Fly on the Wall (4 page)

He stood up in front of me with a sexy grin. “What are you saying?”

“I'm . . .” I fumbled with my words. “I'm saying that I haven't had a problem keeping up with you.”

“So you think you can handle everything that I do?”

“Yes.” Lord, why was he doing this to me? “Everything at the gym, of course.” I started cleaning the board again.

He laughed for a while before he spoke. “The real workout happens outside of the gym.” At times, it seemed like Doran was interested in me, but then two seconds later he'd turn around and leave a huge gap in our conversation to stare at another woman. “I'll have you sweatin' in places you didn't know could sweat.”

I tried to regain my composure. “Doran, you are something else.”

“Yeah, but at least I'm going to the gym today.” He smiled then walked toward one of the desks and picked up a few pieces of paper from the floor.

I watched him and giggled. “You're moonlighting as a custodian?”

“Whatever makes you happy, Paige.”

“So, tell me.” I sat down at my desk. “How was your first day here?”

“Other than seeing a young lady walk out of the boys' restroom wiping her mouth about an hour ago, this is your typical American high school,” he said with a laugh.

I was in shock. “She was coming out of the boys' room?”

“Yep,” he said. “I looked at the sign twice to be sure.”

“Maybe it was a he-she or something.”

“It was a girl.” He shook his head and continued. “I know a girl when I see one.”

“Oh my.” There were always students who got caught trying to get freaky, but to start out a new school year that way was just nasty. “And she was wiping her mouth?”

“Yep, like she had just gotten through eating chicken fried in too much grease.”

“You're so wrong for that.” I made a face. “Yuck.”

“There's nothing yucky about it if it's done right.” He walked toward the door with a smile. “See you tomorrow, Paige.” He looked back. “And I won't be accepting anymore copouts from our workout.”

“I'll be at The Stop tomorrow,” I said.

“Who's talking about working out at the gym?” He walked out of the door and left me tempted to follow. As good-looking as Doran was, there was something wrong about him, something about his sexy brown eyes I didn't trust, plus I had promised myself to never again get involved with anyone who worked at the school. But damn, Doran looked like he'd be one hell of a booty call.

I made my way from my classroom to the parking lot, and I received many interesting stares from the boys on the football team. When the short, husky player whistled at me, I stopped and turned toward the chain-linked fence.

“You better watch your mouth, Justin McGregor.”

He smiled. “You look good, Ms. Patrick.”

In total I'd lost eighty-five pounds. It took me a year; however, the last twenty pounds were dropped over the summer, so what the students were seeing was still more of a shock than last year . . . It just kept getting better.

I hopped into my car and hit the Florida Turnpike north. Within ten minutes, my Acura went from pushing eighty to traffic “parking lot” style, and I was in the center lane.

“Shit. I should've gone to the gym.” My phone was ringing. I dug around inside my purse until I saw the flashing blue light. “Hello?”

“Don't get on the turnpike.”

“Too late for that. I'm stuck.” I laughed. “You should've called me fifteen minutes ago.”

Toni giggled. “Sorry, I just turned to the news.”

“No problem.” I smiled. “What's going on?”

“An overturned tractor-trailer.”

“Again?” It seemed to happen at least once a week now.

“Yep,” Toni said. “Someone in another car died. I was calling to make sure it wasn't you.”

“Aw, what a friend,” I joked. “It's not me, but if you want to call the credit card companies and tell them that it's me, that'll be all right with me.”

“Crazy girl,” she said. “Are you on your way to the gym?”

I looked around to see if there was any way around or backward to get free of this mess. “No, I decided to skip out today.”

“Wow! You missed an opportunity with Mr. Best?” she teased.

“His last name is Bess, not Best,” I corrected her, but I knew what she was hinting at.

“Well, you damn sure act like he's Mr. Best, as in the best damn thing period.” She laughed.

“Whatever.” I brushed her off. “But he did flirt with me a little again today.”

