by A. C. Arthur
That thought had him silently cursing himself again for not making sure Cris made it safely back to her hotel last night. When he’d come out of the bathroom she’d been gone, which was what he expected at the time. It was only later, when he was back at his apartment that he realized how much of an idiot he’d been.
“I’m going to take your advice, Gwen,” Dylan said. He leaned forward and logged out of his computer and then stood from his chair.
“You’re getting dinner and a movie? How about you find yourself a nice young lady to go with you? I don’t know when the last time I heard you say you were going on a date.”
Dylan didn’t know either. What he did find odd was that Gwen was saying exactly what Mama Peaches had said on the voice message she’d left for him earlier this afternoon. She’d wanted to know how his date had gone last night, telling him that she’d requested all her Gents—that’s what she’d called each of the boys she’d either fostered or babysat as a reminder to them to always be gentlemen—participate in the hopes that they could each find a really nice woman to settle down with. So her bachelor auction to save the neighborhood had also been an elaborate matchmaking scheme. Well, Dylan was in no hurry to return Mama Peaches’ call and tell her how horribly wrong his date had gone.
“No date. Just going to grab some dinner. I have two new client files to familiarize myself with before I represent them to the D.C. Council next month.” Dylan picked up those client files and slipped them into his soft leather briefcase.
“Well, at least go to a nice restaurant and sit down. Order a three course meal and a glass of wine. Relax a little,” she told him as she walked toward the door. “You only get one life to live, Dylan. You should try really living it for a change.”
While Gwen kept walking out of his office, Dylan had paused. Cris used to wear a white shirt with YOLO in bright pink letters across her breasts. When she’d caught him staring at the letters one day she’d quickly said, “You only live once, Dylan,” while pointing at each letter. She’d thought she had to explain what the abbreviation meant, but really Dylan had been enjoying the way the tight white material hugged her breasts and admired those letters for the way they seemed to wrap around the heavy mounds as well.
Now, he shook his head with the thought. He’d finally seen those breasts bare. He’d had them in his hands and in his mouth. If he closed his eyes right now he could recall the sight of her puckered pinkish nipples. His dick jumped and Dylan clenched his teeth. This was going to happen every time he thought about Cris now. There would be no more memories of their friendship or the good times they’d had as just friends, all that would remain in his mind was how good she’d felt and tasted and how badly he wanted to feel and taste her again.
“You’re right,” he said finally. “I’m going to get some dinner and head home.”
He closed his bag and looked up just in time to see Gwen staring warily at him.
“I’m going to a restaurant and I’ll sit there and enjoy my meal.”
Gwen nodded and gave him a knowing smile. Dylan could admit that the woman was right more than she was wrong.
“Good. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Goodnight.” Dylan grabbed his cell phone from his desk charger and walked out of his office.
Half an hour later he’d removed his tie and suit jacket. He walked into Tony’s Bar and Grille wearing a brown leather jacket and pushing his cell phone into his pocket.
“Hey Dylan. Long time no see, man.”
Dylan smiled and accepted the handshake and half hug from Frank “Fisher” Baines, the manager of the restaurant. “Yeah, good to see you too.”
“And you’re lucky ‘cause your favorite booth in the back just became available.”
“Ah, well, maybe I could just sit at the bar,” Dylan replied.
Fisher had stepped behind a dark wood pedestal where a hostess was holding a tablet. He looked down at it and then up to Dylan after he spoke.
Fisher tilted his head and frowned. “What’s going on with you two?”
“Excuse me?”
“Cris is here and she didn’t want to sit at your booth either.”
Dylan immediately looked around the dining room area. “What do you mean Cris is here?”
Fisher came back to stand at Dylan’s side. He put a hand on Dylan’s shoulder and turned him slightly to the left. “She’s right over there. Came in about ten minutes ago and specifically said she did not want your booth.”
Dylan heard Fisher talking but he wasn’t listening to the words he was saying. He was too busy staring at not just Cris at a table, but at the man sitting across from her.
“Sonofa—”
“Hey man, I was just kidding. If this is really a sticky situation, I can sit you down at the back end of the bar. You won’t see them and they won’t see you. I just thought considering your history together that you and Cris would have been married with kids by now.”
Dylan turned his head quickly to stare at Fisher. Why would he have thought he and Cris would be married? They’d come here to eat a lot during their undergrad years, but that’s all they’d ever done was eat. There were no PDAs or even hand holding for that matter, because they weren’t a couple. They were just friends.
“Nah, it’s cool,” Dylan replied. “I’ll take the booth.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
Fisher chatted from the time they left the hostess area until the moment Dylan slipped into the booth and Fisher handed him a menu.
Dylan had only been half listening to Fisher as he’d talked to him and giving what answers he thought were correct. Sitting down now he looked at the menu and frowned. “Come on, Fisher. You know I don’t need this.”
Fisher grinned, his angular face sporting a jovial expression as usual. “We’ve added some new stuff since the last time you were here. Just because you’re a bigshot lawyer now, don’t mean you’re the only one who can move it on up.”
