My Daughter's Boyfriend (10 page)

“Spare me,” I smiled, giving him a stop sign with my left hand.

“What I mean is,” he explained, “I’ve been involved with enough women to know what they want to hear, how they want to be treated.”

“And what do we—” I blushed. “What do
they
want to hear?”

“Anything that validates a woman, that’s pretty much what she wants to hear. She doesn’t want to hear how fat she is even if she weighs four hundred pounds. She doesn’t want to hear that her hair is through, even if it feels like a Brillo pad.”

My heart lifted and I giggled. “And what does a man like to hear?”

“That he’s the best lover in the world, the greatest man you’ve ever known, the only man you want to be with,” he said with a huge grin.

“All lies.”

“Hey, it works both ways. But then again, if you find the right person, the things you say won’t be a bunch of lies. It’ll be the truth . . . because you have found the right person.”

“So, with all the young ladies that you’ve dated . . .” I twisted in my seat. “Well . . .”

“Well, what?”

“I just wonder why you’re . . .”

“Why I date your daughter?”

“Bingo.”

He squirmed and looked down at the table. “She’s sweet, attentive, tries hard.”

“And those few things would allow you to be with a girl who’s a virgin?”

“Who
was
a virgin,” he said without smiling.

“Aaron, don’t play,” I said, and popped him on the hand.

“Hey, it’s not often that I cross paths with a virgin. Hell, I don’t know, maybe I’m curious.”

“Don’t be too curious. She’s so young. She has plenty of time to, well, you know what I’m trying to say. I’d rather for Lauren to concentrate on school, her activities. She needs to be well rounded, not just putting all her efforts on how to please a man.”

“I hear ya,” he said, and spread a little bit of that fake-looking margarine on his roll.

“I’ve been where Lauren’s trying to go. Hey, I know what it’s like to be a mom. Not a baby-sitter, mind you, but somebody’s seventeen-year-old mother, you know what I’m saying? Wasn’t easy. Mom and I clashed many days. There were tons of screaming, tears, and slamming doors between us. One minute my mother was acting like she wanted to throw me and Lauren out the house, the next minute she was acting like my baby was hers.”

“Your mom’s here in Houston?”

I wrinkled my nose. “Yep.”

“Y’all get along these days?” he asked.

I shifted my eyes. “I’ll go out of my way to see my mother when it’s absolutely necessary. Birthday. Mother’s Day. I got my life and she’s got hers.”

“Dang, most daughters love hanging around their mothers.”

“That’s true only in the movies. Mom and I had a tolerable relationship years ago, but I started feeling uncomfortable. Even though I was young, I had responsibilities and was grown as far as I was concerned. But Mom still saw me as this kid and would voice strong opinions about the decisions I’d make concerning Lauren, how to spend money, who she hung around, how to dress my child. I felt suffocated and drifted away. It’s too much of a hassle, and once in a while I go see her, but she usually has to initiate the call and promise me that she’ll lay off.”

“That’s too bad,” Aaron commented with enlarged eyes. “And your father?”

“What father?” I asked.

“Everybody has a father.”

“Well, if you’re referring to the man who impregnated, married, but abandoned my mother after five years of marriage, then I guess you’re right. I guess I do have a father,” I told him with a heartfelt sigh.

“So I presume you’re not in touch with your dad, either?”

“I could be if I knew where the bastard was, but that’s another story. Details at ten.”

“Okay, okay. Don’t talk about it if you’re not feeling the parent thang.”

He surveyed the crowd for a minute, and patted his tummy. “I don’t know about you, but I can use some dessert. Want anything?”

“What do they have?” I asked, lifting my body up in my seat and looking toward the dessert area.

“Banana pudding, peach cobbler, cherry pie, brownies, some of everything.”

“Mmmm. Sounds good, but I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself. I’ll be right back.”

I watched Aaron walk away from me. The farther he went, the less complete I felt. Seemed like we’d been hanging around each other all our lives, and the more I was with him, the more I wanted to be with him. A friend, I thought, maybe he could be a good friend. But with friends who looked and acted like Aaron Oliver, who needed boyfriends?

He returned with a small bowl of banana pudding, creamy-looking with soft bananas and crushed vanilla wafers sprinkled on top. Our eyes locked when Aaron caught me staring at his food.

