My Daughter's Boyfriend (13 page)

“Hey, you still there?”

“Mmm-hmmm. You okay? You sound funny.”

“Guess who that was?” I whispered.

“Who?”

“Lauren.”

“Omigod. I’m outta here. Call me sometime this week. Tomorrow at work.” She told me the phone number and hung up quick.

Tracey 15

As I look back, I see that once I hit my thirties, every
thing changed: my body, my philosophy, and my goals. I was tired of being expected to do the right thing, even if it was something I didn’t want to do. Yet I wanted to be able to try to find what would make me feel good. So, once I turned thirty-four, which happened last summer on the seventh of August, doing things that made Tracey happy became the theme of the second half of my life. And if being happy meant taking more chances, to try to be less afraid, then I was willing to do that. Yet I was scared. I knew in my heart that all I had to do was say the word and Aaron would’ve swapped sides so fast it would’ve made Michael Johnson seem like a crawling six-month-old. But I wasn’t sure I was ready to do that. Wasn’t sure it was morally acceptable for me to be with Aaron. But as unnerving as it all was, that didn’t stop me from wanting him.

Hey, people break up all the time, and I was the queen of being dumped. Lauren wasn’t anything special when it came to getting hurt. And I didn’t want to be one of those involved in having her get hurt. Yet before I really thought things through, I dove headfirst into “the world revolves around me.” I came to the conclusion that I liked Aaron, enjoyed being with him, loved making love to him, and he was the remedy I needed to get over Mr. Monroe. As pathetic as Steve was, the emotional and physical ties couldn’t be ignored, and I still needed major help getting over him.

So Aaron and I continued to hang out together. And like the military, we adopted a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy. If Lauren saw me rushing out of the apartment without notice, I’d just yell “Be right back,” over my shoulder and would do eighty miles an hour down the freeway toward a magnet called Aaron. He wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to be with him. But it was hard for Aaron. Take, for example, a recent Friday night. He really wanted to see me, but Lauren wanted him to take her out, too. What could the brother do? Double-date? I don’t think so. Lauren won out that time.

I even helped her get ready.

We were in the main bathroom. I rubbed perfumed lotion on her arms while she tended to her makeup.

“So, are you and your
friend
going out tonight?” I asked, and squirted some lotion in the palm of my hand.

“Yeah,” Lauren told me. She raised her left elbow. “He’s been kind of out of it lately, but it looks like he’s returning to his old self, finally,” she smiled.

“Oh yeah?” My mouth felt like it was full of cotton balls. “How? What has he been doing—exactly?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I can’t catch him,” she said, and swiped her lips with strawberry gloss. “And he leaves his cell phone either at home or with the power off. He never used to do that before. Anyway, tonight I may talk to him and get inside his head. Maybe something’s bothering him. I know his dad has been sick, so maybe his moods have something to do with that.”

“You know, you’re probably right. Kids are very concerned about their parents’ health. Sometimes they’re in denial, though; so maybe Aaron exhibits his hurt through other means.”

“Huh? Mom, what are you talking about?” She was done with her makeup and peered at me while scratching her scalp with her house key.

You don’t want to know,
I thought.

“Oh, never mind. Here, Lauren, let me straighten your hair a little bit. God, you need a touch-up.”

“Mom, you were just sounding like Aaron’s psychologist. I know y’all talk on the phone sometimes. Has he been confiding in you?”

Define confiding.

“Me? Why would he confide in me?” I said, and ran a brush through her hair several times. It felt good to be standing behind Lauren instead of in front of her.

“I don’t know. I’m just playing. Dang, can’t you take a joke? You’re not as silly as you used to be. I want my old mom back.”

I’ll bet you do,
I thought.

“Well, you’re looking good tonight, Lauren,” I said and followed her to the living room. “Don’t stay out late, though.”

“Hey, I’ll be glad when Christmas break comes,” she said glancing at her watch. “Come next Thursday, we’re out of school for almost three whole weeks.”

“Yeah, that’s going to be nice,” I said.

