Commitment

by Forrester, Nia

  Brendan studied him for a moment and then put the Blackberry on the table, giving Shawn his complete attention for a change.

  “I think you’re the one who doesn’t know her,” Brendan said seriously. “You don’t see it, Shawn?”

  “What’re you talking ‘bout?”

  “This fucking circus life we live in this rap game, man. Not too many women worth having would sign on for some shit like this. But she did. She tolerates the parties and the clubs and the drinking and the smoking.

  “And you being gone for weeks, and the women all over you and all that mess. She hates all that. But she rolls with it. Because for her, it’s all about you. Anybody with eyes can see that.”

  Shawn said nothing.

  “You’ve been hiding out in L.A. and y’know what she’s doing? She’s waiting. That’s all. She’s just waiting for you to just come correct. And the minute you do, she’ll be all in again. And even this stuff with Chris that you’re trippin’ over? Even that’s about you, Shawn. Why you think she’s with hanging out with Chris of all people? Because he’s close to you.

  “Now shut the hell up so I can finish sending these emails,” Brendan muttered under his breath. He picked up his Blackberry again.

  g

  At nine a.m. sharp, Riley got a call from the front desk telling her that a woman named Nadine Ford was downstairs waiting for her. The stylist. She was dreading it, but the truth was, she had no idea how to dress for a record label launch party and could probably use all the help she could get. As it was, she’d spent the morning trying to figure out what to wear just to go shopping with the stylist, finally settling on her old faithful faded jeans with a broad belt, and tank top with boots. The only things she brought along with her were her Visa card and driver’s license. No doubt stylists were expensive.

  Riley spotted Nadine immediately even though she’d never seen her before. Sitting on the arm of one of the overstuffed chairs in the waiting area, she was chattering into a blinged out iPhone, every bit the stereotypical L.A. ‘beautiful person’.

  Nadine was an über-skinny fair-skinned sister with hair bleached a honey blonde, wearing a pair of tight pink suede pants and a beige leather shirt with boots that had toes so pointy, it was hard to imagine them being comfortable, or even possible to walk in. In mid-sentence, she looked up and noticed Riley, and hastily ended her conversation, coming over to greet her with a disarming smile and extended hand.

  “You must be Riley,” she said.

  “Yes. And you’re Nadine.”

  “I am so happy to finally meet you.”

  Her voice lilted at the end of her sentences.

  “I’ve been working with K for three years now,” she said, putting a hand on the small of Riley’s back and steering her toward the exit. “And when he told me he was married you could’ve just about knocked me on my ass. I knew it had to be someone special and you,” she paused here to look Riley over from head to toe. “. . . you are just . . . exquisite.”

  “Thank you.”

  It was her job to say things like that, Riley realized, but all the same it was embarrassing to listen to.

  “So we’re getting you ready for a photo-op at one and the party tonight?”

  “I guess.”

  Nadine handed a ticket to the valet and turned her full attention to Riley.

  “This can be a daunting process if you’ve never done it before,” she said seriously, as though they were about to embark on a trek across the Tundra. “But you’re going to have to trust me. This is what I do best. I’ll tell you what works and what doesn’t, and since you’re a New Yorker and probably into that minimalist thing, you’re going to have to trust me even more. You think you can do that?”

  Riley resisted the urge to laugh out loud. “Sure.”

  Nadine beamed. “And I’m happy to say, I don’t think we’re going to have to do anything with the hair. I love that androgynous look. So chic.”

  And then she actually ran her hand over Riley’s head. God. Was this what Shawn went through just to pick an outfit?

  Nadine’s car was a sleek, silver Jaguar XK8 convertible. Not bad for a glorified personal shopper. She tipped the valet and without even looking at him slid behind the wheel, pulling a pair of sunglasses out of her purse and putting them on.

  “I should put the top up,” she said more to herself than to Riley. “The air is terrible today.”