“Hey, want some?”

I shook my head and sipped some water. He scooped some dessert onto a spoon and placed it against the center of my lips. I shook my head again. He nodded his. I opened my mouth and he thrust in the pudding.

“Mmmm, yummy.”

He smiled at me and scooped up some more dessert and I opened my mouth again, and again, and again. Took me all of three minutes to clean out his bowl. I walked up to the dessert counter and selected a bowl of peach cobbler, the kind where the crust is thick and juicy and the peaches melt in your mouth.

“Now it’s my turn to feed you, Aaron.”

He blushed and let me spoon-feed him some pie. I discerned the glances, the outright stares, of the other diners. Knowing we had an audience irritated me but made me feel pleased at the same time.

“Hey, Tracey. I like when you feed me.”

“And I like when you feed
me
.”

“This is nuts.”

“But it’s fun, isn’t it?” I smiled.

“
You’re
fun,” he said, and caressed my hand. I grabbed his and we held on to each other for the longest; no words, no nothing. I enjoyed how good it felt to be with him, how soothing his presence felt to my soul. Didn’t really want it to end, either.

Maybe that’s why I began to entertain thoughts that our becoming emotionally attached was all right. If fate was in charge, maybe it was telling me there was nothing wrong with my getting to know Aaron, a man who didn’t put me down but built me up. I had been put down so much in life that it felt good to see how the other side felt.

Likewise, right then Aaron was someone who proved to me that Steve was wrong when he said that no man on earth would want me. Not that Aaron wanted me, but at least he treated me with respect, something my soul craved at that point.

So, as the evening ended, I released a few more of my fears and set my feet at the base of a hill called Temptation. A long, steep hill, too steep for me to know what I’d find once I reached the top.

Tracey 13

A few days later I had just gotten home after browsing
at both Office Depot and Academy. Set down my purse and checked my voice mail. Nada. Good. I was a little tired and looked forward to spending a quiet evening at home. When I went to the kitchen to attack the last can of soda, I noticed that Lauren had left me a note attached to the front of the fridge underneath a Pizza Hut magnet. It read:

Mom,
Came home from school but had to leave.
Daddy called and is picking me up.
I packed a light bag & should be back tomorrow night.
Love you.

I smiled, felt lighthearted, and popped open my drink; the cool, zippy grape flavor seemed to taste even better. I massaged the upper part of my back with three fingers. I imagined myself taking a nice, long, hot bath. Turning on some mood music and grabbing an engaging book.

I headed for my bathroom and turned on the water. Poured a generous portion of some tropical peach bath foam in the bottom of the tub. At the unexpected ringing of the telephone, I had to balance my hands against the wall to keep from falling in. At first I started not to answer, but I turned off the water and rushed to catch it on the third ring.

“Hello.”

“May I speak to Lauren?”

“Hi, Aaron. Lauren’s not here. She’s—”

“Over her father’s for the night?” he said in a rushed tone.

“I assume she called and told you?”

“Yep, she did.”

“Oh.”

He didn’t say anything for the longest. Was he waiting for me to give him an invitation? Make a suggestion? I didn’t know what to say, so I just listened to him listening to me listen to him.

“So, what were you doing?” Aaron asked.

“Running my bath. Thought I’d relax and . . . read.”

“Hmmm! Sounds good.” He paused. “Well, I was just checking on you to see how you were doing. Was worried about you.”

“Awww, that’s very kind, Aaron. But I’m doing good.” I felt the tenseness of my shoulders ease, and I allowed myself to stretch out on the couch. “Because of you, I feel much stronger. More positive.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear that,” he said softly.

“And thanks. I don’t remember if I ever said that, but I’m saying it now. Your support meant a lot.”

“No problem.” We talked another ten minutes, then Aaron said, “Hey, I don’t mean to rush you off the phone, but I do have plans tonight. Gotta break. You take care, all right?”

I blinked and stared at the ceiling.

“Hello?” he said with an edge.

“Yeah, okay. Well . . . thanks for calling. ’Bye,” I said, and hung up the phone before he could respond. I stomped back toward the bathroom and made a tiny circle in the bathwater with my finger.

Cold. Bubbleless.

Damn him.

Wasted time, water, and foam.

