It was much later and they were both naked, sprawled across the bed. The only light was from the television and Brendan was having a hard time keeping his eyes off her perfect-in-every-way ass. Her head was at the foot of the bed, and he was at the opposite end so he had a great view. As he spoke, he ran a hand up her inner thigh. Without looking back at him and without hesitation, she opened her legs to him.
After all they’d done in the past five hours, he shouldn’t have been surprised that she was so responsive but she was. He was exhausted, but still couldn’t help himself, he had to touch her.
“I wanted you from the moment we met,” she said. She squirmed against his fingers and emitted a sound that was part moan, part sigh.
That answer he hadn’t expected. He stilled the motion of his fingers inside her, thinking that over. That caused her to look back.
“What the hell are you doing?” she said. “Don’t stop.”
So he resumed his manipulations, amazed that after the marathon session they’d just had, she still wanted more.
“You’re lying,” he said. “From the moment we met?”
“Uh huh,” she pushed herself back and forth gripping the sheets.
“Then how come whenever I tried . . .”
“Brendan, for god’s sakes, shut up.” She flipped over and before he could blink, she was astride him.
He laughed at her expression, the naked lust in her eyes. Was this even happening? She wanted him right now more than he was physically capable of responding to.
“You’re kidding, right?” he said.
Tracy smiled back at him then leaned forward to kiss his neck. It felt so damn good, he almost couldn’t stand it. After two orgasms of his own and however many she had, he felt like one massive raw nerve ending. Anywhere she touched him felt like she was pressing a lit match against his skin.
Could you die from too much sex? he wondered idly, as she moved to his chest.
“Tracy,” he said, his voice firm. “Stop. I want to know. If you wanted me from the moment we met, how come you always said no when I tried to get you to go out with me?”
Tracy heaved a defeated sigh, seeing that he wouldn’t be distracted and sat up. Brendan could feel her pressed open against his stomach but even that—hot as it was—he was too spent to respond to.
“Because I was seeing what Riley was going through with Shawn,” she said. “His crazy life is your crazy life, Brendan. And I have no interest in living a crazy life.”
“That simple, huh?”
“That simple,” she confirmed.
“But you don’t know anything about me,” Brendan said.
“Oh, I know your type,” Tracy said in a tone that pissed him off.
“What do you know about my type?”
“Brendan,” Tracy sighed. “You’re wrecking our flow.”
He couldn’t help himself. He laughed. “Wrecking your flow? What’s that? Your approximation of how people in the music business talk?”
“Isn’t it?” she asked. “I saw that rap movie. You know the one with Taye Diggs and Sanaa Lathan.”
Brendan laughed. “You stupid, man.”
“I’m not a man,” Tracy said.
Brendan reached out and pressed a thumb right at the juncture of her thighs, watching her eyes close in pleasure. “Oh no,” he said. “You most definitely are not.”
He was awakened in the early hours of the morning by Tracy on top of him. Thinking she was about to jump him again, he hesitated, but Tracy instead kissed him, slowly sweetly, which he kind of liked. Then she kissed him on the shoulder one last time.
“I think it’s probably best that you not wake up here,” she whispered against his neck. “Riley has a way of stopping by unexpectedly.”
He blinked in the dark and tried to clear his head. Normally, he never would have fallen asleep in the first place and was actually grateful that she woke him up. That awkward morning-after scene had never been his thing. So he dressed in the dark and straggled back to his own suite where he fell asleep almost immediately without bothering to undress again.
Later that morning, when he still felt like he’d been hit by a Mack truck he was so damn tired, he met Shawn, Riley and Tracy for breakfast. Shawn and Riley were suspiciously silent about the fact that he and Tracy had been AWOL halfway through the Grammys and for the rest of the evening so he knew someone had either figured it out, or someone else had spilled the beans. When he met Tracy’s gaze, she smiled at him blandly as though she hadn’t spent a good portion of the last evening spread-eagled beneath him. He ate his eggs and waffles and listened to Riley rhapsodizing about someone’s Grammy, wondering what approach to take with Tracy when they were alone.
