Commitment

by Forrester, Nia

  “Nice place,” she said without greeting. “What’re we eating?”

  “I got the tasting menu.”

  He didn’t care what they ate. The meal was just an unwelcome pit-stop so the tasting menu was his best bet to cover all possible bases.

  “How was Paris?” she unfurled her napkin and spread it across her lap. “Beautiful, I bet.”

  “If you really want to know, I’ll take you.”

  She smiled, which was about all he’d expected in reply, because they had exchanges like this all the time. He offered her things and she refused them or more often, didn’t acknowledge the offer at all.

  “You have to go to Pittsburgh,” she reminded him, gently chiding.

  “Pittsburgh. Yeah,” he said dryly.

  She was probably busy anyway. Because hell, she had a boyfriend. Over the last few months, the “someone” she was “kind of with” had become much more than that. Brian sometimes came up in casual conversation but no matter how closely Shawn studied her tone for clues, it was impossible to tell how she really felt about dude. He never asked her things like that, because it broke their unspoken rule. Since the second time they’d gotten together there was no talk of other people they might see.

  Without saying the words, they agreed: ‘when I’m with you, I’m with you and what happens when I’m not with you doesn’t matter.’ And it had worked. At first.

  Until Riley he’d forgotten that when he was working and travelling things seemed to stand still and move really fast at the same time. Shawn raced through cities and meetings, shows and appearances at lightning speed, almost expecting that when he was done, he could pick up right where he’d left off with the rest of the world.

  But it didn’t work like that. When he was doing his thing, she was doing hers – working, meeting new people, dating and eventually transforming a “sort of” boyfriend into the real deal. Riley’s life was a universe of events, friends and ideas that he had nothing to do with and that had nothing to do with him. It should have been a relief.

  Her shirt was close-fitting and scooped in front exposing the length of her neck. All he could think about while she stretched her arms and rotated her head as though to work out a crick, was whether Brian kissed her neck and if she liked it. When he did it, he could feel a low, rumbling vibration in the back of her throat that excited the hell out of him.

  “What’s on the tasting menu?” she asked, idly playing with the ends of her scarf.

  Shawn impatiently signaled for their server, who brought the menu right away. Riley skimmed it and looked up.

  “Can’t wait,” she said. “But why would you leave Paris and come eat at a French restaurant in New York?”

  “It’s not like you think,” he said, still impatient. “Y’know what I see when I’m in Paris? The inside of a suite in the Hotel Champs Elysees, the arena and the airport. Most of the time I eat crap that someone brings to me in plastic containers.”

  “You should do something about that,” she said seriously. “Maybe spend more time before your shows. Or after. What’s the point of visiting these amazing places if you never see them?”

  “The point is to work and get the hell out of there, he said reaching for his glass of water.

  “Wow, someone’s a little testy this evening,” Riley said.

  What he didn’t say should have been obvious by now. If he lingered to sightsee in every city where he had a show, he probably wouldn’t get to see her when he did, which was only about once every three weeks or so for maybe two, three days at a time. She never asked for more than that. She never asked for anything.

  Nine months of this and most women were screaming for something more. Hell, he couldn’t remember ever having spent nine months with the same woman exclusively or otherwise. His lifestyle wasn’t conducive to that, but it had suited him just fine.

  “Shawn?”

  He looked up.

  “You’re probably just tired from the flight,” she said. “Maybe we should’ve eaten in your suite.”

  “Nah, I’m good.” He leaned forward and smiled at her, which she returned right away with one of her own.

  “Guess who finally got an interview with the schools’ chancellor, by the way.”

  “You did? Cool.”

  “You remember what I’m talking about? The piece I’m writing on that case where they gave that kid Ritalin without his parents’ consent?”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  She sent him text messages when he was away. Sometimes they were just about the weather, sometimes about her work or a story she’d read in the newspaper. She asked him about music she’d heard and wanted to know whether he’d heard of the artists as well. Even while they were apart, her presence was almost tangible to him, more real than some of the people he saw every day.

  “Anyway, someone Greg knows saw him at a cocktail party and let slip that we were investigating it and . . .”

  He only half-listened as she went on. Mostly he watched her face, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her work and the big gestures she made with her hands as she spoke.

  She had an even oval-shaped face, a cool dark-olive complexion that glowed when she was embarrassed and sleepy dark almond-shaped eyes that needed no help from all that smoky eyeliner and mascara crap that other women plastered on. Knowing her, wearing her hair naturally curly hair short and cut evenly was probably her way to ensure that running her fingers through it occasionally would be enough to take care of grooming.

  Shawn smiled to himself. He was jonesing for her and she was sitting right across from him. But of course, it was way worse when they were apart.

  In Paris, some groupie tried to jack him up in the bathroom of the show promoter’s penthouse apartment. She was a half-French, half-Ethiopian model, with reddish-brown hair and large gray eyes, and no joke, she was even more beautiful in person than she was on the pages of fashion magazines.

