“I wouldn’t have guessed you to be Puerto Rican, but after you mentioned it, I can see it. Yeah, now that I look at you up close…” Her eyes narrowed as she scanned him with a keen eye, apparently going over his features with a fine-toothed visual comb. “I can definitely see it.”
He shrugged and wiped his hands onto a napkin. “Yeah, I get mistaken for white more times than not. Most people think I’m just Italian ’cause I have my father’s last name. Like I said, he signed the birth certificate. Why he did, I’m not sure.” He slumped further into his seat. The woman reached for him, then retreated. He knew why, and he hated it.
…I need you to touch me right now, Taryn…. I really need you close to me. I want to feel your lips against mine as I run my hands along your back…smell your skin and press your body close to mine… I just want to lie close to you, breathe, then you breathe…heart to heart… Just touch me baby, please…
He could see it in her eyes. The woman wanted to reach over and hug him, squeeze him real tight, but she couldn’t. Far too many people around…
“I guess I’ll have to deal with that too, ya know?” He shrugged again, twisting his lips to the side. “Anyway, I got this assignment from Frieda, and I gotta talk about family, write another damn letter.”
“Yeah.” Taryn nodded. “We all have to do it. It’s part of the process. It’s work, a way to heal, to deal with the reasons we’ve arrived where we have. It can be unpleasant, downright terrible at times, but you know in the end, if you can just face the shit, it will get better. Day by day, it will get better…” Her voice trailed as she looked around the place, seemingly falling into a fantasy.
“Yeah, and I’ll admit to you that this is even harder than I thought it would be. Some days, I’m like, you know, this is something I can do, just gotta keep focused. Other days I think, ‘I don’t know if I’m going to make it.’ But…I have to, Taryn… I have to.”
She nodded in understanding as she wrapped both hands around her glass, stared into the beverage as if it were some magical wishing well. They were quiet for a time, just long enough for his thoughts to gallop somewhere private and develop and grow into secrets that made him hide a budding, devilish grin…
…If it is a wishing well, Taryn, ask it to give us some time alone. That’s my wish right now, to just have some time alone with you…so I can kiss you. Not that little shit, either, no pecks… I’m talking about the kind of kiss that makes a woman wet between her legs; the kind when she knows her man is about to take her ass to the bedroom and do some shit to her she has never seen nor felt before… I’m sorry; this is about treatment, right? What if you are a part of my treatment though? What if it is you that helps make me better? Nurse Taryn… is your sweet, beautiful pussy my newest medication? If so, I’d like a double dose, please…
“So, tell me more about your mother…like, what did she look like?” She grabbed him away from his wayward thoughts.
“She was about 5’4, petite, long curly black hair, a smile like yours.” He pointed at her. “She had big, light brown eyes and a high pitch to her voice. Feminine, kinda squeaky…like a little girl’s after she’s sucked a balloon. It was funny.” He grinned wider, forcing her to do the same. “Her voice used to drive me crazy when she’d be calling me to come into the house. I hated it.
‘Nick-keeeey! Thaaa po-lease-uh were looking for yoooou!” he said it in a shrill mock-tone with a thick, Spanish accent coated on each word, causing the woman before him to lean to the side and crack up. “What did you steal noooow, huh?! I can’t take much more of dis, Nick-keeeey! If tha sink weren’t glued down, you’d steal that, too!’
Taryn slapped the table as she laughed herself silly.
“She’d always make things like that up, say the police were looking for me to try and scare me.” He smirked. “Or threaten to call them. All day, I’d hear, ‘Nick-keeeey, you rotten son of a gun! You’re going tuh give me a heart attack! Look at deeze grades, huh! You’re going nowheres.’ It was always nowheres with an ‘s’ at the end.” He paused and chuckled. “You’re going nowheres in life if you don’t pay attention in school.’
“‘Nickeeey, you’re just like your father, but I love you anyway!’
