The Sordid Promise (7 page)

“Are you still trying to sell me on one of your photos, Melonie?”

“If not you, Eric, your new friend might be interested.”

“I’m not into photography,” I told her shortly.

“I think that’s utter bullshit, because you fixed an antique camera like someone who’s very into photography.” Eric’s mood changed as he smirked at me.

“You have to come down to my loft sometime. It’s on Park and Alexander downtown,” Melonie said.

I shrugged at Melonie, because I had no interest in befriending her.

“What you do for a living?” Melonie asked.

“Day trader and freelance web designer slash graphic artist.”

Casper sucked his teeth. “I need to look you up, because the guy I hired for my personal website took too long and did a shoddy job.”

“I could do it, as long as you’re good with communicating through electronic means only. I don’t do personal contact.”

“I wonder why,” Tamala muttered.

Janet nudged her hard. “Be nice to my friend.”

“She sharpens her claws every night. She began doing it after Eric told her to fuck off for the thousandth time. Some people simply can’t take a hint.” Casper thoughtfully swirled his drink around in his glass.

“Casper and I have known each other since grade school when we both lived in Austin,” Eric said. “He lives in Brooklyn now, but drove up for the weekend to visit. Melonie and I met when I came here for premed—how many years ago was that Mel?”

“Over a decade ago,” she said with a nod. “I was in premed too, but when I graduated, I decided to follow my dream, instead of becoming a doctor. Eric here is amazingly book smart. He graduated high school at sixteen. I always knew he would make it through the paces of being a doctor at a breakneck speed.”

“I went to the U of R for pre-med,” Eric continued. “We lost touch when I moved to Ohio for med school. Tamala…”

“We were high school sweethearts back in Austin,” Tamala avowed. “We became fuck buddies when he came here for premed. Continued to be fuck buddies when he was in med school in Ohio. That’s how I met my former
bestie
, Estelle and—”

“Stalker,” Casper sneezed. “I thought he got rid of you for these last two good years. Who did you blow to find his whereabouts?”

Tamala flipped up her middle finger.

“Oh, please,” Casper sang. “It’s not as if I went traipsing across the country, following up after a piece of dick that wanted nothing to do with me. You’re lucky he never filed a restraining order against you. Because here you are again…following him.”

“If he wanted me to go away, he would say so. Until then, I’ll follow him all over the globe.”

The dramatic play wore on my nerves for long enough. I just wanted to go home and get in bed. “Eric,” I whispered and squeezed his hand. “I have to go.”

“So soon?” he questioned with perceptible disappointment. “You barely ate.”

“She didn’t eat anything at all,” Tamala snickered.

Eric sat back, cutting another look at Tamala.

“Relax. I’m just being friendly to your new
girl
.” Tamala mindlessly stabbed at her food with her fork. “Is it because she’s smart? She’s not hotter than me. You’ve met pretty girls who were smart. I didn’t major in computer science, or something just as boring, but I’m still smart. Was it just a right time right place scenario with her? Is she something new and interesting? Is it because you haven’t fucked her yet? Couldn’t have, she would be…different if you had. I know how you are; have to have your broken little dolls lined up in a neat little row.”

The table grew silent.

I shot Tamala an annoyed glance. “Tamala? I don’t know what your problem is, but I’m not a threat to you. We’re not in a competition, because I don’t
want
to be in a competition with you.”

“Through your sad eyes and permanent frown, I can see you’re trying to move in on the man you don’t deserve. By the way, sweetie, you might want to move your bands, they don’t really hide your suicide scars. Should’ve cut longways if you really wanted to die.”

For the first time during the dinner, I didn’t know what to say. I was back in school; back at a point in which Cherish Clark tormented me by pushing me inside my locker and calling me Olive Oil, Suicide Girl, or Fat Tits—whatever name she could come up with. Even though it was years ago, the scars still ran deep.