  She didn’t speak a word of English so they’d barely even exchanged ‘hellos’ but that didn’t stop her from shoving him into the closet-sized latrine and falling to her knees in front of him. Shawn was surprised at what he’d felt looking down at the top of her head.

  Exhaustion. Exasperation. Anything but lust.

  He’d pulled her to her feet and gently but firmly steered her back out to the rest of the party where he had to endure her dirty looks for the rest of the evening. She was a beautiful girl, no question. But he was on edge, wound up and could think only about the twenty-some hours standing between him and this moment, when he would be with this girl, right here.

  When the food came out Shawn realized that the last time he’d eaten had been ten hours earlier during the flight from Charles De Gaulle. The rest of the time, he listened to music and got a few hours of restless sleep, impatient for the moment when the airplane would touch down on the tarmac at JFK.

  Sometime during the meal Riley suddenly stopped eating and smiled at him, reaching across the table with her napkin to wipe the corner of his mouth. He drew back and laughed at her.

  “What are you doing? I’ve been wiping my own mouth since I was five, thank you very much.”

  “It’s just that you’re so handsome,” she said. “I could eat you up.”

  Shawn grinned back at her. “Who says stuff like that? I mean, who under seventy-five years old?”

  Riley laughed and tossed her napkin at him. “I say stuff like that. That’s who.”

  He shook his head in amusement and took the napkin she’d thrown at him, using it to wipe the area she’d been reaching for. And then, because he couldn’t help himself, he slid a hand across the table until the tips of his fingers brushed hers.

  They went through almost two bottles of wine with dinner and when they were done, Riley leaned back in her chair with a satisfied and slightly tipsy smile.

  “So do I get to see what fancy rooms at the Four Seasons look like?”

  “You’ve been here before,” he reminded her.

&n
bsp; Shawn signed the slip and stood to pull out her chair.

  In the elevator, they were finally alone. When Riley turned to face him with her chin slightly raised, he leaned in to kiss her, feeling himself grow hard as her tongue met his. She placed one cool hand on the back of his neck and the other gripped the collar of his shirt. They kissed until they heard the ping of the elevator, and the doors opened on his floor. As they walked down the hallway, Riley reached over and laced her fingers through his.

  After their first night together when he’d left for Baltimore he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. The way she’d walked out on him had been a first. Women never walked out on him - they often had to be shown the door, in fact. But Riley, even after talking about how amazing their chemistry was, had left without a backward glance. For the two weeks following, thinking about that, and about her, became an itch he couldn’t scratch.

  No matter what he did, the itch didn’t go away. And the more he thought about her, the less it was about ego. He remembered sitting up in bed, Riley astride him so it was difficult to see where he ended and she began; her arms locked about his neck, and his face between her breasts. She had trembled from the intensity of it, her breath soft and ragged, brushing the shell of his ears. He remembered how later she laughed at something he’d said, throwing her head back, completely herself and unconcerned about how she might look, but how she looked was beautiful, her face flushed and almost glowing in the dim light. He remembered her dark, intense eyes fixed on his while they moved in unison, like she wanted to see right through to his very soul.

  Most of all, he remembered feeling like he was making love to her; even though they’d just met, nothing about what they did could be called fucking. So he wanted to test his memory – had it really been that good?

  So finally he gave in and called her. The Boys and Girls Club had invited him to come to a rally so he had a reason to be in New York that would pass muster, even with Brendan who was a stern gatekeeper for his time.

  Shawn remembered the sound of her voice when she realized he was on the other end – the little trill of pleasure that she tried to conceal. They talked for a few minutes about the scheduled release of the article she’d done on him. She told him that her editor had liked it so much he’d decided to make it the feature. He told her he would be in town and offered to do a photo shoot for them then.

  “I’ll pass that message on to our folks here,” she said. “But I wouldn’t be the person who’d set that up,” she added.

  “I want to see you,” he said simply.

  There were a few beats of silence, which he struggled not to fill with words of persuasion. If they were going to do this, she would have to meet him halfway.

  “Okay,” she said finally. “Yes.”

  That second time, when they met, she was almost shy. She’d come to his suite at the W and seemed not to know whether to hug him, kiss him or shake his hand. He’d cleared up that confusion right away.

  g

  Now, when they arrived at the suite, there were few words between them. Shawn shut the door, slowly unwound the scarf from her neck and tugged Riley’s shirt free of her jeans. Underneath she was wearing a hideous black cotton bra that looked like something that would have been standard-issue in a Catholic girls’ school.

  “Don’t you dare make fun of my bra,” she laughed, seeing the look on his face.

  He grinned and leaned forward to kiss her between her breasts, lingering there when he felt encouragement in the subtle push of her hips toward him. When Shawn raised his head, Riley’s eyes were closed and her lips slightly parted. He kissed her, reaching between them to unfasten her pants and slip a hand inside. She was already wet; her fingers worked frantically to unbuckle his belt.

  Shawn stopped her by gently shoving her back onto the bed and peeling her cargo pants down by the waist. In his eagerness, he’d forgotten about those damned boots.

  “Oops,” Riley said.

