Man of Fantasy

by Rochelle Alers

  Covering her face with a napkin, Simone laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks. It was her father who’d grumbled incessantly about her having a Vegas wedding, so incessantly that she and her husband had decided to renew their vows before their families.

  The toasts were kept to a minimum, and after votives were set on each table and the lights in the chandeliers were dimmed, Rafael Madison led his bride out onto the dance floor for their first dance as husband and wife. A DJ had replaced the string quartet.

  Then Simone danced with her father, and Rafael led his mother around the floor. There were gasps of surprise, because some in attendance were unaware that, despite his appearance, Rafael Madison was of mixed race.

  Nayo overheard a woman at a table behind her whisper that although she wasn’t into blonds, she’d make an exception in his case because the delicious-looking groom could put his shoes under her bed anytime he wanted.

  The DJ spun an amazing repertoire of songs, ranging from slow jams to club favorites, and Nayo lost count and couldn’t remember the faces of the men who spun her around the dance floor. She found herself back in Ivan’s arms for a slow number. She rested her head on his shoulder.

  “I can’t remember the last time I danced this much.”

  Tightening his arm around her waist, Ivan pulled her closer. “Do they have hip-hop in Beaver Run?”

  “You got jokes about my hometown?”

  Ivan pressed his mouth to her ear. “No. I just thought with a name like Beaver Run, folks would be into country.”

  “We have the luxury of mixing Rascal Flatts with Kanye West, while throwing in a little JT.”

  “Who’s JT?”

  “Justin Timberlake.”

  Ivan smiled. Either he was getting old or he was out of the loop. He was more up on what was happening in popular culture when he’d headed the mental-health research center in D.C. than now. He taught college-level courses and had a private practice with patients who came to him exhibiting myriad psychological problems and disorders.

  “Thanks for the update,” he said.

  “You’re welcome. You need to get out more, Ivan.”

  He dipped Nayo, his mouth inches from hers, before he brought her up. Unknowingly, Nayo had just given him the perfect opening for courting her. “Will you help me?”

  Pulling back slightly, Nayo stared up at him. “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “Will you go with me if I decide to get out more?”

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “I’ll go wherever it is you go,” he said cryptically.

  “Are you willing to give up your Sunday football get-togethers to spend your Sunday afternoons with me at museums or art galleries, which is what I usually do?”

  “What else do you do?”

  “I take walking tours of different neighborhoods photographing things and people I find interesting. Weather is never a factor when I decide to walk. However, I make exceptions for blizzards and tropical storms. Do you think you’d like to hang out with me?”

  “It sounds interesting.”

  “It’s interesting, educational and enlightening. I find myself talking to people I would’ve ignored if I didn’t have a camera. One time I asked a homeless man if I could shoot him, and he said I could if I paid for him to eat.”

  “Did you?”

  Nayo nodded, smiling. “He was very patient when I snapped several candid shots, then we went to a nearby coffee shop and I told him to order whatever he wanted. We got a few dirty looks from some of the customers when we walked in. A waitress opened her mouth to tell me she couldn’t serve him, but after I put a tongue-lashing on that heifer, she hung her head in shame.”

  “Why are they always heifers, Nayo?”

  “I’d rather call them heifers than bitches. Once we were seated I noticed something about the man for the first time. Although his clothes appeared dirty, he didn’t smell dirty. When I mentioned this to him, he finally admitted that he was an actor who was researching a role for a part in an independent film to be shot on location on the Lower East Side. The clothes came from a studio’s wardrobe department.”

  “Did he get the part?”

  “He was selected to be in the film, but when the director saw his audition, he was so impressed with his acting that he gave him a bigger role.”

  “Do you still keep in touch?”

  “We e-mail each other several times a year and get together whenever he’s on the East Coast. A couple of years ago he went to London and found what he says was his calling when he bought a pub. He and some other actors stage their own productions for the locals and tourists. All I can say is he’s very, very happy.”