But they were never alone. In fact, she seemed to make sure of it. They all spent the entire day together just hanging out but whenever he tried to create chances for them to speak privately, she rebuffed them. Finally, late in the day, he lost his patience and dragged her off with him on a bullshit errand to grab smoothies for everyone.
“So what’s up?” he asked her.
She looked at him blankly, coldly he thought. “What’s up with what?”
“I’m trying to figure out what we’re doing here. Is this on the DL? Did you . . ?”
“Is what on the DL?” she asked.
“Tracy,” he said. “Last night . . .”
“Was wonderful. Th . . .”
“If you say thank you, I’ma flip out,” he warned her.
She shook her head and looked at him through veiled eyes and Brendan knew immediately that the old, guarded, distant Tracy was back. Whoever she’d been in that room last night, the girl who laughed so hard beer came out of her nose, who insisted with a perfectly serious expression that she was one of only ten Black women in America who genuinely enjoyed fellatio, who was so insatiable he was literally sore, whoever she’d been then, she sure was not that person now. And for sure the woman he was looking at right now definitely would not utter the words “fuck me”.
That was when she said it: Brendan. We know what that was. Let’s not fool ourselves into thinking it could be anything more.
And it all came back to him, what she told him; she’d wanted him the moment she met him. Until her common sense had clicked in. The same common sense that clicked in for him right then. Tracy was basically telling him that he wasn’t good enough. For a phone pal, maybe. Someone to hang out with when they were thrown together by her best friend and her husband, sure. And as a one-night only fuck buddy, yup. Beyond that? Not good enough.
And in principle, he had nothing against being a one-night stand. Brendan had definitely had a few of those in his day, but never had anyone dismissed him as he was being dismissed by Tracy in that moment. And what’s more, he’d never dismissed a woman like this either.
But okay. That was the way she wanted to play it? Fine. He was a big boy and could move on, even if his toes curled just thinking about some of the things they’d done.
Since then, Brendan had been careful to treat Tracy exactly as he had before they spent the night together, with one key exception. He wasn’t as accessible to her as he’d made himself before. No more impromptu phone chats to shoot the breeze just because she was bored. She was a friend, but not a friend. Now, he told himself, she was more like a woman he’d once screwed.
Running into her at Shawn and Riley’s shouldn’t have surprised him. It was actually more surprising that it hadn’t happened sooner. But hell, it was no big deal. It had thrown him for a little bit, but now, Brendan thought as he got out of the shower, he had a sense of perspective. Tracy looked good to him at the brunch because Tracy always looked good. But he had to remind himself that not only wasn’t she good, more importantly, she wasn’t good for him.
Tracy slammed her hand against the emergency stop button of her treadmill and jumped off, bending at the waist and catching her breath, feeling her heartbeat begin to slow. Her trainer had warned her that sudden stops like that weren’t good, that she should graduall
y reduce speed and allow her heart rate to return to its resting state over about ten minutes. But she preferred the abrupt ending because it helped her go hard with her workout until she couldn’t push herself for one more second, until she felt like her legs were going to give out.
Over the last week she had lost three pounds, all in preparation for tonight, Lounge Two-Twelve’s grand opening which she was attending with Shawn. Riley was finally taking it a little easier because of Tracy’s shaming technique and Shawn had called her—imagine the shock—to ask if she wanted to go with him. She knew he would never verbally thank her, but this was pretty darn close, so how could she refuse?
She of course called Riley to make sure she knew, and it turned out it was her idea. But, Riley was quick out point out, she’d suggested this before for events she couldn’t make that she knew Tracy would enjoy, and every single time Shawn had been quick to shoot it down. This time he’d shrugged and said ‘fine’. So that was something anyway.
