The Ex Project by Nia Arthurs

Chapter Twelve

Duane selectedtwo glasses from the tray and smiled to himself. The night was going amazing—Winston and his inane comments aside.

He truly enjoyed Yolanda’s company and could tell the flimsy excuse of faking a relationship wouldn’t hold for long. At least, not on his end. These feelings were real and the need to kiss her was very real too.

He could safely say that she felt the same way. Duane thought of Yolanda’s expression when he leaned in. Her eyelashes had fluttered and her lips puckered in anticipation. She trusted him completely and he treasured that.

If only her sister hadn’t…

Duane flexed his hands around the champagne glass and mentally berated himself. No, he shouldn’t be resentful. Her sister’s interruption was a necessary wake up call. He might not have been able to stop at a kiss. What would the rich folks of Belize City think if he devoured Yolanda before their eyes?

“Impressive,” a voice said.

Duane turned sideways and saw a short man in a three-piece suit walking over. Sweat dotted his baldhead. He had a thick beard and a twinkling set of black eyes.

Something about him seemed familiar, but Duane couldn’t place him. “Can I help you?”

“No, but I think I can help you.” He held out a hand. “Nick Azueta, Minister of Youth and Sports.”

No wonder the man looked familiar. He’d seen him on campaign posters all over the city.

When Duane was looking for help with his league, he’d contacted the office, but he was turned back and given the runaround. It felt strange to come face-to-face with such a prominent minister while attending a Walsh-family event.

“Mr. Azueta.”

“I heard a little of your conversation with Winston.”

Duane rubbed his upper lip. “What part?”

“The important one.” He laughed. “Don’t worry. Everyone knows about Winston and his secretary. That’s not big news.”

Duane’s smile dropped. Was that a quirk of the upper class? Did they keep each other’s dirty laundry in the dark for fear of their own empires collapsing in retribution?

He briefly wondered if Winston’s wife was at home with her morning sickness and pregnancy pains, innocently believing that her husband had her best interest at heart. Didn’t any of these people think she deserved to know?

Azueta brushed the topic away like it was a common fly. “I’m here to discuss the league you wanted to form.” He arched an eyebrow. “You know we already have the National Sports Federation in Belize.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Azueta, the NSF is a joke.”

The man’s face turned a mottled grey.

Duane set his champagne glass down and turned to the politician. He knew when an opportunity was being presented to him. Perhaps he was staring one in the face, but he wouldn’t compromise his beliefs just to scratch this man’s back.

“When I first returned to Belize, I went through the regular routes and I was told that there was no funds. I was also told that I needed permits and permission. The people I needed permission from would not return my calls or emails.”

Azueta squeezed his eyes shut and laughed. “Of course you didn’t get through. This world doesn’t move on supplications and letters, Marden.” He slapped his shoulder. “It depends on who you know.”

Something in his tone grated Duane’s nerves. He stepped back so Azueta’s hand sank into the air.

The politician didn’t seem to read his unease and kept talking loudly. “I see you and the oldest Walsh girl are getting together. That’s good. That’s good. She can introduce you to all the right people.” He chuckled. “Actually, there was something I wanted to discuss with her too and if you could arrange a meeting for us—”

Duane stepped back completely, a cold, oily feeling sloshing through his stomach. “I’m Yolanda’s boyfriend, not her secretary. If you’d like to talk business with her, you can go ahead and do that.”

“You misunderstand.” Azueta chuckled. “The way this world works, nothing is for free. Everything comes with strings.” He moved into Duane’s personal space and whispered, “I’m a powerful man and you want me on your side. I can help you in ways you’ve never imagined.”

“Like I said,” he responded stiffly, “whatever you have to say to Yolanda, you can do that personally.”

“It’s not that simple. The Walsh family is not one to mingle in politics.”

“Then there must be a reason for that.”

“They also don’t parade themselves around with men of your… background.” His eyes ran over Duane again and he chuckled. “But Yolanda was always the rule breaker.”

Duane stiffened. “What’s your point?”

“I’d like it if we got to know each other. Do you play golf?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I don’t play football.” Azueta rubbed his chin. “Perhaps we should speak in a more casual environment. You wouldn’t feel so skittish then.”

“If you’d like to discuss football,” he stretched the term, “then we can make a formal appointment and I can discuss those matters in your office.”

“Aw, come on, Marden. You wouldn’t be this stiff with Yolanda.”

“My relationship with Yolanda has nothing to do with business.”

“Nothing?”

“There are no strings attached.” Even as the words left his mouth, he felt a twinge of dismay. His feelings for Yolanda were real, but his relationship with her was not.

That didn’t have to be the case for long. Now that he had confirmed his attraction to her, he could make things serious.

He liked her. It didn’t matter how their relationship started, only that it ended with a commitment between them.

“You might change your mind in the future,” Azueta said. “Here.” He stuck a business card in his hand. “Let’s help each other out, hm? All those obstacles you were talking about? I’ll push them out of your way. You can have everything you want without a worry or care.” He saluted. “Think about it.”