  Ivan tried making out the expression on Nayo’s face in the muted light. “What about you, Nayo?”

  “What about me?” she asked.

  “Are you happy?”

  “I’d rather use the word content.”

  “Could your life be better?”

  “How, Ivan? You tell me how it could be better. I’m not homeless or hungry and I have my health. My career is taking off and I have a dream job that pays well and permits me the time I need to indulge in my fantasies.”

  Pressing his mouth to her scented neck, Ivan breathed, “What do you fantasize about?”

  Nayo gasped. “I can’t tell you that!”

  “I can always put you on my couch for counseling. After a couple of sessions I won’t have to ask you about your fantasies, because you’ll open up and tell me.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “You can’t have it both ways, darling. Either I’m on your couch or in your bed. It can’t be both.”

  Ivan knew she was right. He wasn’t going to risk losing his license because he couldn’t resist sleeping with a patient. Once he began sleeping with Nayo he wanted her to be the last woman in his life.

  Even before meeting her, he’d tired of dating a different woman every two or three months. What he hadn’t been able to fathom from the first time he, Kyle and Duncan began frequenting clubs was why they never had to employ cheesy pickup lines to get a woman’s attention. Women came to them like bees to flowers, sometimes offering to indulge in unspeakable acts that left them more shaken than curious.

  Ivan didn’t think of himself as a prude, yet drew the line when it came too close to what he knew to be deviant. He’d had his share of one-night stands, each one leaving him more unfulfilled than the one before it. After a while he stopped sleeping with women for a period of time, using the respite as a chance for renewal and rediscovery. When he hadn’t gone to New York to reconnect with his friends, they drove down to D.C. to see him, because whenever he went into a funk, he neglected to call those closest to him.

  A meltdown sent him to his own therapist who, after two sessions, identified the source of his anxiety. Whenever he celebrated a birthday he was reminded that Jared wasn’t there to celebrate with him. Some years he didn’t know what was worse—not having Jared there for their birthday or recalling with vivid clarity the exact day and time of his twin’s death.

  “Ivan?”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “You just zoned out on me.”

  “What did I say?”

  “It’s what you didn’t say. Let’s go back to the table.”

  Smiling, Ivan swung Nayo around and around in an intricate dance step. “I learned that watching Dancing with the Stars,” he said proudly.

  “Showoff.”

  “Hell, yeah!”

  “Excuse me, brother,” Kyle said, tapping him on the shoulder, “but I promised myself that I would dance with every beautiful woman here tonight.”

  Ivan started to protest, but it was too late. Kyle was dancing off with Nayo, leaving him standing in the middle of the dance floor staring at her petite body pressed against his friend’s.

  Wending his way between swaying couples, he walked over to the bar and ordered a black dog. The moment he asked the bartender for the cocktail he remembered he’d drunk both his
and Nayo’s the night they went out on their first date, a night that ended with them leaving the party because he hadn’t been able to deal with an unfounded jealousy.

  What he hadn’t known at the time was that he really liked the pretty photographer, liked her without knowing anything more about her except her name and that she took incredible photographs.

  Reaching into the pocket of his trousers, he left a bill on the bar, nodding to the startled bartender when he saw the denomination. Lifting his glass in a salute, he walked back to his table.

  * * *

  Kyle smiled down at the woman in his arms. “Ava told me you’re going to photograph our wedding.”

  “Yes,” Nayo said. “I can’t believe I’m going to the Caribbean during the coldest month of the year in the Northeast.”

  “That’s why we decided to get married at a tropical location.”

  “How many are on your guest list?”

  “Forty.”

  “That’s a small wedding.”

  Nayo had been to weddings where there were more than three hundred guests, seeing the bride and groom overwhelmed by having to acknowledge each guest personally.

  “Ava and I wanted to limit it to immediate family and close friends. And because we’re holding it at a private resort, we booked all the rooms for the week leading up to and including Valentine’s Day. If anyone wants to take a free, all-inclusive vacation, then they’re welcome to come for the week.”

