Richmond-Banks Brothers 1: A Hopeless Place (BWWM Interracial Romance) Read online

  AMARA

  I traipsed in my room to grab my bag and found an envelope full of cash lying on my bed. Five crisp one-hundred dollar bills, all for a few days’ worth of work. I picked up my phone and immediately dialed my best friend and partner in crime, Cherish Watkins.

  “Hey, let’s go out tonight!” I said. “My treat.”

  “Two words: hell yes,” Cherish said. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

  As I left the Richmond-Banks mansion a short time later, I thought about Bennett. I wondered what he was going to be doing that night, all by himself. I knew he was used to being alone, but a part of me could tell he was enjoying my company. I could see it in his eyes, or when he would subtly smile whenever I’d razz him and challenge him a bit. I wondered if he ever wished he could go out with friends his own age and have a normal, young adult life.

  I pulled into the parking lot of Cherish’ apartment complex, and within minutes, all 5’9’’ of her sauntered out. Her shoulder-length, jet black hair was polished and flat-ironed with nary an out of place strand, and she wore her highest nude pumps and shortest black dress. I always felt impossibly plain next to her, but she’d been my best friend since third grade when her family had moved onto my street, and I’d grown used to the spotlight always being on her anywhere we went.

  “Hey, girl!” Cherish said as she hopped into my car. A mix of spicy, floral perfume and hairspray filled the car. “Ready to hit the town tonight?”

  “I’m so ready,” I said, pulling out of the parking lot. A light sprinkling of snowflakes dusted the windshield as I drove, and I chuckled a little at the fact that it was still winter and Cherish was dressed like she was going to be partying it up in Cancun. “It’s been forever since I’ve been out.”

  For a split second earlier that afternoon, I’d contemplated canceling on Cherish and sticking all the money in savings. I wanted to buy my dad a snow blower for next winter and my mom a diamond necklace, and Alexis needed a new wardrobe. I could just hear my dad’s lecture about money being “easy come, easy go” and the value of a dollar. But I needed this. Just one night to celebrate the fact that things were finally headed in the right direction for me.

  Cherish reached over, turned the radio on, and began singing along to one of our old favorite songs from high school. “Oh, my God. Remember this?”

  She screeched along to the lyrics. Though she couldn’t carry a tune to save her life, it never stopped her from belting her heart out.

  “Where are we going tonight?” I asked.

  “I didn’t tell you?” she said. Her eyes lit up as she turned to me and placed her hand on my shoulder. “I found out through some people at work that Spencer is in town this week. Aaaaand I heard he was going to be at Mulligan’s tonight. I think we should go there. And I think you should show him what he’s been missing these last few years.” Her lips curled into a devilish smile.

  “I can’t,” I objected, panic instantly flooding my body. I wanted to turn around. I wanted to puke. I hadn’t seen him in years, not since he dumped me before he left for college. “This is weird. I look horrible. Why didn’t you warn me?”

  Without hesitation, Cherish whipped out a stick of berry lipstick and a mammoth tube of mascara and began working her magic on my face as I drove. She flung her makeup back into her purse and pulled a hair tie off her wrist as she swept my hair into a top knot and secured it.

  “Lose the cardigan, dork,” she said, tugging at my sleeve. With her help, I wriggled out of it, my skin immediately prickling from the frigid air. “There. Gorgeous. Any other excuses?”

  I pulled into the parking lot in front of Mulligan’s, scanning the area for a sign of Spencer’s presence and wondering if he still had his black Range Rover. My heart pounded hard in my chest at the thought of bumping into him. I’d played that scenario in my head a million times over the years, but I never thought it would actually happen.

  Being rejected by someone who once loved you like crazy would give a girl a complex. I spent years fantasizing about the day I could prove to Spencer I was good enough for him and that he’d made a huge mistake walking away from me. From us.

  Inside the warm bar, I flirted my way into a couple of free drinks and ran across some old friends from high school.

