Commitment

by Forrester, Nia

  “I wouldn’t ask you not to,” Shawn said.

  That was true also. As close to the truth as he could come on this subject.

  “Wow,” Riley said her voice bitter. “So much for the wedding vows.”

  “What does that mean?” Shawn looked at her.

  “It means that you were the one who wanted to say them, and yet you’re the one who at every turn would throw them out the window, that’s what it means.”

  “So I should ask you to stay with me if I got seven years in prison for this shit. Or ten years, or fifteen.” Shawn said incredulously. “That would prove to you that I’m committed to our marriage.”

  “It sounds stupid when you say it like that,” Riley said, her voice holding the hint of a pout.

  “Because it is stupid. No matter how it gets said.”

  “Fine,” she turned her back to him.

  After a moment, Shawn touched her shoulder. “Tell me what you mean then.”

  “What I mean,” she said without turning to face him. “What I mean is that I thought we’d finally settled that either of us walking out on this relationship was off the table. I thought we had that understanding, that’s all.”

  Shawn said nothing.

  He’d gotten what he most wanted when he might be least in a position to benefit from it.

  “So? Are you in this thing or not?” Riley insisted.

  Shawn pulled her closer and put his arms about her. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m in.”

  g

  They were alone in the house since Lorna had left for her afternoon class and Tiny had been relieved the previous morning after Shawn had finally acknowledged that there was probably no real security threat. He was content just so long as he was with her, or she could be reached easily by cell phone.

  Riley surprised herself by beginning to pine for their place in the city. She missed her bed there and Manhattan in general. It had been great spending the last five weeks with Lorna, but now she wanted her own space back and her old routines. The initial interest in Shawn’s case had waned in a degree proportionate to the flow of new information and even MTV failed to mention it at all in most of their news briefs. Life had evolved into a new normal that included waking up late, taking walks in town to have breakfast at the Waffle House, or playing pool and grabbing dinner at the Spotted Pig.

  Shawn had been called back before the grand jury twice more, as had several other people, including Brendan. Riley hadn’t been subpoenaed which she found frustrating, and Shawn viewed as a relief. The process plodded along at such a snail’s pace that it would have been exhausting to maintain the same level of fear and trepidation she’d had at the beginning.

  Most days now, she barely thought about it at all. Instead, she thought about how much calmer Shawn was, and how he spent hours reading and writing and having spirited and good-natured arguments with Lorna. She was learning new things about her husband every day.

  In this place, far away from his fast-paced and chaotic other life, she was discovering that he had a keen mind, significant intellectual curiosity and an innate sense of what was true and what was inauthentic. If she thought she’d loved him before, it was only because she hadn’t conceived of a feeling as profound as the one she now had when she looked at him across the dinner table or listened with amusement when he called Lorna out on her penchant for hyperbole.

  He was downstairs now on the phone with Doug and she was lounging in bed with a well-worn and often read book. As soon as they heard Lorna leave, they’d had noisy sex in the shower and tumbled back into bed before Shawn remembered ten minutes after the appointed time that he had a conference call with the legal team. He’d been on the phone for about forty minutes and Riley could hear the low rumble of his voice, steady and unexcited, so it was unlikely that anything had changed significantly. But when he returned to the bedroom, Shawn’s eyes were animated and he was buzzing with new energy.

  “Mike testified yesterday,” he told her.

  Riley put the book aside and sat up. Keisha’s cousin had been dodging the subpoena for awhile, probably out of family loyalty. He alone could testify that Keisha had planned to lie to the police and prosecutors; that she’d wanted to get back at Shawn and thought a rape charge was the way to do it. But he had been flying around the country promoting his new CD, and giving a series of excuses to Chris and others who tried to pressure him to come back to New York and tell what he knew.

  “Do we know how it went?” she asked.

  “Nope. But if he tells the truth . . .” Shawn didn’t finish the thought.

  “So what now?”

  “We wait and see,” Shawn sat next to her on the bed and placed a hand on her leg.

  “I have a thought,” Riley said.

  Shawn looked at her. “What’s that?”

  “Let’s go home.”

  They packed while waiting for Lorna to arrive and were surprised at the volume of clothing and personal items they had accumulated over the past few weeks. Finally, Shawn lost patience and left some of his stuff in the closet. They had three duffle bags on the backseat and were ready to go when Lorna returned from the college, carrying a sack of beignets from the campus bakery.

  “It’s time we gave you your house back,” Riley told her as she started a pot of coffee.

  “I hardly even notice you’re here,” Lorna said with a wink.

  “You know you’re happy to see us go,” Shawn teased her.

  “I am not,” she said looking at him. “But I suppose I can get used to a quiet house again.”

  “You have to come see us sometimes too, Lorna” Riley said. “Promise.”

  “I can’t think in the city,” Lorna said. “Twenty-four hours is about all I can stand. That I can promise.”

  “For Thanksgiving then,” Riley pressed.

  “No, we should do that here,” Shawn said surprising them both.

  Pulling away from the house, they were both quiet and Shawn slid in a CD without looking at it. Cameron Cole’s voice boomed out of the speakers and they looked at each other at the same time, laughing out loud.

