Unsuitable Men

by Forrester, Nia

  Before she even turned around, Tracy knew it was him. Her body reacted before her mind did, maybe because of that scent he was wearing. She hadn’t been able to get it out of her nostrils for days afterward. It was a scent she now associated with shame. Swallowing hard, Tracy turned to face him.

  “You remember me, don’t you baby?” he said, his face closer to hers than she expected. “KEL-vin. Not Kevin, but KEL-vin.”

  Tracy said nothing but shot a desperate look in Brendan’s direction. She didn’t know why, because the last thing in the world she wanted was to have Brendan know who Kelvin was. Not just because she was ashamed—though she was—but because she knew how important tonight was to the Lounge, and felt certain that Brendan would still do something stupid like haul off and hit the guy.

  Kelvin followed her quick glance and nodded. “Yeah, I saw him,” he said. “That your man?”

  His breath smelled strong, like cognac, and his eyes were bleary. Tracy tried to recall what he’d told her he did for a living, and wondered why he would be a regular at the Lounge. God forbid he should be in the same business as Brendan, know people in the same circles.

  “Your man know you can suck the skin off a dick?” Kelvin asked matter-of-factly.

  Tracy felt her palm itching with the desire to slap him, but she didn’t want to make a scene. Not here. Not tonight when Brendan had been so perfect.

  “Kelvin . . .” she began.

  “Ah, this time she remembers!” he said, with mock-applause.

  “. . . I know our night didn’t exactly go well, but . . .”

  “Oh no, baby,” Kelvin said leaning even closer, pressing his wet lips against her ear. “It went real well. I remember you riding me hard, like you was in the damn rodeo. I remember you deep-throatin’ the shit outta me. So our night was pretty damn good if you ask me. The part that fucked me up was in the morning, when you tried to put a nigga out like he was last night’s trash.”

  Tracy felt her entire body grow cold with humiliation as she recalled the things she had done with and to this repulsive man. Just having him as close as he now was made her want to recoil in disgust. The woman who had picked him up and taken him home seemed like a complete and utter stranger to her now.

  “Sweetheart, you want to introduce me to your friend?”

  Brendan felt an immediate recognition when he saw the man leaning in way too close to Tracy, but he didn’t immediately know why. He definitely didn’t like any other man getting that close to her and he damn sure wasn’t crazy about the fact that dude’s mouth looked like it was actually touching the side of her face. Still, he might have let it go but for the tension about Tracy’s shoulders and the stiffness of her posture that made it clear she was more than a little uncomfortable.

  But it was only when he approached them and Tracy turned at the sound of his voice and Brendan saw the look on her face that he realized who the man was likely to be. The immediacy of his anger startled him. He couldn’t remember ever getting that enraged that quickly before and suddenly had a newfound understanding of Shawn’s volatility. His friend had been known to go from zero to one hundred in less than thirty seconds, something Brendan had never experienced himself and so did not understand. But he understood it now.

  Tracy’s face was a combination of ten emotions at once, the predominant ones being fear and shame. Not embarrassment, but shame. And that was how Brendan knew in his gut that this was the man who had broken her down that night so much that Brendan scarcely recognized her as the woman he knew. But still, he needed confirmation from her before he commenced tearing shit up in this motherfucker.

  “Introduce me,” he said again, his voice sounding remarkably calm, even to his own ears.

  “She don’t never remember my name,” dude said, smirking at Brendan. “But I’m Kelvin. And you are?” He extended a hand.

  Brendan ignored it, keeping his eyes fixed on Tracy whose gaze was fixed downward at the floor. “I’m the owner of the club.”

  “Oh damn! The owner?”

  “Tracy,” Brendan said. “Is this . . ?”

  “Brendan, don’t,” she said, her voice almost inaudible.

  “Don’t what?” he asked, raising his voice. “I’m asking you who this is.”

  “He’s nobody,” she said.

