by Grayson Cole
Tracey couldn’t take her eyes off the woman in the photo. She was taller than Tracey, slimmer than her, with bigger breasts than hers, even with the breast feeding. And, oh, most importantly, she was darker than Tracey. She wore a hot pink, baby doll dress that fell to just above her knees. She wore high, skinny-heeled stilettos. A long ponytail fell over her shoulder. She looked like an underwear model, and not the classy kind.
And Garrett looked different. Gone were his golf shirt and khakis. He was wearing a designer t-shirt, stylish jeans and sneakers. He looked a bit more urban than Tracey had ever seen him, and she was at a loss as to what to say.
Angie turned around and looked at her friend and saw something in Tracey’s expression that made her say, “It’s not as serious as it looks. They’ve only been on like two dates. I don’t think anything has happened.”
“Her picture is next to my daughter’s,” Tracey growled.
“That’s just because they’re in chronological order and…” Angie trailed off before she chirped, “Legs much? Damn, Tracey. You’re a hot mama!”
Monica still didn’t say anything.
Tracey wasn’t paying attention. The caption beneath Nathalie’s picture read, “This is the real lady in my life right here.”
The doorbell rang again. Then the door opened, and Rett came through it. Immediately, he lifted Nathalie from the pack-and-play. He hugged her too tight, as usual, but she only giggled and sucked on his chin—the traitor. She gurgled and got a grip on his hair. All Tracey could think was that if he were to take her baby around that woman, they would look like a family. Nathalie looked like she could be theirs. Behind Tracey, she heard Angie click off the monitor.
“Do you have her things together?” His eyes flicked down to her legs for only a fraction of a second. If she’d blinked, she would have missed it. But his reaction no longer seemed to matter.
“I’ll get them,” Tracey said and moved into the bedroom. Her mind worked at a fevered pace as she tried to figure out what was going on. Garrett and a black woman that wasn’t Tracey. Did they sleep together? Where did they go together? Garrett and Tracey never went anywhere. What did they do?
She finished packing Nathalie’s bag and found that she couldn’t bring herself to go back into that room just yet. She didn’t understand it, she honestly didn’t. If the woman had been white, maybe she could have understood it, but not this. Her stomach churned. She went into her bathroom and closed the door. She leaned against it and tried to come to her senses. Why did it matter that she was black?
Tracey heard a knock.
“Tracey, what are you doing in here?” Moni.
“Getting the baby’s things together.” Tracey opened the door.
“So he’s seeing someone. So it’s a black someone.” As usual, she got to the heart of things. Tracey nodded and closed her eyes as she leaned against the doorjamb. “He wasn’t going to stay single for the rest of his life, Tracey. And for that matter, neither should you.”
“I didn’t expect him to.”
“Or is this about the fact that you’re not the only fly in the milk anymore?”
“Moni,” Tracey gritted through her teeth.
“That girl is just as black as you are, and it seems to me like you have a problem with that.” Tracey squeezed her eyes shut even tighter, to the brink of giving herself a headache. “I’m just stating facts.”
“What’s goin’ on in here?” Angie asked, coming up behind Moni.
“I hear, ‘once you go black, you don’t ever go back.’ ” Angie’s eyes crinkled at the sides as she giggled.
Monica burst out laughing; Tracey did not. She stepped out of the bathroom.
“I don’t think she’s his girlfriend,” Angie said.
A thought occurred to Tracey. “He better not be bringing her around my daughter. He can’t just bring women in and out of Nathalie’s life.”
“Has he ever brought another woman around her before that you know of?” Moni asked.
She wasn’t even asking Tracey. She was asking Angie, who thankfully said no.
“Okay then. Trace, this is a girls’ night. Let’s just get out of here and have some drinks and not think about it.”
“Yeah, girl, and can I tell you, you look hot? legs.” Then Angie added, “Rett’s always going to do what’s best for Nathalie, so don’t worry about it,” Angie added.
She knew it was true. There was obviously no point in waiting around for him anymore. But until that point, no one could have told Tracey that she was waiting around for him.
