My Daughter's Boyfriend (6 page)

Outwardly I was acting like everything was legit, but deep inside a battle ensued. For a second I thought I was lapsing into mental instability. I’d go from realizing how great it felt to be in this handsome guy’s arms, and seconds later I’d think of Steve and how he’d brought this on himself. And much less often I’d think of the young lady I’d given birth to, believing that my being with Aaron wasn’t newsworthy. Since Lauren claimed that she and Aaron hadn’t consummated their relationship, she couldn’t miss what she’d never had, right?

Or could she?

Because we were in the living room, every once in a while I’d hear noises outside the door that sounded like several footsteps coming up the landing. I knew Lauren was at the slumber party and wasn’t about to come home, but that little fact didn’t make me feel secure.

Aaron pulled me against his chest, pressing his cheek against mine. God, his skin was
sooo
soft, so warm, it felt like our bodies were melting together, two entities becoming one.

I heard the patter of footsteps outside, and stiffened like inertia was setting in.

“Are we sure that it’s okay to be doing this, Aaron?” I asked, my voice quivering.

“Ms. Davenport,” he murmured.

“Please call me Tracey,” I said, still swaying.

“Tracey,” he said, and pressed his face against my hair, while his hands gripped my ass. “A dance is just a dance.”

“You sure about that?” I uttered, saying words that didn’t have to be said.

“Why are you afraid?” he asked, and moved his hand to my shoulder, caressing it with one strong fingertip.

“Aren’t you?”

“Nope,” he said. He sounded like he meant it.

“You
do
lie,” I replied. How
could
he mean it?

“No, I’m not lying. I can honestly say I’m not afraid because I know we’re just cool like this. I date your daughter and I’m keeping you company while she’s out tonight.”

I froze.

“So if she were here, none of this would be happening would it?”

“I doubt it,” he said, his body still moved by the classic Isley wail.

“Then it must be wrong. If it’s something we can’t do in front of her face, it’s wrong,” I said, more for my sake than his.

I felt his embrace weaken, preparing to give my body back to me.

“Aaron, did I strike a nerve?”

“Nothing’s struck, at least not with me. I’m not worried about me. I have self-control.”

“Oh, really now?”

Seconds later he stepped completely away from me, his touch now in the past.

“Yep, I do, Tracey. I’m personable, but I’m not crazy. You’re an attractive woman, but that’s as far as it will go. Maybe I should leave.”

“Wait a minute, wait. Let me think.”

I cleared my throat and looked at my clothing. Who was I kidding? Giving the poor guy mixed signals. Loving the feeling of him holding me in his arms, yet wondering what would happen if Lauren saw us. I felt awful, like a tease that might not follow up.

“Yep, you’re right. I think you should leave,” I said.

He had already grabbed his keys. That made me mad.

Don’t grab your keys until I say it’s all right to grab them.

“You know your way out.”

“Tracey, it’s a small apartment. Of course I know my way out.”

“Well, goodie for you.”

He stared at me for a minute, then turned to walk out the door, closing it without a sound behind him.

Aaron 8

When I got home and turned on the lamps, my room
mate Brad had a rhythmic snore going. He sounded like an eight-hundred-year-old man. Under ordinary circumstances he’s a normal-looking guy: complexion the color of maple syrup, thick waist, round legs, and a robust build. On most days, Brad’s short Afro had an uneven look and he’d wear a metal pick lodged in the back. Oh, one more thing: one of his eyes was bigger than the other, which made some folks think he’s crazy, but that was debatable.

Tonight it looked as if he’d crashed and burned on the living room couch, stretched out lying on his belly with his lips spread apart, a small pool of saliva resting on the corner of his mouth. VH1 was playing music videos for the ultimate insomniac. I grabbed the remote, aimed it at the TV, and increased the volume to maximum.

“What, who, what—?” Brad mumbled, shifted his body to the side, and kinda thumped, then rolled to the floor.

“Man,” he said, opening and closing his eyes like a newborn baby adjusting to its first day of life, “what in the hell is your problem? Turn that thang down.”

I muted the volume. “Hey, Brad, sorry ’bout dat. I—I need to talk,” I said, standing over him.

“You need to do what?” he asked yawning. “Sound like my sister.”

“I’m not your sister, but I do need to talk.”

“Damn, man, what time is it?” he asked, his stomach still pressed to the floor.

“Don’t matter, sit up, Brad, man.” I urged him up with both of my hands, “Get up, this is serious.”

“Ah, hell. I didn’t know paying half the rent here would entail all this.” He mumbled a few other things that weren’t decipherable, but I tuned him out and stretched out on the couch. Brad squatted on the floor Indian-style and leaned his shoulder sideways against the couch.

