Friends and Lovers (41 page)

“You were special.”

“So, where are the three keys now?”

“I’ve got a different crib. The same car. The third key is still in my pocket.”

“So, why didn’t you bring your woman?”

“I’m not seeing anybody.”

“Who was the girl who used to answer your phone?”

“What girl?”

“The one I used to call and hang up on.”

I said. “Why didn’t you say hello?”

“Thought you hated me. Didn’t know what to say.”

Shelby took off her flats and put her feet up on the dashboard. Pedicured feet. No hammertoes. No odor.

She said, “I’ve missed being around you.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

She slapped my shoulder. “You are full of it tonight.”

“Why can you say you miss me and it’s cool, but if I say it I’m full of it?”

“Because you’re a brother and I know how brothers are. You’ll lie to get what you want.”

“Who said I wanted anything?”

“Tell me you don’t.”

“I guess you must be psychic.”

“Some.”

“What do I want?”

“You want to drive me to Obispo, then act like you don’t know me tomorrow.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because your jimmy got hard when I kissed you.”

“Really?”

She sang, “I’m not blind.”

Everybody was filing out of the club. It was twelve thirty.

Shelby opened the car door. “I’ll be back.”

“Where you going? Bobby’s already gone.”

“I just gotta take a piss.”

Five minutes later, she bumped through the crowd meandering the parking lot and eased her splendor back in my car. Shelby leaned over and kissed me before the door closed.

She had me simmering. I said, “We’d better get back.”

“I’m not sleepy. You?”

“Nope.”

“Hmmm. Everything’s closed.”

“Want to go to 5th Street Dick’s and listen to some jazz?”

“Too cool to be sitting outside.” She sounded nervous. “Debra said you had a hotel room.”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, you still have the room?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s go there,” she whispered. “I want to chitchat some more. That’s if you’re not too sleepy and don’t mind.”

“Okay.”

“Just promise you won’t try anything.”

“The hotel has a lobby.”

“Yeah. That would be nice. I don’t want you to, you know, get the wrong idea.” She stroked the palm of my hand. My throat tightened. I swallowed. Shelby whispered, “Do you buy CDs?”

“Yeah. Through BMG or at Blockbuster.”

“Tower has an outlet off the 101 up in Sherman Oaks.”

“Kind of like the Nordstrom’s Rack out in Chino?”

“Yeah. Kind of like that.”

I started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. It hit me that I was with Shelby. We’d talked. Touched. Kissed.

At the traffic light on MLK and Crenshaw, in front of M’M&s soul food, we kissed again, savored each other like we were more fulfilling than red beans and rice. Kissed until a car behind us blew its horn and flashed its lights from low to high. Whoever it was whipped around us, threw us a few curses, went through the light,
zoomed past the Baldwin Hills Crenshaw Plaza, headed into the depths of the Jungle.

We kept on kissing.

It was real.

I couldn’t believe I’d been
that
bold. My nerves were so bad, I damn near peed on myself. I had the shakes. My insides quivered hard enough to make my silver bracelets rattle.

I had been up front. With a glass of help, of course. Okay, when I walked into the comedy club with Bobby and Alejandria, I did sit back, sip and savor a white wine. Stared at Tyrel for minutes on end, watched him smile and laugh at the comedians.

My eyes were on him when Alejandria leaned over and touched my shoulder. “Go over there and be with him.”

“Am I that obvious?”

Alejandria winked, gave me a little nudge. “Go.”

Before I made a move, I chilled and waited for Tyrel to go somewhere where I’d have a reason to be in his space. The bar had worked fine. It was a good spot where if I was rejected or he started going off and screaming like a madman, no one would really notice over the chitter-chatter. I could laugh like he’d just told me a joke, play it off by giving him the finger and walking away. Another swig of Alejandria’s Chablis didn’t match the effect that Tyrel had on me while we talked.

When we slow-danced, there was a serious swelling in the pit of my stomach, a romantic tension that could only be kissed away. It was a damn good thing that women don’t get erections, because mine would’ve pushed Tyrel fifteen miles out to Santa Monica.

All the way to the hotel I’d put my feet up on his
dash, let the window partway down, and allowed the cool night to blow over us. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the brisk air.