Annoyed, Duane pocketed the card just to get Azueta away. “Thanks.”

He picked up the champagne glasses and headed across the room. As he walked, someone slammed into his shoulder. One of the glasses tumbled out of his hand.

Duane’s body moved on instinct. He snatched the glass before it shattered to the ground, but the contents crashed into his tux and spilled all over his shirt.

The liquid seeped past the fabric and collected on his skin, cold and uncomfortable. He whipped his head up to see who’d knocked into him and froze.

“Sorry,” Devon said, his lips arching in a smile that screamed he was anything but. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Sir, are you okay?” One of the servers approached him with a towel.

“I’m fine.” He smiled politely at her and handed over both champagne glasses. “Can you put these up for me?”

“Yes, sir. And I’ll bring a towel as well, sir.” She scurried off with the tray.

Duane wiped his hands against the side of his pants. In the silence, he steadied his breath and calmed his temper. “What are you doing here, Devon?”

“This is my sister-in-law’s gallery. Of course I’d show up to support.”

Duane stiffened. As far as he knew, Yolanda and Devon hadn’t gotten married. Why was this punk calling Janice his sister-in-law?

“What are you doing here?” Devon asked, making a slow sweep over Duane’s body. “You don’t seem like that type who’d be into art.”

“If you have something to say, just spit it out and stop wasting my time.”

Devon laughed. “I can tell you lived abroad for a while. You don’t understand how things work around here.”

“You’re the one who seems to have forgotten his manners. I believe you owe me an apology for knocking into me.”

“Here, sir.” The server returned with a thick white towel.

“Thanks.” Duane gripped it, but he didn’t dry himself off.

Devon smirked and puffed out his chest. He wore a black button down and pressed slacks. His hair was freshly cut and so was his beard. A gold earring glinted from his left ear and matched the chain around his neck.

“You’re the one who needs to watch where he’s going.” Devon stepped closer. “Bad things happen to people who show up where they don’t belong, Marden.” He lowered his voice. “That’s a good lesson to learn before things get too far.”

Duane stiffened. His hands itched to smash into Devon’s face but, so far, all the man had done was talk crap and spill a little champagne on him. It wasn’t worth a fight. Not yet.

“I’ll take your advice into consideration.” He took a step toward the cocky musician. “And since we’re handing out advice, why haven’t I seen you around the field lately? Your son would be happy to have you in the bleachers during games.”

Devon’s smile dripped, leaving behind a scowl.

Duane stopped and spoke right in the man’s face. “I thought I’d see more of you when you signed him up for practice. In fact, I was right there when you promised him you’d be more involved.”

“Why don’t you stay out of my business?” Devon hissed.

“You seemed so eager to hand out lessons earlier. I thought you’d be interested in hearing my thoughts too.”

Devon scoffed. “You’re walking a thin line, Marden.”

“I was just about to tell you that.”

“I don’t know what kind of act you’re putting on,” Devon thumbed the tip of his nose and shifted his weight from one leg to the other, “but I know you don’t have the right to lecture me about anything. Especially when you use your position to target vulnerable single mothers.”

He narrowed his eyes. Although he was trying his best not to let Devon rile him, that comment got on his nerves. “What the hell are you talking about?”

The other man smirked. “You must have seen Yolanda and thought she was someone you could manipulate.”

“If you think anyone can manipulate Yolanda, you don’t know her that well.”

He shrugged. “Of course she acts all tough, but anyone who’s really looking can tell that she’s soft inside.”

“Who Yolanda is on the inside is no longer your concern.”

Devon grabbed his arm to keep him from walking away. “Actually, it is. I’m not sure why she’s messing with you, but I do know that all she wants is for us to be a family again.”

Something invisible hit him in the chest.

Yolanda’s ex pushed forward. “That night at the bar, you were lying, right?”

He curled his fingers into fists.

Devon smirked. “Is that a part of your coaching too, Marden? Is that how you coach the wives?”

“Back off.” Duane pushed him.

Devon stumbled back. It caused enough of a ruckus that guests began to take notice.

Duane’s blood rushed straight to his head. He clenched his jaw, fighting to hold back his temper. This man was Tay-Tay’s father. He was someone who would always be in Yolanda’s life. Duane couldn’t afford to antagonize him.

Even if it would feel so, so good to land a solid punch.

“Devon!” Yolanda charged toward them, moving through the crowd. She stood at his side, her eyes wide and focused on her ex. “ What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” He arched an eyebrow at Duane. “I didn’t think you had a date.”

Duane put his arm around her, needing to communicate to Devon that his time was long past. But, when he placed his arm around Yolanda, she squirmed away. His heart slammed against his ribs and he shot a stunned look at her.

“Outside. Now,” Yolanda growled, looking at her ex.

“I just got here, babe,” Devon whined.

“Now!” Yolanda grabbed Devon by the front of his shirt and hauled him away from the crowd.

As he stumbled behind her, Devon glanced over his shoulder and shot a proud look back.

A sick feeling entered Duane’s stomach. He stood, rooted in place, feeling like he’d just lost something precious.