  “Uh, no,” Riley said, shutting the player off.

  The condo was still and quiet when they got in. The air smelled a little stale and there were dead flowers on the table in the living room. The bedroom looked as it had when they left, and there were towels on the floor in the master bathroom. The refrigerator was empty, Riley having asked Tracy to dispose of its contents about a week ago. But despite all of that, it was great to be home; almost exhilarating.

  “This feels weird,” Riley said, dumping her bag on the floor in the bedroom.

  “Good weird or bad weird?” Shawn asked from the bathroom.

  “Good weird,” she said right away.

  She threw herself across the bed and inhaled the sheets, their smells—hers and Shawn’s were somehow still preserved even after so much time. He emerged from the bathroom and stood in the doorway regarding her with a slight smile on his face.

  “So I was thinking about meeting Brendan over at Chris’ office,” he said. “To talk about business stuff.”

  “Oh.”

  For some reason she’d expected that he would hang out with her all day, the way he had at Lorna’s. But of course, that wasn’t realistic. Lorna’s house had been a refuge and this was the real world. Within a day his calendar would be full again and they would see less and less of each other. She’d forgotten that part when she suggested they come home.

  “You want to come with me?”

  Riley looked up.

  “Unless you think you’ll be bored.”

  “No,” she said quickly. “I won’t be bored.”

  It was almost five when they got to Chris’ but he didn’t look like he was anywhere close to winding down his day. He was on the phone when Shawn and Riley were led into his office and motioned for them to sit on the burgundy leather sofa that had so impressed her on her only other visit here. Shawn made himself at home, walking over to the b
ar and grabbing a beer, holding one up for Riley before she shook her head. Chris seemed to be doing more listening than talking on his call, and finally cut it short, telling the person on the other end that he had another meeting. When he hung up, he came from behind his immense desk, arms extended toward Riley.

  “Well, well,” he said. “Look who’s risen from the dead.”

  Riley stood and let him hug her. He pulled back and touched the top of her head.

  “You look good, girl.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You gave my guy all kinds of hell,” he said referring to Tiny. “He said you were like Houdini and shit. Slipping away without telling him and all kinds of mess. Driving into other cars.”

  “It was one time. And that was a parking barrier, not another car.”

  “Well, whatever it was, I think you traumatized him.” Chris had moved on to Shawn, giving him a brief hug as well before they all settled around the coffee table.

  “B’s on his way.” Shawn said. “We wanted to talk business for a minute. See what’s cooking out there that I can get into.”

  “Shit, there’s all kinds of things I can get you into,” Chris said. “Question is whether now is the time. The DA might come down on you harder; the grand jurors might not like you out there acting like a rape charge is just a minor inconvenience in your high-roller lifestyle.”

  “I feel you, but I’m not talking about high-profile shit. I’m talking about industry-heavy events. Just so the labels know I’m still breathing. Shit like that.”

  “Well, first things first. What’s up with that interview and photo spread Darnell and them was putting together.”

  “I think it’s out next month,” Riley said. “Brendan would know.”

  “How’d it go? What’d you talk about?”

  “The pictures ain’t nuthin’ but the truth,” Shawn said. “But with interviews, you never know, right? How’d you feel about it, baby?”

  “I thought it went okay. I mean, he asked me some tough questions . . .”

  “Like what?” Chris asked.

  “Like why I stay. Whether I believed Shawn when he said he didn’t assault anyone. He asked about the fight in the Hamptons with Cameron. How my mother was handling it. Stuff like that.”

  Riley could feel Shawn grow tense next to her. She hadn’t discussed the interview with him at length. They’d avoided it in fact.

  “But he also wanted to know how we met, how Shawn proposed. Other stuff that balanced it out, I think.”

  “And he talked to your Moms, right?”

  “Yeah. But only for a few minutes. It was good. She told me it was good,” Riley said, looking at Shawn reassuringly.

  Chris shrugged. “We’ll see, right?”

  “So what you got?” Shawn asked.

  “Couple folks might like you on their tracks. If you’re interested.”

  “Who we talkin’ ‘bout?”

  Chris named a few high-profile artists, including the one Shawn had been photographed with on the cover of the tabloid so long ago.

  “Let’s do it,” Shawn said. “Make it happen.”

  “Which?”

  “All of them,” Shawn said.

  “Okay. So this is it? You want to come back hard.

  “I can’t act like I’m planning on going to jail, man. That’s what I know.”

  Chris nodded. “Okay. Let’s talk details.”

  After Brendan showed up, they spent another two hours at Chris office talking about possible public engagements that Shawn might take on. As it grew later, they toyed with the idea of going out for dinner but finally ordered in and continued strategizing late into the evening. It was Brendan who finally stood up and announced that he was bushed and had to go home. Only then did Riley notice that it was almost eleven p.m. She’d been completely absorbed in the conversation and the planning, she hadn’t even noticed as night fell.

  “We should roll too,” Shawn said stretching his arms above his head and yawning.

  “I got a few more things I need to take care of here,” Chris said. “Holla at me tomorrow and we’ll get the show on the road.”

  “You’re not going home?” Riley asked.

