Commitment (97 page)

“
How are things with you?
” Riley
asked
.
“Good?”

Brian nodded, and reached out to
touch her hand, squeezing it.
“I wanted to call you, about DC. About what I said
to you that night
. I was drunk . . .”

“But not that drunk,” Riley said. “Not so drunk that you didn’t know what you were saying. Just drunk enough to say something you should have said a long time before then.”

Brian nodded again. “Yeah,” he said wryly. “Probably.”

“
I’m going to drink a silent toast to you tonight,” she said. “And to friendship.”

“
Yes. To friendship
,”
Brian
said.

“And because we were friends, I want to make
sure you understand something.
I am completely committed to
my marriage and to my husband.
I
always have been.
So I’m glad I ran into you because it gives me a chance to say that I’m sorry if I ever gave you an impression other than that.”

“You didn’t lead m
e to that conclusion,” he said.
“I got there completely on my own.”

It
was clear
he didn’t
quite
believe it, even as he said the words, but Riley said nothing because she knew
there
were
things she had done that sh
e should have done differently.
Brian
cou
ld easily have been her Keisha.
And in some ways he had been.
She’d looked to him for the emotional fulfillment that she hadn’t trusted Sh
awn would be able to give her.
She could only admit
that now that he had given it.
In spades.

“I feel like I’d better stick to you all night,”
Brian
said now.
“Because we may never run into each other again.”

“Don’t do that.” She shook her head. “You’ve got a lovely girl over there who’s jumping out of her skin wondering who I am.”

“So I’ll see you around?”
Brian finally let go of her of her hand.

“Sure.
I’m sure you will.”

Riley watched him walk away and r
eturn to his table of friends.
He seemed so much further away than when she’d first spotted him.

g

Brendan picked them up and they all
took a chartered jet out of LaGuardia to
a
small airfield in Virginia Beach the next morning
, Riley sleeping with her head i
n Shawn’s
lap
almost the entire way.
As s
he drifted in and out
between
wakefulness
and sleep, she heard only
the sound of
Shawn’s
and Brendan’s voices, talking business
and the hum of the jet engines
.
When the
y
landed, they were shuttled directly to
Founders Inn, a secluded hotel and spa where they cou
ld be assured complete privacy.
Almost immediately after check in, Shawn and Brendan
started making
plans
to head over to the venue. 

The Inn’s grounds were beautiful
, and r
eminiscent of an English manor.
It would be a great place to write, if she’d brought her laptop, but it had been challenging enough to manage getting out of bed early that morning, pulling on
jeans and heading for the car.

“I think I’ll stay here,” Riley said, as she gazed out the window.
“I’ll leave with you for the show when you come back to change and
shower
.”

“What’s that?”

Shawn was looking over what looked like
music video storyboards and glanced up, his expression distracted.

“I said I think I’ll stay here ‘til later.”

“That might
be a good idea.
I don’t know if I’ll be back earlier than an hour before showtime.”

“Okay.
Did you bring your laptop?
I
was thinking
of maybe writing or something.
This is the perfect place for it.”

“You need a new one anyway.  Go pick one up.”

Riley turned back to
the look out the window again.
“I migh
t,” she said under her breath.
Shawn was right that it was about
time to retire the other one.
She could
get something state-of-the-art.
Start fresh.

“I’ll send a
car for you,” Brendan offered.
“If you want to check out a computer store or something.”

“Yeah,” Riley nodded
definitively. “Do that, okay?
Around noon or so?”

“Sure.”

He and Shawn
re
turned to their work, a
nd Riley headed for the shower.
She
wa
s suddenly bombarded by ideas. Stories
and angles for
stories
.
Pieces she would write that would have Greg reeling and rejoi
cing that he hadn’t let her go.
Hell, if she didn’t find a laptop to
day, she would write longhand.
But she had to write.

She was standing under the water, eyes shut, toying with words in her mind’s eye w
hen she felt a hand on her hip.
She turned and opened her eyes.
Sh
awn was in the shower with her.

Riley
returned
his kiss and opened
her arms to him
.
When he
gently lifted her leg
, pressed her against the shower wall and
slid inside her,
it was almost a sweet surprise.
Neither of th
em spoke; th
ey didn’t need to.
This was their dance, their rhythm, the way they stayed connected; but now no longer the only way.

g

As the sales clerk ran through the
laptop’s
specifications, Riley thought only of when she would take it out of the store, back to the hot
el, power up and begin working.
Once the decision to work again had been made, she
couldn’t get to it fast enough.
Who cared what kind of wireless modem it had?