“‘Nickeeey, you’re going to be a cop, and you used tuh hate cops. I’m proud of you, Nicky…so… proud of you, son…’
“‘Nicky, Nicky, Nicky…’
“Now…I’d do anything to hear that squeaky Minnie-Mouse-like voice again. Taryn. I’d give it all up to have her with me for five more minutes…”
Without another moment lost, she reached under the table and laid a soft hand on his thigh. He dropped his fork like a hot potato in his feverish desperation to return the embrace. He had to touch her back; there was simply no way around it. Their fingers secretly interlocked and then they squeezed each other before releasing the hold, all within a few seconds…
“Hey, Nick…”
“Yeah.”
“You want to go on a walk with me Friday night?” She leaned in a bit closer to him, looking him in the eye.
“But we can’t leave campus right now, or at least I can’t. I don’t have those privileges yet and after my fight with Oliver, it could be never.”
“I know. I’m talking about on the property. Sometimes, when I’m feeling bad, I like to walk around and just get some fresh air. Fridays are best because that’s when people usually schedule all their indoor party type stuff and some people who are allowed go home for the weekend.”
He looked at her for a while then gave her a lopsided smile.
…That glass must’ve been a wishing well after all. Dreams do come true.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
“Okay, good.” She faced forward once again and broke off another piece of French toast. “It’s really cold so dress in layers.”
“This coming from the shorts and sandals lady?” He winked at her, causing her to smile a bit.
“Yeah…”
“Speaking of which, I had no idea you were a model.” He looked her up and down, unashamedly showing the lust in his eyes. He was certain she’d witnessed other men panting after her before, but he simply couldn’t help himself. He’d been right all along; she had the kind of beauty one simply didn’t forget. So much so, the woman could apparently make money off it. “It makes sense though.”
“Yeah, I don’t talk about it all the time but most of the people in here know now. The topic is unavoidable, though trust me, I tried.” She shrugged.
“A reluctant model?” He smiled at her ever so slightly, causing her to return the favor. “I don’t know your story behind that, Taryn. I’m not sure what all happened, but I see it as a positive thing, your career I mean. Not something to exploit, but one to embrace. You’re tall, you’ve got an unforgettable look…you’re gorgeous.” He slurped a spoonful of cereal and glanced back in her direction, feeling rather special to be friends with someone so beautiful on the inside and out.
“Thank you…”
“I’m serious, Taryn, I mean it. I know you’ve heard this countless times, but I’m not that kinda guy, you know? I’m not the guy that tells women they’re pretty just to have somethin’ to say. If I don’t think a woman is beautiful, I don’t tell ’er. But just look at you…damn.” His eyes scanned her real slow, savoring each moment that passed. “You have the type of look that is timeless. You’re…perfection.”
She’d blushed a bit at his declarations, which only spurred him on further.
“Sobriety has been good to me.” She smiled a bit wider, staking claim to her modesty, no doubt. All it did was make her even sexier in his eyes. He was certain she’d been hearing how beautiful she was since she was a little girl, but he needed her to know that, when he said it, he meant it…every word of it.
“When I first met you, you had barely any hair at all, and I was speechless when I saw you. All bald and beautiful…”
She chuckled lightly, circled the rim of her glass with her fingertip.
>
“Well.” She shrugged. “Our society covets hair. Let me cut that shit out.” She looked around the room, as if collecting her thoughts, then tossed him a hooded glance. “I did, too… I’m tryna sit here and act like I wasn’t a part of that world, like I’m above it.” She grimaced. “Anyway, I used to have really nice hair. It was hard for me to get used to be being bald. It caused me to go even further into a depression because how I made my money depended ninety-nine percent on the way I looked.” She slumped a little in her seat. “So, I had to do things to try and compensate for it after my hair began to fall out from the chemotherapy treatments.”
“Wigs?”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “I wore plenty of wigs towards the end but it isn’t the same.”
“Tell me more. I’d imagine there’s a big emphasis on overall appearance.”
“You’re interested in my line of work, huh?” She looked at him out the corner of her eye, eyebrow arched, her lips twisted in a silly grin.
