Commitment (65 page)

“No,” he said.
“
Baby,
I swear.”

He could see t
he emotions at war in her face.
She wanted to believe h
im, but she was hurt and angry.
And maybe even a little bit scared
.

“Chris told me you hired her,” she said after a moment.

Motherfucking Chris
.
“Yeah, but . . .”

“Is that why you hired her?
Because you were attracted to her?”

“No,” he said firmly.
“I hired h
er because she’s Mike’s cousin.
That’s all.
It’s not the way I planned it
. . .
it just . . .” he stopped. 

He’d been ab
out to say it just ‘happened’.
But that wasn’t what she wanted to hear.
For
Riley
e
very little thing had
significance
.
It couldn’t just be that he got drunk and
allowed
himself
to
be led
into a compromising situation
.
In her mind,
it had to
mean
something
.

“I want to come home,” he said.

Riley
looked down at the ground.
“If you do, I won’t stay,” she said simply.

Shawn wiped
his mouth with
the back of a hand.
“So . . . what . . . what are you planning to do?”

“I
’m planning to go out
,” she
said quietly. “And I’m going to find someone and I’m going to fuck him so you know
exactly
what this feels like
.
”

Shawn felt his entire body go numb for a second and when feeling returned, he was burning hot.
He swallowed.
Riley was studying him, watching his reaction. She knew what
that did to him, just hearing it.

“Now imagine it’s happened
,” she said, waiting a moment.
“Good. Now you tell me. What would
you
plan to do?”

S
hawn ran a hand over his face.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.
Riley
, it happened one ti
me . . .”

“What does that mean, one time?” she interrupted. “One
occasion
, or one
time
?"

Shawn said nothing.

"So one occasion, but more than once," Riley said, her face crumpling. “Did you
. . . spend the night with her?
Wake up with her?”

“No.
It only . . .”

“Happened one time. Yes, you said that.”

I know that’s not an excuse, but . . .”

“
You’re right, it’s not.
So why
keep
saying it?
You didn’t even use a frigging condom with her
, did you?
That’s why you needed to
use one with me
?!”

Shawn close
d his eyes.
“It was
fucked up.
I know that.
But I was drunk when I was with her, I
didn’t plan
. . . “

“
I don’t think I can handle any more
details,”
Riley
held up a hand.

He sighed.
“All I’m saying is
,
I want us to be together, in the same house, working out whatever we have to work out.”

“
Whatever we have to work out,” she re
peated dully.
“
So that’s where we are already.
Where we have things to ‘work out’
.”

“W
hat
’
s the alternative
, Riley
?
You want a divorce?”

Her head snapped up.
“Is that what
you
want?”

“No,”
Shawn said, exa
sperated.
“That’s why I’m here
.
That’s the last thing I want.”

Her face softened almost imperceptibly, so he seized
the opportunity and
laid it on thicker.

“I want you
.
That’s all I want.
I want you.” 

He meant every word, but a
small,
mercenary part of him wished he could cry
to emphasize the point, p
ut on a really good show of it
so that they could cut through all the bullshit and
go back to being man and wife.
But
Riley
wasn’t
that
simple.
She
never
had been.

“And on at least one occasion,” she said,
stone cold, “you wanted Keisha.
”

His shoulders sagged.
“
Riley
. . .”

“I have to go back upstairs,” she interrup
ted him.
“I have to go
.”

S
he t
urned away and
Shawn
held her arm.
She pried herself loose but turned to look at him again.

“Can I
call you?” he asked.
“At home?
Will you pick up?”

She hesitated then nodded.

“Okay,” he sighed.
“I’ll do
that.”

She started toward the building without looking back.

“
Riley
, I love you,” he said
when her hand was on the door.
She paused and gave him one last glance.

“I love you too,” she said before she went in.

S
he didn’t say the words
as
endearment but
with
regret.

g

Once every couple of months, Brendan set up a meeting
between Shawn and Philip Mark,
a stylist who was supposedly the final word on what was in and what wasn’t ev
en in yet but was going to be.
The routine was that he would show them a series of outfits and Shawn would make the final decisio
n on which ones he would wear.
At the end of a Philip Mark session, Shawn was usually about
twenty
thousand poorer, and knew more about fabrics and color palettes than he’d ever wanted to know, but Brendan assured him it was necessary, what he called “
image
maintenance
.”
 