I drained the water and began refilling the tub. Went to my bedroom to get a book from my nightstand, the novel
Preconceived Notions
by Robyn Williams. Seems like an odd choice, since I was about to take a bath. The author’s sex scenes were
sooo
hot, so tender, more like lovemaking than simply sex. I wished I were the main character, Imagany, who had love made to her the way it was supposed to be done, the way
I
used to be done.

Boy, that bath felt good. I allowed the tubful of steaming, silky water to cover my body and take away most of the tension and soreness. The water felt so wonderful and soothing. Like it was giving me another chance. When I got out of the tub, I slipped on a long-sleeved nightgown. I sat on the couch, curled my legs underneath me, and read for about a half hour. As good as the story was, I kept listening for the phone.

After reading the same paragraph eight times, I laid aside the novel and reached for the phone. I pressed *69 and hoped I wasn’t about to make a fool of myself. The phone rang and rang and eventually went into voice mail. Damn! I hung up. What message could I leave? I hoped that if Aaron had caller ID, he would think Lauren had called. But then again, he knew she was at her dad’s tonight. What if he realized I was the one who’d tried to reach out and touch?

Feeling like an idiot, I went and slumped on the couch, pulled my legs against my chest, and wrapped my arms around my knees. Two minutes later I found myself dusting. Dusting! And right after that I headed toward the sliding glass door and slipped out onto the balcony. By then it was eight o’clock. The night was pitch-black, cool, and inviting. With a lump in my throat I watched people coming and going, laughing. All of them with things to do, places to go, people to see.

I honestly didn’t see the Legend drive up. Didn’t hear a thing. Then I heard my phone ring. I raced to pick it up. Out of breath. Hopeful.

“Hello.”

“Tracey.”

“Hi, Aaron.” My voice was an infant’s feeble cry.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, why?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to get your attention tonight, and you act like you’re out of it.”

“What do you mean, trying to get my attention?”

“Go open your front door,” he said.

“What?”

“
Open
your front door, Tracey.”

With phone still in hand, I opened the door. My jaw dropped when I saw Aaron standing outside, his cell phone stuck against his ear.

“You sure know how to waste a college student’s money,” he laughed into the phone. Aaron stepped inside the doorway, turned off his phone, and pressed his cheek against the retractable antenna, causing it to disappear.

“Oh, Lord. How long have you been standing out there?” I asked.

“About thirteen hours,” he deadpanned.

“Oh, Aaron. I’m sorry. I—I didn’t know,” I blushed.

“It’s okay. I’m here now.”

I smiled at him for the first time. Felt titillated. It seemed dangerous yet exciting to have him in the apartment with me that night.

First I deleted all his incoming calls from caller ID. Then I took a seat on the couch. Aaron plopped next to me, his thigh touching mine, and immediately put his arm around me. The heat that developed inside me created enough warmth to make the sun seem frozen. He hugged me, yanking at my shoulders like he was trying to shake some sense into my head. I frown-laughed but looked away from him.

“I’m glad to see you,” he replied in a gentle voice.

My cheeks flushed. I patted him friendly-like on his leg.

“Are you glad to see me, Tracey?”

I looked at him. Melting, melting, melting. A nod was the only thing I could offer.

“That makes me feel good,” he whispered.

I said nothing. Just stared at the fireplace.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

I turned my head and met his intense gaze. He swallowed me up. Tasted my face with his eyes. I swallowed so hard I wasn’t positive I still had a tongue.

His eyes snaked across every inch of my face: cheeks, eyebrows, chin, and mouth. He stared at my mouth a long, long time. I felt excited, yet afraid. I closed my eyes and soon felt his lips covering mine.

“Mmmm,” I murmured in shock. He kissed me, long, deep, hot, and sensually. His juices intermingled with mine, his tongue traveling the scope of my mouth. Within seconds I knew the texture of his tongue: strong, long, wet, and warm. I started wiggling my hips, shaking my legs as he grabbed the back of my head and pulled it even closer to him. I heard the smacks from our kisses, loud, inviting.

My eyes were closed, but the tears still formed.

“Mmmm,” I moaned again, wanting to pull away, yet not knowing if I was strong enough to do it. So I let him kiss me. Felt like hours, but I’m sure it was ten, fifteen minutes tops. When he finally released me, my eyes fluttered, my head wobbly, intoxicated. I licked and smacked my lips.