She realized then what was at the heart of her problem with this new chick being black. Tracey knew for a fact that he had never felt about any of the white girls he’d dated as he did about her—that is, when he felt that way about her. Tracey figured that being who she was, she had something they never could, something special that made Garrett want only her. She didn’t put herself and those girls in the same category at all, even though she knew in her head she should have. Then here came this veritable black siren, and she felt that any grip she might have had on him was loosening. Garrett was slipping through her fingers.
How stupid was that?
Speak of the devil. He darkened the doorway. “Is Nathalie’s stuff ready?” He looked over at Tracey as if she had done something.
None of them looked at him.
He gritted his teeth.
“Is this it?” he asked, pointing at the bag on the bed. She nodded. He took the bag and inspected its contents. “Where’s her bobo?”
“She had it in the living room. It’s probably in the pack-and-play.”
He gave a curt nod, then surveyed all three friends with a glare and went back into the living room. They all automatically moved to the door and watched him buckle Nathalie into her car seat.
Then they all went into the living room. And Angie, well, she pulled an Angie.
“I saw you updated your online profile with new pics this afternoon,” she said.
Garrett looked up, not at her, at Tracey. His lion eyes skewered her where she stood and she could have sworn he could read her mind.
“Karen is just a friend from the firm, Angie,” he said, but he was looking at Tracey.
“She doesn’t look like a lawyer.” Angie raised one eyebrow.
“She’s not a lawyer. She’s studying to be a divorce attorney. Currently, she’s the office manager, as if that makes a difference.”
Then he left.
And then the three girlfriends left.
* * *
When the ladies got back to the house, they were all finally relaxed and feeling no pain. But when Tracey saw Rett’s car outside, she panicked. She rushed into the house ahead of the girls in search of her baby… who turned out to be sleeping like an angel in her crib in her room. After checking her over to make sure she was okay, Tracey went in search of Rett.
He was in her bedroom, in her bed.
“What’s going on? Is the baby okay?” Monica asked as she came to stand beside her.
“My darling baby has a sniffle, but she is perfect,” Rett responded with a lazy smile.
Angie came in behind Monica. “Are you nekkid?”
Showing his maturity, Garrett stuck his tongue out at her.
“I was waiting for Tracey,” Rett slurred as he struggled to sit up in Tracey’s bed.
“Are you drunk, Rett?” Monica asked the question that was on all their minds.
“Yes, yes, I am,” he replied as he gave up the struggle to sit up and lay back on the pillows. Monica rolled her eyes and Angie expelled a labored expletive.
Garrett’s eyes snapped to her, then to Tracey as a twisted—but sexy as hell—smile lit his face and he said, “Precisely.”
Tracey’s eyes bucked when she heard that.
“Would you like to, Tracey? I know you would. So call off the attack dogs and we’ll get down to it.” Tracey bit down harshly on her bottom lip, feeling the pain shoot clear through her chin. Monica was about to say something in he
r defense but Tracey couldn’t let her. Shamefully, she already felt moisture starting between her thighs. Mortification for the guilty was only worse when he or she was being championed.
“He’s drunk,” Tracey said steadily, even though inside she wasn’t anywhere near steady. “You guys go ahead. Petey got the guest room ready earlier, so go on up to the house. I’ll make sure Rett gets home okay.”
“You have got to be out your mind.” That from Monica.
“If you’re worried about him driving, I can take him home,” Angie offered.
“You’ve been drinking, too.”
“No,” Garrett drawled. “Y’all run along now, me and Tracey got something to do.”
If she were white, Tracey’s hot face would have surpassed red. Instead, she—hopefully—maintained her deceptive calm.
“Tracey, we can kick him out,” Monica said. She still had never seen Garrett at his best.
“You are more than welcome to try,” he warned. “But Tracey and I are going to have consenting sexual intercourse before I leave this house no matter what you do. Remember exit 89, baby?”
Oh, dear God, help me! Tracey thought. He said it, and she did remember, and she wanted it so bad, so suddenly, her body started to throb.