Since
the new season’s stuff was almost out
, it was time for another Philip Mark consultation, and if there was one day when Shawn didn’t feel up
to it, this would be that day.
His wife was considering leaving him and he had to go sit in a room with a guy whose entire life revolved around clothes, discuss
ing
warm and cool tones and how they interacted with his complexion and eyes.

He met Brendan outside
the
warehouse
on Houston Street
where Philip Mark’s studio
was located
and they boarded
the old-fashioned
death-trap of an
elevator that would take them to the sixth floor.

“You see
Riley
?” Brendan asked.

“Yeah
. .
.”

“So what she say?”

“She said doesn’t know what to believe and, here’s the
really good
part,
if I go home
, she
won’t stay there.”

“What’d you expect?”

“I don’t know, man.”

They stepped off the elevator into the expansive
loft
and were greeted by a short, cute Puerto-Rican girl in a
K
elly green suit.
Shawn smiled, reflecting on the fact that he only
knew the color of the suit was K
elly green as opposed to any other kind thanks to the tutelage of Philip Mark himself.

“Hi,
”
she extended a h
and to him and then to Brendan.
“I’m Philip’s assistant,
Aracely
.
He’s running a litt
le late so he asked me to start
.
Come with me
, please
.”

They followed her, Shawn
’s eyes firmly on her derriere.
She had a little twitch when she walked, and he couldn’t decide whether it was for their benefit, or the natural result of her too-high
spike-heel
boots.

“Can I get you some coffee?”
she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“No thanks,” Brendan said automatically.

“Yeah,” Shawn said.
“Coffee would be good.”

He could feel Br
endan looking at him curiously.
He knew he didn’t drink coffee.
He didn’t give a damn about the coffee, he just wanted to watch her walking away to
fetch it.
She led them to the private room where Philip hung about twenty outfits at a time to show to select clients, and seated them on a pair of comfortable over-stuffed armchairs in front o
f which was a book of swatches.
When
Aracely
was gone, Brendan looked at Shawn with a raised eyebrow.

“Coffee?”

“Or tea, or
Aracely
,” Shawn
said
.

“Keep that shit up.
It’s what got your ass sleeping on my couch.”

“Y’know what, B?
As
many bitches as you . . .”

Brendan laughed.
“But I’m not married though.
”

Aracely
came back with a tray that she set
on the table in front of them.
Besides the coffee, there were assorted Italian pastries
and a crystal pitcher of water.
Brendan poured himself a glass of water and Shawn dug into a can
n
oli, looking up at
Aracely
. 

Her hair was chestnut brown with blonde highlights and barely
brushed
her shoulders; it was full and bouncy, obviously the part of her appea
rance she concentrated on most.
Her face was slightly round, like that of
someone
constantly battling a weight problem.  But
Aracely
most definitely
did not have a weight problem.
Shawn allowed his eyes to scan her figure once more and his eyes met hers when he lo
oked once again up at her face.
A very slight upward turn at the corners of her mouth
confirmed
that she
’d
noticed his admiration.

Brendan sniffed and leaned back in his seat.

“S
o what you got for us,
Aracely
?”
he asked.

“Ahm . . .”
she
turned to look at the clothes h
anging on the rack behind them.
“I think Philip said you wanted more evening wear. 
Somewhat fewer
sports and
casual
wear . . .”

She launched into her presentation, bringing over outfits for them to look at, encouraging Shawn to try them on, suggesting co
lors and fabrics occasionally.
She was nervous, he noticed; sometimes
stuttering or dropping things.
Brendan picked a couple items for himself and Shawn amassed a pile of his own, paying less attentio
n to the clothes than to
Aracely
.

She didn’t have what
Riley
had
—
that something that made him want to delve deeper than the physical, find out what
was happening behind her eyes.
But no one else had whatever it w
as
Riley
had that kept him hooked;
that w
as the problem.
So
Aracely
was just a girl, obviously uncertain of herself and inexperienced dealing with high-profile clients, who was all the cut
er because of that uncertainty.