  “Amara, I haven’t seen you forever,” my old friend, Evan, said as he walked up and wrapped me in a big hug. “What’ve you been up to?”

  “I just started a new job working for the Richmond-Banks family,” I said with a proud smile. “I’m their son’s nurse.”

  “Oh,” Evan said, wincing. “I’ve heard about them.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “They’ve been great, so far.”

  “You just… hear things…” he said cryptically. “I don’t want to get into it.”

  “You kind of have to now,” I insisted, eyebrow raised.

  “Sterling is my mom’s second cousin, or something like that,” he said, taking a sip of beer from his pilsner glass. “I don’t know the full connection. I’ve just heard some pretty, um, interesting things about Ingrid. Just be careful around her. But hey, if she’s good to you, she must like you. Good for you.”

  “This is pretty heavy conversation, guys,” Cherish interjected, slipping between us and hanging her arms around our shoulders. “Tequila shots?”

  “Oh, no, I can’t do those.” I waved her off.

  “Are you kidding me? Are. You. Kidding. Me,” she said, her tone incredulous. “Don’t be such a lame-ass tonight.”

  She traipsed back toward the bar and returned with a tray full of tequila shots, salt shakers, and lime wedges. She wasn’t taking “no” for an answer. As I licked the salt, shot the tequila, and bit the lime, the world around me began to disappear little by little, and for the first time in forever, I forced myself to just let go.

  “Dance with me,” I shouted to Evan over the music booming from the speakers. I pulled his arm and dragged him out to the dance floor where we danced as if no one was watching.

  About three songs into our two-person dance party, a tap on my shoulder pulled me back into the present moment. I spun around, breathless and red-faced, to be faced with none other than the enigmatic and uber-elusive Spencer Goodwin.

  “Hi,” he said, flashing his trademarked half-smile.

  “Spencer,” I said, trying to catch my breath and nonchalantly wipe the faint perspiration from my brow. “I was just dancing with Evan.”

  “I see that,” he said, glancing over my shoulder to where Evan stood behind me, hands on his hips.

  “I haven’t seen you forever,” I said, nudging his shoulder. “How’ve you been? What’s new? We need to catch up.” I tried to shut up, but the words kept coming. The more he stood there, quietly staring at me, the more I wanted to fill that silence with casual words that took away the sting of staring at a man I hardly knew anymore, but remembered so vividly. “How’s school? How many years do you have left? Do you come home often?”

  As if on cue, Cherish popped in between us to intervene and save my inebriated self from regret and humiliation.

  “I’ll bring her right back to you.” She pulled me by the arm back to the corner of the bar. “What are you doing? This is your one shot, and you’re blowing it. Stop talking so much and act like you’re not interested in him. If you him to eat his heart out, you have to play the game. Now, go try again.”

  Sheepish and still red-faced, I sauntered back over to Spencer, but by the time I returned, he was surrounded by other old friends who were also equally as excited to see him. I made a beeline back to our table and ordered another drink. I’d blown my one shot.

  I watched him from afar as he laughed and smiled and talked, practically surrounded by half our graduating class. After several minutes of feeling like a complete ass, I checked the time on my phone. It was barely ten o’clock. Bennett was probably sleeping.

  “What’s new with you?” a man’s voice said, startling me. I looked up, only to see Spencer standi
ng before me. He’d come back, and it took everything I had not to melt under the nostalgic warmth of his ocean blue eyes and shaggy, auburn hair. He took a seat across from me.

  “I just finished nursing school,” I said. “I’m a private nurse for the Richmond-Banks’ right now.”

  “Good for you.” He smiled, his eyes sweeping over me as if all of our sweet high school memories were replaying in his head. “I think about you all the time, Amara.”

  Taken aback, I opened my mouth to respond, and then stopped. I’d fantasized about him saying those very words to me for the last few years, but never in a million years did I think it would happen.

  “I wish things could’ve worked out with us,” he said with an air of bittersweet regret, his eyes lowering as he spun his empty glass on the table.

