Only Trick (15 page)

She gives me the evil stink eye.

“Sorry, I should have called you back.”

“Yes, you should have. I was worried.”

I laugh. “You know where I live, yet I never saw you.”

She shrugs, staring at her menu. “Well, you called me … so spill.”

“I had sex with him.”

“Wyatt?” Her back pulls to attention.

“Trick.”

Her menu slips from her grasp and our waiter has it picked up and back in her hands before she blinks. “How is that even possible?”

I shake my head. “Really, I have to explain the birds and the bees to my seventy-five-year-old nana?”

“Oh, you know what I mean. I thought he’s gay.”

“He is or was or … I don’t know.”

“Well, what did he say about it?”

“He didn’t. We’ve only seen each other once since, and all I know is I’m the first woman he’s been with.”

“What about his partner?”

“I don’t know if he’s told Grady. When I saw him the other day his face had taken a beating at some point, but he wouldn’t tell me about it. There’s no way Grady would do that to him so … I … I just don’t know. I’m so confused, and angry, and hurt.”

Nana clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “So now what?”

“I guess it’s over.” I tap my finger on the rim of my glass. “But the thing is, I feel like I need some sort of closure. I need him to tell me why he did it, and as much as the words will hurt, I need to know if he regrets it. Without at least that much I don’t know how to move on.”

She reaches across the table and rests her hand on mine. “I couldn’t be more proud of you, and if your mother were here, I know she’d say the same thing. You’re a beautiful, smart, and talented young woman. Don’t ever let anyone take that away from you. So if you need answers, then go get them. Stand up for yourself; that much I can promise you will never regret.”

I nod, feeling the emotions sting my eyes. She wouldn’t be so proud if she knew I’ve been sweating out results of an STD test. “Love you, Nana.”

“Love you too, dear.”

*

My shower an
hour ago was a complete waste. I’m already pitting-out as my clammy palms fist my purse and keys. Although I know Trick’s code, I don’t feel right letting myself in so I buzz him on his intercom.

“Hello?”
Grady
.

“Hey, Grady. It’s Darby.”

The door buzzes and I take the elevator up. As if facing Trick isn’t enough, I get to face his likely disgruntled lover.

“Hey, sweetie!” Grady greets me with an unexpected enthusiasm. “I was just on my way out.” He kisses both of my cheeks. “He’s in the bathroom washing off his coverup.”

I grimace. “You’re not the one who … or you didn’t—”

“Rough him up?”

My face twists. “Yeah, that.”

“Damn right it was me.” He winks then laughs as I inspect him, looking for any signs that Trick landed a punch: broken glasses, bruising, cuts. It’s as if he can read my thoughts. “He doesn’t fight back about certain things. Have fun.” He shuts the elevator gate and waves as it starts to descend.

I will never fully get the weird dynamics of their relationship. I’d say it’s a gay thing, but I think it’s just a Grady and Trick thing. Stealing my thoughts, Trick rounds the bathroom corner, his movement coming to a sudden halt when he sees me.

As much as I don’t want to let my eyes look at his bare chest and arms inked with tattoos of which the meanings I will never get to hear, they have a mind of their own and take a final look anyway. “Hi,” I say with weak voice.

“Hey,” he responds with equal lack of enthusiasm.

“I won’t contact you after today, but I need some answers.”

He nods, deep lines sinking into his forehead.

“I just need to know why.”

He looks down, lips pulled in a firm line.

“Was it pity?”

His head jerks up. “Why would you say that?”

I press my knuckle to the corner of my eye and swallow past the lump in my throat. “Because I believe that we were truly friends and sometimes friends make sacrifices for each other. And I don’t blame you for any of it; I really don’t. But now I have all these emotions and I don’t know what to do with them. I need some sort of closure to move on. I need you to tell me that it was all for me and that you left because you regretted it … you regretted us. Just … please I-I need something … please, Trick.” I wipe my cheeks. The part of me that will always belong to him feels like it’s dying. It’s not a metaphor; my heart physically hurts right now.

He shakes his head. “I can’t.” It’s barely a whisper, but I hear it.

His words grip my aching heart, threatening to crush it. “Trick, please don’t do this. You owe me this much.” I walk toward him. “Just say it … just tell me it was pity. Tell me it was some weird curiosity. Tell me you were confused about your sexuality. Tell me it was nothing … Tell me
we
were nothing, tell me—”

“I CAN’T!” he roars as his head snaps up, eyes wild, chest heaving. “Because it wasn’t nothing! It was fucking
everything
! Don’t you get that?”

His words are poison in my veins. This is it, the one puzzle I can’t piece together. I know better than to let a man play me the way my father has all these years. I let him see a part of me that no man has ever seen. I did it for Trick, my best friend—only Trick. “I don’t understand.” I shake my head, confusion distorting my thoughts. He cradles my face. I swallow hard. “But you’re gay.”

“I’m not.”

