Commitment (46 page)

When
Tracy suggested they go check out the rest of the club
they
left
Shawn and Brendan
to
do their schmoozing
,
and walked around for awhile, taking everything in
and finally finding a spot at
the bar
where they ordered
mini crab cakes
to snack on
.
Four or five
guy
s came by to ask them to dance, not seeming to
care
which of them
might say
yes
.
That was new, since Tracy was generally the favored one
.
Tracy accepted a couple times, but
Riley
remained
where she was,
one eye on the table
where
Shawn was still holding court, the other on
her best friend
.

During one of Tracy’s trips to the dance floor,
Riley
looked around to find
that
Chris Scaife was sitting next to her, Tracy’s
clutch
on the bar in front of him.

He leaned in, his lips
briefly
touching her ear
.

“Why
aren’t
you
with your husband?”

Riley
smiled, trying not to
show her annoyance
.

“He’s working.”

Chris leaned in again.
“Looks like he’s playing to me.”

Riley
glanced
over at the table
where
Brendan and Shaw
n had been joined by a woman – a girl really – i
n a le
ather skirt and a red tube top.
She had long hair
resting on her shoulders in
dark
waves
and wore crimson lipstick.
Her nails were long and even from this
distance
Riley
could see that they were painted the same blood-red as her lips. She had an arm draped around Shawn’s shoulder and was perched on the
arm
of his chair.
There was something about her demeanor that was more familiar than that of the other
women
who had approached him, and by the way he was talking to her,
Riley
could tell she was no stranger.

Even as
Riley
watched, the girl used a nail to playfully scrape the side of Shawn’s neck and he hunched his shoulders at the unexpected sensation, turning to smile at her and
brush
her hand away.

“D’you know her?”
Riley
asked
before she could stop herself. 

“One of the dancers in
the video.” Chris said.
“Come to think of it,
Smooth
hired her.”
He
was
clearly
enjoying her discomfort. “
If
you saw her shake her
ass
, you’d
probably
hire her too.”

Riley
said nothing.
On the dance floor, Tracy was having the time of her life, eyes closed, moving with abandon. 

“So Chri
s,” she said conversationally
, hoping to change the subject.
“
What would you think about giving me an interview
?”

Chris pulled back.
“Interview?
You still work?”

Riley
ignored the implication.
“I’d love to sit down with you one day and talk about how you do what you do.”

“Holl
a
at me next week.”

“I’m serious,”
she said.
“If I call you . . .”

He leaned in close again, even though the music was no longer as loud, and his proximity no longer nece
ssary.

“If you call me, I’ll
most definitely answer, Mrs. Gardner
.”

The club was
getting
more crowded by the minute.
Many of the new arrivals were people
Riley
was familiar with from magazines or television –
mainly
models and musicians – and
others she assumed were industry executiv
es with their dates or spouses.
Upon entering, they all performed the same interesting ritual; first finding Shawn’s table to
say
a few words,
then
walk
ing
about the club as though for the express purpose of being seen by everyone there.
And finally, they would scan the crowd to determine who was worth their prolonged attention. Some
retu
ned to Shawn’s table but most gravitated towards Chris and tried to engage him in conversation.

Riley
watch
e
d, amused, as he responded to most overtures with
a
complete and utter
lack of
interest – clearly he was not in the mood for business.

I
n the middle of one of his audiences,
s
he
slipped away, and headed for the dance floor where she had last seen Tracy.
She found her still dancing and not looking like she was planning to stop anytime soon.

“I’m going back to the table,” she yelled into her ear.

Tracy glanced at her dance partner then at
Riley
.
“
Okay, let’s go.
But y
ou didn’t have to come get me.
I could’ve found my way,” Tracy said
, taking her clutch from Riley
.

As they got closer to
the table, Tracy’s pace slowed.
“Hold on.  Who is
that
?”

The dancer in the leather skirt was still sitting on the edge of Shawn’s chair, her hand on his back.

“Some girl from the video
, Chris said
.”

“
And you’re coming to rescue
me
?
How about rescuing your man?”