  “Yeah, if only I would’ve gotten into Vanderbilt, huh?” I said. I easily could’ve gotten into Vanderbilt. I graduated at the top of our class. My family just couldn’t afford it. I should’ve added, “And if only you’d never cheated on me.”

  My stomach dropped, floored by the vivid memory of my first love telling me things were over and the way my teenage self interpreted it as not being good enough for him.

  After a couple minutes of awkward silence, our little reunion was interrupted by yet another old classmate, and as he and Spencer got reacquainted, I got up and returned my empty glass to the bar. I waved goodbye to Cherish and headed outside. There was no point in sticking around and talking about what might have been with the guy who crushed my heart into a million pieces.

  “Amara,” Spencer called out, running behind me in all his former track star glory. I kept walking, and the instant the cool, February air hit my face, I embraced the freezing cold of the night. “You can’t drive home. You’ve been drinking. Let me take you.”

  “You’ve been drinking, too,” I replied, stopping to turn to him. He looked even more gorgeous than he had before standing in the street under the pale light of a streetlamp, snowflakes falling into his perfect, ruddy hair.

  “Actually, no,” he said. “I haven’t had a single drop. I’ve been drinking water all night.”

  “Oh. I just assumed…”

  He placed his arm around my shoulder, ushering me toward his car, and my stumbling feet indicated he was correct. I was in no shape to drive myself home. “Come on. Get in my car. I’m taking you home.”

  BENNETT

  I couldn’t sleep. My mind fixated on Amara and refused to let go. The way she was so quick to push me away and end our kiss, and the way she was so eager to take the night off and get away from me stung like nothing I’d ever felt before, and I didn’t have the slightest clue what to do with those feelings.

  It didn’t help that some douche in a black Range Rover dropped her off at eleven o’clock the night before. I watched from my window as he pulled up and she stumbled, drunk, to the backdoor. He didn’t even walk her there. He just drove off and left her.

  The moment a hint of sun peeked from around the curtains of my window, I reached over and buzzed Amara on the intercom. I waited, patiently, until she came scrambling into my room, her hair a frizzy mess and a thick bathrobe tied tight around her.

  “Hey,” she said with a scratchy voice, as if she’d spent the entire night yelling. “This is really early, Bennett. You okay? You need something?”

  She rubbed her eyes, smudging a hint of makeup under them. She covered her mouth after she spoke, as if the smell of last night’s alcohol was too strong for her to stand.

  “I thought maybe we could go for a walk,” I said, testing her.

  She leaned against the door frame and smiled. “Is that all you wanted?”

  “I know it’s early, but I just need some fresh air. And you’re right. I should be more active,” I said.

  “I have a horrible headache,” she said, rubbing her temples. “Can we got in a little bit?”

  “Yeah. Fine. Whatever.” I turned away from her.

  “I promise,” Amara said, her sweet mouth curling into a gentle smile. She walked over to my bedside and raked her delicate fingers through my hair, her nails tickling my scalp. “I have a thought. Let’s go get breakfast. We can go for a walk after.”

  “You don’t have a car,” I said dryly as the image of her stumbling inside last night took center stage in my head.

  “What are you talking about? Yes I do,” she insisted, her face falling when bit and pieces of the night before probably started to return to her memory.

  “It’s not here,” I said. “Some guy dropped you off here last night.”

  “What did you see?” she asked without pause, nibbling on her fingernails.

  “I don’t want to say.” I shook my head and breathed out.

  “You have to tell me. Please.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Did something bad happen to me?” she asked innocently. “I need to know. I didn’t mean to drink so much last night. It won’t happen again. Please, just tell me what you saw.”

  She wasn’t worried about something bad happening to her. She wanted to know if he kissed her goodnight under the pale moon and starry sky and falling snow. She wanted to know if he looked deep into her beautiful eyes and brushed her cheek with his hand as he told her he’d see her tomorrow. He didn’t do any of that, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her, though it would’ve given me great pleasure for her to stop fawning over that idiot.