Real nice.

“Now remember, you said I can go visit my daddy’s folks in Georgia. You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

Are you kidding? I can’t wait till that plane leaves the ground.

Lauren watched me as my eyes glazed. A few months before, she’d asked me if it would be okay for her to visit Derrick’s parents in College Park, Georgia, for the Christmas holidays. Back then I was like “Hell, naw.” Just being difficult. But now, hey, things were different.

“Oh no, baby. I gave you my word; you’re going for sure. Didn’t Derrick already get your plane ticket?”

“Yeah, he got it, but we’re just checking. Making sure you’re okay with this and all.”

“They’re still your grandparents, Lauren. Just because your father and I aren’t together doesn’t mean you can’t know his side of the family. You look just like ’em.”

“Thanks, Mom.” She beamed at me and actually came and hugged me, something she hadn’t done in a while. My throat tightened like someone had placed their hands around my neck and squeezed, but I managed to grab her too.

Aaron honked for Lauren from the parking lot. She waved good-bye and hightailed it through the door. I turned off the lamp switch before I eased my way to the living room window and looked out. She got in the Legend, slid next to him, and they kissed. I saw it. But wasn’t a damned thing I could do about it.

AROUND FOUR O’CLOCK THE NEXT day, I dropped Lauren off at Foley’s for her hair appointment. Because Lauren was getting a relaxer, a wrap, and a cut, I knew that the hair salon would kidnap her for a good three to four hours.

The moment after I waved to Lauren, I dialed Aaron’s cell number.

“Hello, this is the Legend,” he answered.

“Hi, and this is the Malibu.”

“What’s going on, sexy?”

“Well, I’m free right now. Can we meet?”

“When? Where? What time?”

I laughed. “Meet me at Best Western in Stafford.”

“Hey, that’s close to both you and me.”

“Yep. I feel like a thirty-something freakazoid tonight.”

“A what? Mmmm, I gotcha,” he said, with sexiness oozing from his voice.

“So, you gonna meet me?”

“Tracey, are you positive you want to meet so close to your home?”

“Hey, by the time we fight traffic trying to drive to the other side of town, an hour will have passed. That’s an extra hour of moaning that’s lost.”

“Be there in ten minutes,” he said.

“I’ll be there in five.”

WE HAD JUST ENTERED THE ROOM.
I felt tingly, naughty, and hot all at the same time.

“Why so rushed?” Aaron asked when I came up behind him and squeezed him on his behind.

“Hey, it’s been a while.”

“Only a week, Tracey,” he replied.

“Hey, it feels like two years, Aaron.”

“You’re just spoiled. You gots to have it, huh?” he said in a voice that massaged my ears as well as my heart.

“Yep, Aaron,” I said, squeezing him around his waist and kissing him on his neck. “I do.”

Even though I wanted to get right to it, Aaron insisted that we wait until it got dark outside. Guess he felt like the dark would cover our sins.

Wasn’t enough darkness in the world.

As soon as nighttime crossed the border, we broke rules for four hours straight.

I attacked him the second he dimmed the lights. I clasped my hands around his head and pressed my lips against his. Then I cocked my head and said in a kittenish voice, “I may be an adult, but sometimes I forget how to undress myself.”

“No problem. I’ll help you get undressed, baby.”

I was wearing a leopard-print camise shirt and some black stirrup pants. I looked up at Aaron and slowly raised my hands like a child waiting to get assistance from an adult. He pulled my shirt over my head, and I could feel him biting my nipples through the fabric.

“Oooh, will you hurry the hell up?” I fussed through clenched teeth.

Then he stood and observed me in my red panties; stared at me so long I wanted to cover my belly with my hands, and I did. But he snatched back my hands and took his fingers and hooked the sides of my panties, pulling them down slow, slower, and more slowly as he peeked at every inch of my nakedness until his eyes were full and glazing.

“You like what you see, or you see what you like?” I said, and placed my hands on my bare hips.

He only had enough strength to nod his reply.