  Chris laughed. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

  As they headed out of the building, Shawn draped an arm across Riley’s shoulders and pulled her closer to him.

  “You want to ride with me for the radio station stuff tomorrow?” he asked.

  Brendan had set up three morning drop-ins at local radio stations while they were in Chris’ office as part of the campaign to show that Shawn was not “in hiding.” The ground rules he’d given the program directors were that the legal issues could be alluded to but not discussed at length, that Shawn was not, under any circumstances, be subjected to calls from listeners, with or without prescreening; and that his total airtime should not exceed fifteen minutes.

  It was an easy sell because despite his legal troubles, his album was still in the Top 5 and sales were holding strong. The first drop in was at seven a.m. at the top-rated radio show in the tri-state area and the other two closely followed so that he would be done by nine. Riley could vaguely recall him having done these before. They were something he generally left really early for, sometimes returning even before she was out the door for work. She’d never been particularly curious about them before.

  “I would like that,” she said.

  “Up by six, out by six-thirty,” he warned.

  “Shawn. I think I can handle it,” she said rolling her eyes.

  He brushed a finger along the side of her nose. “I know you can.”

  g

  Riley, naked, in the bathroom crying was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes. Shawn blinked, not entirely certain that he was actually awake. The time, he saw out of the corner of his eye, was five-fifty a.m. Riley’s hair was wet, as though she’d just taken a shower and a pile of nightclothes lay on the floor at her feet. He sat up, and hearing the movement, she turned in his direction. Upon seeing that he was awake, Riley immediately wiped her face and reached for a towel, retreating further into the bathroom.

  “Baby?”

  “I’ll be out in a sec,” she said. Her voice was thick with tears.

  Shawn found her sitting on the edge of the tub, having pulled on a pair of blue cotton panties. As he stepped over the nightshirt on the floor he noted the bloodstains.

  “You okay?” he sat next to her and pulled her to him. She was shivering a little so he reached for the towel that was draped across her knees and wrapped it about her bare shoulders.

  “Fine,” she said, trying to smile. “It’s nothing.”

  Shawn glanced at the clothes she’d shed and she followed his gaze.

  “Oh,” she gave a brief mirthless laugh. “I got my period.”

  Shawn nodded. “You want me to get you something? D’you have cramps?”

  “No,” Riley shook her head. “I don’t have cramps.”

  Shawn said nothing. Okay. No cramps. So this was some weird mood swing thing, then.

  “I just . . .” she stopped and then she was crying again. “I was late. I was really late.”

  It took him a moment to understand what she meant. Then he waited for her to continue.

  “I thought . . .” she gulped for air and sobbed, forcing words he couldn’t make out.

  Shawn leaned in and gently turned her head so she was looking directly him. “You thought . . . ?” he prompted.

  “I thought I was pregnant,” she said. “I was late and I was scared I might be. And then I wanted to be. And now . . . now I’m not.”

  Then she was crying so hard it was impossible for her to continue. She turned and wrapped both arms about him, her face buried in his neck like a little kid. Shawn hugged her back and let her cry, lifting her and taking her back to bed.

  They lay together, his arms wrapped about her waist.

  “You wanted to be?” he whispered.

  She nodded, her shoul
ders heaving as she cried.

  Shawn wasn’t sure he was ready, but knowing that she would have wanted to be pregnant made him unexpectedly ecstatic. She never stopped surprising him.

  “It . . . it would have been rotten timing, I know,” she said, her voice small. “But I was starting to think about it and I . . . don’t know. I started getting excited at the idea. Stupid, I know.”

  She turned around in his arms so that she was facing him. Shawn traced a finger down the center of her forehead, over her nose and down her chin, under her neck. When he got to her chest, he cupped one of her breasts, swollen and full. He imagined what she would look like pregnant and swollen with his baby, and was immediately aroused. He lowered his head to kiss her breasts, cupping them in his hands.

  “No baby, not stupid at all,” he said and he raised his head, pressing his lips to hers.

  g

  There was something about having her there while he was in his element. Like the first time she saw him perform live in L.A. Shawn liked watching Riley watch him; liked reading the expressions that crossed her face as she listened to him and saw the way others reacted to what he said.

  She was in the sound booth with him at HOT 97’s morning show, and had been introduced by the deejays to the audience and described as “K Smooth’s beautiful wife, Riley Gardner who has a hip, downtown chick vibe going on.” When they asked her what she was up to lately she’d coolly responded that she was on sabbatical from Power to the People and working on a couple of independent writing projects.

  Now she was sitting back on a swivel chair, her feet folded beneath her Indian-style, her head cocked to one side, listening as he responded to the softballs lobbed at him. Then, in a clever sidestepping of the real issues of infidelity and the rape charge, one of the deejays asked whether recent events had given him any insight about how to handle the pressures his career exerted on his marriage.

  Shawn took a deep breath. It was a question he had to be prepared for, since it was likely to be asked over and over again.

  “To be honest with you,” he said. “If I’m guilty of anything, it’s forgetting what’s important to me for a minute. I was wrong. What’s important to me is my wife, my life with her and the future we want to build together. Everything else runs a distant second to that.”