  “Nobody?” Kelvin pulled back as though shocked, but it was clear he was beginning to enjoy himself. “I wouldn’t say all that, Tracy. See I always remembered your name. Woulda remembered it even if your man here hadn’t said it.”

  Next to him, Brendan could almost feel Tracy shrinking into him, as though if she could, she would crawl under the crook of his arm and hide. And normally, he would pull her closer to him just because she wanted him to, but he was angry and didn’t understand why she didn’t just tell him that this was the guy so he could commence with the ass-whupping.

  Brendan looked at Kelvin now, taking him in, studying his face. Maybe another day. If this was the dude, there would be other days.

  “Kelvin, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  “Oh yeah?” Kelvin said. Suddenly he was calm. Deathly calm. “Why’s that, Mr. Owner?”

  “Because you’re making my lady uncomfortable,” Brendan said.

  And with a raised hand, he called over two of the club’s security team, men in suits who looked deceptively dapper, but were well-trained to take out dudes twice their size and weight. Kelvin assessed them as they approached.

  “Man,” he said to Brendan. “If you think this here’s a lady, you need to take a closer look. A much closer look.” And then he was laughing and heading for the exit, flanked by the security team.

  Brendan looked down at Tracy but she still wouldn’t make eye contact.

  “Was that him?” he asked, his voice tight with anger.

  “Brendan . . .”

  “That’s a yes or no question, Tracy.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it right now,” she said, heaving a deep sigh.

  “Excuse me, what?” Brendan leaned in closer. “You don’t want to talk about it?!”

  “Lower your voice!” Tracy hissed at him.

  She was looking about them like she was afraid to make a scene and Brendan couldn’t for the life of him figure out why that would matter at a time like this. Hell, that was the last thing on his mind right now.

  “Why wouldn’t you say it in front of him?” Brendan demanded. “If that’s him, why wouldn’t you say it?”

  “Because I knew you would react exactly the way you’re reacting right now,” she said. “Except much, much worse.”

  “So that’s it then. It was him. I could go find that motherfucker right now . . .” Brendan looked toward the exit and Tracy grabbed his arm, her fingers grasping at the sleeve of his shirt.

  “No!” she said, her voice frantic. “Don’t. Please.”

  And he almost ignored her. Kelvin couldn’t have gotten very far. Was probably less than a block away or waiting for the valet service to bring around a car . . . But Tracy’s face, her expression stopped him. She was an inch away from tears, and the last thing he wanted was to make her cry.

  “Sweetheart . . .” He touched the side of her face.

  Tracy shook his hand away. “I don’t want you talking to him,” she said. “Just . . . don’t. Okay?”

  “Let’s go,” Brendan said, taking her arm.

  “Where?” she looked up at him.

  “Home.” And when she looked even more frantic. “My place.”

  “But what about . . ?” She looked around.

  “The bloggers?” Brendan shook his head. “I already hooked them up with bottle service and all that. We can leave. It’s okay, I promise.”

  In the car, she leaned far away from him against the door, her face turned to face the passenger-side window. When Brendan glanced over at her, there were tears rolling down her cheeks, but by the time he pulled into his building’s underground garage, the tears were no longer in evidence and she was instead
stony-faced, almost emotionless.

  Upstairs, they undressed in silence and when Brendan was stripped down to his boxer briefs, he got in bed and waited for her to join him. In the dark, when they were laying next to each other, he would hold her and he hoped that might help her open up to him. Before, whatever had transpired the night of the launch party had been almost academic, abstract. Now it was real. That slimy little motherfucker had touched her, had fucked her . . . and had in some way scared and humiliated her. Just the thought of it . . .

  Brendan was distracted by the sight of Tracy nude and heading for the bathroom. He watched her walk away, taking in the utter perfection of her body, the smoothness of her skin. Thinking of someone else touching her, let alone someone as undeserving as that worm, made him want to just start breaking shit.

  “What’re you doing?” he called after her.

  “Taking a shower,” she said, her voice dull.

