The Sordid Promise (6 page)

I gave him my hand. He carefully brought it to his lips, placing the full extent of his pucker on the back of my hand. Titling towards me, he circled his thumb around my palm. His gaze remained trained to my legs, and his smile turned up at the corners. Twisting in my position, I tried to retreat. His grip strengthened. “You’re supposed to say thank you.” His baritone voice lowered a few decibels.

“I don’t say anything that I’m supposed to say. Can I have my hand back?”

“I’m getting that.” He stood strong, dropping my hand and straightening his broad shoulders. The look on his face turned grim. “Did you mean what you said earlier? Did you attempt to end your life?”

I shrugged, because I no longer wanted to get into it.

His eyelashes cast a dark shadow over his eyes as he regarded me. “Why behave like it isn’t serious? You were—are so facetious about it.”

“Because, I’m still alive.”

“Nikki,” he groaned with a softness that did something odd to my insides. He walked around the counter, standing a mere few inches in front of me. “I know with what’s going on with your mother, things can be pretty rough. Are you still having those thoughts?”

“Eric?” I quickly tossed my head from side to side at his attempt to play therapist chair with me. “Don’t.”

Tamala hung on the counter, listening to our every word. She seemed to grow more unsettled every second that Eric gave me his attention. “Nikki,” he called my attention back to him. “Tamala’s not my girlfriend, if that’s your concern.”

“Who said I had concerns?”

“We can keep doing this back and forth thing, but, eventually, you’ll answer my question.”

I fiddled with my fingers as they suddenly went stiff. “It’s not something I’m going to talk about with you. I said what I wanted to say. I’m not saying anything more.”

“I thought I made myself clear, you don’t get a say in that.”

“I do, if you’re having a conversation with yourself.”

“Goddamn, woman,” he muttered underneath his breath. “You’re so difficult.” He folded his arms, contemplating me with uncomfortable scrutiny as he seemed to forget the woman who wedged her way between us.

She seemed suddenly panicked as she waved her arms in front of his face. “You’re going to start a fire in the kitchen.”

He shook his head, snapping out of whatever state he was in. “What is this?” He gesticulated with his finger between him and me. “I didn’t think you would come.”

“You sort-of demanded that I attend.”

“I don’t think I broke you in. No. You came here closed down…still. I don’t think you fixed the camera out of the kindness of your iced over heart.”

I crossed my arms behind my back. “You think I want something?”

“I know you want something. That’s what the talk is about, correct? Is it something that exclusively benefits you? Or is it something that benefits both of us?”

I scratched at the back of my neck, feeling like someone exposed it to a sudden burst of pressure steam. “Are you scared of what it might be?”

He lifted an unamused brow. “For the record, fear is not something I ever feel.”

“Everyone is afraid of something.”

Tamala cleared her throat. “Eric? Like seriously, check the sauce.”

Without moving from his position, he regarded Tamala with a crushing coldness “As far as I remember, you don’t cook. So, I think I have that department down very well.”

“You know how I love your pomodoro sauce.” She gave him a flirtatious smile and pushed out her cleavage. “I just want to make sure you don’t get too distracted by her, because she’s a shiny new piece of ass.”

Eric and I contemplated Tamala with varying degrees of question. The sudden attention seemed to make her uncomfortable. “Hey...is Melonie coming?”

“As far as I know,” Eric said through a monotone.

Tamala sighed heavily and moved over to the bar to pour herself a drink.

“Is she making you uncomfortable?” Eric asked in a quiet tone. “My roommate invited her here to fuck with me. If she’s bothering you, she’s gone. No questions asked.”

“What are you making?” I asked, stepping over to the stove.

“Orecchiette with broccoli rabe.” He joined my side at the stove, never letting his gaze fall away from me.

“Not sure what that is.”

“Come closer, and I’ll give you a preview.”

I neared him until I felt the heat from the gas range. He pulled a small silver spoon from one of the drawers and dipped it inside one of the pots. “You really have to taste this. It can be made without, but I think it’s a crime not to add it as a base.” He held the spoon to my lips with one hand, while his other hand served to guide my chin.

I opened my mouth and took it in. When it stopped burning my tongue, I could taste the mixture of flavors. The olive oil, the parmesan, and the hint of basil deemed the sauce as delicious. Downplaying what I thought of his cooking, I kept my expression firm and bobbed my head.

