Heights of Desire Mara White [ePub] Traitor

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This eBook is licensed for the personal enjoyment of the original purchaser only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thank you to my immediate and extended family for always believing in my ability to tell stories. To my lovely beta readers for their advice, support and constant encouragement to continue – Ramona, Jenae, Sarah Ahmad, Diana Rosa, Leslie De Jesus, my husband, my sister and, GMG.

To Daniela Medina for her obvious talent and generosity.

To my favorite NYPD connection P. for answering my never-ending questions. To my sweet cousin for her insider’s view of Riker’s.

To my two consulting attorneys, both of whom I’m proud to call dear friends. To Penelope Farthing for her time, intelligence, and for not making fun of me.

To my unofficial cultural consultants, Diana Rosa, Leslie De Jesus, and Ramón Montero. To my advisor R. for teaching me to be fearless in vernacular and to answer to no one. To my mentor and hand holder for always being so real.

To BYH for my sanity.

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BLOGGER SHOUT-OUTS:

Huge thanks to Leslie and Michele C.

Autumn@Martini Times (what would I do without you?) Ellen@The Book Bellas

Raquel@For The Love of Books Braine@Talk Supe

G & J@Totally Booked

Anna@Miscellaneous Thoughts of a Bookaholic Jenn & Jess@Swooning Over Books

Cindy@The Book Enthusiast

Tracy@Stephanie’s Book Reports.

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DISCLAIMER

This novel contains explicit sexual content and scenes that may be triggering for rape-sensitive readers. It is not recommended for those under age 18.

To readers who feel I may be perpetuating cultural stereotypes – I share your concern and can say only this: Bad boys exist. They are the same in every language.

“Nadie puede comprender mi religion por tu querer eres mi diosa y yo por ti hasta muero.

En cualquier momento”

“Nobody would understand that my love for you is my religion you are my Goddess and I would die for you.

at any time”

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PROLOGUE

Inmate #4582417569 Riker’s Island

George Motchan Detention Center 15-15 Hazen Street

East Elmhurst, NY 11370

J,

Here is what we’ve been reduced to, my words on this piece of paper. I’m awful without you. The softness of my body is gone. I’m just sharp angles, elbows and knees, joints coming together reluctantly, forcing me to move from place to place. Behind my eyes are aching canyons where there used to be tears. I keep scraping around for emotions and I come up empty time and time again.

The only thing that feels real anymore are my lucid memories of you. I can feel your touch as you first ran a hesitant fingertip down the cradle of my arm. A tracing that left a line of phosphorescent light on me that still pulsates dimly when I retrace the same movement with my own fingertip. I can ground myself in the memory of your full body weight on top of me, every ounce of you desirable, every gram calculable in pleasure. I hear your breath in my ear measured and careful and it helps me to put one foot in front of the other.

It’s the vast expanse of unrealized potential that kills me the most. Never knowing what the stolen possibilities are or what they could have been - the moments we never got to have.

My only salvation is that I’m able to carry you inside of me. It’s something that cannot be taken away. You soothe me in moments of uncertainty. It’s a memory of you but also a distilled essence, a hidden drop that I carry in the palm of my hand and in the center of my heart; a secret that only you and I understand.

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M

CHAPTER 1

y five year-old daughter is trailing behind making us late. She’s staring through the fence into the playground where all the rough kids hang out. The one I call the thug-ground. I scoop her up with one arm and throw her over my hip.

“Mom!” she screams.

“We’re late!” I say through clenched teeth trying not to attract any attention.

My shirt rides up over my stomach and side but I quickly dismiss the thought of modesty in favor of practicality.

“Nice tat.”

I swear I can feel the comment before I hear it. I’m sick of these men that ruthlessly objectify every single woman that walks by. Soon enough it will be my daughters who are subjected to unsolicited catcalls. It’s enough to make me turn around without giving any consideration whatsoever to what I might say. There is a group of young men gathered at the entrance to the basketball court. I now have all of their attention and I search their faces, the blood rising in mine, to see who said it. I will know who it is when I see him and I’ll think of a brilliant comeback.

Then I see him, and just like I thought, I know it’s him immediately. Our eyes meet and hold. His are that intriguing yellow-brown and his skin is dark, making his eyes seem even lighter. He is remarkably beautiful, his body, his eyes, even his energy. The anger falls away completely and I just stare. He holds my gaze, unfaltering.

“Mom!” grunts my older daughter, tugging at my sleeve. “Let’s go.” “Sure, Sweetie. Let’s go.”

I take two steps backwards before I turn around and catch my breath.