  Their first stop was a boutique run by a “close personal friend” of Nadine’s a man who looked to be in his fifties named Gus, who dressed like a sixteen-year old hip-hopper and had a bald spot he combed over. He and Nadine exchanged kisses and then they talked about Riley as though she weren’t even there, comparing impressions on what ‘line’ would suit her frame, what color would bring out her eyes and how much leg she might want to show.

  It was alternately fascinating and annoying—they were making her an image, she realized. Not simply dressing her for an event.

  “Sit, sit,” Gus told her. “I’m going to have someone fetch you a cappuccino and tiramisu that is just to die.”

  Riley obediently sat on one of the uncomfortable art-deco chairs randomly placed about the boutique. Moments later, a young woman in a skirt so short it almost looked like a tube top appeared with a small café table, and then a couple minutes after that with her cappuccino and tiramisu.

  Gus and Nadine had disappeared to the rear of the boutique, so all she could do was wait and eat and drink. She wondered where Shawn was, and what he was doing. He’d been back and forth to L.A. so often in the last few months it almost felt like he lived here. She would take it as a good sign that he was still staying in a hotel, rather than renting a place.

  When Nadine and Gus finally emerged, they were wheeling a garment rack with them. Nadine held up the first outfit—an emerald green halter dress—and waved it at Riley.

  “You have to try this,” she sang. “You’re going to look so hot in it.”

  By the time they were done at Gus’ boutique, Riley had tried more than fifteen outfits and chosen three, more out of exhaustion than anything else. Two dresses and a shantung jacket with matching cigarette pants that altogether cost more than seven thousand dollars. Nadine didn’t ask for a credit card and seemed to have some arrangement with Gus that permitted them to simply walk out of the boutique, bags in hand.

  “Shoes. We need shoes,” Nadine said when they were back in the Jaguar. “And I know just the perfect place. I get my own stuff there.”

  As though that was a valid measure of anything.

  Riley glanced at her watch surreptitiously. Only ten-fifteen. Nadine could conceivably keep her for another two hours. At the next stop, they bought a pair of modestly priced Anne Klein Collection sandals and leather slides by someone Riley had never heard of but who was apparently famous enough to charge five hundred and ninety dollars for his wares.

  “One more stop,” Nadine said patting her on the hand as they left the store with their shopping bags in hand. “I know you must be dying to get back to that husband of yours.”

  “Actually, I have no idea where he is right now,” Riley said breezily.

  “I don’t know how he keeps that pace up,” Nadine said missing her undertone entirely. “And you. You must be a saint to tolerate being separated so much.”

  “It is what it is,” Riley said dryly.

  “Well honey, you’re a better woman than I am,” Nadine returned. “He is altogether too cute to let out of your sight unsupervised.”

  The last stop was a mega-boutique that carried all the exclusive designers. Nadine went through the place like a whirlwind, scooping up dresses here, pants there, shoes and stoles and skirts and tops. She stood by while Riley tried combination after combination, vetoing some, and giving the thumbs up for others. The one thing they agreed on completely was when they found the outfit for the afternoon photo-op.

  It was a pair of dark blue retro-style Earl Jeans that fit snugly on the hip, and a black Dolce & Gab
bana jacket that tapered at the waist, but was short enough to show just a peek of flesh. The shoes were black, high-heeled sandals that actually resembled something Riley would have picked for herself even without the assistance of a stylist.

  After all the outfits were chosen and she’d changed back into her own clothes, Riley emerged to find Nadine sitting with Shawn on one of the sofas in the sitting area. He looked up when she entered and gave a small smile.

  “Look who I found!” Nadine said brightly. She leaned in and hugged Shawn briefly. “I honestly don’t know how you stand it, Riley. He’s so yummy! I would be all over him all the time.”

  Riley and Shawn’s eyes met and to her surprise, they both spluttered into laughter at their own private joke: they were all over each other all the time. Or at least, they used to be.

  “Hey baby,” he said.

  “Hi.”

  Why did she feel so shy of him all of a sudden?

  Maybe because he looked so different, but still so incredible. She hadn’t looked at him properly the previous evening; hadn’t seen that he was leaner, and darker from the sun and that he had clearly been working out. He was wearing chinos, slung low on his hips and a white t-shirt with his favorite mustard-colored boots. His arms filled the sleeves and she could tell that his chest was bigger too.