“Go ahead, guys,” she urged them again. “Don’t aggravate him anymore. You see he’s itching for a fight.”
“Are you sure?” both Angie and Monica asked.
“Yeah.”
“Can I take the baby up to the house with me at least?” Angie asked. Angie had stayed over a few times by then. Tracey was amazed it had worked out so well. Never once had she heard her friend curse in her parents’ presence, and she had even started attending church with her mother and aunts, even without Tracey.
Tracey shook her head. “I’ve hardly had anything to drink and she’s sleeping. She’ll be fine in her room.” Besides, he won’t do anything crazy with her here.
Reluctantly, they left her standing in the doorway of her bedroom wondering what she was going to do with him. “Garrett…” she started tentatively.
“Tracey,” he answered with a half-smile.
“What do you want? It’s obvious you don’t want anything to do with me anymore, so what’s this?”
“Tracey,” he replied tiredly. “If you remember, I told you once that I would always want you, that I loved your body. That hasn’t changed.”
“Not like this. You’re drunk.”
“Tracey, please don’t fight me.” His expression changed and something about it let her know, maybe because she knew him so well by then, that he wasn’t nearly as drunk as he would have her believe. He was serious. “You need this, and God knows I need this.”
“What about Karen?”
“Nothing happened between us.”
“Didn’t look like that on your profile.”
“What’s it matter?” His tone grew gruff and his eyes were accusing “I tried. Damn, I tried.”
Please stop.
“She’s very good with her tongue, you know. And those hands! She could get paid for what she does with ’em. I imagined what it would be like for her to wrap those long, fantastic legs around me.”
Why can’t you just shut up? she wanted to ask him.
“I mean, she is luscious. Her bottom would probably fit right into my hands!” Tracey was opening her mouth to cuss him out when he pinned her with a savage look, “But… she’s not you.” He dropped his gaze to his lap with an exaggerated shake of his head. “So that’s what I’m doing here. Just driving back over here and parking my car out there got me hard as a rock. I’m good enough for that, aren’t I? Hmm? It’ll be just like old times.”
“Garrett, don’t do this,” she pleaded, even though that treacherous moisture crept down onto her thighs. Hell, she couldn’t control it. He started to rise and she backed towards the doorway, sucking in all of her breath. He really wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing and his body was as perfect as it had ever been, with its smooth planes, curving muscles, and inviting lines. She could see the pale hair barely noticeable as it sprinkled across his chest. It made a thin line down the center of his stomach between the hard muscles all the way down to circle him. She swallowed, barely able to take his beauty.
Garrett stalked toward her and Tracey was frozen in anticipation, maybe in fright. He started to nuzzle, nip, and suck at her neck, going for the jugular in every sense of the expression. She twisted and twisted from the tingling sensations coursing through her. In soft, gently spoken words he whispered, “I’m good enough to fuck, aren’t I, Tracey?”
She felt fire, pure fire, cut through her chest and burn the pit of her stomach. She wanted to crumple right there under the pressure of his hateful words. Then she wanted to fight. She wanted to do something, anything, to stop his cruelty, to stop this near-painful arousal she still felt. But before she could act, his lips started a fresh attack, rendering her impotent all over again. She felt his hands go into her hair, his fist closing around the bulk of it. Then she felt him pull downward, forcing her to look up at him. She resisted without even the slightest whimper to show her strength. Garrett tugged even harder. She remained silent, her natural reaction arrested by pride.
Tracey simply stared back at him, waiting. He smiled. Finally, he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her hard. There was nothing nice or pleasant about the kiss he bestowed upon her, nothing at all, and her traitorous body adored every bit of it.
He pressed a hand beneath her thigh until her leg was lifted and propped up on his. She felt one of his hands snaking under her skirt and past the elastic of her panties until his fingers pressed inside her and she could barely breathe. There was no way to stop what was about to happen, and yet Tracey was foolish enough to try. “Garrett,” she murmured, knowing no control over her voice, her own reactions. Even as she made her protest, she slid herself against his fingers.
