Commitment

by Forrester, Nia

  “You look really pretty, baby,” he said quietly. “I always forget how pretty you are.”

  He took a step closer, almost without knowing he was doing it. He wanted to touch her so bad. She gave him a small smile, but he could see the tears rise to her eyes as she turned. Shawn watched as his wife left, shutting the door quietly behind her.

  He had to let her go until he assessed what the threat-level was with Keisha and took care of it. If Chris knew, it might only be a matter of time before the news made it right here to his front door.

  Shawn leaned against the door and sighed. He almost couldn’t believe she’d made it so easy for him. Like all the fight was gone out of her. But he knew better than that. Riley would always choose to fight if she believed the cause was noble, or the reward was worth the battle. If she stopped fighting, it would be because she had begun to withdraw and was beginning to cocoon herself into some small, private, safe place where he would not, could not, penetrate. The idea of it scared him. If she went there, he would lose her for good

  g

  .

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chicago was far worse than he thought it would be. Whenever he looked around, Keisha was there, holding onto him, cornering him, sitting on his lap. If he’d ever harbored any hope that she would be discreet and get the hint that what happened was a one-time occurrence, Shawn quickly gave that up. Even her cousin, Mike thought they were together. Though he avoided her calls and tried to keep as much distance between them as possible, nothing seemed to discourage her. And whenever he looked in Brendan’s direction for help, all he got was a shrug of the shoulders. It was hard to believe now, that at one time he had actually believed there was something attractive about her. Now she was like a rash that wouldn’t go away.

  The morning of the last show Shawn awoke to the sound of torrential rain and dark gray skies. Everyone ate breakfast together in the hotel restaurant waiting to hear from the crew whether the show would be canceled. Finally, around noon, they got word that the wind off Lake Michigan was way too fierce, and the complicated lighting and scaffolding would not be safe even if the rain stopped, which it showed no sign of doing. Shawn wound up in his suite, chilling with Brendan, eating lobster tails, drinking, watching music videos, comparing his skills to the newcomers. This is what his wife thought he did when he was on the road; what he should have been doing to avoid the crap he was going through with Keisha right now.

  Shawn leaned forward, putting down the lobster tail he had in his hand. He was a little drunk, and if he had his way would be plenty more drunk before nightfall. He’d been doing that a lot more lately. Drinking to sleep, drinking to forget, and drinking to stop himself from thinking about his wife.

  “No matter what—even if someone comes in the night and takes you to a field in the middle of nowhere, and put a gun to your head—you have to say you don’t know shit about me and Keisha. Understand what I’m sayin’?”

  Brendan laughed. “Shut up, man. Who exactly would be coming in the night to take me to a field in the middle of nowhere? You’re drunk.”

  “You have to promise me, dawg. Don’t confirm or deny anything.”

  “To who?”

  “Anyone, B. As far as you know, when I’m on the road, all I do is my public appearances, my shows on Saturdays and church on Sundays.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “You know what I mean, man. As far as you know, I’m a choirboy.”

  “You know I got you,” Brendan said, clearly humoring him.

  Sudden pounding on the door made them both jump. Shawn opened the door and let Mike and Darryl in. Just before he shut it, Keisha slipped in behind them. Shawn found himself a place as far away from her as he could manage.

  “With the show canceled, ain’t nothin’ to get into around here,” Mike complained. “Clubs ain’t about nothin’ . . .”

  “It’s raining,” Shawn reminded him. “Hard. And anyways, when do you sleep, kid?”

  Darryl laughed. “We vampires, man. We sleep in daylight.”

  Shawn looked at Brendan and smiled, shaking his head. Watching Mike and Darryl was like seeing a car careen out of control, and with every near miss, you grew more and more certain that the next time the crash would come. So far, Mike and Darryl had avoided it through the grace of God or whatever angel was assigned to look after fools and children.

  “Y’all wan’ play cards or something?” Keisha asked suddenly. “I’m bored too.”

