Bad as in Good (32 page)

The sound of his air conditioner seemed louder in his silence. He asked, “Why do you call me Tariq? Most women call me Riq.”

“I like Tariq. You don't like it?”

“I do. I'm not used to it, that's all. Maybe that's why I like you so much.”

I laughed. “ 'Cause I call you by your name? You barely even know me.”

“I know enough.” Silence. I was stumped again. I couldn't figure out what to say next. I lounged in his arms in silence. I hadn't even realized that he ignored my question. He asked, “What's your favorite color?”

“Why?”

“I'm tryna get to know you.”

“By knowing what my favorite color is?”

“It's a start.”

He couldn't see it, but I was smiling from ear to ear. “Red.”

He didn't respond at first. He met my answer with stillness and chuckled softly. “Why red?”

“Why not red?” Silence. Two seconds later, I asked, “What's your favorite color?”

“Royal blue.”

“Why
royal
blue?”

Nothing at first. No movement, no words. Only the sound of the dry air. Then with quiet words, he spoke. “My dad…before he passed, he had this royal-blue Chevy. It was beat to hell. No working engine most of the time, paint chipped, windows didn't roll
down, and when you did get it to start up, you had to get past this pale-white smoke that would seep through the vents for about ten seconds before evaporatin' into thin air. That car was a wreck. My dad never knew how to fix cars, but he worked every morning tryin' to fix it.”

“Why didn't he buy a new car?”

“Apparently, it was the car he met my mama in. He couldn't let it go. For my dad, that car symbolized what he felt for my mama—beat up, but nothing he wasn't willing to fix…time and time again. To me, Ol' Blue symbolized determination, drive, everything in my dad that I wanted to be. I dunno, ever since he passed, royal blue brought me back to a place of peace.”

Before tonight, I barely knew much about Tariq's childhood. In actuality, I knew nothing. Let me tell it, Tariq didn't start existing until I first met him. We never invited each other into our past lives, and now he was introducing me into his. He was fallin' for me, and he wanted to make sure I was fallin' for him, too. “Where's the car now?”

“In a shop. I've been saving up to get it in working condition. It ain't cheap, though. Costin' me thousands.”

“I bet.” With a glimpse into his past, I kinda wanted more. I liked this gentle side of Tariq. I wanted him to feed me with more memories to the point where I was knee-deep in his past life. I asked, “How'd your dad pass?”

“He was in the marines. Died in battle.”

Two seconds ago, I knew nothing about his past. Now, I wanted to be the one in his past who consoled him. The way he kept his voice low and his words steady proved he hadn't recovered fully from the loss of his father. I wrapped my body around him tighter. I snuck my leg in between his as I rubbed his chest. He welcomed
my advances and the opportunity to mourn the death he already mourned years earlier. “I'm sorry to hear that,” I whispered.

“You ain't kill him. Don't sweat it.” He rubbed my shoulder and kissed my forehead. It was a subtle form of endearment that tempted an eruption of goose bumps all over my body. “What about you? Your parents still living?”

I was surprisingly taken back by his question. He was lettin' me into his world, but I hadn't realized that it would soon be my turn to let him in, too. Closing my eyes, I licked my lips and tried to focus on anything I could make out in a room as dark as night. “My mom's still living. My dad passed before I was born.”

“What happened to him?”

“Car accident. Drunk driver took him out. Died on impact. Never found the driver. Tons of witnesses, no suspects.” I never spoke in complete sentences when I discussed my late father. My relationship with my father was incomplete. I searched for his replacement in the embrace of other men and always felt the same—incomplete.

“Damn…I'm sorry to hear that.”

“Don't apologize. You weren't the drunk driver.”

Now, he was the one holding me tight. Pulling me close to his chest and letting me leave my troubles on him while he soothed me to sleep. I closed my eyes and relaxed. I rested my body weight on his, confident that he was strong enough to bear me. Without struggle, he held me close. I could feel his gravitational pull, tugging and pulling at me as I felt myself moving into him. I was moving into his heart, and it felt too good to stop him.

•  •  •

“Where were you the other night?”