“I don’t think he needs rescuing, Tracy.”

“Oh please.
I don’t know why you’re a
fraid to claim what’s yours
.”

“
What’s
mine
? I don’t think in those terms, sorry.
”

“
Riley
, don’t be stupi
d.
Remember what I told you this afternoon about
the kinds of women out there?
Well this looks like one of them.”

As they got closer to the table, the girl in the leather skirt noticed them, and after watching their progress for a moment, leaned in and said something to Shawn. He looked up as though just realizing she was there, and nodded at whatever she’d said.
She left just as Tracy
and
Riley arrived.
Brendan
stood to allow Tracy to take his seat and
Riley
sat next to Shawn.
He
reached out and
rested
a hand on her leg, lightly squeezing
it
.

Around one a.m. the flashing lights and the music
stopped
abruptly
, and a
fter a brief
chorus of
groan
s
from people
caught off guard on the dance floor,
there were several loud booms as
three
enormous screen
s
descended
from the ce
iling above the bar.
Then the music began again
and Shawn’s image appeared amid cheers
and screeching whistles
.

He was standing against the backdrop of a gutted building, wearing all black – an oversized vest that gaped open to show his bare chest, pants on his hips, exposing the waistband of
his boxers
, and
combat
boots.
His words were angry – about broken promises, civil unrest,
and alienation
– and his tone placed explo
sive emphasis on certain words.
His
face was hard but his movement
fluid, illustrating feeling
for
each and every syllable.
Then the
background
changed and he was joined by dancers – women in
a
skimpy
version
of army fatigues – the obligatory exhibition of tits and ass that was an indispensable part
of every rap video since 1989.
O
nly after it was
done
did
Riley
realize
she’d completely forgotten to look for the pushy dancer. 

A
few
seconds of complete silence while the screens were raised
was
followed by
thunderous applause.
Riley
looked at Shawn,
who seemed remarkably composed.
But of course he would be. He was
accustomed
to public
admiration
.
She reached for his hand and squeezed it, smiling at him,
but before she could speak
the table was practically mobbed
by people offering compliments.
When the music
and flashing lights resumed
, the crowd around them dispersed except for Mike and Darryl who were joined by Chris holding a glass of amber-colored liquid.

“Yo man, that shit was tight,”
Darryl said, offering his hand.
Mike did the same, and they both hovered around asking questions
.

Rather than carry on yet another uncomfortable exchange
with Chris,
Riley
excused herself
and
went in search of
the Ladies Room.
S
everal women
were
standing
the
mirror, checking their make-up and reapplying lipstick. One or two of them noticed her when she came in and paused to look her over, obvi
ously recognizing who she was.
The loss of her anonymity was probably the hardest part
–
that and
not knowing what was going on in people’s minds when they stared
.
Not that some women didn’t have it written all over their faces. Riley could practically read their minds as they wondered how she’d managed to bag
K
Smooth
.

She’s
cute, s
he could imagine them thinking.
But she ain’t all
that.

Riley
found an empty cubicle and stayed inside longer than was necessary, finally coming out to wash her h
ands and check her own make-up.
Thankfully, it
still looked
okay
since she didn’t have the foresight
to bring along lipstick
and powder in
a
cute little purse like the one
s
all the other women seemed to have
.
What a waste of brain-space
;
she had become one of those women who
obsessed
about
how
her
make-up looked, she realized resentfully
.
It was about as alien a thou
ght-process as she’d ever had,
and one that w
ould make Lorna shudder,
but it was
what it was
.

When it became impossible to hide out in the restroom any longer, Riley headed back out, stopping
at the bar
for
a glass of cabernet then
turning to map out
the least
circuitous
route back to the table.
Just
as
she was about to give up the exercise as futile, she spotted Shawn,
standing
by himself for the first time since they’d gotten there
,
watching her.
Riley
took her wine from the bartender and raised
the
glass to her husband.
He
smiled
at her from across the sea of people between them and inclined his head in the direction of a door, partially hidden in an alcove with the word ‘Staff Only’ st
enciled on it in white letters.