But tonight; tonight she was livid. Because he had come to the party with Meghan. The last thing she remembered was them planning to meet back at his place later tonight; so how, why would he bring Meghan? What was his plan, exactly? To take Meghan home and kiss her a sweet goodbye at the door, then come home and take her spread-eagled across his living room floor?
She found Shawn outside, talking to few of his business associates whose names she forgot as soon as she was introduced. Tracy hugged him, making nice for a few minutes as was her duty to do as his son’s godmother. But that wasn’t the only reason. The truth was, she’d warmed to Shawn considerably over the past month, and for his part, he seemed not to be simply tolerating her anymore. She dared say he was beginning to like her a little bit.
“So Riley told me you don’t want to get someone to help out around the house,” she said casually.
Shawn shook his head. “No, what I told her was we’ll get someone to help out with the house, but I don’t want anyone else looking after the baby. I don’t think that’s unreasonable.”
There was a question in his tone, and Tracy tried not to smile. Unless she was mistaken, Shawn was asking for her opinion. It was official, hell had frozen over.
“Well, it depends. I mean, she wants to go back to work soon, right? So when she leaves, don’t you think it’ll be strange to just leave the baby with someone who you never got a chance to see in action, taking care of him while Riley was around to supervise?”
“I was thinking she’d take him to work with her,” Shawn said.
Tracy couldn’t help herself. She laughed out loud. But Shawn didn’t look amused.
“She’s the boss,” he shrugged. “She can do whatever the hell she wants.”
“Only if she’s prepared for everyone who works for her to ask for the same privilege,” Tracy pointed out.
Shawn rubbed his chin. “Or she could just work from home from now on.”
“She would hate that and you know it,” Tracy said quietly.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
Hell was getting colder by the second.
“So I guess you’ve got to give her this one,” Tracy said wryly.
Shawn smiled and shook his head. “She gets ‘em all, Tracy.”
“Tracy?”
She turned to see who had spoken her name, and her smile faltered when Meghan approached.
“Meghan. Hello,” she said.
Meghan leaned in to kiss her cheek and Shawn’s. Funnily, it was her kissing Shawn that was more bothersome. These were her friends, and Brendan was her . . . whatever he was. And where had this woman come from anyway? Meghan had only known Shawn and Riley for a hot minute and here she was acting like a long lost friend or something. And then, to make matters much, much worse, here came Brendan.
Tracy sighed. If she had to watch them together, she was going to lose her shit, right here in the middle of this high-profile party.
Luckily, Brendan seemed more interested in talking to the men Shawn had been conversing with but she sensed that he was hyper-aware, of her or of Meghan she wasn’t sure. Probably of Meghan. The real girlfriend.
“So, I missed you at the church,” Tracy said to Meghan, her voice sweet as pie.
She knew full well that Shawn and Riley had limited attendance at the church to very close friends and family. There had been only Lorna, Brendan, Tracy and two of Shawn’s cousins from Baltimore in attendance. Only the smallest nucleus of their inner circle.
“Oh, no I wasn’t at the church,” she said, oblivious to Tracy’s intent to embarrass her.
But Shawn had narrowed his eyes, sensing that something was afoot. He turned and exchanged a look with Brendan who in turn looked at her. Whatever. She didn’t read faces, or minds for that matter.
“Hmm,” Tracy said. “Now that I think about it, it was a small, intimate group.”
Meghan smiled, but looked a little unsure of herself for a moment, as though she sensed a change in tone but had no idea what might have caused it.
“Shawn can tell you more than I what it’s like,” Tracy continued. “Having just random people at important life events like that, and the next thing you know, everything that was said winds up in a tabloid somewhere.”
Meghan nodded and looked at Shawn. “I can imagine that must be difficult. Knowing who to trust.”
“No, you can’t imagine,” Tracy said. “When Riley was three months along, someone in her doctor’s office leaked it along with some made up story about her having a venereal disease. She cried for a week.”
“Well, I’m sure Riley knows that I would never . . .”
“Does she?” Tracy seized on the comment. “How does she know? She doesn’t know you at all, Meghan. In fact, none of us do. Except for maybe Brendan.”
“Tracy!”
The tone of Brendan’s voice was one she had never heard him use before. Not with anyone. Apparently someone was a little peeved that she was going after his girlfriend.
“Well it’s true,” Tracy said, trying to sound unaffected. “There are all manner of opportunists around these days, so . . .”
Meghan just stood there looking shell-shocked and confused. Brendan came to stand next to her, glaring down at Tracy like she was some kind of lab specimen. And Shawn just looked like he was enjoying the show.
“Tracy, shut the hell up,” Brendan said. “Stop it.”
She stared stubbornly at him for a moment, turned on her heel and walked away, shoving her way blindly through the crowd. Inside, she collided with Riley, on her way out to the backyard.