“Okay, okay, Aaron. Whassup?”

“It’s this . . . this
woman
.”

“Uh-huh,” he replied, digging underneath his fingernails. “So I take it you’re not referring to Lauren?”

“I said she was a woman.”

“Well, who is she, Aaron?” he asked, looking bored.

“She’s, she’s, uh, I can’t say,” I told him firmly.

“Damn.”

“It’s like that right now. Thing is, I haven’t admitted it to her yet, but I’m digging her big-time. She’s more mature but sexy as hell, and man, we have this chemistry.”

“So what’s the problem?” Brad asked, yawning once more and rubbing his eyes.

I winced. “I—I want to get with her, but it might be the wrong move.”

“ ’Cause of Lauren?” he said, pointing his finger in an I-think-I-get-it way.

“You got it.”

“If you want her that bad, sneak some but don’t tell Lauren,” he replied, and placed one foot on the carpet like he was about to get up.

“Sit back down, Brad. It’s not that simple.”

He groaned, but repositioned himself by leaning against the couch. “Why not?”

I looked at the floor. “Sh-she lives near Lauren. Too risky.” I looked at Brad. “Not out to hurt my girl.”

“Then don’t do it. Or bring the woman over here,” was Brad’s brilliant response.

“Hell, naw,” I said, but still picturing myself bringing Tracey over. Getting her alone. Helping her to release both our frustrations.

“Damn, man. Who is this mystery babe?”

“Take a guess.”

“Who is she, Aaron? Tell me.”

Should I or shouldn’t I tell?

“She’s . . . uh, better not.”

“Tell me, or I’ll tell Lauren you’re cheating on her,” he said like he was serious and wouldn’t hesitate to do just that.

“But that’s the thing, I’m
not
cheating on her.”

“But you’re thinking about it, right?” Brad said, and stared so intently I thought he was trying to see through me, trying to break me down.

I scratched the side of my face and patted down my hair. What was I doing? Sometimes things happened in such a way that it seemed I wasn’t taking time to evaluate what I was doing. Guess I never did feel comfortable thinking about stuff too much, seemed like that always made things too hard.

“Yep, you’re thinking about it,” Brad said with a satisfied grin, like he was a freaking relationship guru who could figure everything out in ten minutes.

“Why you say that?” I said in such a serious tone that my earnestness canceled out his grin. He pondered his words for a moment and shrugged. “Getting with somebody always starts with a thought. Apparently you’ve been thinking about this. Only a matter of time before you’re acting it out.”

Hmmm, is that right,
I thought. All you gotta do is think about something, then you’ll be doing it? Hey, let me think about being a millionaire and watch the money roll in.

Yeah, right.

I looked pointedly at Brad. “Well, she’s been somewhat on my mind lately, but today was when I really started thinking about her.”

“Why today?”

“Saw her at the mall and . . . we hung out,” I said, holding on to the most treasured parts so I could savor something for myself.

“Oh yeah? Well, how she feel about you?” he asked, wobbling his legs up and down like he was starting to develop a cramp.

“I think I’ve hooked her and she tries to fight it, pretending like I don’t affect her. But I know she feels the vibe,” I said, surprised to hear the admission myself.

“Maybe y’all pulling each other, man.”

“I don’t know what it is, but whatever it is, it’s powerful. Plus some other things are going on that I don’t want to get in to, but I gotta—I need to do something,” I told him, rubbing the soreness that was throbbing and humming on my neck. I couldn’t believe how exhausted I felt, mentally and physically, and it seemed
something
was definitely affecting me in multiple ways.

“What? You thinking about dumping Lauren and hooking up with old girl?”

“I can’t hook up with Tracey,” I tried to mumble.

“Oh,
that’s
her name? How old is Tracey? Where’d you meet her?” His black eyes sparkled and he actually smiled at me in a more genuine, less BS kind of way.

“Damn. Hey,” I said standing up. “I think this is a good time for you to take your exhausted self back to sleep. Maybe you’ll forget we had this conversation.”

“I will go back to sleep, but I doubt I’ll forget. Good luck, my brother,” Brad said, this time laughing a bit, but then he clumsily lifted himself to his feet just to spread back out on the couch with a dull thud.

I ESCAPED TO THE PRIVACY OF MY
bedroom, firmly locking the door behind me. Dozens of unopened CDs lined the bottom of one wall. The other wall lodged my chest of drawers, a small oak desk and chair, and a portable stand with a combo TV/VCR. I slid out of my leather jacket, shirt, jeans, socks, shoes, and boxers, and crawled on top of my queen-sized bed.

