Unsuitable Men

by Forrester, Nia

  “Well then I’m glad the task is in your capable hands,” she said.

  “Don’t listen to him,” Riley called from the bar. “I saw a Lisa P CD in his car a couple weeks ago,” she said naming the latest pop princess to saturate the airwaves.

  “Well, you have to know the enemy,” Chris said unfazed.

  Shawn returned with her wine and Tracy took it gratefully. She needed a drink, fast. If she was beginning to enjoy Chris Scaife’s humor, she must be lonelier and more desperate for male companionship than she thought.

  “You guys want to get that grill started?” Riley suggested. “We’re only expecting a few other people.”

  “How few?” Tracy asked.

  If it was only Brendan and his girlfriend, she was going to kill Riley. If she had known it was going to be such a small party, she would have brought a date. Either that or she would be stuck with Chris Scaife all afternoon.

  “Just another six or so,” Riley said. “Want to come help me get these steaks and stuff together?”

  “Still no household help?” Tracy asked, her voice disapproving. Riley and her arbitrary austerity measures.

  “Nope,” Shawn said. “No household help. I think she’s hoping that going up and down the stairs will bring on an early labor.”

  Clearly Tracy had stumbled across one of his pet peeves.

  “At this point, if I go into labor it’s hardly early,” Riley said. “I’m well within the range.”

  “Not for a first kid,” Shawn said.

  “Okay Shawn. Whatever. C’mon Tracy . . .”

  “Bickering over meaningless crap?” a voice said from the entrance to the house. “I know I’m in the right place now.”

  Everyone looked around. Brendan was standing at the door. He was wearing a white polo, chinos with brown loafers and looked like someone who had just come from a cruise; relaxed and at ease. Maybe it was because he was in the presence of old friends, but Tracy feared that it might be something else. Like maybe the young woman at his side. She had a fashionable tousled pixie-cut and the perfectly-even oval-shaped face ideal to pull it off; she was pretty and petite, and wore a denim summer dress and bright white tennis shoes. Tracy expected her to be attractive and she was, though that was not what shook her. What she wasn’t able to process, couldn’t even bring herself to look directly at, was the unpleasant fact that Brendan was holding her hand.

  Chapter Two

  He never held women’s hands. On the very few occasions when Brendan had brought women around, Tracy had been relegated to guessing whether they were dates or not. Most of the time, it was the women who staked their claim, touching him in some way to demonstrate that he was with them. But this time, he seemed not to intend to let go of this woman’s hand, even when he realized Tracy was there.

  Riley was right. It was serious.

  “Tracy,” he said, his face breaking out into a smile. “Stranger!”

  Tracy stood and returned his smile, maintaining it even when he brought Meghan along as he came toward her. At least he let the girl go long enough to hug her. Meghan was probably only about five-foot four, which to Tracy’s mind made her a ridiculous match for Brendan who was somewhere in the neighborhood of an imposing six-five.

  “It’s been awhile,” he said. “At least well before Rae turned into a beach ball.”

  “Hey!” Riley said, laughing.

  Riley and Brendan were very close, bonded in part by the fact that they were the closest people in the world to Shawn and one of a small handful of people he let in. Only Brendan called Riley by the nickname ‘Rae’.

  “It was a few months ago,” Tracy acknowledged, nodding.

  “I missed you, Trace,” he said.

  Tracy’s smile faltered. “You too,” she mumbled.

  “Did you?” Brendan grinned at her. “Miss me I mean?”

  Tracy felt her face grow hot with her blush.

  “So,” she said briskly, looking at Meghan. “I’m Tracy . . .”

  “Tracy’s been Riley’s friend since college,” Brendan explained to Meghan.

  “Yes,” Tracy said pointedly, stung by the implication that she was only Riley’s friend and not his. “A friend of Riley’s.”

  She took Meghan’s hand and shook it briefly.

  “Nice to meet you,” Meghan said smiling. “I think I’ve heard Riley mention you a few times.”