“Rett,” he said, correcting her though she could barely make sense of anything. He kissed her deeper, then pulled up short, leaving her bereft. “Rett.”
She knew what he was waiting for, and she knew there would be no relief for her if she didn’t give it to him. He wanted her to surrender, place her pride on a platter, and sacrifice the control she had held on to so firmly from the very start. His fingers plunged deeper, moving rhythmically between her legs. She was thankful for him holding her there because there was no way she could have remained standing on her own. She twisted her head from side to side, hoping to deter his kisses. She twisted her body also to either evade or aid—she wasn’t sure which—his magician’s hand. Then it came out on the wings of an exhaled breath: “Rett, Rett, please.” And then as if following suit, her body surrendered itself and she was wracked with the most powerful pulses of electricity and bliss she’d had since the first time they were together. Hot embarrassment coursed through her, mingling with each passionate wave of fulfillment. It was impossible to feel one without the other. Still, he did not free her.
Instead, he let soft, tender kisses fall on her pinched eyebrows and stroked her tensed arm and thigh with his hands. Then, as her breathing returned to normal and her muscles started to relax, he started all over again. Realizing that it would be useless to resist him, Tracey tried to relax and be still, show him no emotion. She was under the impression that if she did this, he would just give up the fight and leave her alone. There were so many things wrong with that logic. It hadn’t worked that first time they were together. It hadn’t worked just moments before. Tracey thought maybe since it had been such a long time, she had just forgotten how effective his ministrations were. Still, he couldn’t have possibly been this good before. Already he’d brought her to the precipice, her body was still moist, and nipples that were already hard grew painfully taut at his slightest movement. And, as if he knew that, as if her body were talking to him, he pulled down the front of her shirt and her new bra along with it. His lips hovered over her breast and Tracey tried to get him to stop, self-conscious about her
milk. Rett ignored her protests and his mouth clamped over her breast. It hurt and aroused her all at once. Tracey bit down hard on the inside of her jaw to keep her pleasure silent.
“Delicious,” he whispered.
Her breath wouldn’t come out right and all she could think of was what was coming next.
Finally her acquiescence came in the form of grabbing his hair as he had hers, and dragging him back up. Her lips instantly found his with greedy desperation. He kissed her back hard, then tore away. He dropped to one knee and slipped her panties down and off. Still kneeling, he grabbed her hips, angling them towards him and she was lost as his tongue sought a brand new attack. He pulled one thigh up onto his shoulder and lay open his way.
“God, Garrett, I can’t do this,” she moaned, even though she had already gone too far to turn back.
“Rett,” he ground out against her. As she felt his teeth sink into her sensitive flesh she groaned that name because she couldn’t help herself. She had to give him what he wanted in order to get what she wanted. She felt his hot tongue lapping at her and his lips sucking her into him and she knew she was going to die. But just as she felt the vibrations start, he stopped, rising to bite into her shoulder and wrap his arms around her. He was breathing hard and seemed to be trying to calm himself. As he took a saving breath, Tracey slid her hands low between their bodies to press his length into her.
Immediately, she felt his hands slip beneath her knees to lift them around him. He pressed her into the wall and pushed hard inside her. It had been over a year and she faltered as she tried to catch her breath, gasping to fill her lungs. He pressed harder and faster and faster each moment and he was killing her. Her hand caressed his hips, his ass, his thighs so she could feel him pump against her body. She urged him on and slipped her other hand around his back to pull him closer, closer to her. He finished his onslaught, and Tracey stifled a scream, not wanting to wake the baby. The sob was wrenched from deep inside her and she was nearly blinded with the pleasure of it. She felt him shuddering and heard the loud, ragged battles for breath that let her know he had died, too.
For a moment, he stood pinning her against the wall, his arms stretched out flat on either side of her. Without notice, he carried her to the bed. They lay there side by side, not touching. Tracey pulled her shirt up over her breasts, pulled her skirt down over her thighs, and shifted her legs to see how much discomfort she felt. It had been more than a year, and she had had Nathalie.