You Should Smile (8 page)

Thad Reeding was rich.  Filthy, filthy rich.  His great-grandfather was big in the steel industry and his sons, Abraham, Lewis, and David, inherited millions (billions today, I’m sure).  Lewis and David went on to other big business opportunities, while Abraham settled for a life of law and fighting for equality.  I blurted, “So your grandfather’s money…?”

Thad smiled and said, “Yeah.  He didn’t live the life of steel magnate’s son.  He led the life of a civil rights attorney.  My mom and her brother lived in nice houses, don’t get me wrong, but the vast majority of his money went toward funding social issues. He did, however, set aside a significant amount of money for his kids and grandkids….”

Confused, I continued to spew the words.  “But you don’t live….you drive that pickup….you….he gave money to his grandkids, too?”

“Yeah.  I’m a trust fund baby!  Go figure…”  He grinned at me, a big sexy grin.

I was still confused and he knew that.  He continued grinning.  “Shay, I don’t give two flying fucks about that money.  I used some of it to start this company – he pointed to the HandUP sign in the yard.  I never even access it unless I’m using it to help someone else.  I can live just fine on my teaching salary.  That’s all I need…..but I hope now you can see why I fear people using me.”

Everything started to dawn on me, as I completely understood now.  “Wait…. ‘Boss’.  That’s why Roscoe called you that.  You
are
the boss here.”

“Yeah.  Every weekend I come out here and do carpentry work and try to oversee the buildings when I can.  I don’t want to be the type of owner who just wears a suit and barks orders…I’m no different or better than anyone here.”

I wanted to kiss him.  I really, really did.  No, not just kiss him.  I wanted to do things to him that were probably illegal in certain states…..but not because of the money.  I didn’t care that he was rich.  It was what he did with the money.  It was the fact he didn’t show or care that he had it otherwise. 

He could tell I was off in space again somewhere.  “What are you thinking about, Shay?”

I blurted it out.  “Illegal acts.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

He pressed on.  “Good acts or bad acts?”

I started laughing.  “Depends.  They’re probably still illegal.”

He wouldn’t stop.  “Depends on what?”

“What you consider ‘bad,’ I guess.”  I raised my eyebrows and gave him my best sexy, teasing smile.  I knew it would finally shut him up.

His eyes went wide with understanding and he mouthed quietly, “Oh….”  He rubbed the back of his neck and winced.  “Fuck.” 

Roscoe was there to save the moment from becoming too awkward. 

“Uh, Boss, whenever you’re done, we have some work orders for you to sign.”  I turned toward Roscoe, who was giving me a devilish, teasing smile. 

“No problem, Roscoe.  On my way.”  I watched his tight ass as he walked away.

A little boy, probably three years old, then ran up to Thad with his arms out, yelling, “Daddy!  Daddy!”  The gulp that came from my throat was noticeable.  What the hell?

I realized Roscoe was still standing beside me and he began to laugh – loudly.  I turned toward his dancing eyes, focused on me as if I was the funniest thing he’d ever seen.  Was he crazy?  Why was he looking at me like I was the one who was insane?

“That’s Willie, Miss Shay.  Willie is Miss Norma’s grandson.”  He pointed toward a young African-American lady picking up debris nearby.  Roscoe continued to smile and nod at me merrily.  Then he noticed the confusion still in my eyes.  He paused and grinned at the ground. 

“Ummm…I hope I don’t have to tell ya how them birds and bees and gene stuff works, but Willie’s daddy sure ain’t no white boy!”  He roared laughing again and slapped my back, like he’d told me the funniest story in the world.  I stared back at the little boy and it hit me.  I was an idiot.  I just heard the word “Daddy” and, frankly, after the day’s events, I didn’t have time to think logically.  I assumed Thad had another surprise.  Looking at sweet Willie’s rich brown skin color, though, I could see what Roscoe was saying. 

I began to laugh then, too.  I laughed so hard that tears were streaming down my face.  Roscoe was bent over, laughing, too, and choked out, “Willie calls everyone ‘Daddy’.  His daddy ain’t never around, so he thinks everyone on site is his ‘Daddy’…..and in some ways, they are.” 

I howled again as the tears streamed down my face.  People began to notice our antics and I saw Thad look up from the table where he was signing papers.  He gave me his creases and I grinned back.

I whispered to Roscoe, “Thad’s something else, isn’t he, Roscoe?”