“I think I’ll need a bag and other accessories,” she interrupted
him.
“Where would I find those?”

“So you’re taking it?”
the sales clerk asked. A
skinny, pimply young kid, he seemed incredulous at how easily he’d managed to sell the
three
thousand dollar piece of hardware.

“
Sure, but I need other stuff too, right?”

“Yea
h, yeah,” the kid said eagerly.
“And if you want to use it right away you’ll want to think about what kind of productivity software you want.”

“Great. Let’s talk about that.
What do you recommend?”

Thirty minutes later, she was walking out of the store loaded down with bags and her new laptop in its
carrier
, having ditche
d the oversize box it came in.
The driver was waiting at the curb where she’d left him, th
e Range Rover’s engine idling.
As soon as he saw her, he got out to open the doo
r and help load everything in.
Riley fought the urge to sit in the front passenger seat.  Shawn had warned her that if she did, she only made the drivers uncomfortable unless you knew them very well, and after some thought Riley had to admit that that was probably true. 

“We’re heading back to the hotel now, thank you,” she said before he could ask because she didn’t think she would have been able to handle being called
ma’
a
m
again.

The
options for places to spend an afternoon writing
were endless at Founders Inn
, but Riley chose a spot outside
where she could see the ocean.
She fidgeted while the computer booted up, and smiled when the familiar
icons appeared on the monitor.
In a few moments she was typing, her fingers dancing across the keyboard, the words coming as stream of consciousness. 

She paused only to flex her fingers and clear her head b
efore beginning a new thought.
She was vaguely aware at different times of mild hunger pangs, a change in the temperat
ure and finally, in the light.
When she looked up, she real
ized the sun had begun to set.
The clock at the bottom right-hand corner of the s
creen read six fifty-seven p.m.
She had been writing for more than four hours, and Shawn’s show began in just over an hour. 

Riley slammed the laptop shut and grabbed the bag,
sprinting
back toward the hotel.
She was breathless when she finally shoved open the door to the
room
, her chest heaving.
Shawn stood as soon as she entered; confusion, relief and finally exasperation crossing his face in quick succession.

“Riley, what the hell . .
?”

“Sorry.
Lost track of time,” she gulped for air and
reached out to touch his face.
“Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be ready to go.”

“Ten.
You can have ten minutes,” he said.

“Well, if I’m not done you can go ahead and I’ll get there a little later,” she said, knowing he would do no such thing.

She washed her face, ran a damp comb through her hair and rifled through her
bag, considering what to wear.
Her impulse was to wear basic jeans and a t-shirt, but there was always
a
reception or after-party
so she instead chose a
teal
maxi dress
with
a wide brown belt and sandals.
It was cool out, so she grabbed
a
cropped denim jacket as well.
As an afterthought, and because she could hear Tracy’s voice in her head, she put on eyeliner
and a smudge of plum lipstick.
When she emerged from the dressing room and Shawn looked up, the impatience melt
ed
away from his features, and transform
ed
into a smile.

“
C’mon, bring
your slow ass on.”

The show was in a smaller
venue than he usually played.
It was all part of the strategy to keep Shawn exposed, but not too exposed while the sexual assa
ult charge remained unresolved.
The audience seemed to consist mainly of college students and even some younger
, perhaps high school seniors.
That made for an enthusiastic crow
d, and as Riley watched from the wings with Brendan, it was difficult to choose between keeping her eyes on Shawn, or the
frenzy developing in the crowd
. 

“I don’t think I’ll
ever get tired of this,” she yelled to Brendan over the music.

He grinned at her.
“So he did it, huh?”

“Did what?”

“Made you a hip-
hop convert.”

Riley laughed.
“
Maybe a little bit, yeah
.”

But she was only saying that for Brenda
n’s satisfaction. The truth was
she didn’t
feel any differently about hip-
hop in general; all she knew was that she loved her husband and his music.

g

It took a little while to come down from
it—
the high of being onstage.
E
very cell in
his
body humming with adrenaline,
making it
difficult
to maintain a coherent thought.
Few things he’d ever experien
ced compared to that sensation.
Generally, what he needed
—and generally didn’t get—
immediately
after a performance was quiet.
So h
e’d learned to tune things out.
Now he found, he didn’t want to.
Riley met him as he walked off stage, a
towel in her hands.
He took it,
draped it over his head
and wrapped an arm
across her shoulders, walking with her toward his dressing room
,
kissing her on the forehead.