  “That is sweet!”

  Kyle winked at her. “I’d say it is.”

  “How many are going to be in the wedding party?”

  “Six. Duncan’s going to be my best man, and Ivan and Micah Sanborn will be groomsmen. Ava’s sister will be her matron of honor, and Tamara and a coworker will be attendants.”

  Nayo studied the exquisite bones of Kyle Chatham’s face. She’d seen African masks with the same slant of eyes and cheekbones. “Ivan told me he’s going to be Duncan’s best man.”

  Kyle’s eyes narrowed when he met the round-eyed gaze of the woman who’d changed his best friend. “Of all the women Ivan has gone out with, I can honestly say you top the list.”

  “He’s slept with that many women?”

  “I didn’t say he slept with them. And I really don’t know how many women Ivan has dated.”

  “You had to see him with quite a few to make that statement.”

  “If we were in a court of law, I’d ask the jury to disregard the statement.”

  Nayo realized Kyle was either sorry he’d broached the subject or was trying to cover up his faux pas. “Consider it stricken from the record,” she teased, smiling.

  Kyle knew he had to closely monitor what he said to Nayo Goddard. His comparing her to the other women in Ivan’s life was meant to be a compliment, not an opportunity to out his brother about what had become a revolving-door dating game. He’d dated his share of women, too, but Ivan had outdistanced him and Duncan before they were twenty-five. Kyle didn’t know what it was, but women were drawn to Ivan’s brooding face and personality. More than once he’d heard women refer to him as a “tortured soul.”

  There was no doubt Ivan and Duncan had experienced traumatic losses, but it was Ivan who’d witnessed death and murder firsthand when his twin brother breathed his last in his arms.

  The musical selection ended, and Kyle escorted Nayo back to their table. Duncan and Ivan stood up with their approach.

  Nayo sat next to Ivan, smiling when he winked at her. “What are you drinking?”

  “It’s a black dog.”

  “Why does that sound so familiar?” she crooned. In a motion, too quick for the eye to follow, she reached for the old-fashioned glass and put it to her lips. Those at the table watched with wide eyes as she downed the drink, then touched the corners of her mouth with a napkin.

  Ivan couldn’t move. “Oh, sh—” He managed to swallow the expletive.

  “Damn!” Kyle and Duncan chorused.

  Tamara gave Ava a fist bump. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

  Ava flashed a grin. “I told you that little bit could hang.”

  Kyle stared at Ivan, then Duncan. “It sounds as if the ladies just challenged us to a throw-down.”

  “No, the ladies didn’t,” Nayo countered.

  “Didn’t you say something about hangin’?” Duncan drawled.

  Tamara pulled her fiancé’s ear. “To us hanging doesn’t mean doing shots, darling.”

  Kyle cut his eyes at his two friends. “I’m glad you clarified that, because anytime you ladies want a throw-down, we’ll oblige.”

  “Speak for yourself, brother,” Ivan said, deadpan. “I learned a long time ago that females are more competitive than their male counterparts, and it usually ends up with them winning or a no-contest.”

  Kyle and Duncan exchanged a look, then threw their napkins at Ivan, who’d dissolved into a paroxysm of laughter that had other guests staring at their table. Their antics set the stage for a frivolity that lasted until Simone and Rafe cut their cake and the waitstaff distributed pieces of it as souvenirs.

  A hush descended on the ballroom when Simone walked over to Nayo and handed her the bridal bouquet. Kyle and Duncan crossed their arms over their chests as if they’d rehearsed the gesture and stared at a stunned Ivan.

  “Are you holding out on us, Campbell?”

  Ivan stared at Nayo as she glared at him. “No.”

  The tense moment passed when Nayo excused herself, picked up her evening bag and went to the restroom. There, she sat on a cushioned bench in the lounge area, trying to fathom exactly what had gone on in the ballroom.

  Why had Simone given her the bouquet when the tradition was to throw it to the single women and the one to catch it would be the next one to marry? Looping one leg over the other, her shoe-clad foot beat a tattoo on the marble floor.