Ever since I’d been with Lauren, I’d forced myself to hold back, trying to wait on her and thinking she’d be worth the wait. But sometimes when a man misses the touch of a woman, waiting takes a backseat. I hadn’t had any loving in so long, I was scared to even try and remember. I wasn’t used to that. Being around Tracey, drinking in her feminine aroma, and brushing against her curves reminded me just how long it had been. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

I sighed, slipped underneath the bedcovers. I reached over to pull out an ancient pornographic magazine from between my mattress and box spring. Instead of browsing the mag from the beginning, my fingers fumbled right to the centerfold. Mmmm, yeah. An interracial cutie from Baltimore. I smiled at her. She smiled back at me with her gorgeous brown eyes. I traced my trembling finger across her thick lips, pouty and sensuous. Zeroed in on her legs, which were covered with lavender lace, and that got my mind imagining all types of things. And I studied her breasts, which were suck-happy huge, as big as watermelons. I took one final look at my new friend and clutched myself, stroking to rock hardness. I shut my eyes and pictured myself banging Lauren’s innocent vagina like I was a drill sergeant trying to drive home my point. Something I’d been aching to do for months.

By the time I entered my pleasure zone, shuddering like a satisfied fool, Lauren wasn’t on my mind anymore.

A COUPLE HOURS LATER I WOKE UP
slimy, groggy, and crusty-eyed. It was two-thirty in the A.M. I sat in silence for a while, and once the drowsiness cleared from my head, I dialed Lauren’s phone number.

“Hel-lo,” a gentle voice breathed.

“Did I wake you?” I asked.

“Nooo, I was looking at Oprah and folding laundry,” she said sarcastically. “Who is this?”

“Tracey, it’s Aaron,” I replied in a soft voice. Hoped she wouldn’t be mad.

“Oh,” she said, sounding surprised yet nonchalant.

“Uh, did Lauren ever call?”

“No, Aaron.” She coughed and cleared her throat. “You worried about her?”

“No.”

“Then why would you call here at two in the morning, wanting to know if she’s called?”

“Well, I also called to see if you’re okay, Tracey.”

There.

I said it.

She knew it, I knew it, now what was she gonna do about it?

“I’m not okay,” she told me.

“I’m sor—”

“I’m
asleep
. Or at least I was.”

“Sorry ’bout dat,” I said, and looked at the mag once more before sliding it under a pillow.

“Don’t be. I wasn’t sleeping all that great anyway. After you left, I felt kind of regretful . . . and abandoned, you know what I mean?”

“I know,” I said, voice thick.

“Mmm-hmmm,” she moaned. I heard a little movement.

I could imagine her tossing and turning in her bed.

Solo.

“Hey, you want some company, Tracey?” I blurted.

“Right now?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re serious?” she said, like my request was just so fanciful.

“More than very.”

“Aaron, you’re
crazy
.”

“Oh, you don’t have to go there. Just asking,” I said wondering if I was making a mistake, wondering if I ought to leave this appealing yet dangerous woman alone.

“What are you doing? What are
we
doing?” she asked with a less sluggish, more awake voice.

“Just wanted to see you. I enjoyed hanging out last night,” I said, grabbing two pillows, and pictured myself holding her tight in my arms again.

“Mmmm, same here, but as enjoyable as it was, we can’t make a habit out of that, now can we?”

“No, we can’t.” I paused. “Well, we could, but we shouldn’t, right?”

“Right.” Her voice was husky.

I stroked myself again. Imagined my hand was Tracey’s.

Didn’t feel the same.

“Tracey, people always do what they shouldn’t do. Why should we be any different?”

“Sounds like you’re grasping, Aaron.”

I didn’t say anything for a while, and she didn’t either. The fact that she hadn’t ended the call gave me hope, and that was key.

“Do you want to be with me?” I blurted.

“Mmmm, I—I can’t answer that. I mean, I appreciate your attentiveness toward me tonight. Your listening ear. That was very sweet. But, well, we probably shouldn’t forget that you are dating my . . . my daughter,” she said in a breathy whisper.

“Ehhh, yeah, I know,” I half-laughed. “You’re right. Makes no sense.” I turned over in bed.

“Life hardly ever does, but . . .” she said, drawing her words out like she was singing.

“Yeah?” I told her, my body rigid.

“Well, maybe we can talk about this again sometime. Need time to think.”

“What’s there to think about? What are you getting at?” I asked, sitting up in bed.

“Well, the way things are going, I think it would be good to . . . to talk,” she said like she was sorting through her thoughts. “When? Where? I’m not sure. But I’ll get back with you, Aaron. Better go now. Good night, morning . . . or whatever the hell it is.”

She hung up.

I abruptly let go of my limpness.

Reluctantly let go of her voice.