“Riley, I hope you don’t mind if I . . .” she began, but then she felt a hand on her arm and the next thing she knew, she was being pulled along like a recalcitrant child. Brendan pushed open the door that led to Shawn’s studio and kept walking until they were in the privacy of the live room.
“Why’re you being such a bitch?”
“How am I being a bitch?” she asked. “By pointing out that this woman is a little late to the party, so to speak? That she’s someone Riley and Shawn don’t know at all? Someone who’s insinuated herself into . . .”
“She hasn’t insinuated herself into anything, Tracy.”
“No, that’s right. She hasn’t. Because you brought her in the front door.”
“I don’t even understand what we’re talking about. What, you think Meghan’s a spy for TMZ or some shit?”
Tracy rolled her eyes.
“Then what? Help me out with this Tracy. I’m trying to figure out what has you trippin’ and I’m coming up blank!”
“Because you’re an idiot,” she said.
And then Brendan did something that further enraged her. He actually smiled. That thoroughly disarming smile that made her weak at the knees.
“I am an idiot,” he said, still smiling. “Because I put up with tantrums like this from you at least weekly. And I keep coming back for more. So I guess you’re right, I’m an idiot.”
“Well you don’t have to put up with them any longer, Brendan,” she said, trying to get her voice to stop shaking. “We’re done.”
“Done?” he asked, his voice bored. “What are we done with? We were never anything anyway, right?”
Tracy swallowed the golf-ball sized lump in her throat. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
“We aren’t even reading from the same book, sweetheart,” Brendan said, his face impassive.
“Then there’s nothing else to say,” Tracy said, turning to leave. She only hoped she could get away before she did something stupid like start crying. But Brendan grabbed her arm again.
“You already embarrassed yourself tonight. Don’t make it worse by embarrassing Riley too,” he said. “They have speeches and a whole thing planned. As the godmother, you’re going to have to find some touching shit to say.
“So what you’re going to do now is you’re going to go stay here for a minute, pull yourself together and then come outside and do something for someone
else for a goddamned change.”
And then he left her there.
Tracy wearily climbed the stairs to her bedroom and kicked off her shoes. Fine. So she and Brendan were done. She couldn’t complain about not having closure; there was that at least. And she was sure that strange void in her chest would dissipate soon.
After she’d left the sanctuary of Shawn’s studio and returned to the party, Riley had quickly assembled the guests in the loggia—probably alerted by the scene with Brendan that she’d better do it quick because something was about to blow—and there were toasts and thanks and general good wishes.
Just as Brendan had warned her to do, she’d made a sweet speech about how much she loved her new godson, and how much she loved Riley and had come to love Shawn as well. Then Brendan took his turn as the godfather and didn’t look at her the whole time. After the speeches were done, she’d made her excuses to leave, taking care to do so while Riley was occupied with other guests and couldn’t take the time from them to interrogate her.
As she left, she saw Brendan talking to Meghan, his hand on her shoulder as though comforting her. Probably apologizing for the unprovoked attack she’d suffered at the hands of the crazy woman in a designer dress.
In her purse, her cell phone rang. She groaned. No. Not now. If Riley wanted her to explain, she just didn’t feel like . . . Then she realized; it was Brendan’s ringtone. She let it ring until it went to voicemail and ignored it when it rang again. The third time, she picked up, but said nothing, just listening.
“Open the fucking door, Tracy.”
She hesitated. Open the door?
Still holding the phone to her ear, she went to the top of the stairs, looking down at the front door, but couldn’t see anything from that vantage point.
“Open the door,” he said again, his voice calmer this time.
The only thing that made her decide to do it was the realization that he had to have left almost immediately after she did, or driven very, very fast. That had to count for something, surely.
He crowded his way in as soon as the inner door was open a crack, and Tracy shut it behind him, leaning against it, afraid to look up at his face.
“You make me fucking crazy, you know that?” he demanded.
Tracy said nothing, focusing on his shoes. He had great taste in shoes, and they all looked very expensive. Shoes and shirts were his vices. And that ridiculously pricey car. As vices went, she supposed that wasn’t so bad. She’d definitely known worse.
“Meghan didn’t come to the party with me. She came because Riley invited her. She came on her own.”
Slowly, she raised her chin and looked at him. He looked no less angry than he sounded. So he’d finally figured out what made her mad, huh? Or, more likely, Riley told him she was fishing around for information about when he’d arrived with Meghan.
“You didn’t have to go off on her like that. If you were pissed at me, come at me. Why be a bitch to someone who’s never even done anything to you?”
She has done something to me, Tracy thought. The fact of her existence does something to me.
“You need to handle your shit, Tracy. Because tonight? That mess was just . . . sloppy.”
“I’m sorry,” she said finally.
“Why are you even here?” he continued, his voice softer. “We were supposed to meet back at my place.”
“Because we ended it.” she said quietly.
“Oh you meant that?” he said, his voice impassive and sounding unconvinced.
Tracy said nothing. No, she didn’t mean it. She didn’t mean a word of it but had been worried that he believed she did, and that her foolish pride would prevent her from taking it back. She shook her head.