  Nadine’s flirting had been good-natured and clearly meant nothing, but Riley knew that there were other women, not so good-natured, who were probably noticing what she had just noticed all over again—her husband was sexy as hell. But he was her husband.

  The proprietary thought startled her. She and Shawn hadn’t laid eyes on each other for almost three months. Whether or not their marriage would even survive was very much up in the air, and if his getting her a separate suite was any indication, maybe they were leaning in the direction of ending it. The thought of Shawn, no longer hers, made her stomach twist in knots.

  Hers? Where the hell had that thought come from? Riley blushed.

  “I thought you might want to go to lunch,” Shawn said getting up and coming toward her. “I know Nadine can be like Speedy Gonzalez on acid. You’re probably hungry and tired.”

  “Excuse me, I’m still here, y’know,” Nadine raised a hand and waved it over her head.

  Riley nodded. “I could eat.”

  “We’re done anyway,” Nadine said. “I can have everything sent to your hotel late this afternoon with one of my team to dress you for the event this evening.”

  Shawn was watching her, his eyes never leaving her face. Riley was finding it hard to concentrate on what Nadine was saying.

  “I think I can dress myself,” she managed, finally.

  Shawn, whose back was to Nadine, smiled.

  “There’s no question that you can,” Nadine said evenly. “The question is whether you should.”

  Shawn was grinning wider now, obviously amused by Riley’s close encounter with the L.A. sensibility. Riley looked at Nadine who had tilted her head to one side, and was waiting. She seemed insulted that Riley was declining her services.

  “Okay, sure. Send them over,” Riley capitulated.

  “Good,” Nadine smiled, her voice becoming light again. “I’ll send someone over at six.” Then she looked at Shawn. “You can have her back now.”

  Outside, Riley was surprised to see that Shawn was driving himself. For a change, there was no Brendan, and no driver. He unlocked a silver grey BMW sedan parked at the curb and opened the door for her before getting in himself. Riley looked the car over, appreciating the butter softness of the leather seats and the intricately detailed styling of its dashboard.

  “Did you buy this?” she asked when he pulled away from the curb.

  “Why would I buy a car in L.A.?” he asked, sounding confused.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “You’ve been here for awhile . . . maybe you’re planning to be here longer.”

  “We already have a home and a car in New York,” he said tersely.

  Riley almost cried with relief. Here with him, it was becoming difficult to remember that she was angry with him, and that he had hurt her. He was different somehow. Almost humble.

  “You feel like Thai food?” he asked after a moment, his voice softer.

  “Sure.”

  “You’re going to like this place,” he said, sounding almost excited. “It’s even better than that place in SoHo you like to go to.”

  “Better than Jasmine Garden?” Riley said. “I doubt it.”

  “They have a lot more actual Thai people in L.A. than New York,” he said. “I wouldn’t put any bets on Jasmine Garden if I were you.”

  “We’ll see,” Riley said, laughing.

  Laughing. She was laughing with Shawn. It felt good.

  The restaurant was a small hole-in-the-wall named Ginger. It had maybe only ten tables, and walking in, it was hard to see how they could possibly make the rent. But once Riley tried their lemongrass chicken, she understood. The food was amazing. Granted, she was incredibly hungry, but there was no denying that Ginger was giving Jasmine Garden a run for its money. They didn’t speak at all as they ate, but the silence wasn’t at all uncomfortable; probably because they were too busy enjoying the food. Riley cleaned her plate and gave a satisfied groan once she was done, leaning back into her chair.

  Shawn nodded. “Uh huh? How ya like me now?” he said.

  Riley laughed out loud. “Okay, you may be on to something here. I’ll admit that this definitely puts Jasmine Garden on notice.”

  Shawn nodded. “Damn right.” Then glancing above her head, he jumped up. “Shit! It’s twelve-fifteen. We have that thing at one. Brendan must be losing his mind right about now.”

