You’re worried, which is understandable. Anyone who faces such an issue would be anxious, but I want to assure you that it will get better. There’s always a light at the end of the tunnel. More than hair loss, I think you must be more worried about the affect it might have on your job.”

Much to his surprise, she wrinkled her brow. “Actually, I suppose, yes, I’m a little worried about that. Not that I love it…damn it. I shouldn’t have said that. People assume that I love the glamour, but actually, it kind of loses its appeal after some time. I would rather do something else.”

“What?”

She glanced out of the window and then looked back at him. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I’ve actually never told this to anyone.”

“Come on, you can share with me. I swear that I’m not affiliated with any news or media group.”

She laughed. “I doubt it will make the headlines even if it was leaked, but I like to make soap.”

He felt sure he misunderstood. “Soap?”

“Yeah, soap. In different colors and shapes, using organic products. I make it at home, but one day, I want to set up my own manufacturing plant that would make soap and sell it.”

“Why don’t you do it?”

“Time. Money. Effort. Everything is in short supply right now.” Leaning forward, she sipped her smoothie. “It’s not a big deal really. Maybe it’s just a dream, you know. My career is doing great. It would be silly for me to leave it and pursue something so uncertain.”

“Achievements are a direct result of pipe dreams.”

“Who said that?”

He chuckled. “I did, just now,” he admitted.

Her laughter filled the silence in the café. It was late, and there were no other customers around. He considered himself lucky that he got this opportunity to hang out with her. She was quite a lady. Open, honest, direct, and of course, mind-blowingly beautiful. It would be silly of him to let her slip through his fingers.

“Well said.” She applauded and then checked her watch. “It’s getting late. I should go home. Thank you for the smoothie and the talk. It was actually kind of nice.”

“Kind of nice? Hmm…I was hoping to do better than that.” He stood with her. Walking out with her, he surveyed the streets. No cabs were in sight. “Why don’t we meet again and I could try to do a better job?”

“I don’t know—it’s…I’m in a difficult kind of a situation right now.”

“You’re engaged?”

When she looked away, he figured out that she didn’t want to talk about it just as yet. If he pressured her, he might not get an opportunity to see her again. Clint held her hand and when she looked down at their linked fingers, he smiled. “Okay, we’ll do it at your pace. Why don’t you drop by the hospital to see me when you’re there next?”

“I have to go now.”

He let go of her hand. “Why don’t I drop you? My car is in the parking lot, and it’s late. I wouldn’t feel comfortable letting you stand here while you tried to catch a cab.”

Much to his delight, she nodded. “Thanks. That would be great.”

Together, they strolled towards the parking lot. A nice, fast breeze blew through the street and he pulled the jacket tighter around his body. As far as Clint as concerned, this was a good start. Perhaps, in time, they would get to a better position but for now, he was happy to spend some time with her. .

He helped her into his car, and she gave him the address. Within forty-five minutes, he parked at the front of the building. Stepping out of the car, he jogged around his sedan to open her door. “This is a nice building.”

“Actually, a friend of mine lives here. I’m going to stay here for the night.

“A friend?”

She stepped out of the vehicle, avoiding looking directly into his eyes. “Thanks for the ride. Take care.”

“Bye.” Clint watched her with her hips swaying enticingly, as she hustled to the front door of this friend’s apartment, quite aware that she’d avoided answering his implied question. Friend? Was this her fiancé’s place? He didn’t think she was the kind of girl who moved from one man to another without much thought. Of course, there was nothing romantic about their relationship so far, but he hoped that eventually, it would move in that direction. But if she was still engaged, what was she doing alone in the hospital this time of the night? Why didn’t she go to her own apartment?