“That’s it?” He blew back as if I shot him in the heart. “That’s all I get?”

“Might get better when it’s all together?”

He smirked like he knew full well that I was being falsely stoic. “Tough crowd.” He thumbed a corner of sauce from my lips. Taking his thumb in his mouth, he sensuously sucked it as his eyes fell heavily on me. “I think it tastes better than you’re letting on.”

I nodded again, feeling suddenly feverish. His eyes…pressed me in a sensually destructive way. His provocation awakened something inside of me that was unsettling. I’d never been one to be so easily provoked. I didn’t want to place the cause with something superficial. The reason wasn’t completely reliant on the fact that he was the most attractive man I’d ever met—it was the total package. The way he talked to me was unlike any other man I’d encountered. He was unapologetic with a robust, sexually rooted confidence. It was different. It…tuned into my sexuality. A sexuality that I’d neglected long before I came back to New York.

I placed much needed distance between him and me by taking a seat in the formal dining room. I fingered the dark rustic wood table as my thoughts turned to Eric. At which point, I looked up to find Eric’s eyes never left sight of me.

Tamala, with a drink in hand, draped her arm across his back. She looked over at me, shooting a short, pointed snarl in my direction. He leaned down and whispered something in her ear that made her posture fold. Sulking, she moved to the dining room, flopped down in a chair, and pouted as she swirled her drink around with her finger.

The doorbell rang until the dining table was nearly full. I felt lost in the shuffle. With the exception of Janet, it was clear amongst a group of people in attendance that they’d known each other for a very long time. While I continuously routed my exit path, the invitees drank wine and reminisced.

I nervously fiddled with my hands, hoping the table of five wouldn’t expand. If it did, I would definitely have to leave.

“Nikki?” From the head of the table, Eric called my attention. “I haven’t seen these guys in a while and forgot my manners.” He adjusted his chair in order to sit closer to me. “This is my neighbor, Nikki. Nikki, I’d like you to meet Casper and Melonie. Of course, you already know Janet and have met Tamala.”

They nodded at me while wearing fake smiles.

Janet, seated on the opposite side of me, squeezed my hand with a smile so bright, she showed her gums. “You’re doing so well with this. Good job,” she congratulated me as if I was a kindergartener who’d just earned her first gold star.

“Just a neighbor? When do you ever have
just
a neighbor that’s a woman who looks like this?” asked Casper, the man with too much pomade in his hair and an equally excessive amount of self-tanner on his face.

Eric nodded to the feast that he prepared on the table. “Dig in.”

“What do you mean by ‘looks like this’?” I asked as I watched his friends shovel food onto their plates like they were at a soup kitchen.

Casper raised a brow at me. “You have a mirror, don’t you?”

“Is that really what I’m reduced to? What I look like?”

“Take a compliment, why don’t you. Why are you so weird?” Tamala toasted her fourth drink of the night to an invisible partner. “Men are never attracted to your brains. You have to look good first. That’s simple men. Eric over there is attracted to so much more. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”

“How many glasses is that, Tam?” Melonie asked.

“None of your goddamned business, Mel,” Tamala retorted.

Melonie sucked her teeth. “Where’s Estelle? We had some chat to catch up on. Is she still dating that shady guy that used to pretty much stalk her?”

Tamala scowled at Melonie. “Why are you asking me?”

“I wasn’t really,” Melonie stated flatly. “I’m aware you two are no longer best friends. It’s a shame. You two have been friends since Eric was in med school.”

“Yeah…well, we won’t get into the why of that shit yet. Eric is already throwing me dagger eyes.” Tamala gazed at Eric solemnly. “He wants to play his games. He would’ve fucked you, if you weren’t a muff diver. I’m just another woman in Eric’s harem. Looks like he’s going to add one more to the crowd.”

I watched Eric as he scorned Tamala with a simple glance. She bowed her head in response, breaking his eye contact. The whole exchange was increasingly off-putting. I didn’t understand what was going on between them. I was also rubbed raw by the way Tamala seemed to feel the need to compete for Eric’s attention. What was the purpose of fighting for him? This wasn’t a reality show. She looked like a fool chasing after Eric.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Janet regarded me as she shoveled mounds of food in her mouth. “Eric is an amazing cook.”