  “That was your ex, right?” I asked, sucking in a breath. “The one who cheated on you?”

  Her eyes lit up as she stifled a smile. The thought of that loser put a smile on her face, and yet she wouldn’t even give me two seconds.

  “Bennett,” Amara said tenderly, taking a seat on the bed. “It’s so much more complicated than you know.”

  “I heard his car pull up,” I said, my voice low with resentment. “I looked out the window. You climbed out. Almost fell down. And then stumbled to the door. He pulled away. Shall we go?”

  I didn’t want to look at her. I didn’t want to see her sweet face fall.

  “I’m going to go change,” she said, standing up. I could hear her trying to hide the disappointment in her voice. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

  The second she was gone, I hoisted myself out of bed and walked slowly to the bathroom to get ready. I wanted to prove that I was worthy of her love, her attention. I wanted her to think of me and smile the way she did when she talked about that asshole. I was tired of being some patient she felt sorry for. I didn’t want her to touch me like I was a sickly child. I wanted her to touch me like I was a man.

  I disrobed and stepped into my tiled shower, washing myself from head to toe. I toweled off a few minutes later, combed my hair with brill cream, and finished getting ready.

  “Bennett!” I heard her call from the other side of the door.

  A white towel draped around my waist, I popped the lock on the door and swung it open. Her lips formed an “O” shape as she took me in.

  “You did this by yourself?” she asked, astounded. She couldn’t take her eyes off me, and I could’ve sworn she was breathing me in as the steam from the bathroom escaped from behind me. “You look… good.”

  I shrugged and looked past her, heading to my closet.

  “I just mean, you, um, you look healthy,” she stammered. “Don’t read into it.”

  “I’m going to dress myself today,” I announced. “If you don’t mind.” I pointed toward the door and she left the room, still stunned and silent.

  I carefully changed into jeans and a polo, forgoing my usual lounge clothes for something that made me look a little more normal. As I walked around, I realized my clothes were noticeably tighter on my body, which was finally beginning to fill out a bit.

  “You can come back in,” I announced.

  She stepped back into the room, her eyes never leaving me for one second as she took me in like I was a complete stranger to her, someone she’d never seen before in her life
.

  “What’s going on?” my mother said as she silently entered the room. She was always sneaking up on people like that. “He’s got you up extra early today, Amara.”

  “It’s fine,” she said, her gaze still fixed on me.

  “Bennett, you look… different,” my mother said, her arms crossed and her icy blue eyes looking me up and down. “Jeans today?”

  “We’re going on a walk,” I replied.

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she said, her thin lips pursed.

  “It’ll be fine,” Amara assured her. “I’ll be there every step of the way.”

  My mother paused before turning on her heel and leaving the room just as quietly as she’d entered it. I cleared my throat and took a seat next to the nebulizer and began prepping it myself.

  “Ready?” Amara said as soon as I’d finished. She walked over, her arm outstretched to take my hand, but I refused her help. She stayed close behind me as we walked down the stairs, and she watched as I slipped on a pair of shoes and slid my arms through a thick, woolen coat. Determination made many things possible for a man.

  We started down the path in the backyard toward the English rose garden. Spring was right around the corner, just mere weeks away. Roses bushes would be budding soon, and the birds above us chirped in the still-naked trees.

  “I bet it smells divine in spring,” Amara mused. “The grass and the flowers. All of it.”

  I hadn’t played in the rose garden since I was a kid, but those kinds of smells—clipped grass on a sunny day and the roses I picked for my mother in an attempt to forge some kind of bond—stayed with me still.

  “I need to rest for a second,” I announced, stopping on a bench outside the family cemetery masked by iron gates and tall, evergreen shrubs.

  “Of course,” she said, rushing closer to me and helping me down onto the bench.

  I rested, trying to catch my breath, determined to keep going.

  “Take it easy, okay?” she said, rubbing my back. Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she wasted no time in pulling it out. I glanced over and read the caller ID, which read “Spencer.”