“I told you that the man likes you.”

“I don't know about all of that, Toni.”

She asked, “Then why else would he say some of the things that he does to you?”

I confessed, “I know that he'd sleep with me, but I won't say that he likes me.” I added, “There's a big difference between those two things.”

“Okay, he wants to do you,” she said. “So, what's the damn problem? You wanna do him too, don't you?”

“The damn problem is that that's not what I'm in the market for,” I preached. “Yes, I find him interestingly attractive, but he clearly just wants sex.” I continued. “Doran doesn't want or know how to be anybody's man from what I've seen.”

“What have you seen?” she asked, hungry for detail.

“Hmmm.” I contemplated which example to use. “All right, last week while we were working out, this chick walked past us and he, without ever looking away from her ass, said ‘Do you know what I could do with that?' “ I paused. “Why in the hell would he say something like that in front of me if he liked me? I'm not one of his guy friends. We haven't even known one another long enough for him to be so comfortable. The man isn't ready for
me
because I'm not one of those women that tolerate that.”
Well, at least not anymore.

“Wow.” Toni thought about it. “That was tacky.”

“Very.”

“Maybe you should tell him that it bothers you.”

“What?” Was she high? “Toni, Doran is just my workout partner, that's it. I have no right telling him how I feel about him looking at other women.”

“Then tell him that you're interested,” Toni said. “Then he'll know that he can't say certain things around you. At least hint to him that you're attracted.”

I regretted telling her so much about Doran. “Correction, I find him inter—”

“Interestingly attractive,” she finished my sentence. “Bullshit. You want some action and so does he.”

“So we should just fuck, huh?”

She didn't hesitate. “Yes. Like wild dogs.”

I laughed. “I'm now convinced that you are insane.”

“Paige, I would do anything for you to stop sleeping with Craig's diseased ass.” She had to go there. “We both know that that's a sure recipe for pain and penicillin.”

Once again, I regretted informing her of my occasional slipups. “Where are you?” I changed the subject with a lie. “I can barely hear you.”

“At home.” She paused. “Don't try to change the subject.” She giggled. “Stop fuckin' Craig. When will you get enough? Paige, he gave you a damn STD.” She only knew about the second sexually transmitted shit I caught from him. “Hold on.” She rested the telephone down. “Boys, I'm on the phone, so please turn the video game down.”

Toni Young, formerly known as Toni the Tigress in her exotic dancing days, was not only my best friend, but also the closest thing I ever had to a sister, and her twin boys, Kevin and Devin, were my godsons.

Eight years ago, I ran into Toni at a grocery store. She approached me and asked how to make seafood lasagna. Right then I knew that the poor girl needed a friend.

I was twenty-four and she was twenty. Within the time it took to gather the proper ingredients for her meal, the talkative girl told me her entire life story. In Fort Walton Beach, Toni's mother's boyfriend sexually molested her at age thirteen. At fifteen, she dropped out of high school and ran away to Miami, where she lived on the streets until she befriended an old white man named Rick. He allowed her to live in his apartment, and never asked her for anything more than a cooked meal once or twice a week.

On her eighteenth birthday, she went to The Cure, one of the most popular strip clubs in Miami, shook her moneymaker for the owner, and was hired on the spot. Within a month, she was living on her own and was earning close to three thousand dollars a week.

The day we met, she was cooking dinner for a lawyer named Marcus, who frequented the club. He spent thousands on private dances and alone time with Toni, and was surprised when she asked to see him away from the club. Her plan was simply dinner and a movie, nothing more.

After the grocery store, I followed her home and helped with the cooking. Then we tore through her closet until we found something sexy that didn't scream, “Lap dance!”

Now, Marcus was her husband of seven years. Toni gave up the yeast-infected pole, got her GED, and was now in college working on her bachelors in accounting, and attorney Marcus Young was the father of my beautiful five-and-a-half-year-old twin godsons, who were always up to no damn good.