  She was in there for more than half an hour, until Brendan was sure she would have surely exhausted all of the hot water. He turned off the lights while he waited, so that the only illumination came from the bathroom itself. When he heard the water shut off, Brendan sat up and leaned back against the headboard waiting for her to emerge.

  He didn’t have a speech prepared or anything, but he knew they had to talk about it. If they didn’t, he was going to lose his fucking mind. He had to know precisely what this dude had done to her, and in painstaking detail. He had no doubt at all that he wouldn’t be able to stand knowing, but not knowing wasn’t feeling much better than that right about now. And at least when he knew, he would feel good about fucking Kelvin up the next time he ran across him. Next time he wouldn’t examine or hesitate, he would just . . .

  But before he could even begin to formulate a question, Tracy had come out of the bathroom and pulled back the sheets; and on her hands and knees, she dragged his briefs partway down his hips.

  “Whoa, Tracy . . .”

  Then her mouth was on him and she was pulling him in, sucking hard, making his eyes cross, it felt so good. With one hand grasping him, moving up and down, Brendan could feel his climax approaching, mind-blowingly fast and pulled back. She was trying to distract him. The conversation she knew he needed, she did not want to have.

  As he was about to say just that, Tracy pulled up and grabbing his shoulders lowered herself onto him. Brendan exhaled sharply, instinctively holding her by the hips, fighting the impulse to thrust even deeper into her.

  “Tracy,” he said again, her name sounding like a gasp. “What’s . . ?”

  “You still want me?” she asked.

  The catch in her voice gave him pause and Brendan put his hands on either side of her face and found it wet. Fuck, she was crying! She wrenched from his grasp.

  “Brendan?” she said. “Do you?”

  Her hips were moving back and forth, almost of their own volition, desperately, and Brendan’s mind spun in circles, lurching back and forth between pleasure and confusion, the desire to comfort her and to the urge to flip her over and finish what she’d started. But she was crying, so he held her still, then sat completely upright and with her still astride him, closed his arms about her. Tracy struggled for a moment but soon stopped and then the crying began in earnest, her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath, her face buried in his neck.

  Holy shit. Brendan wasn’t even sure what the fuck was going on anymore but he knew for sure something way deeper than Kelvin was operating here. Whatever the hell it was, it was way too deep to talk about, especially with her in this overwrought and emotional state. He tried to pull out of her but she wouldn’t let him; always, always she tried to work things out with sex. Or maybe she wasn’t working anything out; maybe she was telling him with her body what she couldn’t always find words to say.

  Then Brendan realized that she had said it. She wanted to know that he still wanted her, and he did, so all there was left to do was show her. And it was only then, when he gently lowered her onto her back, kissing her face and moving against her that Tracy finally stopped crying.

  Chapter Eleven

  The peal of laughter from across the pool caught his attention and Brendan looked up to see Tracy holding Cullen, her face close to his, nuzzling his nose. Next to her, Riley reclined on one of the loungers, wearing sunglasses and a black tankini with boy-shorts. There was nothing boyish about the swimsuit Tracy had on, however. It was a little white thing that looked like he could pop that sucker apart with very little effort. Maybe he would, later.

  This was the first time they’d come over to Shawn and Riley’s place in Jersey together even though their friends were now well aware that they were . . . involved. Brendan didn’t even know what to call it still. All he knew was that he’d finally given up on pretending that he didn’t want to sleep with her every single night. And on those odd nights when she stayed in Brooklyn, it was an actual struggle not to call her, or just head on over there and drag her back to his bed like a caveman claiming his woman.

  She acted like she was his woman that was for damn sure, the claws coming out if she so much as sensed that any other female had more than a passing interest in him. Brendan knew there were many things about herself that Tracy held back, but her possessiveness was definitely not one of them. What he always thought would have been a turn-off for him was a big turn-on.