I rubbed my aching stomach and shook my head. My diet most days consisted of green juice and bread, if my stomach allowed for it. Food stopped appealing to me many months ago.

Tamala abruptly stopped eating to turn her gaze at Janet. “It’s what he does; cooks, smiles, and legs spread across the globe.”

“All he has to do is smile,” Casper joked. “Believe me.”

“Are any of you greedy individuals going to save any for me—” Eric glanced at my naked plate, having never been filled with food. “—or Nikki?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Eat something, honey,” Melonie said. “Curves are in. You don’t want to look like
Skeletor
, do you?”

“Says who? All I see on the runway are hangers,” Janet balked.

“Spoken like a typical plus-sized jealous bitch,” Tamala muttered.

Janet said nothing in response, but seemed hurt by the comment all the same.

Eric leaned toward me. “Are you okay?”

“Loaded question.”

“If you need to leave, I can walk you home. I wanted to get you out of your shell, but I don’t think it’s the right time for this.” He shot an accusatory glance at Tamala.

“We still need to talk.”

He pulled his hand from his lap and wrapped it around my tense, clenched fist while it rested atop the table. “And, we will.”

I looked at his hand clutching mine. A secure feeling washed over me.

“Stop whispering over there you two,” Casper shot at us with a mouth full of food.

“Are you leaving? You can’t leave. We were just beginning to get to know you,” Melonie protested with a warm smile.

I casually withdrew my hand from Eric’s hold. “Why do you
need
to get to know me?”

“Because that’s what people do. Is this your first time on planet earth? Do we need to acclimate you to our human ways?” Casper asked.

“Be nice guys.” Janet fell sullen as she looked at me. “She’s going through a rough time. Her mother has de-differentiated chondrosarcoma.”

“Does HIPPA mean nothing to you?” I shot at her with impatience.

Melonie gasped as her eyes watered. “I’m so sorry. My ex-partner’s mother had breast cancer. She beat it, though.”

“That…doesn’t help me, being that my mother is dying. I don’t want to talk about it. This is why I never talk about it. Someone always wants to give their two cents about a relative who had cancer and beat it. Well, my mother is dying.”

“We won’t go there,” Eric shot at Melonie.

It was too late. Everyone but Tamala stared me with varied looks of pity.

I hated the looks they were giving me. I hated the attention cast my way. As if sensing something, Eric grabbed my hand again and pulled it to rest on his lap.

“H-how do you all know Eric?” I asked. Not because I really wanted to know, because I—I don’t know why I asked. It’s not as if I cared. When I had the conversation I needed to have with Eric, I would probably never see any of them again.

Melonie dropped her fork and cleaned her hands with a cloth napkin. “We’re more interested in you, because he’s making eyes at you like you two haven’t just met.”

“Eyes? I’m not making eyes at her,” Eric said with joking offense.

“I know you well Eric Brenton. Don’t try to play me for a fool. I know that look,” Melonie joked.

“You don’t know him well enough,” Casper balked. “Those are his ‘I’m going to fuck you before the night’s over’ eyes.”

“That’s…not going to happen tonight,” I choked.

“You’re right,” he whispered to me as he squeezed my hand. “It won’t be tonight, but it will be…soon.” His gaze was so cutting, I touched my wine for the first time, since we sat down for dinner.

“Eric has a very specific type,” Tamala remarked dreamily. “The box was a little too tall in length for me...eventually. I once fit it perfectly, until he replaced me with someone else. Who knows. Eric is probably up to his old ways. He’ll never settle down, even when it seems like he’s settled down. Forever the playboy. He’s a heartbreaker.”

“That would be,” Eric began, “because you took what we had as something more serious than it was. I laid down the rules, and you chose to ignore them when it was over.”

“Don’t be bitter, Tamala,” said Casper as he moved his posture to regard me closely. “She’s just a little jealous of you.”

“We practically just met,” I said, “and don’t really like each other. I’m not even sure why he invited me here.” Eric frowned at me and slipped his grip from my hand.

“Bullshit,” Casper sneezed into his arm.

“This place is great.” Melonie looked around. “I could see one of my pieces—” She pointed to blank wall behind the dining room table. “—right there.”