“He sure is, Miss Shay.  He sure is.  I got all kinds of good stories on him, though, if you need blackmail.  I’ve known that boy since he was a baby, following his grandpa around like a puppy – going to protests and demonstrations before he could even read.  Always had a good heart and a helluva temper, that boy. ....”  He paused thoughtfully, looking down at the ground.  “You take good care of him, ya hear?  ‘Cause you got his heart in your hands.  I can see that.” 

“I…uh, no, Roscoe.  We’re not…I mean….”

He just grinned at me again and patted my shoulder.  “No need to ‘splain.  I’m old, but I ain’t dumb.”

I shut my mouth.  How do you respond to that?  I didn’t even know how to respond.  I finally whispered, “Well, it’s not his heart you should be worrying about.”

Roscoe nodded and whistled.  “MmmmmHmmmm……I understand that fear.  Love is a scary thing.  Love can make ya or break ya, Miss Shay.  But I think you needn’t worry too much about your heart with Thad.  He’s a good soul.  Trust me on that.”  Roscoe winked at me with his dark, bushy eyes and scrambled off toward the site.  I didn’t even try to correct him on the “love” thing.  That’s a word I didn’t even want to think about, much less say out loud.  I followed after him and began to join in on the work.

The work was hot, sweaty, and hard.  As the summer sun began to go down and I glanced up at how much we’d gotten done that day, I felt a swell of pride.  I now knew what Thad meant about working on something where you can
see
your results.  It was a contented feeling of worth.

Now that the truth about Thad’s role on my committee was out in the open, I realized that there was no way he could get off of it now.  I was too far into the dissertation.  I’d been working on it almost a year.  I couldn’t start over.  Plus, we’d done too much work on the Atherton case study.  Thad explained that we’d have to disclose his relationship to Abraham as a disclaimer in the dissertation, of course.  As an outside committee member, though, he didn’t have a final vote on whether I passed anyway, so the fact that he knew Abraham wasn’t anything bad.  It was actually seen as a positive because I could rely upon his expertise about his grandfather for the case study.  I had access to someone who knew the original source very well.  That’s why Grambling thought he should be on the committee.  It did make sense.  In the end, though, only my main advisor, Dr. Hanover, would make the final determination on whether I passed, after considering input from everyone else. 

We still couldn’t be together, though.  The shadow of impropriety remained, looming large.  If we
did
pursue the relationship while I was working on the dissertation and people found out, there’d always be those conflict of interest questions remaining.  People would always wonder if Thad had some influence on writing the dissertation itself or even Hanover’s decision to pass me.  The legitimacy of my degree would be in jeopardy.  As for Thad, there was the “position of authority” issue.  He could be accused of using his supervisory position over me to his advantage.  Of course, if anyone could be accused of wanting to push the limits of our relationship, it was me and not him, but that wouldn’t matter to some people.    

So we were stuck in this weird limbo, one where we fought this attraction between us, still pretending like we hadn’t crossed that line already, all the while trying not to cross it again, but wanting to cross it again – like a freaking yo-yo.  It’s all I thought about. 

He didn’t mention it.  I didn’t mention it.  That made me happy.  It also pissed me off.  Bipolar.  To his credit, he never made me feel awkward or uncomfortable or acted like he regretted it.  I was thankful for that, I guess.  He kept up his professionalism in meetings with me alone and when we were with others.  To an outsider, you’d have never known there was something going on between us.  To tell the truth, we had no idea what was going on between us, either.  It was always there, though – this hovering cloud of temptation and lust hanging over us.   

Ms. L. was starting to get crazy again.  Every time I saw him, she began to rage.  Every time he grinned at me, she began to scream.  When we inadvertently happened to touch, she started cursing again.   

I’d successfully kept up my acting performance with Grant.  I didn’t think he’d noticed anything yet, even though he continued to tease me about Thad.  The constant teasing and sexual tension was starting to get to me. 

“You need to get laid, Princess.”

“Shut up, Grant.”

“Why don’t you go over to Thad’s office and just get it over with now?”

“Shut the fuck up, Grant!”  I shot daggers through him with my eyes.

“Okay, Okay.  I was just kidding.  Calm down.  Yikes!”

I sighed.  “Sorry…I’m just stressed out….because of this dissertation, I guess.”

“Yeah, I bet.”  He grinned at me and I rolled my eyes.  “Later, Princess.” 

I breathed a sigh of relief when he finally walked off.  Another catastrophe avoided.