  “You got some cards?” Brendan asked.

  “Yeah. Back in my room,” she jumped up. “We could play strip poker.”

  “I don’t need to see my cousin naked,” Mike said.

  “I’ll get one of the other girls,” Keisha volunteered. She ran out of the room and Brendan started whistling Dixie, literally.

  “I don’ even know how to play poker,” Mike said after a moment.

  “So sit this one out,” Darryl said. “Watch your cousin make a hoochie out of herself. Again.”

  “Yo man, watch what you say about my family.”

  “I’m just sayin’. ‘Cept for you and B, everybody in here can say, ‘Been there, done that’ when it come to Keisha.”

  Mike threw a lobster shell at Darryl’s head and he laughed. “Sorry man, but . . .”

  Keisha returned a few minutes later with a deck of cards and Anita, another of the dancers. Anita was a cute Puerto-Rican girl from the Bronx and kind of a hot number her damn self. When Darryl saw that she was playing, he became downright competitive. Shawn tried to sit out the hand but of course, Keisha insisted and since he was getting no help from Brendan, he sat at the table with everyone else. Mike found his own amusement with television and what was left of the food.

  In the first hour of play, Shawn lost his sweatshirt and Brendan his shoes. In the next, Keisha lost her shoes and the bandana she was wearing. She was sitting directly across from him, and Shawn couldn’t escape the feeling that this whole game was one big striptease orchestrated for his benefit. Anita lost her shoes, jeans and shirt in quick succession, but Darryl was winning and remained fully clothed.

  When Shawn lost his t-shirt and jeans, and was sitting in his boxers, and Keisha wound up taking off her pants, he realized – even in his semi-drunken state - just how out of hand this whole thing could become and announced that he was out.

  “Hold up,” Keisha said. “That mean you have to take everything off.”

  Shawn laughed. “You can forget about that.” He pulled his t-shirt back on and stepped back into his jeans.

  “You’re a cheat,” she said staring into his face. “That’s all. A fuckin’ cheat.”

  “Okay,” Brendan threw down his cards. “This is getting too deep . . . everybody get the fuck out.”

  “Nah, man.” Darryl said. “I was winnin’ though.”

  “Game over, man,” Brendan said.

  Keisha stood in her bra and underwear, stretching her arms above her head. “All y’all are chicken shit,” she said. “What’s the big deal being naked?”

  To emphasize her point, she snapped her bra loose and let it fall. Brendan put a hand over his mouth and Darryl whooped while she also stepped casually out of her underwear. Mike looked over his shoulder and jumped up from in front of the TV.

  “Damn Keisha, why you always doin’ shit like this?”

  Shawn shook his head in exasperation. “Y’know what,” he said. “I’m done. How ‘bout everybody going to their own room?”

  Mike was the first to leave, followed by Anita who looked confused and a little shell-shocked by had just unfolded. Finally, Darryl reluctantly left as well, but only after Brendan promised to make good on his two hundred and fifty dollars of winnings. Brendan and Shawn were left alone with Keisha, who slowly began putting her clothes back on. She looked over at Brendan.

  “So what you doin’ after this?”

  “Sleep,” Brendan said stretching and fabricating a yawn.

  Keisha rolled her eyes, and her neck, violent
ly tugging on her shoes. Finally, she left, slamming the door behind her.

  Shawn and Brendan looked at each other and started laughing at the same time.

  “Yo man,” Brendan said. “I think you just might have some fatal attraction type shit going on with this chick.”

  Shawn nodded. “Remind me when we get back to New York to change all my numbers.”

  “I think it might take a little bit more than that,” Brendan said.

  “What you got in mind?”

  The next morning, Shawn watched as Brendan and Lucy the choreographer assembled all the dancers and while they were sitting on the stage gave them a speech about the wonderful work they’d done and how much they’d contributed to the success of the show. And then he told them that because the remaining venues were so small, their services would no longer be needed. In the midst of the collective moans and groans that went up, Brendan assured them that they would be the first choices for the next tour.