  They both laughed out loud and he reached up the pant-legs that had been turned inside out and unlaced them, which seemed to take an inordinately long time. Riley kicked them across the room and threw herself backward onto the bed once again.

  Looking at her lying there in her funny Catholic school bra, he wanted her as much as he ever had.

  After all this time, why wasn’t it going away?

  He sank to his knees in front of the bed and peeled her underwear over her hips, kissing a path down her legs until he got to her knees. Her breathing was audible now, her excitement matching his. Shawn pushed her legs back against her chest and buried his face into her, teasing, licking and gently nipping her until she was quivering, moaning and gasping his name. She tried to move, but he held her fast by the ankles, keeping her knees pressed apart so she was wide open to him.

  Soon she was bucking beneath him, convulsing as though she wanted to throw him off, but still he held her there until she cried out and went limp. He moved up and rested his head on her stomach, feeling it rise and fall as her breathing returned to normal, closing his eyes as she raked her fingers across his scalp. When she reached down toward him, this time he gave in.

  Riley drew him into her holding him in place, her nails digging into his buttocks. As he began to move, slowly at first, she moved with him, her mouth against his neck, legs locked about his waist. He wasn’t just inside her, he was surrounded by her – he could taste her, smell the citrus scent of her hair, feel the smooth softness of her skin. In this place and time, there was nothing else. She was everything.

  Afterward, Riley lay on her side facing him, her eyes half-shut and heavy-lidded. Shawn reached out and traced a finger down the center of her forehead, along the bridge of her nose and over her lips. She opened them and pulled his finger into her mouth, sucking the tip for a moment before releasing it. His body responded immediately, even to this small gesture. She traced a raised scar on his arm and lifted her head for a moment to kiss its length.

  “What’re you up to tomorrow?” he asked. “I don’t have much time in town.”

  “Tomorrow morning I’m interviewing a very boring young man who works for the Queens Borough president and who wants to see his name in print, so he shares information he probably shouldn’t. What’re you doing later?”

  “Playing a show at the Mellon Arena.”

  “And yet all my friends say we have nothing in common,” Riley joked.

  “You tell all your friends about me?” Shawn asked.

  “Well. Tracy.”

  “But no one else.”

  Riley shook her head. Shawn was surprised to feel a twinge of disappointment.

  “Nope. Unless you count my mother. But that’s just incidental.”

  “Incidental how?”

  “Incidental because really it’s just that I tell her everything about my life. And you’re part of my life.”

  “Am I?”

  “One of the best parts,” she said, moving closer.

  g

  Riley was gone when he opened his eyes the next morning. She never stayed. Work was generally her excuse but most often there was no reason, just her absence. They’d been up for much of the night, exploring each other and filling in the blanks since they’d last been together. Around three in the morning, Riley announced that she “needed” vanilla bean ice cream so there’d been a quick trip to a 24-hour grocery store.

  When they returned to the hotel, she’d turned on MTV and danced around the room in her underwear to a Gwen Stefani music video, ice cream carton and spoon in hand. Shawn watched her, laughing until she collapsed into bed and he peeled away all traces of clothing so they were skin to skin once again. He fell asleep with her leg draped across his torso, her fingers tracing circles on the back of his neck.

  Now, the message light on the phone was glowing red and Shawn vaguely remembered the ringing sometime during the night, right after he’d let his mobile phone go unanswered. Only Brendan would be that persistent. He hauled himself out of bed and headed fo
r the shower thinking of the mere six hours he had in New York before he would have to be on the way to Pittsburgh.

  An hour later when he opened the door to his suite in answer to insistent knocking, Brendan was standing there, his face carefully devoid of expression

  “So how’s she doing?” he asked, taking a seat in front of the television and switching it on.

  “Do you care, or are you just trying to start some shit?” Shawn said.

  Brendan shrugged. “I like Riley. You know that.”

  “But? Just get it out of your system, man. We go through this every single time, so why make this trip any different?”Shawn said impassively.

  “It’s just . . . you’re K fucking Smooth, dawg. You know how many bitches are dying to get next to you?”

  “No,” Shawn said. “Tell me.”

  “A’ight. I forgot that this one subject is off limits,” Brendan held his hands up.

  “So what we’re doing today again?”

  “KISS FM. That’s all we got time for.”

  “What time are we done?”

  “About one or so.”

  “Good.”

  Radio interviews were among the easiest, but also among the most tedious things he had to do for career maintenance. They were also essential. Currying favor with disc jockeys meant getting your music played, and there was no substitute for having the fans listen to you talk to someone just like them over the airwaves. Whenever he had a limited stop in a major city, Brendan would set up an appearance on the most popular hip-hop show in town.

  Since New York set the tone for so many other markets, he had to be on his game here of all places. Good thing it was second nature for him now. He could give them the full K Smooth flavor without even thinking about it. And he definitely wasn’t thinking about it. He was thinking instead about his travel schedule. After Pittsburgh, all of the remaining cities were out west, and he wouldn’t be back on the East Coast until December. Damn near three months.