  The door opened and she glanced up to find Tamara staring at her. “I’m all right,” she said before the doctor could say anything.

  “May I sit?” Tamara asked.

  “Sure.” She moved over and Tamara sat beside her.

  Reaching for Nayo’s hand, Tamara held it, surreptitiously taking her pulse. “You love him, don’t you?”

  Nayo stared at the statuesque woman with the gorgeous face. Tonight Tamara wore her hair in a mass of tiny curls that floated above her bared shoulders. There was no doubt Tamara and Duncan would produce beautiful children.

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Maybe not to Ivan, but it is to me and Ava.”

  “Damn, I didn’t think I was that transparent.”

  “You’re no more transparent than Ivan.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Your boyfriend has a real bad case of the love jones.”

  Nayo sat up straighter. “How do you know this?”

  “To say I’m nosy is an understatement,” Tamara admitted, smiling. “I stayed over at Duncan’s place one night last week and I heard him on the phone with Kyle. He thought I was asleep when he activated the speaker feature on his phone because he was going through his closet looking for a particular jacket. They were talking about Ivan, about how he’s changed since he started seeing you. Kyle said that he’d asked Ivan how he felt about you, and the L-word came up. Then Duncan said something about Ivan’s going to be the next one to pop the question. And of course I took that to mean that he’s going to ask you to marry him.”

  Nayo closed her eyes as she felt the hot sting of tears behind her eyelids. “Even if he does ask me, I can’t accept.”

  “Why not, Nayo? You’re in love with the man. I don’t mind admitting that if I’d met Ivan first, I would’ve been all over him. He’s brilliant, gorgeous and he passed the test.”

  Nayo opened her eyes. “What test?”

  “When you asked him to go to the supermarket in the middle of a football game, he didn’t hesitate. Duncan’s a pussycat, but if I’d had asked to go he would’ve turned on me like a rogue lion. He’s never let m
e forget I asked him to buy a home pregnancy test for Tessa the day we hosted a party to celebrate Ava and Kyle’s engagement. Kyle and Ivan still tease him about it.”

  “Ivan’s very accommodating.”

  “That’s because Ivan is in love with you, Nayo. I was married before, so I’m familiar with dogs masquerading as men. I work in a male-dominated profession, which means I’ve dealt with the good ones, the not-so-good ones and a few I would like to shave with a scalpel. A word of advice—act tardy, and some other woman will come along and scoop up your man.”

  “He’s never said that he loves me.”

  “Men are slow like that, Nayo. They’ll usually blurt out all kinds of stuff when they’re ejaculating. Close your mouth, girl, because I’m sure you’ve heard it.”

  Nayo nodded in agreement. Ivan had told her he loves the way she makes him feel whenever he’s inside her; he loves her smell; he loves her face, body, but he has yet to say he loves her.

  “When I got involved with Ivan it wasn’t to get a husband, Tamara.”

  “Were you ever married?”

  “No.”

  “Engaged?”

  “Once,” Nayo admitted. “I ended it because I found out he was using me.”

  Tamara twisted her lush mouth. “I belonged to the same club. Don’t you want to marry?”

  “Yes, but not now.”

  A beat passed as Tamara gave the photographer a pointed look. “What’s stopping you, Nayo?”

  “My career. I’m not where I want to be in my career.”

  “And neither am I, but I’m not going to let that stop me from grasping a little happiness before I die. Duncan had planned to marry the weekend following the World Trade Center disaster, but it never happened because his fiancée was one of the thousands who lost their lives that day. I worked for thirty-six hours without sleep and I always wonder if he was one of the people who came to the hospital looking for word of their loved ones. When those people got up that morning, they never envisioned not coming home.

  “Come June I plan to marry Duncan Gilmore and hopefully get pregnant on my wedding night. Our marriage is not going to be easy, because I’ll be working nights and Duncan days. But whenever we’re together, I’m going to make certain it’s quality time.”