  Tracy resented the implication that Meghan and Riley, Brendan and Shawn had socialized together in her absence. But clearly that had been the case. And it wasn’t as though Tracy had her own plus-one to bring to these little gatherings. Great; so now Meghan was moving in on her best friend as well as her . . . as well as Brendan. She had slightly crooked bottom teeth, Tracy noted with pleasure, and her lips were a little too thin. She was pretty, but nothing to write home about, for sure.

  “Meghan, can I get you something to drink?” Riley asked from behind them.

  “If you’ve got a red that would be great. Thanks,” Meghan said.

  “Sure. Merlot? Malbec? What’s your preference?”

  “Why don’t I come see what you have?” Meghan suggested. She followed Riley over to the bar so that Tracy and Brendan were left alone for the moment. Tracy sipped her wine and looked again out to the pool. She should have brought a swimsuit. She had a brand new white one that made her breasts look amazing.

  “So what’s been up with you?”

  Brendan reached out and ran a hand down her arm to get her attention. Tracy instinctively jerked away from his touch and his smile faltered for a second. For a moment she felt badly for making him thinking she didn’t like it when he touched her. Problem was, as she recalled, she liked it too much.

  “I should be the one asking that,” Tracy said. She cursed herself for sounding like she was accusing him of something.

  “Well you know I transitioned at work, right? So now I’m back in NYC. Getting used to being stationary is an adjustment.”

  “You seem to be making out just fine,” she said, drinking more of her wine.

  Brendan leaned in, his eyes searching hers. “What’s with the attitude?” he asked softly.

  Tracy sighed.

  She didn’t mean to give him attitude. She meant to be as cool as a cucumber. But she was still a little thrown by the hand-holding. Not that she was jealous or anything, it was just . . . unexpected was all. And Brendan was supposed to be her friend as well. How was it that he’d never mentioned that he was serious about someone? How was it that he’d gotten serious with someone and hadn’t bothered to try to see her these past few months? Not so much as a phone call to invite her for drinks. Or just the phone call, for that matter. They used to talk on the phone all the time. It was something she had looked forward to, especially with Riley newly married and all. She had missed him. And evidently while she was doing that, he was dating Little Meghan.

  “No attitude intended,” she said looking up at him. “And I am happy to see you, Brendan. Even if I . . .”

  “Whew,” Meghan returned with a glass of red wine in hand. “It’s a scorcher today, isn’t it?”

  “Hellish,” Tracy agreed, before Riley came to collect her to help in the kitchen.

  For the first few minutes, Riley didn’t say anything, so Tracy was beginning to think she had escaped the inquisition. But of course not. That would have been too much to expect.

  “So how did you feel?” Riley asked, cutting to the chase. “Seeing him with her?”

  “Fine,” Tracy said breezily. “Why would I feel anything other than fine? Brendan and I have only been . . .”

  “Friends, yes. I know,” Riley said, busying herself with pulling a tray out of the enormous Viking refrigerator. It was laden with rib eyes marinating in what looked like a garlic balsamic emulsion. “Except for, you know. The one time.”

  The one time. Yes. There was that.

  Tracy took the tray from Riley and put it on the center island, turning to await further instructions. Riley’s eyes were search
ing hers, clearly trying to read her true emotions, as only she was capable of doing. Finding nothing, or more likely deciding to pretend she hadn’t, Riley turned once again to the refrigerator, this time pulling out a bowl of what looked like spinach salad.

  “You’re like Little Suzy Homemaker,” Tracy commented. “Making salads, marinating meats . . .”

  “Yeah,” Riley said, sounding in awe of herself. “I’m telling you, there is something to that whole nesting thing. I wake up in the middle of the night with an uncontrollable urge to start cleaning the bathroom. It’s the craziest thing.” Tracy looked at her and Riley laughed. “I’m serious!”

  “And do you do it?” Tracy asked. “Get up and clean the bathroom?”

  “No. That would be giving in to the crazy. And no matter what, you can’t give in to the crazy.”

  “Well at least you’d be joining Shawn.”

  “He’s actually calmed down quite a bit since we spend so much time out here. I even managed to talk him out of that stupid bodyguard idea.”

