“Why? Do you think it will steal your soul, or something?”
“What?”
“Bad attempt at historical humor,” he muttered through a tempered simper. “It went so much better in my head.”
“I understood it. What I meant is that, people can’t be trusted nowadays.”
“Could people ever have been trusted? It’s about having the right people on your side, right? Anyway, I get that…now. I would’ve given you the film if you just told me your concern back then. That would’ve been a proper exchange of communication. See how that works, Nikki?”
“I’m really sorry,” I said in earnest. Never bothered by my inability to communicate effectively, at the moment, the skill I lacked weighed on me.
Eric no longer hid his smile as it turned broad, friendly, and warm. “It’s okay. Problem solved.”
“And this…” I shoved his sweater towards him. “Freshly laundered.”
The door creaked open. A woman stepped from behind the door in a dress that clung so tightly to her body, I could see her pelvic bones. “Eric? Are you coming in?” she questioned with a heavy southern drawl. “I think the sauce is burning.” She stepped forward with her arms folded and sized me up. “Who is she?”
“Nikki…Tamala.”
“Nikki?” she asked with a giggle. “Your name is really just Nikki, or is that short for something?”
“It was a pet name derived from my middle name. My father used to call me that. My first name is Diouana.”
“That’s worse.”
Eric shot a perturbed look at his female friend. She looked uncomfortable for a moment and took a step back from the door. With a lightened expression, he nodded his invitation to me.
I looked around, noting that the interior of the house didn’t look structurally different from my mother’s home.
“Were you named after the character in Le Noire de?” Eric asked me as we walked down the hall alongside one another with Tamala trailing behind us.
Slightly surprised that he was familiar with the film, I eased up on the cold front. “And just like her, I slit my wrist once.” The truth was more than once.
Eric immediately froze in his position. Tamala gaped at me with her eyes full of horror. With the way they gawked at me, I regretted sharing the information. It reminded me of how my mother would berate me about my communication skills. She said I never said the appropriate things at the appropriate time. When her sickness took hold, she ceased caring about filtering her words, too.
“Look, I don’t do this,” I said. “I don’t know why I’m doing this—this posturing. I’m not any good at it. I came here to give you back the camera and to talk to you. I thought you’d be alone, so we could talk. But as expected, a guy like you has dogs hot on his scent and—” I looked at Tamala. “—bitches can be very territorial, so I’m going to just go.”
Tamala dramatically swung her hips as she approached me. “Did you just call me a dog and a bitch?”
“Actually…you were redundant. They are one in the same. So, yes, I did.”
Tamala charged after me, forcing Eric to immediately stand between her and me. He glanced back at Tamala. “Check on the sauce and give us a few minutes alone.”
Tamala rolled her eyes, but did as Eric asked.
Eric considered me with concern. “Stay. Whatever you need to talk to me about can wait until after dinner. I need to take away any and every excuse you have to leave early.”
“I told you.” I shook my head vehemently with a frown. “This isn’t fun for me. I don’t want to be here. It will get worse when your friends arrive. Either way, I wouldn’t use an excuse when I wanted to leave. I would just…leave.”
“I don’t know what you’re used to, but my friends are a decent bunch of characters. You’ll have fun.”
“Fun?” I asked as if it was an impossibility.
“I’ll personally make sure of it.” He turned to walk inside the kitchen.
I nodded, following in step. He hadn’t convinced me on why I should stay. Also, I wasn’t convinced that he could somehow make me have fun. The fact that I would be around a crowd of people I didn’t know, wasn’t a good start to my idea of fun.
My mother’s wishes were at my command. I would’ve done anything for her.
At the moment I reached the kitchen, Tamala continuously glowered at me while absentmindedly stirring the sauce.
I gave her a look, telling her I wasn’t in the mood to work some sort of pageant stage to win Eric’s affections. She turned back to the sauce, gripping the handle of the spoon tightly as she muttered inaudible things under her breath. Eric took over the duty, prying her hands from the spoon, and closed the lid.
I remained on the other side of the kitchen island and fingered the erratic marble design in the granite. I looked around the mostly unpacked house. Everything was black and white…too clean. Sharp edges and modern fixtures abounded. The walls were a stark white juxtaposed against the black stained concrete floor. I expected someone as cocksure as Eric to have photographs of himself on every wall and in every room of the house. Instead, large still life photographs of inanimate objects were affixed to the walls.
“What are you making?” I asked because it seemed like the appropriate thing to say, not because I cared to know.
“Realize we never had a formal introduction. Think we should have one with whatever it is you’re going to tell me later. I have a feeling it’s heavy.”
“I know your name.” I turned my eyes back to his. “You know mine. No point.”
“It’s a new start.” He turned around and leaned across the counter. “I’m Eric, and you are?”
As I whirled my eyes around, I offered him a temperate smile. “Nikki.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Nikki. Can I just say—” Slowly, his eyes grazed down my body, taking the most time at my exposed legs. “—you look incredible.” He extended his hand to me. When I didn’t comply, his eyes narrowed and his fingers gesticulated.
