Commitment

by Forrester, Nia

  Shawn showed up about forty minutes in, looking like he’d taken a shower, wearing faded jeans and an L.A. Lakers jersey over a crisp white long-sleeved t-shirt. Riley watched as he flashed smiles at everyone who approached him, but he was distracted and his eyes scanned the room even as he tried to pay attention to the conversations he was having. He was looking for her.

  And when he finally spotted her, he barely excused himself before walking away mid-conversation with a woman holding a champagne flute. Riley met him halfway and he stopped a couple feet away, taking her in with his eyes before finally pulling her into a hug and pressing his lips briefly to her forehead.

  “Now I see what all the fuss is about,” she said from the enclosure of his arms. “You’re pretty incredible when you’re up there.”

  “Just when I’m up there?” he asked, teasing.

  “No. You’re always incredible. But when you’re up there, you’re really incredible.”

  “Thanks,” he said.

  She’d expected some of the brash, over-confidence that the public was used to seeing but he just seemed happy she’d liked it. And if she didn’t know better, she thought he might even have blushed a little bit.

  “I need to go talk to some people for a little while,” he said quietly. “You’ll be okay for a few minutes?”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “You go do your thing.”

  “It won’t take too long.” Then he turned to Tracy. “Enjoyed the show?”

  “It was great,” she said coolly. “Much better than I expected.”

  Shawn laughed as he walked away. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  Riley turned and shot her a look.

  “What?” Tracy feigned innocence. “It’s true. It was better than I expected.”

  “Tracy. He’s been nothing but nice to you.”

  “I don’t care how nice he is to me. How he treats you is what matters.” Tracy seemed to think about what she’d said for a moment. “Okay, fine. So that look on his face when he saw you outside his hotel room cannot be faked. I’ll give you that.”

  “So then be nice,” Riley warned.

  “I am just dying to see how you resolve this,” Tracy shook her head, taking a sip of her wine.

  Riley looked across the room where Shawn was talking to the two young performers who had opened for him.

  “There’s nothing to resolve,” she said lightly. “Shawn and Brian are two completely different people who each bring something unique to my life.”

  “Putting aside for the moment that that’s your mother, the polyamorous feminist theorist, speaking and not you?” Tracy said. “I’ll tell you why you have to resolve it, Riley. You’re lying to Brian, who we both know deserves more than that. And besides; will you look at that man?”

  Riley looked. Shawn was working the crowd with his usual quiet, commanding brand of self-confidence.

  “Seriously. Does he look like someone who shares?”

  g

  When Shawn had done his rounds, Brendan quietly spirited them out a side door and down a corridor that led outside. A black SUV with tinted windows was waiting for them and they all piled in. The driver stared straight ahead, not once looking over his shoulder even to see who was in the backseat. Brendan rode up front and instructed him to take them to the Millennium Biltmore.

  Once there, he led them inside to a modern lounge-style Japanese restaurant for a late sushi dinner. The maître d showed them to private table in the rear near the kitchen and within moments the sommelier brought over bottle of champagne. Shawn glanced at the label nodding his assent. Then he reached for Riley across the table. Brendan’s eyes fell to their joined hands for a fraction of a second before he looked discreetly away.

  “So are there clubs we could go to tonight?” Tracy asked. “I’ve only ever been to L.A. for work so I’d love to see what all the fuss is about.”

  “We can show you what all the fuss is about,” Brendan promised. “The question is can you hang?”

  “Oh, I can hang,” Tracy said.

  “How ‘bout you? You feel like going to a club?” Shawn asked leaning in closer to Riley.

  “Whatever you would normally do.”

  Brendan laughed. “Oh, we couldn’t take you along for what we normally do,” he said.

  Shawn gave him a look. “We could hang out for a couple hours and then head back to the hotel,” he said to Riley.

  As far as she was concerned they could skip the club altogether, but there was Tracy to entertain. Under the table, Shawn was bouncing his leg up and down. He was still coming down from the high of the show and had excess energy not yet expended. He fidgeted with her hand, turning it over, looking at his fingers intertwined with hers, then idly traced circles in her palm while glancing at the menu. Riley smiled and pulled away, gently placing her hand over his and just like that, he was still.

  “Where are you guys headed after this?” Tracy asked.

  “Seattle.” Shawn didn’t look up, still studying the menu.

  “Big hip-hop following in Seattle?” Tracy asked, taking a sip of her champagne.

  “Haven’t you heard?” Shawn said evenly. “There’s a big hip-hop following everywhere.”

  Riley stifled a smile.

  After two bottles of champagne were done and they’d made their way through what seemed like dozens of rolls of sushi, Riley was actually looking forward to the club. The drinks had loosened everyone up and Tracy even seemed to have lost interest in picking on Shawn. Instead, she was engaging in a little tipsy flirtation with Brendan who was eating up every moment of it.

  When they pulled up in front of the club, there was a huge crowd and paparazzi snapping pictures of anyone even marginally famous as they went in.

  “Pull around to the side, man.” Shawn tapped the driver on his shoulder.

  “Why?” Tracy asked. “Then we won’t get the full on L.A. vibe.”

  “Pull around to the side,” Shawn insisted.