***************

After my weekly meeting with Dr. Hanover, I usually met with Thad in his office.  This day, however, Thad had texted to say he had something come up and asked if we could just Skype that night instead.

I headed home, ready for a big glass of wine.  The dissertation was starting to stress me out beyond the usual.  Working with Dr. Hanover was particularly hard.  I had to admit that he was good at his field.  He knew what he was talking about and he did offer helpful advice, but I found that working with him was a lesson in avoidance.  I intentionally dressed down and wore baggy outfits so that his eyes didn’t leer at my body.  His comments included more and more innuendos that made me uncomfortable, but were just within the bounds of professional that I wondered if maybe I was taking them the wrong way.  Today’s meeting had been worse than usual.  I still hadn’t told anyone about it.  I kept hoping it would just go away.  Stupid, I know. 

You know that part in the movie when the heroine keeps something to herself that she should be telling someone and you’re shaking your head at her stupidity?  Yeah, that was me. 

Wine was clearly the remedy.

The walk back to my apartment was hot and sweaty in the late July heat.  Of course, my stupid air conditioner never worked when I needed it to.  When I got to my apartment, I quickly changed into a tank top and boy shorts.  And took off my bra.  Anything to cool off.  I poured a glass of wine and grabbed a cup of ice, too.  Maybe that would cool me down.

After one glass of wine, I was feeling better.  It didn’t help the heat, though.  Neither did eating ice.  I grabbed the ice water and just poured it down my neck instead.  The ice cold drops ran down my chest and drenched my tank top.  The wine was kicking in.  I didn’t care.  I was blazing hot.  I forgot about my Skype meeting.  Completely forgot.

Until I saw a flash on my laptop and the ring tone of an incoming call.

Shit.  Skype meeting.  With Thad.  Right then 

I answered it automatically.  His face lit up the screen.  He had a five o’clock shadow.  Damn.  Of course he did.  I don’t know how a five o’clock shadow makes a guy look even sexier, but it does.  Does it ever. 

“Hi, Shay.”  There it was.  His voice.  Deep.  Sexy.  Tempting.

I moved the laptop onto the table and sat back.  “Hi, Thad.”

His eyes went wide and his voice rasped, “Ummm….what are you wearing?”

I was confused.  “Huh?”  I looked down.  Oh shit.  My tank top was completely soaked and you could see pretty much everything.  Instinctively, I tried to cover myself, but there was only so much I could cover.  “Sorry….It’s so hot and my air is out….I uh….poured ice water to cool down….I forgot about our meeting….”  I was just blurting shit out now.  Only half of it made sense.  “Uhhh…I can change.”

I started to get up, and he said, “You don’t have to…..no sense in being miserable.  I get it.  Sorry about your air.”

I sat back down and shrugged.  Obviously he was able to focus on the project.  Cool.  Whatever.  The wine was definitely kicking in.

We began discussing the dissertation and my latest draft.  I pulled up the email he’d sent me earlier and I reviewed his suggested changes.  Sweat was pouring down my neck while I fanned myself with papers in my hand.  I was still sipping on the wine.

“Yeah, that’s a good point,” I said in response to his suggestion.  “I’ll add that in.”  I reached over to the cup of ice automatically.  As he explained another suggested edit, I grabbed a piece of ice and began rubbing it along my neck without thinking.  I was just that hot and sweaty.  Blazing.

I was still listening to his suggestions when he stopped mid-sentence.  I looked up at the screen, waiting for him to continue.  He was just sitting there, on his couch, with his mouth open, staring at the screen.

“Add in the journal article by Brown and then what?” I prompted, still letting the ice drip down.

He said nothing.  Just stared at the screen.

“Thad?”

Finally, he mumbled, “I can’t do this.  I thought I could, but I can’t…”  He slammed the papers in his hand down on his coffee table in frustration.

“What?”  Confusion flashed across my face.

“You have no idea, do you?”

“What are you talking about?  Can’t do what?” I said louder.

“You’re wearing practically nothing and you’re dripping wet, Shay.  For fuck’s sake!”  The familiar tension in his jaw returned.

I looked down and saw what he was seeing.  “Oh…I really wasn’t trying…”  I started laughing.  It was an inappropriate response, but it all just struck me as funny at the time.  “….I should really go change…..”

I started to get up again and then I heard his pinched voice, staccato, through the speakers.  “No…..Don’t.”  He paused.  I paused.  Our eyes met through the computer screens.  Silence. 