Once we were both nude, I pulled him on top of me, stroking his back and his smooth yet firm behind. I rubbed my hands along the back of his legs and I wanted him inside me so bad I finagled his butt around until he found me.

The impact was immediate. I was so hot for him. My inner passage pulsated around his thick, hard, and wet manhood, and I swear if anybody would’ve called me Whoopi Goldberg, I would’ve answered. We rolled around on that bed, sweating like we were wearing fur coats in a steam bath. My breasts were smashed against his chest, and he kept thrusting himself inside me so hard I cussed him out at least seven times.

“Damn, Aaron, what in the hell you doing to me? You know you doing something freaky to me. You know you making me hate your butt, don’t you? Why you so damn rough and I can’t stand for someone to do me like you’re doing and you better not stop doing it either or I’ll kick your ass.”

Aaron was grinning, sweat streaming down his face like his skin was crying.

“Da-hamn you’re crazy, baby. This is great, though. Just slap me one time, one time. Ooohhh, mine’s is coming. Woo, Tracey, I’m there, I’m there, dayummmmmm.”

We rattled against each other, sounding like woodpeckers for a full ten minutes. Aaron wore me out so bad I felt like I’d just given birth to quintuplets and got pregnant again two minutes later.

But finally, when words found themselves inside my mouth, I nudged Aaron, who was slumped on top of me like a dead body.

“Hey, Aaron. That was great! The ultimate. I can’t ever let you go. No, no, never.”

He didn’t answer.

I shook him again.

“Aaron, hey, Aaron.”

And I smiled when I saw that Aaron’s silence was because he’d fallen asleep.

And that’s when I knew that, even though he didn’t say it, he
did
get his.

I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF TAKING
a nice, long, hot shower when I heard the sound of Lauren’s knuckle-rap on my bathroom door. I wanted to ignore her so bad; the heated water felt like massaging hands, the shower gel smelled like fresh strawberries, and I just wasn’t ready to be set free from this erotic moment, but she pounded harder and I turned off the shower and yelled, “What is it, Lauren?”

“Mommmm, telephone,” she sang, but it was an angry kind of singing.

“I’m taking a shower. Who is it?”

“Mr. Steve.”

Her words barely hit the air as I snatched the first towel my hands could reach. My drippy, soapy fingers fumbled to unlock the bathroom door. Lauren looked at me like I was stark naked and riding a camel down Westheimer Road. I ignored her and seized the portable from her tight grip. She just stood there staring at me, so I raced into my bedroom and locked the door and even retreated further into my big walk-in closet and shut that door behind me, too.

I waited until I could catch my breath. I didn’t even care that water was dripping off my body onto my suede Bandolinos.

“Hello!”

“Hey, baby,” answered Steve. He was speaking so low I thought he was sitting somewhere in the freaking library.

“Baby?”

“You know you love me, Tracey.”

“Oh God,” I said. “Steve, wh-what the heck is your problem?”

“Ahhh, Tracey. I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked—”

“Right, and the last time we talked, you said we were through.”

“Uh, yeah, I remember,” he said, sounding like he’d rather forget.

“So why are you calling me, then?”

“You know what? If it weren’t for Lelani, none of this would be happening. She trips out so much I can barely stay in my right mind.”

So Lelani was the only reason he would try to creep back? Had nothing to do with how he possibly felt about
me
?

“Lani is nothing but a cock-blocker,” he said in this really casual and nonchalant way that quite frankly irritated the hell out of me. It was just like Steve to blame that drama all on Lani—like he had no part in it whatsoever—and I know no woman has
that
much control over a man. Please!

“Looks like she succeeded,” I murmured.

“Ah, she ain’t done nothing,” he continued in that low voice.

“Are you at home?”

“Yep,” he whispered.

“Alone?”

He started coughing hard, like he had bronchitis or something, and I thought how very convenient it was for him to start hacking at that moment.

“So what’s up, Steve? What’s the real reason you’re calling me?”

“I’m calling you because I was thinking about you . . . and wanted to see you, if possible.”

“
You
want to see
me?
”