  The driver maneuvered the SUV around the corner and into an alleyway. After Brendan made a quick call, someone came out of a door obscured by darkness to usher them in.

  In no time they were seated in a semi-private area of the exclusive nightclub, sipping drinks and watching L.A.’s glitterati at play. Riley had never seen so many beautiful women in one place before – not even in Manhattan where beautiful people seemed to sprout from the sidewalks. In her jeans and black top, she must look positively dowdy next to them.

  To make matters worse, Shawn was suddenly keeping his distance, sitting at the other end of the sofa, his head bopping to the music. Riley watched him for a few moments out of the corner of her eye, but he seemed oblivious to the women who walked by their cordoned off VIP section, just happening to slow down, flip their hair or drop something precisely as they entered his line of sight. This was probably his standard nightclub experience. Riley leaned back and exhaled sharply.

  Of course it was; he was a rap star.

  His fame and all that came along with it had always seemed so far removed from what went on between them in the quiet, dark hotel suites. In those rooms, there was just the two of them – Shawn’s hand on her face, her lips on his and the rest of the world ceased to exist.

  But here, it was being thrust into their faces and though he seemed perfectly capable of ignoring it, she was not. Watching the parade of women walk by making eyes in his direction, Riley felt a strange hot ball form in the pit of her stomach and rise into her chest.

  “Tracy,” she leaned over toward her friend. “Let’s go dance.”

  Tracy shrugged and tossed her purse aside, getting up and reaching out to hold her hand. Riley allowed herself to be dragged onto the dance floor where they spun and moved together, the way they had when they were in college and date-less at a party.

  Tracy’s head was thrown back, her eyes closed as she disappeared in the music. Riley did the same, turning herself completely over to the beat. After sometime, she didn’t even notice when, two
guys joined them. They were clearly way too young, but it was a welcome distraction. The one dancing with her kept trying to pull her closer and she moved deftly out of his reach, smiling at him so as not to hurt his feelings. At a lull in the music, he leaned in and spoke in her ear.

  “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “No thanks,” she shouted back. “I’m good.”

  “You sure? You look thirsty.”

  Riley laughed. “Ok, buy me a drink,” she capitulated.

  Tracy motioned that she was going to sit and Riley waved at her. She would stay put and dance until she was exhausted, or until it was time to go, whichever came first. It was hard to maintain a coherent thought while she was dancing, and that was just what she needed right now. Her mother was always telling her she lived in her head too much, and it was true.

  Even now, she was thinking ahead to Sunday when she would leave L.A. and Shawn. For the first time since they’d been together, she was finding herself preoccupied with what happened when she wasn’t around. Thank God, she had plans for dinner with Brian to take her mind off things. She would be way too distracted to think about Shawn on the road being deluged by offers from women far more attractive than she was. But Brian – and New York – seemed so far away right now.

  While she was daydreaming, her young dance partner had returned with two drinks in hand. She took one and smiled at him. It looked very sweet, like something she probably wouldn’t have ordered herself. Just as she’d made up her mind to take an exploratory sip, Shawn was there and took it from her, putting the drink on the tray of a passing server. Before he turned and pulled her away, he leaned in to say something to the guy she’d been dancing with. Whatever it was, the guy took off toward the other end of the club.

  Riley looked up at him quizzically.

  “Why are you taking drinks from some dude you don’t even know?” he said, his lips pressed against her ear.

  Riley rolled her eyes. “Just a harmless kid.”

  He led her off the dance floor and over to a quieter corner, standing so that his back was to the room and he was blocking both her view and access to the rest of the club.

  “How do you know he’s harmless? He would’ve had his hands on your ass a few minutes after you had that drink. He might have slipped you something.”

  “What did you say to him just now?” she asked. “I hope you weren’t rude.”

  “I told him to please get the fuck out of your face, so no, I wasn’t rude,” Shawn said.

  “You’re not turning into that guy are you? You know the one who flips out when his girl talks to anyone else, or dances with anyone else?” Riley looked up at him.

  She was only half joking. Neither of them knew the rules of engagement when they were out together at places like this. In New York, except for the occasional meal at a restaurant, all their time was spent alone together.

  “No. I’m not that guy who doesn’t want his girl talking to anybody or dancing with anybody but him.”

  Riley nodded, keeping her eyes fixed on his, waiting for him to finish his thought.

  “But the fucked up thing is, you’re not my girl, Riley. I don’t even have a right to let it bother me. Shit, I’m the dude you’re sneaking around with. And that’s all I am.”

  Riley shook her head. “That’s not true.”

  “If it’s not true, how come you didn’t stop me when I told the driver to pull around back? You didn’t want Brian seeing pictures of you and me together. Just admit it.”

  Riley looked at him, incredulous. “That was your idea. I had no clue why you were doing that.”

  But even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t precisely true. She’d had an inkling that Shawn had been protecting her anonymity and she’d let him do it. She’d been relieved that he had, unlikely as it was that Brian would ever happen to see a photo of them together, even if one were to wind up in a tabloid someplace.

  Shawn shook his head. “I might as well be some guy climbing out of your window late at night. What we do is no different from that.”