I continue to shake my head. “B-but I asked you if I was the first woman you’ve been with.”

He shakes his head. “No…” resting his forehead on mine, he closes his eyes “…you asked me if you were the first woman I’ve
made love
to.”

His words slice through me as the sting of deception and lies taints everything I thought we had. I shove him away, leaving him looking defeated, like a wounded animal. “You sick fuck! Why? Who does that? Huh? Is this some bi-sexual game you and Grady play on women? I have feelings! Real. Fucking. Feelings! I shared things with you I’ve never shared with anyone!” I wipe my watery nose in real ladylike fashion with the back of my hand. “I hate you.” I step backwards toward the elevator.

Trick eases forward. “Darby.”

“Don’t Darby me, you bastard!” I flip the switch to bring the elevator back up. “I
hate
you,” I sob.

He backs me into the wall. “Darby …”

“I hate you so much!” My tears feel like acid on my cheeks—my gut punched, my heart crushed.

Trick wipes his thumb along my wet cheek. “Well, I
love
you.”

Smack!

He closes his eyes absorbing the impact of my hand on his face.

“Don’t say that to me.” I glare at him, anger seething from my words.

He opens his eyes. “I love you.”

Smack!

He swallows hard and opens his eyes again. “I love you.”

Smack! Smack! Smack!

He takes everything I give him as if he needs it. I bang my fists against his bare chest. “You don’t deserve to love me! I hate you … I hate you … I hate you.… I-I …” I collapse against his chest, my body heaving in waves of painful, breaking sobs. “I-I love you.”

He wraps one arm around me and rests his other hand on the back of my head, then he kisses the top of it.

*

Surrender. I will
never love myself for hating him, nor will I ever hate myself for loving him. So there really is only one choice: love him.

The words we’ve shared have been beautiful, ugly, and the whole universe in between. There’s still so much to say, but as Trick takes my hand and leads me into his bathroom, I allow him to say so much more than words ever could.

He turns on the shower, a large rainfall of water cascades from a mammoth rectangular shower head suspended directly above it. Turning back toward me, he pauses, staring into my eyes. They bleed with emotion, and tears would form if I hadn’t already let them run dry.

He undresses me with slow, gentle moves as I stand and watch. Then he does the same to himself before leading me into the steamy shower. I close my eyes and melt into his loving touch. Patient hands massage my scalp and caress my body. Occasionally I feel his lips press to my skin and just linger—never demanding, always giving.

On his knees, he touches my body with complete adulation—he
loves
me. With gentle pressure, he curls his fingers into the curve of my butt while resting his forehead against my belly. I move my hands to his head. He looks up at me, blinking away the rivulets of water.

“You scare me, Trick.”

He sits down on the floor of the shower and pulls me onto his lap so we’re nose to nose. “You scare me too.” He grins and I kiss him, diving headfirst into the unknown.

I don’t want to need him, but I do. I don’t want to love him … but I do. Breaking our kiss, I rise up onto my knees and touch him for the first time. He closes his eyes briefly then opens them, jaw slack. The little part of me that still questions his sexuality evaporates as he kisses my breasts, tickling my sensitive flesh with his bristly face.

He takes my heart so completely; and if he gives it back I know it’s the one puzzle I’ll never be able to put back together again. I sink onto him, letting him fill me in every way possible.

*

A soft beam
of moonlight falls on our naked bodies tangled in the sheets. Resting my chin on his chest, I trace the tattooed wings along his shoulder as my mind sorts through the reality of our situation. Maybe I shouldn’t have stayed. A smarter woman would have walked out the door, refusing to be played for such a fool.

But Trick’s not some guy I dated a few times. We’ve never dated. He’s gone from random stranger to my best friend. I could retrieve my dignity and walk away from the Trick who fucked my body and mind at the top of my stairs. But Trick, my best friend, means too much to me. I stayed for him … I forgave him.

“Trick?”

“Hmm?” His eyes remain closed.

“Why do you want or let people think you’re gay?”

A silence falls over us as his words take their time. “I feel …
used
by women. I’m not completely sure why, it’s just a feeling about my past. It’s given me an
aversion
to them.

“Why do you say it like that? Like you don’t know or remember? Is this about your addiction?”

He lifts his shoulders. “Yeah … that’s definitely part of it. My past is complicated. I can’t really explain it. But for some reason the women I encounter in my line of work don’t like taking no for an answer, and I don’t like feeling controlled.”

“But if you’re ‘gay’ they don’t approach you?”

He laughs. “No, if I’m gay I don’t lose their business when I turn down their offers. It’s accepted as a sexual preference and not rejection.”

I rest my cheek against his chest and close my eyes, melting into the beautiful rhythm of his heart. “Trick?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you try to explain your complicated past?”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he takes a deep swallow. “I hope so … someday.”

My tears renew as his voice cracks with the last word. Even without knowing what it is, I feel his pain. The part of my mind I can’t shut off goes down the road paved with images of abuse or worse.