“I’m interested in you.” he tapped his fingertips along the table as he returned her gaze. “So, that means I’m interested in everything that excites you and makes you you.”
“Okay, alright. Fair enough.” She licked her lips and tore her gaze from his. “Let me break it down to you.” She grinned as he propped up his head on his hand, giving her his full attention. “A lot of these designers want you to use your own hair. It looks more natural and requires less Photoshopping in most cases and the more man hours, the higher the costs. Plus, if they ask for a black model, nine times out of ten, they want us also for our hair, ya know? Natural hair is in style again; many black women have stopped chemically processing their hair, or at least not using relaxers.” She waved her hand about. “They want to see that texture, those curls, those natural styles.”
“What’s a relaxer? Like a perm?”
“Oh Lord!” She grinned. “I’m sorry, I forgot who I was talking to.” Her eyes twinkled with mirth.
“Look, I don’t know what the hell you women are doing to yourselves half the time. My mother used to give herself perms. They smelled like rotten eggs. I hated that shit.”
She burst out laughing, even louder this time around.
“She called it perms, but maybe they were relaxers, I dunno.” He shrugged. “She’d do other ladies’ hair sometimes, too. I would see her doing it from time to time, but I never paid much attention, wasn’t exactly something I had any interest in.”
“Well, let me tell you… Hair texture is a big deal in the black community right now. Actually, it always has been, quite honestly. That’s another reason, why when I lost my hair, it became such a sore spot for me, and for others. I was known for certain features, and you basically get ranked in my profession. My hair was one of the reasons some agencies and photographers wanted me.”
“It’s really that serious?” he asked in disbelief.
“Yeah, it really is. There are grades, like types of hair, and there are what I like to call, ‘hair wars’ going on. My hair is natural right now because I don’t want the little bit I have to be compromised by chemical treatment but down the line, I have no idea what I’ll do. For right now, this is what works best for me and it could actually help me with modeling too now that it is growing out a bit.”
“I can understand that, I get it. I don’t know shit about modeling though, nothing at all. Hey.” He looked around the place then back at her. “Let me ask you something.”
“Yeah.”
“You seem like you are over the whole modeling thing, like you want something else. One week, you say you want to do something different and the next you are talking about how you need to get another gig. I’ve been listening to you in group, taking it all in. So, is that completely over with?”
She got ready to respond, possibly even protest his observations, but then thought better of it and fixed thoughtful eyes on her tray.
“Honestly, I’m confused, Nick. I don’t know. I think so. Yeah.” She nodded emphatically now, as if finally giving herself permission to be okay with it as she paired her acknowledgement with a grin. “Yeah, Nick, I’d like to do something else, just like I’d said but I’ll more than likely need to do a few more modeling gigs to get the money to do it.”
“To do what?” He scooted a bit closer to her.
“Well, I have these ideas, you know? I know what I’m doing with modeling, but this is all brand new… I’m not sure it will work.”
“You’re not sure it will, huh?” He smirked. “Well… you won’t know if you never even try. I won’t pressure you,” he said with a wink. “You seem a bit hesitant to tell me but, whatever it is, don’t let anyone chase your dreams away, even if it is you that is doing the racing. Stop telling yourself you can’t do it. Own that shit, claim it and then make it happen. It’s your turn, it’s ‘Taryn Time.’”
She tilted her head to the left and smiled at him, as if he’d given her something to think about. He doubted it; she surely had already crossed that bridge, but he needed to say it nevertheless. The woman was more than a pretty face, and if she needed to expand and explore, he wanted to be the one to hand her the keys and say, ‘Give this dream a test drive…’
“You could pass for a model, actually.” The woman said the words so sincerely, out of the blue, bringing them back into a conversation that existed before he’d pulled the blanket off her secrets.
“You’re full of it, Taryn,” he quipped with a snicker.
“I’m serious!” she argued.
“Oh, please!” He cracked up, looked at her with complete disbelief as he deliberated over the notions she’d just shared. “What would I look like on some stage struttin’ like a peacock or in some studio, huh? People are lucky to get a goddamn selfie from me.”