  “And that bothers you all of a sudden?” she demanded.

  “What bothers me is that every dude in here has as much right to step to you as I do. No matter how many times we’ve been together, that never changes. You’re with somebody else.”

  “But not tonight. Not this weekend. I’m here with you Shawn.”

  “What did you tell him anyway, about this weekend?”

  “That I was going to L.A. to see a friend.”

  “A friend,” he repeated. “That’s what we are, you and me? Friends?”

  “Yeah. Sure, there’s more to it than that, but . . .” she trailed off into silence.

  “Exactly how many of your friends are you fucking, Riley?”

  “Just stop,” she said, holding up a hand. “You wanted me here and so I came. I don’t understand why you’re picking a fight with me. Nothing’s different except the geography.”

  “Maybe that’s the fucking problem,” Shawn said.

  Then he was gone.

  The sudden absence of his body heat caused her to shudder. A moment later Tracy was standing in front of her.

  “What the hell just happened?”

  Riley shook her head. “I don’t know anymore. Look, let’s just go, okay?”

  Tracy’s eyes were wide. She didn’t protest, as Riley expected she would. “Okay. Sure. Let me get Brendan.”

  “No, we’re taking a cab.” Riley pushed past her and toward the exit.

  g

  When Riley finally emerged from the mass of blankets and sheets on Saturday, it was well past noon, and Tracy was coming in from what was apparently a very fruitful shopping trip.

  “I just saw Colin Farrell on Robertson Boulevard,” she said tossing her shopping bags in a corner and yanking aside the drapes. “And I swear to God he gave me a second look.”

  “How exciting,” Riley said, her voice croaking. “Wait. How’d you get to Robertson Boulevard?”

  “Brendan. And no, Shawn was not with us.” Tracy sat on the edge of the bed. “Let’s go grab something to eat, okay? He’s not essential to your having a good time, Riley.”

  “I know that,” she said impatiently. “But I came here to spend time with him.”

  “And evidently he would rather act a fool. So what’re you going to do about it? Curl up in a ball and mope? We have all of today and tonight. We can still have fun this weekend.”

  “You’re right.” Riley rolled over onto her back and kicked her legs free of the covers. “I’ll be ready in a half hour.”

  Tracy leaned over and smoothed her hair, just as she got up to head for the shower.

  “Riley,” she said. “You’re going to have to consider whether you might not be in over your head here.”

  They rented a car and went to Griffith Park, the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and the L.A. Farmers Market where Riley picked up a couple of tchotkes and a t-shirt for Brian.

  Just before sundown they ended up at Venice Beach and ate hot dogs while standing around watching bodybuilders flex and preen for out-of-towners.

  Tracy kept up a steady stream of chatter, transparently trying to help her stave off the funk that she was barely holding at bay. They would be on a plane early tomorrow afternoon and back in New York in time to get a few hours in preparing for work on Monday. She tried not to think about the expanse of time that would follow, during which she would not see Shawn at all. She tossed the butt of her hot-dog bun onto the sand for the seagulls and watched the sun set.

  Before heading back, they stopped at a sidewalk café and Riley people-watched while Tracy went inside to order their drinks. There was a warm breeze, making her feel sleepy and mellow. She wondered what Shawn was doing and whether he was thinking about her. Fighting with him was so unfamiliar and uncomfortable she almost didn’t know how to be angry with him. But over the last couple of months, there was no denying that something had changed, and he at least, seemed to have no problem getting angry with her.


  In her mind, Riley carried pictures of people who were important to her. Usually, there was one image, one that gave reason to how she felt about them. With her mother, it was of a Saturday afternoon when she was still a senior in high school. It had been a stressful time because Lorna was behind on a book deadline and up for tenure. But still, there was no trace of that strain as they sat together, mother and daughter, cross-legged on the floor of their living room, eating strawberries and cream, arguing good-naturedly about Nella Larsen’s tragic mulatto novellas.

  With Tracy it was of the night in college when they’d both spotted Riley’s freshman year boyfriend kissing some other girl at an off-campus party. Tracy had held Riley’s head in her lap and stroked her hair, staying up with her all night while she cried like it was the end of the world. With Brian, the picture was of him playing soccer and looking over at her in the stands like a kid seeking his parents’ approval when he scored the winning goal.

  But Shawn; with Shawn, the pictures she carried in her mind were numerous. It seemed as though every time she saw him, she added another. Like the look on his face when he opened the door to his suite yesterday afternoon. His face was so open and so joyful for just that split second; and her heart went ‘click’ – another image too precious to forget.

  “Coffee for the morose lady in white,” Tracy said as she sat, sliding Riley’s cup toward her.

  Riley smiled. “I had a good time today, actually.”

  Tracy nodded. “I know. But not as good as it could have been.”

  “Well, nothing is ever as good as it could have been,” Riley said.

  Tracy sipped her tea. “If I went around thinking like that, I would have killed myself a long time ago.”

  It was almost eight-thirty when they straggled back to the hotel, carrying their spoils; Tracy walking barefoot, high-heeled sandals in hand.

  “Now I feel comfortable saying that I saw L.A.,” she said, as they rode up on the elevator.