Louis and I sat at my dinner table across from each other in awkward
quietness. We ate leftover lasagna and avoided eye contact while I drank my wine in my T-shirt and panties. Even though my nights with Tariq were becoming more enjoyable, I needed to face Louis. The fate of our relationship was left unresolved, and I had to make a decision. Louis could lay it on strong, but I wasn't completely willin' to let him go. All the while, Tariq was slowly creepin' into my thoughts, and I learned new meaning to being conflicted. “In bed. Why?”

“Your
bed?”

I almost choked. I slurped down the rest of my wine and cleared my throat. “Excuse me?”

He laughed mockingly and stuffed a forkful of lasagna in his mouth. I kept my eyes on him, waitin' on an explanation. After he swallowed his mouthful, he said, “I'm joking. I called you, though. You didn't answer.”

“I went to bed early. Why does it matter?”

Shaking his head, he sipped his wine. “I was curious.”

I didn't want to press the issue because I wasn't sleepin' in my bed. Not wanting to lie blatantly to his face about my whereabouts, I let it go. “I'm ready to go to bed.”

He looked at his watch. “Want me to join you?”

“No, I wanna sleep alone tonight.”

He tossed down the last of his wine and stood up from the table. Grabbing our plates, he cleaned them off and dropped them in the sink. With the wet plates lying in my sink, he stood there and stared down at them. After a few brief seconds, he wiped his face and looked over at me. “Can you oil my scalp first?”

I didn't want to; he made me feel uncomfortable. Something bothered him, and he wasn't letting me in. “Is somethin' wrong?”

He scratched his scalp and smiled. “No, my scalp is a little dry, and I miss you. Want to spend as much time with you as I can.”

Louis had left a bottle of his peppermint oil under my bathroom sink. I wasn't in the mood, but I couldn't think of a valid reason not to. “Okay, lemme go get the oil.”

As I walked into my bedroom, he watched me. His eyes glued on my skin. I felt his eyes on my back as I passed my bed on the way to my bathroom. When I found the peppermint oil, I walked back into the living room. Louis was sitting down on my couch staring at his hands. I cleared my throat to let him know I was back. A second passed before he looked up at me and grinned. I strolled over to him and sat with him between my legs. He let his dreads fall off his shoulders, allowing me to get my fingers in between.

As I poured the peppermint oil on the tips of my fingers, I gently pulled his head back and ran my fingers up and down his scalp. I stopped and felt his scalp with my dry hand when I realized how oily his hair felt. “Your scalp seems pretty oiled up to me.”

He pushed up his lips. “It is? It felt dry to me.” He rubbed the skin on my calves and exhaled. “I guess I wanted to sit between your legs before I left.” I bottled up the peppermint oil and sat back. Louis kissed my inner thigh, stood up, and tied up his dreads. “Did you want to get to bed?”

I nodded. He helped me up. As I walked him to the door, I said, “I'll call you tomorrow. I'll oil your scalp then.”

We reached my door, and I wrapped my arms around his neck briefly before pulling away and holding the doorknob. Before I could see him out, he stopped suddenly and pulled me into his embrace again. He clutched my waist and squeezed my skin. With his breath on my neck, he held me close and then grabbed my neck as he pushed my lips toward his. He kissed me furiously, as if to remind me of the kisses I'd be missing if I let him leave. I closed my eyes and let him remind me. It was a passion I wasn't
used to with Louis, and my body hungered after more. I circled my arms around his neck and used his body to support me. Between kisses, I exhaled. I exhaled all of the conflicting emotions I felt and inhaled the one thing that made sense to me, the love that Louis did have for me. Though I could never define the emotion Tariq felt for me, Louis's emotions were always clear, no games. He wanted me desperately, and he made no attempts to hide that. He kissed me again, and I exhaled. I released the confusion I felt when Louis touched me, held me, and penetrated me. I let in the assuredness in his embrace. When he grabbed my legs and yanked me up toward his waist, my inner thighs floated up his six-foot-three stature like an elevator. I loosened his dreads and let them fall atop his shoulders. He smiled with his kisses while our tongues salsa danced with each other, letting our short, panting breaths play the music in the background. Then, right as I sucked on his bottom lip and pulled, he pressed his top lip on top of mine and used his tongue to push away. He looked in my eyes and murmured ever so tenderly, “I wish you wouldn't fight this feeling. This hot, anxious feeling that has your heart beating the same beat and the same rate as mine.
This
is what I'm feelin'. Every time you speak, every time you're near me, every time I see you…this is exactly how I feel.” Kissing the millions of goose bumps scattered throughout my arms, he said, “And your heat tells me that you feel it, too.” Looking into my eyes, his heavenly, deep-brown eyes that gazed into mine, he continued, “It's obvious. Stop fightin' it.”