Tracy was reluctant to admit it, but she didn’t like it that her best friend’s husband didn’t much like her. Especially since he managed to be gracious to just about every other person on the planet, including pesky fans who accosted him and Riley everywhere they went these days wanting to rub her pregnant belly. Tracy had watched him fight a battle with himself, obviously wanting to smack the tar out of these people with no sense of boundaries, but restraining himself, heeding the look Riley invariably gave him.
The looks that passed between those two were something to behold, wordless communication that Tracy swore was as close to mind-reading as she’d ever seen. If Riley looked at him and he felt that she was okay, then he would be okay; and vice versa. It made Tracy sick, sick, sick with envy every time she watched it happen. Why the hell couldn’t she find that?
In any event, she was walking the red carpet with Shawn tonight, and was sure he would be at pains to explain that she was his pregnant wife’s best friend. Ever since that little episode a few years back, he was constantly plagued by cheating rumors. If he was so much as photographed with a semi-attractive woman within ten feet, there was unwelcome speculation.
Tonight Tracy was more than happy to keep her distance both on the red carpet and when they were in the club. Her only mission was to have a great time and maybe meet someone interesting. And of course to keep an eye out for the women who were sure to make a play for Shawn since his wife wasn’t in attendance. If there looked to be any of those predators around, she would swoop in and stick to him like glue: not her idea of a good time so she hoped to god it didn’t happen, but hey, what were friends for?
She was wearing a silver metallic scalloped micro mini-dress tonight, so it was important that her legs look long and toned. Playing dress-up was one of her favorite things to do, particularly if she was going someplace where she got maximum attention and exposure. She never got tired of being admired. It gave her a little flutter in the pit of her stomach, to have men look at her with such frank desire, their girlfriends next to them fuming.
But even she had to admit that the thrill was fleeting and hollow, and sometimes made her despise those very same men shortly afterwards. The problem was that once they noticed her looks, they could think of nothing else. If and when they had the chance to have an actual conversation with her, they never paid attention to what she said, were never interested in going beyond the surface. She was to them nothing more than a pretty little bauble.
Tracy had once made the mistake of sharing this complaint with a co-worker who she thought was somewhat of a friend.
Oh cry me a river, she’d said, her voice dripping in bitterness. I wish I had your problems.
Well, it was true, very few people could relate. Riley had sympathized at least when she told her about the encounter with the co-worker. Riley got it because it was in her nature to want to be known and understood on a deep level; and to want to know and understand the people she loved. Still, the look of almost pity on her face had been pretty hard to stomach as well.
Given the double-edged sword that was male admiration, Tracy sometimes wondered why she went to such pains to emphasize her beauty, but preferred not to dwell on it. Uncomfortable questions almost always yielded uncomfortable answers.
Shawn sent a car to pick her up. One in which he—not surprisingly—was not himself riding. So Tracy rode alone in the back of a Lincoln Town Car to Lounge Two-Twelve. Outside, a step-and-repeat was set up and a small crowd had already gathered. As the driver pulled up and got out to open her door, Tracy smoothed her mini-dress down over her knees and practiced her smile. As the door opened, she extended a leg, paused for a beat and climbed out.
As the driver helped her exit, Shawn stepped forward and to waited for her. He was wearing a dark suit with a white shirt underneath and no tie. As always, he was clean-shaven and looked flawlessly masculine. Over the last couple of years, he’d stopped wearing street-wear altogether and adopted a more mature look. Ever since Riley’s mother, a university professor at her and Riley’s alma mater had arranged a speaking series for him on gender, rap and his experiences in the industry, he’d developed a new gravitas and thoughtfulness about him. People took him more seriously and as a result, he considered more carefully what his image was and how he wanted it projected. Baggy jeans and oversize shirts were no longer a part of his wardrobe. Some tabloids had taken to calling him “The Dapper Rapper”; a label that Riley said made him roll his eyes.
“How’re you doing?” he asked her now as they walked the carpet, flashbulbs going wild around them.