Dylan chuckled as Fisher broke into his rendition of the George Jefferson dance.
“Bacon double cheeseburger, lettuce tomatoes, mayo and fries,” Dylan repeated what he always ordered and did not take the menu.
“We have sweet potato fries now, or you could try the glazed asparagus, it’s delicious.” Fisher tucked the menu under his arm and spoke as if he’d just offered Dylan something as expensive as caviar but tasted as good a BBQ ribs.
Dylan was not tempted.
“I’ll stick with the fries. And a chocolate milkshake with shavings.”
Fisher stopped grinning at that point and just stared at Dylan before finally nodding.
“I’ll put your order in.”
“Thanks, man. It is really good to see you,” Dylan replied sincerely. It had been a very long time since Dylan had done anything that reminded him of his grad school years.
“Yeah, same here,” Fisher said with another nod and smile before leaving Dylan alone.
It wasn’t until Fisher walked away that Dylan realized his mistake. He always had a root beer soda with his meal. Cris used to order the milkshake with extra chocolate shavings on top. He pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes and shook his head.
This was not going to end well. He’d known it the moment he’d seen her at The Corporation. Cris was back in D.C. They weren’t college kids anymore. She was in a sex club, on his turf. And then, she was in his playroom, on his bed. Now she was in his head and dammit she was sitting in their place with him!
Dylan was slipping out of the booth before he could think better of what he was about to do.
5
“Hello, Garrett. Cris you didn’t tell me you were seeing Garrett while you were in town.”
Cris looked at Dylan standing beside the table and wondered what higher deity she’d pissed off to have such poor luck. How was it that she’d come back to town, finally slept with her best friend, was having dinner with her ex-boyfriend, and was now being confronted by her best friend as if she were caught c
heating on him?
“Hey, Dylan.” Her voice sounded a lot steadier than she actually felt.
Her heart was thumping in her chest and she was looking from Dylan to Garrett and back to Dylan again, just like she was a cheating girlfriend. It was ridiculous!
Garrett stood and extended his hand to Dylan.
“Good to see you, man. It’s been way too long,” he said to Dylan with a genuine smile.
Garrett Mason was just an inch or two shorter than Dylan. He had a broader frame than Dylan’s toned slim stature and a lighter, tawny brown complexion. While Garrett looked nice in his dark jeans, beige button front shirt and russet colored sports coat, Dylan gave an immediate air of black power and dominance in his navy blue suit, pale blue striped shirt and intense glare. Even without the tie Dylan exerted professionalism and control. His handshake with Garrett was strong, succinct and telling as Dylan had immediately positioned himself to stand closer to Cris, so that he was now physically blocking Garrett from her. As if his appearance alone wasn’t enough of which would have quickly been called a cock-block when they were younger.
“It has been a while,” Dylan stated evenly before releasing Garrett’s hand.
Garrett returned to his seat, his smile a bit more triumphant than Cris thought it should have been.
“I just found out she was here the night before last when I ran into Tisha at a networking event. She said she’d had lunch with Cris the day she came back and they’d talked about apartments and firms that were hiring.” Garrett had just given Dylan more information than Cris figured he wanted to hear.
Or at least that’s what Cris had assumed. Dylan, however, looked pretty intrigued by Garrett’s words.
“Cris knows I’m always looking out for her so if staying in town is her goal, then I’ll definitely take care of her.”
By tossing cash at her and walking out? That was an odd way of taking care of someone.
“Well, you know I’ve got a little clout in this town as well, D,” Garrett said. Now, the same ‘ole ego tug of war these former roommates had years ago was back and Cris twisted the napkin she was holding.
“I’ve already given her leads on a few defense firms that will snap her up in a hurry. You know there are several firms trying to up their diversity game by bringing in more young black lawyers.”
Garrett was a transactional attorney in a large firm. During the fifteen minutes they’d had to chat before Dylan appeared, Cris had also learned that Garrett was very active in the Young Lawyers division of the local bar, as well as a few reputable networking groups for young black professionals, many of which had gone to undergrad with them. Despite their past, Cris had actually been thinking that agreeing to dinner with Garrett had turned out to be a good idea. If she were planning to put down roots in D.C., she definitely wanted to be a part of the professional scene with people who looked like her.
“She shouldn’t limit herself to firms only looking to meet their diversity quota. She can do better than that,” was Dylan’s clipped response.
“I’m keeping my options open,” Cris interjected.
This had the potential to get ugly very quickly.
While Garrett was under the impression that he and Dylan were doing their normal back and forth and that he had the upper hand since he and Cris had dated for almost two years, Cris knew the truth. And so did Dylan.
Dylan knew about everything that had gone down between her and Garrett, every very private and humiliating thing. Garrett, of course knew those same things, but he’d had no idea how Cris had felt back then, and she was certain he didn’t know now, or he’d never have invited her to dinner. But she’d been willing to put the past behind her and have a mature meal with the guy. Dylan, on the other hand, clearly did not think that was such a good idea.
