Page 36 of Bodyguard My Heart

“Okay.” I steadied the basket in one hand, still gripping my crutches.

“There you go. You look just like an Augustine man now,” he commented as I made my way over to the pulper.

“This is where the magic happens.” He pointed to the small gray machine. “This is where the cherries get turned into coffee beans. Dump them.”

I steadied myself on the crutches and poured the seeds into the pulper. I watched as the cherries went in and the coffee beans came out on the other side, and a peaceful feeling swept over me. The word purpose echoed through my head again, and I felt a sense of pride sweep over me.

“Let’s get these beans in the house. I smell breakfast,” he said as he leaned down and grabbed the bucket. I nodded my head and followed behind him.

“Look who I found,” Grandpapa announced as we entered the home. My grandmother rounded the corner into the living room. Her face lit up when she saw me, and relief washed over her face.

“Boy!” she shouted, running over and wrapping me in a warm embrace.

“I came to discuss Fabian’s funeral arrangements,” I said.

“Where’s Samara?” She pulled back, staring a hole in my face.

“At the resort. I drove–”

I wasn’t able to get my words out well before she took her hand and slapped me across the head.

“You not supposed to be driving!” she fussed.

“I know, Gran. I just wanted to come do this on my own.” I turned to Grandpapa. “I ain’t want her to get kicked out of here twice.” We all shared a laugh as I lifted the basket of coffee beans. “Oh, and I have these.”

“You’ve been in the field?” she questioned.

“Yeah, Grandpapa showed me the Augustine way.” I shrugged. I could see pure joy on her face at what I’d said.

“Come sit. I’m almost done cooking. We can discuss the arrangements over breakfast. Is that okay?”

“Of course.” I followed her into the kitchen as she started talking about my family’s history with coffee beans.

11

Samara

As I paced the floor of our hotel room, my worry and frustration grew with every minute that passed. Demetrius had been gone since before I’d woken up, and I’d been up for three hours now. The rental car was not parked outside, so I knew he was driving, and that made me livid because his hardheaded ass knew he shouldn’t be driving with a cast on his leg. I’d probably called him a thousand times, and each one had gone straight to voicemail. So many worst-case scenarios played in my head. I was dialing him again when I heard the doorknob twisting.

I moved quickly to the front door of our suite. A mixture of anger and relief swept over me as soon as his ass came into view.

“Where the hell have you been?” I shouted before he could even get in the door. “And why the hell were you driving?”

“I got breakfast!” He held up a large Tupperware container. “Gran sent this for you.”

A slight smirk appeared on his face. Demetrius knew the way to get rid of my attitude was through dick or food. He steadied himself on his crutches and entered the room. My annoyance softened as he handed me the container. Knowing that he’d onlygone to his grandparents’ house made me feel a little better, but I was still pissed. He was lucky I was hungry.

“You went to your grandparents?” I questioned. “How did that go?” I took the container from his hand, walked to the kitchen counter, and sat on the bar stool. Demetrius was right behind me, taking a seat.

“It was cool. Grandpapa and I had a good talk. We got Fabian’s arrangements in order.”

“When are they?” I questioned.

“Two weeks. We got two weeks to wrap all this shit up before then.”

“We will,” I reassured him as I stuffed a fried plantain in my mouth. Gran could cook her ass off. I loved her traditional Haitian cooking. Demetrius watched me as I ate. I couldn’t help but notice the look on his face as he watched me.

“What?” I stopped chewing and glanced up at him. He was up to something.

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