  Just that morning in the gym, some woman in pink shorts and a white sport bra had wandered over while he was doing bench presses and asked whether he needed her to spot for him. Truth was, he was definitely feeling himself on that bench press and would have readily agreed, had it not been for the sight of Tracy, across the room, working up a sweat on the elliptical machine, watching them both like she had radar or something. Their eyes met and she tilted her head to one side, looking at him like, go ahead playa, let her touch you and see what happens.

  Brendan smiled thinking about it now.

  “What the hell are you smiling about?”

  Brendan looked up at Shawn. For a moment he’d forgotten he was even there.

  “Damn, she’s got you, hasn’t she?” Shawn laughed.

  “I don’t know what you talkin’ ‘bout,” Brendan said, raising his Corona to his lips.

  “Riley told me you gave her a key.”

  “I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Brendan said.

  Shawn laughed and shook his head. “Hey, who am I to talk? It’s Labor Day weekend and I’m sitting here barbecuing in my backyard in the suburbs. Who the hell would’ve thought that would be in my future five years ago?”

  “True story,” Brendan said, distracted by the sight of Tracy standing and stretching her arms above her head before diving cleanly into the pool.

  “Shawn, can you take him for a minute?”

  Brendan watched as his friend went to join his wife and infant son. Before taking Cullen from Riley, Shawn leaned in and pressed his forehead against hers in a gesture Brendan had seen many times before. It was almost more intimate than a kiss; for one moment, focused solely on each other to the exclusion of all others, even the baby they had made together. As if in protest, Cullen wailed and Shawn pulled back abruptly, probably thinking he’d hurt him in some way. Riley handed him off and Shawn took over parenting duty while she joined Tracy in the pool.

  “Brendan, come in with us,” Tracy called.

  Her hair was soaked through from her dive. He smiled remembering how one of the first times they’d showered together she’d screamed at him like a banshee because he pulled her in before she had time to put on a shower cap. She never used a shower cap now.

  “Later,” he said holding up his beer.

  “Be a shame to let all those bench presses go to waste,” she said with raised eyebrows, before she did a backstroke across the pool.

  Brendan smiled and shook his head.

  Right after the holiday he was taking Sam Gaston out to the West Coast to meet some folks. He would be gone for a month and while he was there, working long
hours. With the time difference, there was no telling how often and when they’d get a chance to talk. Brendan was dreading and looking forward to it at the same time. When he told Tracy about the trip, she’d changed the subject. The only other time it came up was when she asked him if Shawn was going as well. He was not. Shawn was probably her hope for a chaperone. Brendan was amused thinking about how their roles had switched. At one time, he was perceived as the level-headed one who was essential to keep Shawn in check.

  When the steaks on the grill were done, he and Shawn ate together under the loggia while Riley and Tracy sat with their legs in the water, Riley balancing her plate on one knee and breastfeeding Cullen while holding him like a football, tucked in the crook of her arm.

  “You’d better not drop my son in the pool!” Shawn called out to her.

  “I like the way you call him ‘my son’,” Brendan said so only Shawn could hear. “Like Riley had nothing to do with it.”

  “I’m beginning to think she didn’t,” Shawn joked. “Have you seen how much he looks like me? Like I cloned myself.”

  “He does look like you,” Brendan nodded. “Her nose though.”

  “Nah.” Shawn shook his head. “All me.”

  “You’re going to need to come take him in a minute,” Riley said in a stage-whisper. “He’s falling asleep. D’you mind putting him down?”

  “Damn, baby, I did it last time,” Shawn said. And then lowering his voice. “Best part of my day.”

  Shawn and Riley both wound up going to put Cullen down, so Brendan and Tracy were left alone. He joined her by the pool and kicked off his tennis shoes, sitting next to her and dipping his feet into the cool water. She’d been different lately; quieter and more subdued. Often when they were alone together, she seemed to be far away and Brendan didn’t press, thinking it likely that she was still recovering from that crazy night, now a couple weeks back, that they still hadn’t really talked about. But while it had made Brendan want to hold her closer to him, it seemed to have caused Tracy to pull further and further away.