I moved to leave, but Eric squeezed my hand and shook his head. “Stay,” he commanded with a strong, deep timbre. He rose slowly, his eyes trained on Tamala. “In the den. Now.” The tonality of his voice forced a hush across the table.

“Chew me out because I went on about the girl whose mother is dying of cancer,” Tamala mumbled. “Newsflash….everyone knows someone who’s dying of cancer. You aren’t special.”

Eric’s eyes were darkened by his thick lashes as he regarded Tamala with utter disdain. “Either you can walk with me, or I can embarrass you in front of the whole table. Get the fuck in there.”

Tamala staggered to follow.

They both disappeared down the hall and into a room with the slam of a door.

“She’s just a bitch,” Janet said to me.

When my eyes fell, so did the tears. I was so embarrassed.

Melonie moved from her position and took up Eric’s once occupied seat. She gave me a warm smile. “Ignore her. Don’t let her get to you. You’re going through enough right now.”

The reminder alarm on my phone sounded off. It was far past the time for my departure. I traveled down the hall, despite Janet’s pleas that I stay. Standing just outside the den, I listened to the commotion that echoed beyond the closed door. The noises were unmistakable; Eric was screwing Tamala.

I moved to leave and the door swung open. Eric palmed his misbehaving hair back in place and fastened his belt. Tamala stood just behind him, walking carefully as she rubbed her behind through her dress. Her eyes were full of tears, and her hair was a mess.

Eric froze when he saw me and looked completely flippant about being caught.

“I don’t know much about hosting dinner parties, but I think you should rank on the lower end of the hosting scale. Good night, Eric.” I turned on my heels and walked swiftly out the front door.

Eric called out to me from the sidewalk. I didn’t bother to turn around until I was on the cobblestone walkway of my mother’s home and was made to address him.

“What?” I snapped, trying to shake his firm hold on my shoulders.

“Look, I’m really sorry about that. It’s indirectly my fault. I should’ve called a cab for Tamala the moment she arrived. It’s my mistake for thinking she would be able to behave herself around you. The things she said to you tonight…” He shook his head. “…completely uncalled for and definitely not something I condone. She owes you an apology, and she will give you one.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters, because she ruined the good time my guest of honor was supposed to have. She…fucked up everything.”

I contemplated him with awe.

He stood strong, while maintaining his hold on me. “Yeah, Nik, the dinner party was for you.”

Fluttering my eyelashes, I looked at his hands as they strongly gripped my shoulders. “Can you let me go?”

“No,” he said with a finality.

“Was…fucking her the main night’s attraction?”

“Excuse me? You think I…” He suddenly broke out in laughter.

“I know what I heard,” I muttered.

“Trust me. My cock remained firmly inside my pants the entire night. That’s not what occurred between her and me.”

“What…did happen?”

He chewed the bottom of his lip and shook his head. His hands dropped down my shoulders to my elbows. “Come back. This time around, I want to see if I can convince you to eat something.”

“The only reason I came tonight is because I wanted to use you.”

He backed down, dropping his hold on me as his posture became rigid. “Use me? For what?”

“Doesn’t matter anymore,” I said with a quiet defeat.

“It does to me.”

My mother. She had optimism I couldn’t identify with. I knew what happened with the last two men who served as some semblance of a boyfriend. I remembered the things they said, and the way our relationship changed them. “Okay. Stop. Full stop. I don’t know what you want with me. Whether it’s a one night stand, or a bed buddy…I don’t know, and I don’t care. I’m not the kind of girl a guy like you would want to get involved with. I realize that, by saying that, you’ll just want me more, but don’t. Because if you do, you’ll regret it for whatever short time we’ll be involved.”

“Nik?” His expression turned firm before he leaned in my ear. He tucked the heavy side of my hair behind my shoulder. “We’ve barely started,” he breathed against my ear. “Nor do you know the kind of man I am to say what I should and shouldn’t want.” He stood back from me while donning a cocky smile. “Nor can you tell me what I can’t have.”

