Friends and Lovers (13 page)

“You are such a man.”

He said, “Hey, you asked.”

“That I did.”

“What’re you thinking?”

“I was wondering how big the nipple would be.”

“Such a woman.”

“Hey, you asked.”

We had parked in front of one of those erect concrete poles. A vertical shaft three feet high, with two feet of girth. Some serious girth. Hard. Straight. My bosom had that come-nibble-and-suck-me feeling. Had been feeling that way most of the ride up the coast. Now it had resurfaced because of a stupid piece of lifeless concrete. Then I read the words on the front of Tyrel’s cap—
JUST DO IT
. Heard a whisper. I caught myself licking my lips. Squeezed my thighs together a touch without thinking. I swallowed and shifted around in my seat.

Tyrel said, “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Let’s get out and stretch our legs.”

We walked over near the edge that faced the ocean. I stared back at the mountain. Gazed up to where it disappeared into the overcast skies. I must’ve been tripping. The low clouds that formed around its top looked like fluffy pubic hair. I craned my neck and wondered what was up there. I moaned a bit with my imagination. Tyrel was gawking at the mountain with as much intensity as I had. He cleared his throat, shifted around. His eyes glanced at mine again and again. His face was so serious.

I said, “What’re you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

He looked away. Moved his thoughts.

I turned away. Moved my thoughts.

Gazed around.

Concentrated on the people driving by and walking near the seafood restaurants. Most wore windbreakers and shorts, stuff like dockers and deck shoes. All looked tanned and well-to-do.

Tyrel said, “How do you feel?”

“Fine. The wine we tasted has me craving.”

“Craving wine?”

I smiled and gently whispered, “Craving.”

Since he wasn’t trying to get into my space, I leaned over and put my finger in his face, twisted it inside of Shelby’s Cavern. He smiled. That made me tingle with comfort.

“Is there somewhere I can get sweats?” I asked.

“Cold?”

“Some. But I’ve been colder. I want some herbal tea too. I saw a mall back in Obispo.”

“Back on Madonna Road.”

“Whatever.”

Tyrel stretched. “Okay. They should have a food court.”

“You don’t mind shopping with a woman?”

“Not as long as you keep it under two hours.”

“That’s a decent compromise.” I smiled. “Well, friend. This has been a wonderful day. I want to thank you in advance.”

“Anytime. Friend. Wonder how Leonard and Debra’s day is going.”

“Who cares? They’re so lovey-dovey it’s sickening.”

“True that.”

We walked around the mall and stopped at a place or two. I bought some plain gray sweats and a toothbrush. I picked up some Mentadent because my mouth was starting to get stale as hell, and I didn’t want to funky up the place when I exhaled. Tyrel must’ve felt the same way because when I was trying on sweats, he jogged back into the drugstore and picked up a toothbrush too.

The mall was one of those nice structures connected to an Embassy Suites. That’s where we stopped for tea, downstairs in the open court amongst all the trees and skylight. The hotel doors faced outward toward the court. Upstairs people were coming in and out of rooms. A few had suitcases so I guessed they were checking out and heading back to wherever they were from. Tyrel was staring at the same old white couple I had been watching struggle with their luggage as they came out of the room up and across from us.

I said, “Don’t they look happy?”

Tyrel looked at me.

Smiled.

I looked at him.

Smiled.

I had ripped open a bag of honey to put in my tea. Some of the sweetness spilled on my finger and I licked it off. And I saw Tyrel was watching me suck on my finger. It was one of those things I had done without thinking and didn’t realize the connotation. Sort of like catching myself with my mouth open and eating a banana. Even worse, sucking and licking on a popsicle in front of a man. Things Debra told me not to do in public.

But Debra wasn’t here. I was two hundred miles from anybody I knew. From anybody who knew me.

I put more honey on my finger. Licked it off again. Then I poured more on my finger, much more, let it drip. Tyrel reached over, took my hand, licked it off. Sucked. I didn’t resist. Pretended like it was no big deal. Neither one of us had any kind of expression whatsoever. Waiting to see. My breasts swelled until they felt
like they were as big as that mountain we’d witnessed in the bay, and I clenched my teeth so I could hold on to the moan that was clogged inside my throat.