From Stocker to Slauson to Sepulveda, I held his hand and repeated in my head, “We’re only gonna talk. Just talk. I’m not going up to his hotel room. He can forget that shit. We’re staying our asses in the lobby. Nothing but words about old times. If he’s lucky, maybe another short kiss, then I’m outta there, back to Debra’s and I’m crawling into the bed with me, myself, and I, snuggling with a pillow, and getting some z’s.”

We were on the elevator before I knew it.

When the hotel room door opened, the curtains were spread apart and the hall light cast a beacon across two beds. I said to myself, I don’t think so. I took myself straight to a chair, plopped down at the table facing the freeway. Crossed my legs scissor tight.

Tyrel moved his bowlegs over to a chair facing me. Quiet. Neither one of us had said a word since the elevator. Hadn’t really said much since we’d left the car. All we said was how crowded the hotel lot was. A few cars had been blocked in by others. How we hoped we wouldn’t get blocked in. Then when somebody pulled out, he said how lucky we were to find a parking spot back in that corner. That wasn’t a real conversation. All those words were just a bunch of silence breakers.

I said, “How’re you holding up?”

“I’m holding up pretty good, thanks. What about you?”

“I’m okay. For now. I was the same way when my momma died. I was cool until the dirt hit the coffin.”

We lost conversation after that. Emotions changed. I know mine did. Grief was rolling in. Made me sentimental. Made me wonder if dirt would be hitting my coffin three days from now.

I made my voice a little perky and said, “How’s your family?”

He smiled like a kid when he said, “Daddy’s coming out.”

“Really?” My grin was so wide you could see my wisdom
teeth. Damn, I, sounded excited. That made me feel good. “That’s great.”

Tyrel had so much cheer in all of his words. Enough joy to make the little boy in him shine through. That made me a little bit jealous. Whenever he mentioned his daddy, he was as passionate as I was whenever I talked about my momma.

“Yeah.” He smiled. “Tomorrow night all of us will be here.”

“Your whole family. Wow. Well, count that as a blessing.”

“I never did thank you.”

“For what?”

“Encouraging me to call my daddy. When we were in Obispo.”

My friendly eye contact fell to my lap. I bounced my legs and kept my face low when I asked him about his twin sister.

“Fine, happy as ever.”

“The dynamic rug rats?”

“Fine, and growing like weeds.”

Then I pretended I was interested in his new watch so I could touch his hand again. And he touched mine. It didn’t take long for the hand touching to become hands stroking each other. The tingles made me chew my lip and I almost reached for that dimple I used to own. That desire and easy touching went on for a minute or two before I pretended my face itched so I could take my hand back. Then I looked at my watch and let out a fake yawn.

Tyrel moved across the lion’s den he’d lured me into, went to the radio, tuned it to KACE. Late-night love songs were coming on strong. He stayed away and rocked to the music by himself. Smiled and watched me. I slid my chair back, went over to him.

Something in me percolated. I glanced at my watch again, felt nervous. I said, “Thought we were gonna stay in the lobby?”

He shrugged. “Let’s go back down. The bar is still open.”

“That’s okay. Too much smoke down there. And the funk’ll stay in my hair. I’m feeling tired.” Which was true. Exhaustion from the run I’d done today in the eighty-degree sun was creeping up on me like a cheap pair of panties. I cleared my windpipe, swallowed, took out the extra keys to Debra’s house, chimed them and said, “Time we headed back to the house.”

“Sure.”

The brother didn’t move an inch. I watched him watch me watch him. Nobody moved. Then he turned off the lights.

This sound came out of my body. A sound of the truth. The keys dropped from my hand and I went to his open arms. We swayed with the Isley Brothers, then with Luther Vandross, then to Anita Baker with Chapter 8. He held me the same way I held him.

Tyrel rubbed his nose across my face. Kissed around my lips. Tongued my ear. That was
the
spot. I tiptoed and sucked on his neck, rubbed his back, and let my hands move across his butt. Then I put my pinky finger in his dimple and twisted it.

That was when he moved my hand.

I said, “Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“Does it bother you?”

“No.” But I took a step away from him, moved over to the door and opened it so the light in the hallway would show us the way out of here. The brother was staring at my femininity with sexy eyes. Love-filled eyes. When I opened my mouth, my voice had sunken to the wrong kind of tone. I said, “You want me?”