“I didn’t think you did. So I expected you to go to my place.” Brendan said.
“If you thought that,” she said, hesitant to challenge him in his current mood, “why did you come here?”
“Because Tracy, whenever I think of the rational thing a person would do, you generally do the opposite.”
She couldn’t help it. That made her smile.
“It’s not funny,” Brendan said. He ran a hand over his face and sighed. “Anyway, I’m drained from all this shit. I’m going home and going to bed.”
He came toward her and moved her gently out of the way, opening the door. Then he paused and placed something on the entryway table. Tracy looked at it and almost couldn’t believe her eyes.
“Brendan,” she said.
“That’s a key to the apartment.” He explained what needed no explanation. He didn’t turn to look at her as he spoke. “Your key.”
“I didn’t come to the apartment,” she admitted, “because I thought maybe you’d have Meghan there. Especially after what I said about us being done.”
“Meghan doesn’t come to my apartment, Tracy,” he said, his voice tired. “Not for a long time. And no one sleeps there. No one ever has. No one but you.”
She was glad his back was still turned, because she couldn’t contain how overjoyed that news made her, even as she wondered why it should matter so much.
“Brendan . . .”
“Goodnight,” he said, cutting off whatever she’d been about to say. “And don’t use the key to try to come over tonight, either. I think you’ve shown me enough of your ass for one day.”
He shut the door quietly on his way out, which was almost more condemnatory than if he had slammed it. Still, once he was gone, Tracy permitted herself the pleasure of a wide, self-satisfied grin.
Chapter Nine
Five days. It had only been five days. And why was he even counting? Not too long ago, he’d slept every single night in this very bed, alone. And preferred it that way. Now Brendan found himself delaying the part of his day that involved going home to his empty apartment even though it meant he could watch basketball uninterrupted instead of flipping back and forth between NBA TV and the Home Design Channel to satisfy Tracy’s insatiable and inexplicable appetite for information about how other people decorated their houses.
Late last week when they were eating out for dinner for a change she’d mentioned casually that she had to go home to Atlanta “for a couple of days” and Brendan told himself that he was a little relieved; that it would be good to get a break and be alone for a little bit once again. Tracy was beginning to get a little too comfortable at his place, he thought, and he was getting way too comfortable having her there.
Most nights now it was assumed—though never declared—that she would sleep over. It seemed natural now that she sometimes showed up around midnight after a work event or a dinner with clients, just because she didn’t feel like going all the way to Brooklyn. And neither did she comment on those nights when he checked on Lounge Two-Twelve and came in just before dawn, crawling into bed next to her still reeking of alcohol but too exhausted to shower first. All she ever did was roll over and sometimes murmured something along the lines of, “you stink,” before wrapping her arms tightly about him.
So it’s good, he told himself, that she’s going away. He could reset a little bit, get his head screwed back on, because as things stood, he was beginning and ending almost every day with her, and that could only end badly in the long run. But for now, he was alone in bed and “the long run” seemed like a long way off.
This afternoon, he’d run into Meghan, or to be more accurate, she stopped by his office. Although she didn’t say it—because Meghan wasn’t one to push—Brendan knew she was wondering why he’d been so scarce lately. Instead she sat across from his desk and made small talk with him, her voice light but her eyes hopeful. He felt like he owed her something, an explanation for his abrupt change of course where she was concerned, but he couldn’t think of what to say. So he’d let the conversation go on until she had to leave, and even told her he would call her, though he knew it was a lie.
It was only nine-thirty and he was home, with what suddenly felt like an abundance of free time. He tried to remember what he used to do be
fore he had a woman to come home to. The clubs and parties were still an option; there was always someplace to go; events where he could find pretty women who were willing and excited and almost didn’t expect to be taken seriously.
A woman like that would take the edge off a little bit; the edge being his increasing discomfort with Tracy—who didn’t even live there—being away. Brendan slung his legs over the edge of his bed and had resolved to find one of those events, and maybe even one of those willing women, when his phone rang. He reached for it and wasn’t at all surprised to see Tracy’s name on the console. Smiling, he shook his head. Maybe she had some kind of radar or something. All he had to do was think about being with someone else and she materialized.
“I want you to come to Atlanta,” she said as soon as he answered.
“Excuse me?” Brendan said. “Who is this?”
On the other end of the line, Tracy gave an exasperated sigh. “Brendan, I’m serious. Could you?”
“What’s going on?” he asked, sobering up. “Are you okay?”
“No. I want you to come.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I just want you to come,” she said again, as though that should have been explanation enough.
Brendan closed his eyes and shook his head. All it took was for Tracy to want something, and like a sucker he wanted to give it to her. No matter the inconvenience or cost to his own priorities. If she was spoiled—and she was—he sure wasn’t improving matters much.
“You’re going to have to tell me more than that, sweetheart.”
Unsuitable Men Page 13