I reminded myself, “Breathe, girl, breathe.” I felt my voice getting low and thick when I said, “What are you doing, friend?”

“You really want to be my friend?”

“Cut the bull.”

“Bull cut.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“You really want to know?”

“Don’t be shy.”

“Might not be appropriate for friends.”

“You never know until you ask.”

He was still holding my sticky hand when we got up to go. I thought we were heading for the car, but we got on the elevator.

I said, “Where are we going?”

“Sightseeing. Let’s check out the view from up top.”

We leaned against the rail for a while. He put his arms around me. My palms were sweating like somebody had turned on a faucet. Damn mouth had dried up like San Bernardino. We watched people walk from the mall into the hotel and vice versa. One of the Hispanic maids pushed her cart by us and tapped on a door down the way. Then she rattled her keys and went inside. Tyrel took my hand and led me that way.

I said, “What are you doing?”

“Come along.”

When we got to the room, the maid had gone inside. Tyrel took my hand and led me in. The lady was middle-aged, gray around the temples, short, plump. One of the double beds was tossed, the other was fresh. The maid smiled at us.

Tyrel said, “Oh, I’m sorry. We weren’t finished with the room yet. Could you come back later?”

“How long?”

“About two hours. May we have some fresh towels?” The maid nodded, gave us towels, and left. Just like
that. The woman had bought Tyrel’s lie without a second thought.

Tyrel put the Privacy Please! sign out and closed the door behind her. Damn, I was scared. How did I end up here? In San Luis Obispo. In a stolen hotel room. Trembling from my little toe to the dandruff in the back of my scalp.

I said, “So. What’s up with this?”

He smiled and said, “Craving.”

“What?”

“Just craving.”

The brother held my face, kissed me. Sent me to somebody’s heaven. Made me feel so good I tiptoed and floundered with the feeling. Kissed me for almost fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. Overwhelmed me with some serious passion. Rubbed my breasts like they were the best thing since sliced bread, teased his hand all up and down my body like he was Columbus searching for whatever the hell Columbus was searching for.

I said, “We could go to jail stealing a room like this.”

He shut my ass up with kisses. Pressed his body all up against mine. Moved his crotch in the crevice where mine lived. Made small circles. He was hard enough to make me forget about any concrete pole I’d seen a little while ago.

I moaned, “Stop. Don’t have any protection.”

He had a pack of condoms in the bag with his toothbrush. While I was buying sweats, he had slipped into the drugstore and come out more prepared than a boy scout on a nature run.

He kissed me some more. Chewed my neck. Real soft bites that made me
Oooh.
Real nice
Mmmmm.
I was lost in the feeling. And since we were creeping, it made it that much better.

He said, “You still want to be my friend?”

I said, “Yeah. Homey. Lover. Friend. A whole lot more.”

I pulled his jacket off him. Sat him down. Took his clothes off him. Took mine off. Slow. Easy. Took off my pink and green sweatshirt and dropped it on my feet.

Made him watch me wiggle out of my French-cut panties. Came out of those hiking boots and socks with ease. His wand was straight up and down like six o’clock, pointing at me like I was the one, the two, the three, the four, and the five. My own love was praying for a piece of his rhythm. And the freaky side of me made me savor his wand for a while. Made me wish I had one of those bottles of wine we’d bought so I could pour it over him and taste and taste. Then I kissed him and shared the appetizer I’d savored from him. Lay him back on the bed. Sat on him. His mouth was on my breast before I could move up or down. And his warm tongue felt damn good. Tasting my nipples, sucking on me. squeezing and nibbling and sucking and
Mmmmmmm.

I moved my body like sex was going out of style. Exercised my power and made him my fantasy. I had lost control, but like En Vogue sang, I had the right to lose control, and I was exercising that right. Rocked back and forth and forth and back and felt him swell inside me. I heard myself let out some sounds and wailed some words that told him how much I really admired him. Admired his faults. Admired what he represented.

He whispered in my ear, “What do you like?”