“Good. Thanks for the invite.”
“No problem. But I might leave a little early,” he warned her. “Riley’s alone at the condo tonight, so . . .”
Tracy said nothing. The condo was literally five minutes away, so there was no earthly reason for him to leave early. If Riley called to say her water broke, Shawn could make it there before a drop of moisture hit the damn floor. But Tracy knew that the truth was he just didn’t enjoy this kind of thing as much as he used to. Not unless his wife was with him.
As she waited for him to pose solo for pictures in front of the lounge’s logo, Tracy wondered whether it would be poor form for her to stay after he took off. She hadn’t starved herself into a size two and worked this hard on her appearance to duck out only after an hour.
Just as she was mulling that over, Shawn was joined on the step-and-repeat by Brendan. As the two main partners in this venture, photographers wanted several shots of them together. And then there was the parade of celebrities, national and New York-based who wanted to pose with them both. Brendan, unlike Shawn, was dressed more casually, in an ecru shirt with dark brown slacks. He smiled as he hugged a popular television actress against him and Tracy pursed her lips, uncomfortable with how watching him embrace the woman made her feel. Fidgeting with her bracelet she looked around, hoping they would be done soon.
Finally, Shawn held out a hand to her and called her over. She hesitated for only a moment and went to join him and Brendan, smiling in the general direction of all the flashes, trying not to squint. Predictably, questions came shooting out of the crowd. No one except friends called Shawn by his name. They all knew him as K Smooth.
“K, who’s the girl?” someone yelled.
“Where’s your wife, K?”
At that, Shawn’s smile visibly faltered and Brendan stepped in, wrapping an arm about Tracy’s waist.
“She’s with me,” he lied, doing so jokingly because of course everyone had seen Tracy walk the carpet with Shawn. Really, what he was saying without saying was that he had no intention of telling them something that Shawn pointedly had not.
“What’s her name?” someone else yelled as the flashbulbs exploded with renewed vigor, capturing the embrace.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Brendan called back. He laughed with them and the photographers ate it up, swayed by his charm, as most people were. In the meantime, Shawn had discreetly stepped away and was safely entering the clu
b.
Brendan kept his arm about Tracy’s shoulder and led her away from the photographers and they walked in together. Inside, Tracy took a breath.
The lounge was beautiful. Elegantly designed in white and silver, it had just the right amount of “bling” to appeal to the target demographic of people in the entertainment business, without being off-putting to your average upscale patrons. Each seating area was tented by gauze-like nets that could be pulled back or closed for semi-privacy, and all the seating was upholstered in white leather, whether it was the benches with plush curved backs in the private sitting areas, or the barstools. The bar itself was all silver covered with tiny disco-ball mirrors.
Tracy turned to look at Brendan who was taking in her reaction.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“Amazing job,” she told him, nodding. “You guys hit it out of the park.”
“Well, if you like it, then I know it’s tasteful,” he said. “Shawn was worried it might be a little too over the top.”
Tracy studied his face, flattered at his compliment on her taste. “No, it’s not over the top at all,” she said. “Just amazing, Brendan. Really.”
“Let’s get you a drink,” he said, putting his hand on her back and leading her over to the bar. “In a moment there’ll be a crush of people in here.”
“Thank you, I’d love a drink.” Tracy looked around for a moment, wondering where Shawn had gotten off to.
“Probably in the back office calling Riley for the first of a hundred calls he’ll make tonight,” Brendan said, noticing her search.
“He won’t have to,” Tracy said following Brendan over to the bar. “He already told me he’s not staying long.”
Brendan shrugged. “No shock there. Sometimes I think he fired me just so I wouldn’t keep him from running home every five minutes.”
“Well, I think it’s sweet,” Tracy said leaning against the bar.
A bartender dressed in all-white, wearing silver lipstick and eye-shadow approached and smiled at Brendan.
Unsuitable Men Page 5