I gave him my hand. He carefully brought it to his lips, placing the full extent of his pucker on the back of my hand. Titling towards me, he circled his thumb around my palm. His gaze remained trained to my legs, and his smile turned up at the corners. Twisting in my position, I tried to retreat. His grip strengthened. “You’re supposed to say thank you.” His baritone voice lowered a few decibels.
“I don’t say anything that I’m supposed to say. Can I have my hand back?”
“I’m getting that.” He stood strong, dropping my hand and straightening his broad shoulders. The look on his face turned grim. “Did you mean what you said earlier? Did you attempt to end your life?”
I shrugged, because I no longer wanted to get into it.
His eyelashes cast a dark shadow over his eyes as he regarded me. “Why behave like it isn’t serious? You were—are so facetious about it.”
“Because, I’m still alive.”
“Nikki,” he groaned with a softness that did something odd to my insides. He walked around the counter, standing a mere few inches in front of me. “I know with what’s going on with your mother, things can be pretty rough. Are you still having those thoughts?”
“Eric?” I quickly tossed my head from side to side at his attempt to play therapist chair with me. “Don’t.”
Tamala hung on the counter, listening to our every word. She seemed to grow more unsettled every second that Eric gave me his attention. “Nikki,” he called my attention back to him. “Tamala’s not my girlfriend, if that’s your concern.”
“Who said I had concerns?”
“We can keep doing this back and forth thing, but, eventually, you’ll answer my question.”
I fiddled with my fingers as they suddenly went stiff. “It’s not something I’m going to talk about with you. I said what I wanted to say. I’m not saying anything more.”
“I thought I made myself clear, you don’t get a say in that.”
“I do, if you’re having a conversat
ion with yourself.”
“Goddamn, woman,” he muttered underneath his breath. “You’re so difficult.” He folded his arms, contemplating me with uncomfortable scrutiny as he seemed to forget the woman who wedged her way between us.
She seemed suddenly panicked as she waved her arms in front of his face. “You’re going to start a fire in the kitchen.”
He shook his head, snapping out of whatever state he was in. “What is this?” He gesticulated with his finger between him and me. “I didn’t think you would come.”
“You sort-of demanded that I attend.”
“I don’t think I broke you in. No. You came here closed down…still. I don’t think you fixed the camera out of the kindness of your iced over heart.”
I crossed my arms behind my back. “You think I want something?”
“I know you want something. That’s what the talk is about, correct? Is it something that exclusively benefits you? Or is it something that benefits both of us?”
I scratched at the back of my neck, feeling like someone exposed it to a sudden burst of pressure steam. “Are you scared of what it might be?”
He lifted an unamused brow. “For the record, fear is not something I ever feel.”
“Everyone is afraid of something.”
Tamala cleared her throat. “Eric? Like seriously, check the sauce.”
Without moving from his position, he regarded Tamala with a crushing coldness “As far as I remember, you don’t cook. So, I think I have that department down very well.”
“You know how I love your pomodoro sauce.” She gave him a flirtatious smile and pushed out her cleavage. “I just want to make sure you don’t get too distracted by her, because she’s a shiny new piece of ass.”
Eric and I contemplated Tamala with varying degrees of question. The sudden attention seemed to make her uncomfortable. “Hey...is Melonie coming?”
“As far as I know,” Eric said through a monotone.
Tamala sighed heavily and moved over to the bar to pour herself a drink.
“Is she making you uncomfortable?” Eric asked in a quiet tone. “My roommate invited her here to fuck with me. If she’s bothering you, she’s gone. No questions asked.”
“What are you making?” I asked, stepping over to the stove.
“Orecchiette with broccoli rabe.” He joined my side at the stove, never letting his gaze fall away from me.
“Not sure what that is.”
“Come closer, and I’ll give you a preview.”
I neared him until I felt the heat from the gas range. He pulled a small silver spoon from one of the drawers and dipped it inside one of the pots. “You really have to taste this. It can be made without, but I think it’s a crime not to add it as a base.” He held the spoon to my lips with one hand, while his other hand served to guide my chin.
I opened my mouth and took it in. When it stopped burning my tongue, I could taste the mixture of flavors. The olive oil, the parmesan, and the hint of basil deemed the sauce as delicious. Downplaying what I thought of his cooking, I kept my expression firm and bobbed my head.
“That’s it?” He blew back as if I shot him in the heart. “That’s all I get?”
“Might get better when it’s all together?”
He smirked like he knew full well that I was being falsely stoic. “Tough crowd.” He thumbed a corner of sauce from my lips. Taking his thumb in his mouth, he sensuously sucked it as his eyes fell heavily on me. “I think it tastes better than you’re letting on.”
I nodded again, feeling suddenly feverish. His eyes…pressed me in a sensually destructive way. His provocation awakened something inside of me that was unsettling. I’d never been one to be so easily provoked. I didn’t want to place the cause with something superficial. The reason wasn’t completely reliant on the fact that he was the most attractive man I’d ever met—it was the total package. The way he talked to me was unlike any other man I’d encountered. He was unapologetic with a robust, sexually rooted confidence. It was different. It…tuned into my sexuality. A sexuality that I’d neglected long before I came back to New York.