“What are the boys doing?” I asked.

“Thanks to you, they're driving me insane with that never-ending Dragon Ball Z game.” She added, “I believe that you bought them this game to torture me.”

“It was on sale.” I giggled.

“Leave the sales alone, Paige.”

“C'mon,” I said, “if it's marked down . . .”

“Oh,” she remembered, “before I forget, I'm having a small dinner party next Friday for Marcus' birthday. Nothing big, just a few people over.”

“Okay.” I needed to get out of the house. “Who's coming?”

“The usual, Derrick and Kim, Nikki and Nate, Fred and Melinda, and Michael and Jason.”

I had changed my mind. “And me?” I asked. “Am I the only person coming alone?”

“Yeah,” she tried to be of comfort, “but you won't be by yourself. We'll all be here.”

“You have a husband,” I said. “All the names you mentioned are couples, Toni.” I hated being the token single friend now. “I'll just keep the twins that weekend so that you guys can have fun.”

“They'll be at Marcus' parents' house.” She added, “I know that you're not trying to get out of coming.”

“Toni, I refuse to be the only single person there.” I remembered the last time well. “Michael will use this as another opportunity to try to analyze me, and I don't have time for that shit.” He needed to analyze himself because it made no sense for a man that damn fine to be bragging about how well he could suck a dick. “I'll pass.”

“Why don't you bring Doran?”

The idea tickled me, but before it surfaced, I drowned it. “I am not asking him out.”

“Not like it's a date. Just invite him over.”

“Are you serious?” I couldn't even imagine it. “I'm not asking him.”

“Whateva!” She sounded frustrated. “All I know is that you better be here next Friday.”

“Toni, I don't think you understand how awkward it is being the only single person in the midst of four or five couples.” I added, “That's hell.”

“It was hell being married to that asshole, too, so make up your mind.”

“I never said that I wanted Craig back.” I was getting upset. “And please stop bringing him up every two minutes.”

“It's every three minutes, thank you.” She continued with a smile in her voice. “Paige, just find someone and invite him.”

I whined, “It's not that simple, Toni.”

“It's not that damn hard either, Paige. You're a good-looking woman. You're too hard on yourself . . . live a little.” She paused but continued carefully. “The ball is in your court, now dunk that muthafucka.” For the next ten minutes, Toni praised everything about me: my personality, intelligence, physical attributes, etc. When she was through, I touched myself to see if I would sizzle, 'cause she described me as a Red Hot Mama.

I sat silent in my car for a few seconds. “All right.” I smiled and made myself comfortable in traffic. “I'll be at the damn party.”

“Thank you.” She blew me a kiss. “Hurry up and call him.”

“Bye.” I hung up and dialed Doran's number while still on that cocky high that Toni created.

“Changed your mind?” Doran said as he picked up. “Come on, let's sweat.”

“Actually, I wish I was there.” I giggled nervously. “Instead, I'm stuck on the turnpike.”

“That's your punishment.” He continued, “What's going on?”

“Nothing.” All of a sudden, I needed Toni's cheerleading. “Nothing much.”

I could tell that he was pondering the reason for my call. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes.” I wanted to hang up. “Yes, everything is fine.”

“Okay.”

“Um, I just wanted to know if you would be free next Friday evening.” In dropped the uncomfortable silence that I thought I could handle by doing this over the phone instead of in person.

“Next Friday?” he asked.

“Yes, next Friday.” My poor heart was jumping like it was being kicked. I was biting my nails, making faces at myself in the rearview mirror, and was one breath away from saying, “You know what? Never mind.” I took a deep breath.

“Why, what's going on?” he asked.

The damn question called for a yes or no answer, and he was turning my car into a torture chamber. “Well, my best friend is having a dinner party for her husband's birthday,” I turned it around on him, “and I know that you still haven't met a lot of people here, so I thought this might be a good opportunity for you to do so.”