  After the speech was over, some of the dancers came over to thank Shawn for giving them the chance, and he smiled and hugged them, exchanging all the usual parting pleasantries. While he was shaking hands, and kissing people and being Mr. Nice Guy, Shawn caught sight of Keisha. She was standing by herself, arms folded, head cocked to one side and staring right at him with hard, cold eyes.

  As soon as he was alone, he pulled out his phone and took a deep breath. He’d defused a bomb and now it was time to straighten things out at home.

  g

  When they got into JFK late that night, and just as Keisha and three of the other dancers were piling into a shuttle bus, Riley pulled up in the Bentley, honking the horn at him and Brendan. Shawn could see Keisha watching as Riley got out of the driver’s side, tossed Brendan the keys and then walked toward him. She stopped, a few feet away, a small smile on her lips. She still didn’t move to hug him, even now a tiny bit reserved. Shawn walked toward her until he was close enough to touch and reached out, holding onto the hem of her shirt and pulling her against his chest.

  For a moment she just leaned into him, her arms still at her sides. He pressed his forehead against hers and lifted her arms so they were about his neck. Slowly, her smile grew wider. Damn if it didn’t feel good to hold her again. He didn’t care who was watching, or what they thought. They hugged like that for a long time, Shawn glimpsing Keisha’s face in the back of shuttle bus as it pulled away. Her expression was unreadable but if he had to guess, he would say that she was definitely not thinking happy thoughts.

  “C’mon you two,” Brendan said. “It’s late. Let’s go.”

  Riley, now that she was holding him, didn’t seem to want to let go, which only made him feel more like a piece of shit, knowing what he was hiding from her. He would have to make sure that whole deal with Keisha was locked away tight, and then he’d have to find a way to stop thinking about it, because the guilt was making him crazy.

  “I’m glad you’re home,” Riley said, touching the side of his face. Her hand was warm, and Shawn leaned into it, closing his eyes.

  “Yeah, yeah we covered all that,” Brendan said. “Let’s roll.”

  Her touch reminded Shawn that the trickiest part of their reunion still lay ahead. He felt a tightening in his gut, knowing that she would want him tonight. It had been a long time by their standards and he knew that look. But he’d been unprotected when he had sex with Keisha and it would be another week or so before he knew for sure he was in the clear. Until then, he had to figure out a way to avoid sex with his wife. Stupid, stupid, stupid. With her, a week would be an eternity.

  Riley kept up a steady stream of chatter for the entire drive as though telling him everything she hadn’t been able to tell him for the last few weeks. She’d finally come up with an article her editor liked which was coming out in August, her mother was making plans to come to the city for a seminar and was stopping by for dinner a week from Thursday, she’d found a rare first edition of ‘Through the Looking Glass’ that had cost her ten grand and she was planning to drive up to D.C. with Tracy for a Free Tibet March this weekend.

  Shawn heard every word she said but was hardly able to absorb any of it. He was thinking too hard about the Keisha problem. The look on her face while the shuttle pulled away gave him a strange feeling. He wondered whether he might have underestimated her.

  Before he had a chance to strategize about how to manage what was sure to happen when he and Riley were alone, Brendan was pulling up in front of their building and saying he would keep the car for the night.

  “We’ll talk tomorrow, man,” Brendan said significantly.

  Shawn nodded.

  He was stuck. Riley was waiting by the door with Javier for him to bring his bags in. Even from ten feet away, he could feel her pent up energy, her eagerness to be alone with him; a feeling he had as well. But if he had one ounce of decency left after what he did, he would have to use it to resist doing what came most naturally.