I placed much needed distance between him and me by taking a seat in the formal dining room. I fingered the dark rustic wood table as my thoughts turned to Eric. At which point, I looked up to find Eric’s eyes never left sight of me.
Tamala, with a drink in hand, draped her arm across his back. She looked over at me, shooting a short, pointed snarl in my direction. He leaned down and whispered something in her ear that made her posture fold. Sulking, she moved to the dining room, flopped down in a chair, and pouted as she swirled her drink around with her finger.
The doorbell rang until the dining table was nearly full. I felt lost in the shuffle. With the exception of Janet, it was clear amongst a group of people in attendance that they’d known each other for a very long time. While I continuously routed my exit path, the invitees drank wine and reminisced.
I nervously fiddled with my hands, hoping the table of five wouldn’t expand. If it did, I would definitely have to leave.
“Nikki?” From the head of the table, Eric called my attention. “I haven’t seen these guys in a while and forgot my manners.” He adjusted his chair in order to sit closer to me. “This is my neighbor, Nikki. Nikki, I’d like you to meet Casper and Melonie. Of course, you already know Janet and have met Tamala.”
They nodded at me while wearing fake smiles.
Janet, seated on the opposite side of me, squeezed my hand with a smile so bright, she showed her gums. “You’re doing so well with this. Good job,” she congratulated me as if I was a kindergartener who’d just earned her first gold star.
“Just a neighbor? When do you ever have just a neighbor that’s a woman who looks like this?” asked Casper, the man with too much pomade in his hair and an equally excessive amount of self-tanner on his face.
Eric nodded to the feast that he prepared on the table. “Dig in.”
“What do you mean by ‘looks like this’?” I asked as I watched his friends shovel food onto their plates like they were at a soup kitchen.
Casper raised a brow at me. “You have a mirror, don’t you?”
“Is that really what I’m reduced to? What I look like?”
“Take a compliment, why don’t you. Why are you so weird?” Tamala toasted her fourth drink of the night to an invisible partner. “Men are never attracted to your brains. You have to look good first. That’s simple men. Eric over there is attracted to so much more. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”
“How many glasses is that, Tam?” Melonie asked.
“None of your goddamned business, Mel,” Tamala retorted.
Melonie sucked her teeth. “Where’s Estelle? We had some chat to catch up on. Is she still dating that shady guy that used to pretty much stalk her?”
Tamala scowled at Melonie. “Why are you asking me?”
“I wasn’t really,” Melonie stated flatly. “I’m aware you two are no longer best friends. It’s a shame. You two have been friends since Eric was in med school.”
“Yeah…well, we won’t get into the why of that shit yet. Eric is already throwing me dagger eyes.” Tamala gazed at Eric solemnly. “He wants to play his games. He would’ve fucked you, if you weren’t a muff diver. I’m just another woman in Eric’s harem. Looks like he’s going to add one more to the crowd.”
I watched Eric as he scorned Tamala with a simple glance. She bowed her head in response, breaking his eye contact. The whole exchange was increasingly off-putting. I didn’t understand what was going on between them. I was also rubbed raw by the way Tamala seemed to feel the need to compete for Eric’s attention. What was the purpose of fighting for him? This wasn’t a reality show. She looked like a fool chasing after Eric.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Janet regarded me as she shoveled mounds of food in her mouth. “Eric is an amazing cook.”
I rubbed my aching stomach and shook my head. My diet most days consisted of green juice an
d bread, if my stomach allowed for it. Food stopped appealing to me many months ago.
Tamala abruptly stopped eating to turn her gaze at Janet. “It’s what he does; cooks, smiles, and legs spread across the globe.”
“All he has to do is smile,” Casper joked. “Believe me.”
“Are any of you greedy individuals going to save any for me—” Eric glanced at my naked plate, having never been filled with food. “—or Nikki?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Eat something, honey,” Melonie said. “Curves are in. You don’t want to look like Skeletor, do you?”
“Says who? All I see on the runway are hangers,” Janet balked.
“Spoken like a typical plus-sized jealous bitch,” Tamala muttered.
Janet said nothing in response, but seemed hurt by the comment all the same.
Eric leaned toward me. “Are you okay?”
“Loaded question.”
“If you need to leave, I can walk you home. I wanted to get you out of your shell, but I don’t think it’s the right time for this.” He shot an accusatory glance at Tamala.
“We still need to talk.”
He pulled his hand from his lap and wrapped it around my tense, clenched fist while it rested atop the table. “And, we will.”
I looked at his hand clutching mine. A secure feeling washed over me.
“Stop whispering over there you two,” Casper shot at us with a mouth full of food.
“Are you leaving? You can’t leave. We were just beginning to get to know you,” Melonie protested with a warm smile.
I casually withdrew my hand from Eric’s hold. “Why do you need to get to know me?”
“Because that’s what people do. Is this your first time on planet earth? Do we need to acclimate you to our human ways?” Casper asked.
“Be nice guys.” Janet fell sullen as she looked at me. “She’s going through a rough time. Her mother has de-differentiated chondrosarcoma.”
“Does HIPPA mean nothing to you?” I shot at her with impatience.
The Sordid Promise Page 4