I held him, closed my eyes to the fantasy who wanted to fulfill mine, put tender kisses on his face. He lay me back, I stretched my arms to each side, welcomed him with my love, and he worked me like I was his fantasy.

Tyrel’s loving was so good he should’ve put it on his résumé.

Worked me deep, worked me shallow, worked me deep, worked me.

Damn, I wanted to cry from the satisfaction.

And I did.

He licked my tears of nothing-but-pleasure from my eyes.

Tyrel grooved my body with character, sucked my breasts with integrity, pushed and pulled my love into ecstasy. During our feast, I wondered if he could fall deep in love with me like I knew I was gonna fall deep in love with him.

“Hello. May I speak to Mr. Vardaman Williams?”

“This him. Who this? What done happened?”

“How are you doing?”

“I was trying to sleep till the phone rang. Good Lord, it’s near midnight. Who calling my house this time of the night?”

“It’s me.”

“Who?”

“Tyrel Anthony Williams. Your oldest and youngest son.”

“Tyrel? What you—Where you at, son? You in Nashville?”

“I’m still in California.”

“You in jail?”

“No, I’m not in jail. You get the cards I sent you?”

“Yeah. You ain’t sent one in a while. Everything all right?”

“We haven’t heard from you in over a year.”

“Been that long since I talked to you?”

“Yeah. That was the last time I called your house. Remember? You were busy and said you’d call me back.”

“Been kinda busy. The new store takes up all my day.”

“You didn’t write back either.”

“You know I ain’t much on writing folks.”

“I put my phone number on the Father’s Day cards.”

“Why you call here this late?”

“Me and Mye were worried about you.”

“Where she at now?”

“She turned lesbian and went to Africa to marry a high priestess or something.”

“Good for her.”

“It was a joke.”

“That why you call?”

“Part of the reason. I guess. Yeah.”

“What you now, twenty-four or five?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“You that old?”

“Yeah. I’m that old. I’m old.”

“How’s Leonard?”

“He’s doing pretty good. He asked about you.”

“He still telling jokes and what have you?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell him I said hello.”

“Will do.”

“You married yet?”

“Nope.”

“Wasn’t you engaged last time I talked to you?”

“Nope. Mye was engaged five years ago.”

“You got children?”

“Nope. Mye had the children four years ago.”

“Well, we just added a room onto the house so I ain’t got no extra money to send you and your sister….”

“We don’t want any money. But you could send your grandchildren something.”

“Hold on.”

“Daddy?”

“Uh, Tyrel.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s middle of the night here, and me and my wife have to get up early to feed the horses. Phone calls this late upset her and make it hard for her to get back to sleep. It’s okay by me, but Phyllis don’t want you, or anybody else for that matter, calling here late at night.”

“Mrs. Williams don’t want us calling there period.”

“Can I call you one day next week?”

For a moment I was ten years old. Me and my daddy were out on the side of the house changing the oil in his Mustang. Then I was eleven and all of us were piled into his Lincoln Town Car and heading for Vegas and spending the weekend at Circus-Circus. Somewhere in my thoughts I was six and he was at the kitchen table
helping me and Mye understand numbers and words. At fifteen he was trusting me with his first store, letting me open it up all by myself. And right now, no matter what, I felt like Little Tyrel. The child that used to sit on his knee, the child he would bounce up and down while I yelled, “Giddyap, horsey!”

I said, “Daddy?”

“What, Tyrel?”

“No matter who you’re married to, you’re still our daddy.”

“Thanks, son.”

Shelby was at my side. I looked at her. She smiled.

Made hand motions that told me to keep on talking.

I said, “Daddy?”

“Yeah, son.”

“Why don’t you and Momma ever ask about each other?”

“Don’t start with that.”

We soaked in silence for a moment.

He said, “You talked to Virginia?”

“Every Sunday morning. Momma is doing fine.”

More silence.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, son.”

“I think we should put the past to rest and let it be.”

“It ain’t that easy.”

“All of us should get together. At least all talk on the phone.”

“When the time’s right.”

“Okay. Remember that song, ‘The cat’s in the cradle.’ Don’t be distant like that, old man.”

“Between the stores and the ranch, I stay busy.”

“Don’t get too busy for the original family.”