He stared at me still. Not yet ready to give me up.

“You all right?” he asked, and ran his hand through my hair, sweeping it to the side of my face.

I nodded. Fiddled with my hands. Felt weird. Here I was on the couch, necking like a hormone-driven teenager.

I caught Aaron gaping at my erect nipples. We locked eyes.

I hopped up.

“Thirsty, Aaron?” I asked in a raspy voice. I grabbed my throat, rubbing it as if it had betrayed me. When I swung open the refrigerator, the only beverages in stock were a liter of bottled water and a jar of kiwi-strawberry juice. I removed two glasses from the kitchen cabinet and noticed a pack of stress tabs that were hiding between two coffee mugs.

“Stress tabs?” Aaron asked.

I closed my eyes. His chest and midsection were now molded against my back and my booty. His head extended over my shoulder, his right cheek pressing against my left cheek.

“Y-yep,” I admitted.

“Stressed?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh, I see.” He backed away. I turned around and handed him a glass. He turned it upside down and smacked the bottom.

“Kiwi juice? This the best you can do?”

“Gotta buy groceries. Probably will go tomorrow morning.”

“Let’s go tonight.”

“Grocery shopping now? Why, Aaron?”

“Why not? You got anything better to do?”

I smiled. Looked at myself. Dressed in a frilly gown that covered my body. A body that, even without the gown, felt much too hot to even be wearing a small Band-Aid.

“I—I’m not dressed to go shopping.”

“Tracey, that sounds like an excuse.”

“It
is
an excuse.”

“Well, okay, what else do you suggest?”

“Why suggest anything, Aaron? Why can’t we just stay here and . . . talk?”

“Okay, I’m all right with talking.”

Aaron smiled and set his glass on the counter. I poured kiwi juice till his glass was full. He took a huge gulp, throwing back his head and wiping his top lip when he was done.

He grabbed my hand and led me back to the couch. I felt like a kid. He had me sit on the floor while he sat behind me on the couch. He grabbed my shoulders between his hands. His silken fingers, long and strong, began to knead the tension in my neck. I felt the tender heat generated by his fingers.

“Ouch.”

“Hey, it may start out hurting, but in a minute it’s going to start feeling like ‘please, baby, baby, please.’ ”

“Oh, really?” I smiled. “You have magical hands, huh?”

“That’s what I’ve been told.”

I felt Aaron grab my head and gently push it to the side, exposing my sensitive neck.

“What are you—”

“Shhhh, be quiet, woman.”

I laughed.

His warm, wet, and sensuous lips began to nibble across my neck. Kissing, licking it. I shuddered. Trembled.

“Ooooh, Aaron.”

My eyes rolled. I threw back my head and rocked it back and forth.

Kiss, nibble, smack.

Sensations rippled everywhere.

“Why are you—”

His hands cupped my breasts.

“Sssss, awww, Aaron, please.”

“I’m trying to . . .”

Have you ever known the feeling of a man kissing your neck and massaging your breasts at the same time?

I like to died.

Suddenly he let go.

Breasts untouched. Neck again exposed.

I opened my eyes. The room seemed so bright. I blinked. Wondered where he’d gone.

“Tracey, get up.”

I obeyed. He made room for me on the couch by scooting to the side. I shocked myself by placing one of my legs on top of his. He smiled. Just a little. Just enough.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

We stared at each other. I noticed that Aaron’s eyes were glazed like he was under the influence.

“Tracey?”

“What?”

“You want me to make love to you?”

“No!”

I said that quick, like it was a fact, when in fact it was nothing but a quick lie.

He stared at me, then stood up.

“Let’s go,” he commanded.

“Go where?”

“We’re getting a room. Pack a bag.”

“What?”

“Tracey, stop trying to fight this. Let’s get a room. Doesn’t mean anything is gonna happen. But we should get away from here. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re here that you can’t relax. Come with me and I’ll make you so relaxed you’ll think you were born with me laying inside of you.”

I fled to my bedroom and packed a toothbrush, toothpaste, a couple pairs of underwear, and some more junk I don’t recall. While cramming things in my overnight bag, I felt excited, yet burdened. Liberated, yet selfish.

Lauren hadn’t called all night.

Good thing she didn’t.

I would have been hard-pressed to find a lie that would satisfy her.