“Don’t be so modest. I’m serious.” She smiled. “I actually thought you may have been when I first saw you. It’s not unbelievable. You’ve got the look so many of the designers want.”
“Who put you up to this? How much are they payin’ you?” he teased. She shook her head, a sweet sound of mirth escaping her lips, while he flushed with slight embarrassment.
“I mean it. On top of it all, you’re in shape, real good shape.” She gave him the once over with a special kind of attentiveness. He liked how she stared at him; made him want to take her somewhere dark and private, give it to her real good…
…Don’t fuck with me like that, Taryn. You’ll find yourself somewhere underneath me and me deep inside of you…
“I’m supposed to be jelly-filled, right?” he joked. “All cops do is eat donuts and drink coffee. My blood type is Double D, for Dunkin Donuts.”
She chuckled as he poked a bit of fun at his profession.
“Make jokes if you want Nick, but your jaw line is perfect. You’ve got gorgeous eyes. That smoky bluish gray color is amazing, it’s different. You know that, right?”
“You gotta stop this.”
“You know you like it.” She smirked.
“I do, keep going.”
They both burst out laughing for the one-hundredth time…
Damn she is so much fun…
“You have nice skin. Your hair is real nice, shiny, looks well taken care of… dark and thick.” Her voice waned as she forgot the damn rules and ran her fingertips along his mane. He stared at her, his mouth slightly parting as they drifted into a tiny world of their own.
“You gotta stop doing that…” His brows bunched in frustration as he leaned in closer, daring himself to keep his hands off the woman.
“Why?” Her seductive ways lured him in as her lips curved in a garish, daring grin.
“Don’t touch me unless you’re prepared for how I’ll respond. I’ll touch you back, Taryn… I’ll touch you, and I might not let go.”
They leaned in so close to one another, their foreheads almost bumped. He inhaled the air around him, loving her sweet scent, reminiscent of gardenia, and the way her lips looked up close and personal. He stared at the damn thing
s, imagining pressing his own into hers…and then his thoughts wandered south…
Shit, I want her so badly. I want to taste her pussy…
“I want to kiss you so bad right now, Taryn. I’m hurting for you, cravin’ you so damn much,” he whispered in her ear, unable to control himself a second longer.
She blinked several times, as if snapping out of a daydream, then turned back towards her tray. She swallowed, avoiding his gaze. Several moments passed, and he wanted to ask her why she acted so strange but more so, to drag her out of that funk. The woman had become stiff, looking a bit perplexed, possibly lost in thought.
“Look at me,” he asked, bringing her back into the moment. “I want you, Taryn.”
She shot him a quick glance, and her glossed-over, big brown eyes said it all…
…She feels it, too…
“I’ve wanted you since the first moment I laid eyes on you… I’ve said it; you’ve gotten your confession.” He leaned over, closer, for he wouldn’t let her off the hook. “I know we’re not supposed to discuss things like this…”
“No, we’re not.” She looked straight ahead, grasping her tray with both hands, as if prepared to take off.
“We’re not supposed to feel like this, right? We’re not supposed to press our lips together… I’m not supposed to slide my tongue in and out of your mouth…” Her chest rose and fell a tad faster, up and down, up and down. “We’re not supposed to hug each other, none of that…but I really can’t help it. I like you and not like as in a friend, but as in more, much more. And I’m not sorry about how I feel. Am I making you nervous? You’re turning colors…”
The woman took another deep swallow, as if gulping down words and affirmations unsaid.
“Well.” He shrugged, “You’re not saying anything and I’ve already started so I may as well finish. I think about you probably more than I should. I can’t help that either, Taryn. You’re like a breath of fresh air, and I’m on oxygen, trying to live, trying to endure…when all along, you mastered survival. ’Cause like you said, you’re a fighter…but I need to put you to the test. So, is it true—are you are a real warrior, Taryn?”
In the Nick of Time Page 18