  “Well, that idea actually wasn’t that stupid,” Tracy said, taking the salad from Riley and putting it next to the tray of steaks. “People are still really curious about you two. And I bet a lot of women hate your guts because you’re carrying Shawn’s baby.”

  “If you feed into it, the next thing you know, you won’t be able to go to Target without a small army,” Riley said shaking her head. “If I ignore them, people pretty much take their picture and go away.”

  “Anything I can help with in here?”

  Tracy and Riley looked around as Meghan came sauntering in, wineglass in hand.

  “You could take these out,” Riley indicated the steaks and smiled at her. “Thank you.”

  Meghan put her wineglass aside and took the tray. Tracy watched her as she left, sizing up her figure, and her walk, assessing her general attractiveness quotient. Brendan usually liked his women taller, around five-nine at least, and more overtly beautiful. This understatedly pretty girl was a change for him. So obviously his attraction to her went beyond the skin-deep.

  “You’re going to have to stop looking at her like that,” Riley said, her voice quiet.

  “How am I looking at her?”

  “Like you want to scratch her eyes out.”

  “You only see that because you know me so well.”

  “Ah, so you do want to scratch her eyes out,” Riley said, raising an eyebrow.

  “The thought did cross my mind,” Tracy admitted.

  “Well banish it,” Riley said firmly. “Right now.”

  They both laughed and Tracy nudged her friend in the shoulder.

  By the time the festivities got underway, they had been joined by two other couples, the closest neighbors of Shawn and Riley’s and a young attorney who had once represented Shawn and become a friend along with her husband. By default, Tracy was thrown together with Chris who, though he was pretty amusing company, did not adequately distract her from Brendan and Meghan sitting apart from everyone else, near the pool talking and eating from the same plate.

  Riley and Shawn intermittently mingled with their guests and sat on a chaise together, Shawn’s legs wide apart, Riley reclining against his chest. Watching them together Tracy was reminded that men could change. If they loved you enough, and you were willing to hang in there through the growing pains, they could become the man of your dreams. Rarely, but it did happen. And the Lord knew, few if any came ready-made.

  Shawn certainly hadn’t. Though he was the one who’d pushed the whole marriage agenda, it would be fair to say that he’d been dragged kicking and screaming into the whole monogamy thing. But now that he was there, even Tracy would stake her life that he never even looked at other women in the way he now looked at his wife. Like she was the only one of her kind in the history of womanhood. Because for him, she probably was.

  As the sun set, everyone gathered under the loggia for a good-natured argument about politics. Riley was always the instigator of these discussions. She’d started a new publication a couple years back that was quickly building a reputation as the African American community’s version of The New Yorker. While Tracy was proud of her friend, it was all a little too intellectually high-brow for her. She liked to think of herself as having exhausted her brain cells for only as long as it took to graduate from college and get a high-paying career started. Riley on the other hand liked to think about things because she, well, liked to think about things.

  Tracy stayed at the edge of the conversation, not quite a part of it, sipping her fourth glass of wine, feeling a mellow sleepiness begin to overtake her. It was almost nine o’clock and she didn’t much relish the idea of driving back to Brooklyn. She could probably crash in one of Riley’s spare rooms and head out early in the morning if it came to that, or maybe she could say her goodbyes now. She looked up, trying to make eye-contact with Riley, hoping to signal how tired she was when she instead met Brendan’s gaze.

  Tracy gave him a half-smile which he returned. Next to him, Meghan was leaning in, engrossed in the conversation, listening to Chris talk about some campaign Riley had roped him into joining to include get out the vote messages on all his artists’ new CD jackets.

  “C’mon walk with me,” Brendan said to her. “Let’s get a drink.”

  Tracy stood and followed him as he went over to the bar, going behind it to look through Shawn’s considerable array of alcohol. Tracy leaned forward, watching him as he did. Brendan held up a bottle of tequila, his eyes questioning.

  “No thanks,” Tracy laughed. “As it is, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to make the drive home.”

  “Then don’t,” Brendan said. “From the looks of Riley she could go into labor any second and Shawn might need you to bring him hot water and towels.”