“We have to get in where we fit in, man. We all can’t have our daddy walk us into the biggest lobbying firm in D.C. and drop a partnership in our lap.”
And there it was, the proverbial gauntlet being tossed down. Dylan had never been one to walk away from a challenge, especially not with a guy that Cris had to stop him from pummeling years ago.
“Your appetizers are here!” Foster appeared just in time with a waitress carrying a tray right behind him.
“Man it’s good to see y’all again after so long,” Foster continued, easily stepping into the space between where Dylan still stood close to Cris and where Garrett was sitting, gazing superiorly at Dylan.
“Dylan you want your food brought over here? We can just pull up another chair because it’ll be out in a few minutes.” Foster looked at Dylan.
Cris didn’t have to shift her gaze to him. She could feel the tension radiating from his body. If she released the weird hold she now had on the napkin and extended her hand upward just a bit, she would touch Dylan’s hand. Without looking she knew it was fisted at his side because he was barely restraining himself from saying something else to Garrett. Something that Cris knew wasn’t going to lead to a smile and more cordial conversation. Foster knew that too.
“No,” Dylan finally replied. “I’m going back to my table. Cris, I’ll talk to you later.”
He did not say another word to Garrett, nor did he spare Cris a glance before leaving. Foster shrugged and touched Cris’s shoulder before leaving the waitress to deliver their food.
“That guy’s still full of himself,” Garrett said as he quickly began to munch on his cheesesteak egg rolls.
Cris had ordered French onion soup as her appetizer, but she really wasn’t in the mood for it now. She’d perused the menu searching for anything other than what she always ordered when she’d come here with Dylan. She wondered what Dylan had ordered.
“Dylan’s not a bad guy.” She heard the words and hated that her first instinct was to defend him, even though the way Dylan had come over here had been rude and dismissive. And after last night he didn’t deserve her defense. Actually, she should have been going over to his table and giving him a few select words for the way he’d treated her.
“He’s a pompous ass, just like always. Remember I told you he never liked studying with any of the guys in the house. He didn’t do movie nights with us or even the parties. Each time we had a party, he would contribute his fair share to the food and the booze but then he’d disappear like we weren’t good enough for his time.” Garrett was shaking his head as he chewed. “And then he goes off to law school and one year later while we’re all trying to get internships with the local judges or even at a small firm, he nabs a top paying internship at Loman Regent. They hired him as an associate months before he even took the bar. Lucky bastard! Or should I say privileged bastard.”
Cris was glad Garrett stuffed another chunk of egg roll into his mouth. She didn’t like hearing him speak negatively about Dylan. Even though most of what he’d said was true. Dylan hadn’t liked hanging with any of the four guys he’d shared the house with, but not because he thought he was better than them. No, that wasn’t it at all. Dylan was an only child and he’d traveled all over the world during his childhood because his father, Hanson, was an international lawyer. His mother, Demetria, also had a law degree but focused more on legal writing than litigating and had created a mobile law firm hiring attorneys across the world to freelance their writing services for global corporations as well as local business. Now, Hanson was a senator. He and his wife had settled here in D.C. one year after Dylan finished grad school. Cris recalled him dreading that possibility every moment of his father’s campaign that kicked off the same week as homecoming of their senior year.
“He graduated tops in our class,” she said, even though she’d sworn she would only defend Dylan in her mind. “He repeated that in law school and always had an interest in public causes. I think lobbying was a natural fit for him.”
Garrett used a napkin to wipe his mouth. He had grown into a handsome man, with his round face and dark wavy hair. His low cut and very neatly trimmed beard gave him a mature look, but his brown eyes st
ill held the hint of laughter that had first drawn her to him.
“I’m not going to spend out first night together in what…eight or nine years years…talking about Dylan James. He can stay right in his penthouse apartment, driving his slick Jaguar and wearing five hundred dollar suits. I’m just happy to be sitting across from you, the prettiest girl on the east coast.” Garrett smiled. He set the napkin on the table and reached over to touch her hand.
She’d meant to pick up her spoon and begin eating her soup, but her hand had remained still on the table. Now, it was being folded into Garrett’s and a tingle of discomfort settled in the pit of Cris’s stomach.
“I’m sure you’ve found another “prettiest girl on the east coast” by now,” she said, while slightly easing her hand away from his.
Dinner with Garrett was one thing. Being touched by Garrett was something totally different.
“Nobody will ever compare to you.”
She nodded and managed to pick up the spoon at that point. As far as smooth comebacks go, that was pretty good. She sipped the soup and wished like hell she’d ordered the onion rings like she used to do.
“No. They’ll just be better in bed than me,” she quipped after swallowing the first spoonful and admitting the best part of the soup was the cheese. “Or a better dancer than me. Or no, more outgoing than me. Which, is really crazy since I was involved in more stuff on campus than you, or any of the three, no four, girls you cheated on me with.”