  Riley stood right away, a little disappointed that their time alone together was over already. She’d forgotten that this was pretty much a business trip. Shawn had career obligations to fulfill and it was her job this weekend to help him fulfill them.

  “We can drive really fast in your really fast car,” Riley teased, following him as he dropped some cash on the table and headed outside.

  “Okay, so it’s a little flashy, but this is L.A. No one does understated in L.A.”

  “So I see,” Riley said as she got into the car. “I mean, for instance, are all the women like Nadine? All done-up like that?”

  Shawn didn’t respond but paused for a moment and looked at her, expressionless, and then he was walking around to his side of the car. He got in and started the engine and soon they were on their way to the hotel. Neither of them spoke for what seemed like a really long time, while Riley tried to figure out what had changed. One minute they were joking and laughing and the next he’d closed himself off to her like shutting a steel door.

  “So you think I would know what L.A. women are like,” Shawn said when he finally spoke. “Like I’d be an expert or something?”

  “What?” she asked, confused. “No! I didn’t mean . . .”

  But by then they were pulling up in front of the hotel and Shawn got out and tossed the keys to the valet. When he opened the door for her, Riley tried to catch his eye, but he was avoiding looking at her. They walked into the lobby in silence, Shawn a few paces ahead of her. Out of nowhere, a young woman stepped into his path.

  “Oh my god!” she said. “I can’t believe it’s you! I love you!”

  Shawn stepped around her as though she wasn’t there and continued walking toward the elevators. The young woman looked crestfallen and a little embarrassed. Riley cringed, knowing that she was responsible for his change in mood, however inadvertently. She jogged a little to catch up with him, standing next to him and waiting until they were in the elevator before turning to him.

  “That’s not what I meant,” she said firmly. “But let’s face it. You don’t have a right to be righteously indignant even if it was what I meant.”

  Shawn turned to look at her. “As far as I know, I’m still married. If you want to know what women are like in L.A., maybe you should ask Brendan. Oh, and you know,
Chris might know as well. He likes to sample the local flavors when he’s out here.”

  Riley rolled her eyes and looked straight ahead. “In case you forget, you were married when you slept with that girl as well, but that didn’t seem to stop you!” she said through her teeth.

  The elevator opened on their floor and she walked out ahead of him, picking up the pace as she neared her suite. She was almost home-free when Shawn grabbed her arm and pulled her back toward him.

  Shawn walked a few steps forward, still holding her against him, so that she was forced to walk backwards. She was pressed against the wall of the hallway and he had placed a hand on either side of her. Having him that close had an immediate effect. She clenched her thighs together. He leaned in, and Riley was sure he was going to kiss her. She wanted him to. But instead he spoke into her ear.

  “When are you going to stop punishing me?” he asked.

  And his voice sounded so anguished, so unlike him, that Riley blinked in surprise. Before she could begin to formulate a thought in reply, Shawn had pressed his forehead to hers and then just as suddenly was walking away. By the time she looked up, he had opened the door to his suite and gone inside.

  g

  Shawn was already downstairs in the lobby when she finally went down wearing the retro jeans and D&G jacket she’d picked out with Nadine. He was dressed in an oversized rugby shirt, and of course the obligatory baggy jeans and boots with the laces hanging out. Shawn stood when he saw her, and smiled as though everything between them was hunky-dory. It was surreal; like she was the wife of a politician or something, putting on a good face, posing with her husband for the public and then going back to separate homes, separate lives.

  “You look nice,” he said, looking her over.

  Riley turned up the corners of her lips. “Thanks. You too.”

  The truth was, she hated the way he looked when he went to these things; that exaggerated ‘ghettofied’ image that really had nothing to do with who he was and everything to do with selling CDs. It used to fascinate her, the way he and Brendan could switch from one demeanor to the next—one minute they were genuine ‘boys from the hood’ and the next, they were no more ‘street’ than her or Tracy. Sometimes it was hard to figure out what was real in this world. She was beginning to understand why Shawn and Brendan called it the rap “game.”