He finally spoke.  “I mean, you probably
should
change……I don’t necessarily
want
you to…….but, yes, you probably should….”

And that’s when I knew exactly how much I was affecting him. 

You know that moment in the movies when a character realizes that he or she holds some sort of power?  And you wonder how they’re going to use that power?  For good?  For evil?  Both?  I had the power at that moment and I was feeling pretty evil, to tell you the truth.  Ms. L. was a selfish, selfish little bitch.

I gave him my best sultry look and asked, “Why should I change, Thad?”

Noticing my change in demeanor, I saw his jaw set and I knew I was making him uncomfortable, which would probably, in turn, make him stubbornly mad.  He didn’t like for the tables to be turned on him, I’d found.  Well, we’d see about that.

I don’t know what came over me.  Well, yes, I do.  Ms. L. took over.  I let her.  I repeated my question as I took a piece of ice and slid it across my neck again, letting it drip down between my cleavage, clearly visible through my thin tank top.  “Why
should
I change, Thad?”

“Stop it, Shay.”  His voice was gritty, charged.

“Stop what, Thad?”  I feigned innocence.  My tipsy libido was a conniving little slutbag.  And I was headed to Blitzville at this rate with the wine.  The combo was bad.  I pulled the top of my tank down a little and rubbed the ice over the swell of my breasts.

“Why are you doing this?”  He asked.

“Doing what?”  I countered, still rubbing the top of my breasts.

“Stop fucking around, goddammit!  You know exactly what I’m asking.”  There was the pissy, brooding Thad I knew.  Now, to see how far he could really be pushed.

You know that part of the movie where a character does something out of the ordinary for her?  I mean really breaks out of her shell and surprises herself and everyone else?  Yeah.  Well….

I grabbed the ice again and this time, I ran it directly over one nipple through my shirt, looking straight into the camera.  Then, I did the same to the other.  I licked my lips, knowing how he’d reacted to that before.

“Fuck…….Fuck……Fuck……”  He shifted his weight on the couch and readjusted himself quickly.  Obviously uncomfortable.  Obviously turned on.

I just let the angry little slut take over.  Why not?  “You can touch yourself you know.  I don’t mind.”

“I can also turn off this fucking computer, Shay.  You need to stop.”

“You want me to stop?”

He hesitated.  “No……but I wish I did.”

“Why?”

“Because one of us has to be responsible here.  Fuck!”  He was getting angry again.

“I’m tired of being responsible….I want to be….naughty.”  I laughed out loud again at my choice of words.  I just did not seem to care anymore.  Blitzville Shay had officially arrived.

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Enough not to care………but not enough to not know what I’m doing….” I answered honestly.

His jaw was still set in stone as he nodded his head once.  He whispered, “It’s a bad idea.”

“Nope.  It’s a fucking great idea,” I countered.  Smiling.

He tried not to grin, but I saw it there.  I saw it.  He stifled the grin and continued to try to look mad.

This was my last chance.  I shook the ice cup again and picked out a big piece.  I slipped the tank top off over my head and brought the ice down across a bare breast, water dripping across my peaked nipple.

“You don’t even play fair,” he groaned, watching the screen intently. 

“It’s not me.  It’s my livid libido,” I teased back.

“She plays hard ball.”

“Yes she does,” I agreed, now rubbing the ice over my entire chest slowly.

He shifted in his seat again and I knew he was about to break.  I could feel it.  

“I wanna see you jack off,” I blurted.  Haha.  The Ms. L. / Blitzville Shay combo came out swinging. 

Thad froze.  “Huh?”

“I wanna watch you jack off.  Please?  I’ve never seen anyone do it.  I’ve thought about you doing it ever since you mentioned it in my parking lot that night…”  I tweaked my nipples with both hands again and said, “Please.”

He was considering it.  “Dammit, Shay.” 

“C’mon.  You’re not actually touching me.  I’m not actually touching you.  Technically, we aren’t doing anything physical together.”  Brilliant argument, Ms. L.  Should’ve been an attorney.

Thad mulled my argument.  His bit his bottom lip and the stubborn look returned.  I thought I’d lost.  I was about to negotiate a truce with Ms. L. when he finally spoke, low.  “Fuck it.….BUT we do this, we do it MY way…..”

“Uh, okay...”  I didn’t know what that meant exactly, but I was game. 

“You wanna watch me jack off?” He demanded.

I nodded.  “Yeah.”