  “Hmm. I’m pretty sure all he’ll need is someone to call 911 since he’s going to be a nervous wreck.”

  “Yup,” Brendan agreed, laughing. He glanced over at where Shawn was walking around the pool, sipping on a beer. “I don’t think he’s figured out yet that this means he’s actually coming back from the hospital with a kid. But that’s Shawn, all heart but no head when it comes to Riley.”

  Brendan poured them each a shot and slid one across the bar to Tracy. She looked at it for only a moment before lifting it. He knocked his glass briefly against hers before tossing back the clear liquid in one quick gulp. Tracy followed suit, enjoying the heat on the back of her throat.

  After going clean-shaven for awhile, Brendan had grown a goatee once again she noted. Impeccably-shaped, and smooth to the touch as silk. Unbidden, a memory returned to her, of the scratch of his facial hair against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs and the pleasant burn as it brushed against . . .

  “Don’t fall asleep on me,” Brendan was saying. “Damn, I didn’t know you’d pass out from a single shot, Trace.”

  She smiled. “I’m not. I was just thinking.”

  “About?”

  She knew she shouldn’t; and that it was unfair. But she said it anyway.

  “I was thinking about that night,” she said, looking him directly in the eye.

  That night. Their code for ten reckless hours spent together over two years ago. Ten hours that Tracy, despite her best efforts, had been unable to get out of her mind. Brendan looked at her now, his eyes hooded. She couldn’t tell whether he was remembering it as fondly as she was, or just annoyed that she’d brought it up at all with Meghan a few feet away.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, before he could respond. “That was tacky, with your girlfriend sitting just over there.”

  “Not my girlfriend,” he shook his head.

  “Really? I thought you didn’t do repeats,” Tracy said. “Riley said you’ve brought her over before.”

  Brendan smiled. He had the best smile. His eyes practically disappeared when he smiled. It wasn’t all lips and teeth. His entire face smiled.

  “Didn’t know you cared,” he said.

 
“I wish I didn’t,” she said. Maybe it was all the alcohol, but she seemed unable to censor herself.

  “Tracy, I know you,” Brendan said. “Fifty percent of why you care is competition. I don’t recall you blowing up my phone these last few months, even though you knew I was around. So I show up with someone else and all of a sudden, you’ve been thinking about me?”

  “I didn’t say I had been thinking about you. I said I am thinking about you right now.”

  “Is anything different?” Brendan asked, suddenly serious.

  Tracy swallowed. “Excuse me?” she asked. But she was stalling. She knew precisely what he meant.

  “Since the last time we had this conversation. Is anything different? Does the fact that I have a desk job now make a difference? Is that what this is?”

  There was an edge to his voice, a tone that suggested he was a little bit angry with her, or at a minimum, frustrated. And why wouldn’t he be?

  “I wasn’t thinking about any of that,” she admitted. “I was just thinking about . . . how it was. It was good. Wasn’t it, that night?”

  “Yeah. It was,” he said almost resentfully. “Better than good.”

  Brendan poured himself another shot and offered her one as well, but Tracy shook her head. When he looked up at her again, there was unmistakable annoyance etched on his face. Tracy turned away from him and headed back to the circle where everyone else seemed to be preparing to leave. Putting a hand on Riley’s shoulder, she pulled her aside and let her know she probably wouldn’t be driving back.

  “No problem,” Riley said. “You know where everything is. Are you going up now?”

  “Yeah,” Tracy nodded. “I think between the heat and the wine, I’m done. I’ll help with clean-up in the morning if . . .”

  “No, no worries. Go get some sleep.” Riley’s glance shifted momentarily to the bar where Brendan was just tossing back his third shot. She squeezed Tracy’s arm before rejoining her guests.

  Upstairs, Tracy took a shower in the guest suite and changed into a t-shirt she’d pilfered from the master bedroom. She could hear the activity downstairs; it sounded like the party was breaking up after all. Turning off all the lights in the suite, she crawled under the covers of the immense bed and hugged one of the pillows. She was tired, but unable to sleep, thinking about Brendan’s words: fifty percent of why you care is competition, he’d said.