He covered my mouth with his lips and kicked the music back up, letting our tongues salsa. I gripped his shirt collar and tried to ignore the tingling feeling that slid up my thigh. The tingle was restrained but palpable. It gradually intruded my nether regions as he did a backward glide toward my bedroom. I wanted him bad,
and I forgot all thoughts of the married man whose name held no relevance. All I needed was Louis's body thrusting on top of mine. When my back hit the bed, I spread my legs like eagle wings and summoned his presence inside the entrance of my body. I commanded his services and would accept nothing less than his best. “Give it to me,” I demanded. I asked no questions and left no room for forethought. I quickly seized his neck and tugged him forward.

There was no foreplay. There weren't any more kisses. Certainly no more words. Upon retrieving a condom from my nightstand, Louis rested on top of me, and I welcomed him. We didn't break our gaze as he moved forward and backward, rubbing my skin with his chest. Our sweat mixed into one another, sizzling from the heat of our friction and creating a new substance. He pushed in deep, and my reflexes slid away from him. Instinctively, he grabbed my butt and ended the chase as fast as it started. He worked my body up and down like a pogo stick while my back arched.

I saw the back of my skull as my eyes rolled back. My body shook and jived as I welcomed him deeper, held on to his shoulders, and demanded he go harder, punishing me for forsaking loving as faithful as his. Opening my mouth to scream, I caught his stare. He gaped at me as if I were his goddess and he could do nothing but worship me; examining my skin, admiring my lips, adoring my dimpled cheeks. When I wanted to scream, staring into his eyes, I affirmed, “I love you.” The words didn't make sense to me. I closed my mouth and clutched my jaw to keep any more words from escaping.

I thought my premature confession would break the rhythm. I tensed when I looked up at him, and the look in his eyes went from intensity to weakness, a weak passion that craved to react and respond to the words he was begging to hear. I was afraid to hear
what he would say next. I closed my eyes and awaited the inevitable. Instead, he turned me over and reentered my body without breaking a step. His arm clasped across my shoulders, and his lips glued to my neck and shoulders, he steered my hips with each thrust. I leaked down my thighs as I tightened my pelvic muscles and buckled my knees. When I opened my mouth this time, only screams escaped. Loud, throat-burning screams that gnawed their way out of captivity.

Louis grunted as he pulled away and let his cum trickle down my backside, staining the sheets. As we fell on top of each other, he pulled me close to him, threw the used condom to the floor, and muttered, “I'm glad you finally realized it.”

“Y
ou're not taking my son.” I dropped the divorce papers on my coffee table. Simoné stood in front of my TV with her hands gripping her hips. The coffee table separated us as we stood across from each other. When she noticed the papers, she flipped through them and pushed them aside. “I'm not signing no damn divorce papers either.”

“Simoné, I'm tired of you playing these games—”

“I'm not playin' no damn games! You started all this by fuckin' some bitch in my bed. You're the one playin' games.”

Her
bed? I rubbed the top of my head and sat down. “You like makin' shit hard. What happened to an annulment? What happened to you wantin' me to be there for my son? Now, you won't even let me see my son.”

She smirked. “Shit changed.”

“Is that right?”

She twirled her neck. “Yep, that's right. You don't get the right to walk out on me, Riq. I poured my heart into this relationship, and you betrayed me. You say you're done with me, but while we were living under the same roof, you fucked me over a dozen times. What the fuck am I supposed to think about us when you fuck me one night and fuck another bitch in our bed the next?”