I swayed for a moment as I eyed his smile. “I-I take anti-depressants,” I started softly, “and anti-anxiety meds twice a day. I’ve been taking them since I was in high school. And, yes, I’m suicidal. Still suicidal. I’m also a cutter. I’m...completely fucked up. My life and my past are completely fucked up. I’m so beyond messed up that there are numerous broken shards that even several years’ worth of superglue can’t fix. Don’t you get it? You’re wasting your time.” Disallowing a response, I turned back to the walkway and went inside my mother’s home.

Finally complete with the projects I set out to complete for the day, I shut down my laptop. I yawned as I felt the weight of my exhaustion. The social overkill that occurred at the dinner last night continued to wear on me.

Ready to turn in, I started up the stairs. Maisha stood in my way and did a hybrid bark/whine.

“You’re joking?
Another
walk?”

The doorbell rang, causing her to sound off her warning bark. I looked through the peephole and couldn’t believe who I saw standing on the doorstep. I opened the door, sizing him up from head to toe. In a crisp white button-up, dark trousers, and his hair messily, yet perfectly coiffed, Eric smiled at me and showcased his bright whites. “I don’t give up easily.”

“What are you doing here? And why are you dressed like you’re going out on a date?”

“This isn’t my best, Nik. If you saw me in my best, you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands to yourself.” He came inside without an invitation. As he brushed against me, the scent of his favorite cologne lingered about my nose. “You have thirty minutes to slide that pretty round ass into something sexy.”

“What makes you think—“

“If you don’t, I’ll stand out here all night and make a scene. Who knows, I might do something really irritating—like go outside and lay on that annoying doorbell chime and play Chopin…over, and over, and over—”

“Fine!” I relented with my hands up in the air. “But I need forty-five minutes.”

“You don’t have to shave, Nikki. I’m not going to fuck you on our second date.”

“Last night wasn’t—“

“Last night was our first date.” He tapped his watch. “You’re wasting time.”

“Forty-five minutes,” I pressed.

“Why are you still standing here? You could’ve gotten into something short and tight by now.”

I grumbled as marched upstairs to my bedroom to shower and dress.

“So where are we going?” I asked as I descended the stairs in my little black dress.

He gave me a broad smile as he gazed over my body. “When I said tight and short, I was kidding.”

“Then, why would you say it? I’ll go change.” I did an about face.

“No.” He grabbed my hand, stopping me from my departure. “You don’t have time, and…I can play the disciplined guy. I’ll try my damnedest not to rip that dress off you before the night’s over, but no promises.” He extended his other hand to me. “Shall we?”

I took his hand as we walked out the door. The unfamiliar feeling rang more familiar as he strongly clutched my hand.

He walked in front of me a ways, because I wasn’t sure where we were going…until he stopped at the driveway to his home.

I threw my arms across my chest and arched a defiant brow. “Pretty sure all the supermarket magazines warn against private dates inside one’s home on the first date.”

He lifted an amused brow.

I kicked at the sidewalk, feeling moderately awkward. “I don’t normally read things like that. I…was bored one day.” That day was late last night, when I decided to pick up a few toys for Maisha in the middle of the night. I never thought to buy the magazine, but the subtitle of: “10 Dating Don’ts”, caught my wandering eye.

“Second
date. We’re not going inside, our date will commence on the deck. So, if it’s all right with the bad advice from your trashy magazines, we’ll walk around the house. You’ll never have to step foot inside. But, really, Nik, we’re both adults here, right?” He began to walk, holding onto my waist as we moved through the yard.

“Adults are the worst sort of predators. I would trust you more if you were a teenager.”

He immediately stopped walking, and so did I. When I looked in his eyes, there was an emotionless void that threw me. “And I would warn you not to trust the teenage Eric. He was a vicious kid, who would’ve done anything to have you.”