Tyrel nodded.

I didn’t do or say a damn thing.

He waited.

Slowly, I closed the door. Leaned against the wood for a second. Kept my eyes on his while I slipped on the dead bolt. My hands went up over my head.

Tyrel’s expression became softer. “Take your clothes off.”

My voice had changed to a velvety flavor I hadn’t had in a long time. A wanting tone I forgot I owned. But
this wasn’t gonna go down like that. “You want me, you take ‘em off.”

Pleasure took over and wouldn’t let me remember him easing me out of my white jacket. He was kissing up and down my back. Did a sucky-sucky here, a licky-licky there. He hit a sensitive spot that made me tense and jiggle my hips like an erotic dancer. Short spasmodic twitches were coming from every which-a-way.

“This isn’t right, Tyrel.”

“Want me to stop?”

“Keep doing what you’re doing till the cops come knocking.”

My heart sped up when I thought my legs collapsed, but he’d picked me up, was carrying me to the bed. He sucked my fingers. Damn, I liked that. That freaky-deaky licky-licky made me squirm and give up all kinds of silly sounds of wanting. Made me want to say stupid stuff. He put me on my stomach, pulled my outfit down a little at a time. Kissed my skin again and again.

“Oooohh, Tyrel.”

“Want me to quit?”

“Huh-ell no.” He had me begging like I was one of those career panhandlers on Crenshaw. I let out a candy-coated “Please, don’t stop. Baby, please, don’t.”

He rolled the bodysuit over my butt, did it real easy like a drop of rain sliding down a smooth rock, nibbled and sucked my booty like it was today’s special at Baskin-Robbins. He hit another nerve, fiery tingles rushed up into the back of my head. The heat made me push down deep into the bed and arch my back.

“How’s it feel?”

“Slow down.”

“Thought you had to get back to Debra’s?”

“We do. Ten minutes, then we’re leaving.”

“Okay.”

“Slow down. Don’t rush.”

Tyrel hit the right nerves, long and strong. Made me hum a song of pleasure and damn near chew off my lip. I was slapping a pillow, gripping the covers, and yanking sheets with the feeling.

“Tyrel?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah.”

I tilted my head and kissed him. “You hear me?”

He said, “You crying?”

“Maybe.”

There I was. Naked and vulnerable. My legs were moving, rubbing each other, crossing and uncrossing, squeezing and releasing. When I opened my eyes, Tyrel’s eyes were on me. He was so extreme. His eyes said he wanted me so much.

I said, “Take your clothes off.”

“Not yet.” He smiled. “Don’t rush.”

“You make me sick.”

He licked my calves, outer thighs, knees, up my inner thighs. I closed my eyes, put one hand in my hair, pulled with pleasure. Tried to pretend it didn’t feel as good as it did.

I said, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Should I stop?”

“No.”

He eased my legs apart. Took his taste buds for a stroll around the block. Passed back and forth. Teased me crazy.

My shudders kicked in like a big dog when his tongue moved inside, swayed around like he was searching for something. He kept that same slow groove, held the same rhythm and made the feeling flowering in my belly spread and curl my toes. I wiggled with the wanting; he held my thighs and moved with my tempo.

“Oooooohhhh, Tyrel.”

I was still trying to pretend it was no big deal, act like the loving didn’t feel as good as it did, tried to play the love game, but couldn’t stop my hips from gyrating if I tried. Ecstasy had kicked in. The more I wiggled, the more he worked it. The more he worked it, the more I panted a song so sweet. Those surges built, I was about to peak, he slowed down, then let it build back up. I’d damn near yanked the white sheets off the bed. Covers
were everywhere. It felt so good, if somebody asked me where I was the answer would’ve been
YesTyrelYes.

“Tyrel, damn, baby,” I said and slapped the top of his head. My eyes were starting to sting because of the sweat. Hair was tangled and sticking to my face.

“Want me to stop?”

“No,” I murmured, licked my lips, then put my arms behind me and pushed up. I was trying to muffle my scream by biting my lips. It didn’t work, started feeling
too
good, and I snapped my legs closed, clamped my thighs fast and hard into Tyrel’s ears.

“Damn, Shelby.”

I eased off a little, but not much. “You okay?”