  Upstairs, he purposely kept his hands occupied, walking with the bags toward the bedroom rather than dropping them in the foyer as he normally might have done. But still, he barely had time to put them down before she jumped him, kissing him, unbuttoning his shirt, tugging at his jeans. Fuck. She was wild in a way that excited the crap out of him, and always meant the sex was going to be outstanding. Already he could feel himself getting hard. But tonight he couldn’t do it. Just as she was getting started peeling off her tank top he pushed her away firmly but gently.

  “Riley, I’m really tired,” he said shaking his head. It sounded unconvincing even to his ears.

  Her shoulders sagged. “Okay.”

  “I mean, I want to, but . . .”

  “It’s okay,” she said quickly. “Of course you’re tired. Can I get you something? Something to drink or . . .”

  She tried to walk past him but he held her arm, pulling her over to the bed. He pushed her down so that they were laying spoon-fashion. He kissed the back of her neck and reached behind him to turn off the light. In the darkness, he shed his clothes, leaving on his boxer briefs. When she followed suit and stripped down to her underwear, pulling his arm across her, Shawn grimaced. This was not going to be easy.

  Though he could barely see her in the dark, he was acutely aware of how she felt – her skin smooth and warm – and the light citrusy way she smelled; and with each breath she took, her breasts pressed against his forearm. Feeling his excitement, Shawn shifted and put one of the pillows between them, pulling her back toward him again.

  “Is something wrong?” she said in the dark.

  Shawn squeezed his eyes tightly shut. “Nah.”

  “Then why don’t you want . . ?” her voice cracked.

  Shawn swallowed. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he said.

  “Then . . .”

  “I’m just really tired, baby.”

  He didn’t sound any more convincing this time around either. Turning down sex with her was so out of character it was almost comical for him to think that merely being tired would work as an excuse. There had been times when he’d performed onstage for two hours, gone to an after-party till three a.m., flown home, rolled in at eight and still wanted to jump her bones before she left for work. Making love to her was like air to him—he would have to be dead before he could pass that up.

  Unless, like now, he had to pass it up for her own protection.

  “I feel like the only thing between us that always works is broken along with everything else,” Riley said, laughing without any real mirth in her voice.

  “Is that what you think?” Shawn rolled her over so that she was on her back and he was on top of her, his weight resting on his elbows. “That sex is the only thing that works between you and me?”

  “I said the only thing that always works,” she corrected him.

  He rolled away. “Oh, okay. That makes me feel a lot better.”

  “I told you,” she sighed. “That’s not what I meant.”

  He wanted to believe her beca
use as far as he was concerned, for the first time in his life, the sex he had with a woman was just the icing rather than the whole cake. That was why he’d married her. He just wasn’t sure, even now, why she’d married him.

  g

  When Riley left for work, Shawn called Mike, getting Keisha’s number and writing it on the back of the business card of one of the industry people who’d taken him to lunch in Texas. He would call her later, feel her out, and make sure she didn’t have some ill shit planned for his ass. But he had to remember to call her from the mobile. As far as he knew, she didn’t have his home number, so that should take care of one problem. There should be none of that calling and hanging up bullshit, or more importantly, no calls to arrange little chit-chats with Riley.

  Having to sit in his house scheming to keep something from his wife because of triflin’ ass Keisha made him even more pissed off at himself. This shit was too strenuous. Before Riley he hadn’t even bothered pretending he was monogamous.

  Getting to where he was with her right now hadn’t been easy, and no way was he going to lose her over chicken-head Keisha. He called her around noon while watching Sports Center. The TV in the background would provide just the right air of casual conversation that he wanted to fabricate. She had to think everything was cool. That he was calling just to shoot the breeze. But just as he’d known she would be, she was bitter about Riley’s and his public display of affection at the airport.

  “What, you callin’ me because she didn’t give you any last night?” she asked.

  “Nah. C’mon. Don’t be like that. I just wanted to thank you for being cool about B getting rid of all the dancers and everything. I wanted to tell you before you had to hear it from him with everybody else but, you know how it is . . .”

  “No. How is it?”