I manage to get the girls into their leotards and tights making sure that little Ada pees first. Ballet class means an hour to myself, which I usually spend catching up on emails on my phone. Today I welcome the chair in the parent’s lounge because I feel shaken and unbalanced. I send a few emails pretending that everything is perfectly normal and I ignore my rapid heartbeat and shortness of breath.

Oh for fucks sake! What is wrong with me? I look at some kid on the playground and I get, what, turned on? Am I turned on? Is that what’s going on? I don’t even remember what that feels like. Why am I so shaken? He just caught me off guard, I guess. Usually takes more than eye contact, for crying out loud. Some asshole – he’s probably an asshole – kid makes eye contact with me and I’m an incapacitated mess. I’ve got to call my shrink. I quit seeing my shrink almost seven years ago. This confirms it, I need serious help.

Ada and Pearl demand juice and crackers after class and it helps me to recover from the five-second encounter. I take off their tights and pull the elastics out of their hair.

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yard?”

“Grill!” they yell and Ada starts jumping around. “Mommy, I want to grill corn,” Ada says

“Okay, baby we’ll get some corn and Carmen can help us get everything ready.” Carmen is my cook, housekeeper and general everyday superhero. Without her, I’d never be able to pull off the façade of the stress-free, well-adjusted stay-at-home mom.

I freeze when we get to the door. Everything stops. On the other side of the glass, leaning against the signpost on the sidewalk stands the boy with the golden eyes, hands shoved in his pockets, one leg casually crossed over the other. He appears to be waiting for us.

“Fuck,” I whisper.

My instinct is to run, to find another exit, but I know that this is the only way out of the building and the rational part of me understands that I’m overreacting. Maybe he has a sister who takes class here.

Then he looks up and a smile breaks across his face when he sees me. He briskly struts over and pulls open the door.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” I manage, guiding my girls in front of me by the shoulders.

He shoves his hands in his pockets and walks a few steps with us without saying anything. His eyes are cast down but when he looks up our eyes lock again. He smiles. The smile undoes me. I feel almost sick. His eyes are intoxicating. Everything about him spells trouble. He’s too casual, too confident, too handsome, too charming and way. too. young. I glance over to the basketball courts and scan for the group of boys he was with but they seem to have since broken apart and moved on. I’ve got a sinking feeling that someone is playing a trick on me, that I’m about to get jumped or taken advantage of in some way.

“Sorry I was an ass,” he says.

“No. I didn’t. . . I’ve gotten a lot worse.”

That was a stupid thing to say. Now I feel like an ass.

“Mommy, can we swing at the park before we grill?” asks Ada. “Yes, baby. Let’s go swing.” I say

My kids save me. They do it all the time without knowing. Usually I hate this park and I’d say no, but not today. Today I’ll take any excuse to just get away from this boy.

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“You deserve better. I’m just saying,” he says out of nowhere, shrugs and trails off, then he begins to walk away.

His walk is affected and cocky, a highly stylized saunter; it’s almost a limp. “Who was that, Mom?” Pearl asks.

“I don’t know, Pearl. Some guy,” I say.

“I like him!” Ada yells and it makes me smile. Ada likes everybody.

When I look up he’s all the way across the playground. He yells out a nickname and waves at one of the guys on the basketball court then he turns back and looks right at me. I flush, because I’m embarrassed to be caught watching him but also because his gaze causes an extreme reaction in me. I’m exhilarated and I don’t want it to stop. It feels dangerous and exciting. I register his energy right in my gut. He holds my gaze for a few more seconds and his face breaks into another smile. He waves with two fingers – almost a salute – and walks away down the block.

We grill that night and Carmen helps the girls to shuck the sweet corn. It’s the first of the season and it turns out buttery sweet and plump. After dinner, Ada and Pearl slurp on homemade grape popsicles on their swing set and Carmen brushes down the grill.

I deserve better? This is as good as it gets, isn’t it? I’m. perfectly. happy. thank you. In fact, tonight with the balmy air and blooming trees, sitting here watching my girls, it really doesn’t get any better than this. The only glitch is that I can’t stop replaying his every movement, every word, and, most of all, his gaze.

“You seem different tonight, Kate.” Carmen’s comment jerks me out of my reverie and I blush like I’ve done something wrong.

“What do you mean, Carmen?” I quickly ask to mask how awkward I feel.

“I’m not sure, but definitely different. Like you’re lit up inside. Estás prendida.” Carmen and I regularly switch in and out of Spanish.

“Maybe it’s the weather. It’s finally starting to get warm. You know how I feel about winter,” I answer.

Carmen shrugs and looks unconvinced, but she’s soon distracted by Ada’s demands for an underdog push.

Carmen’s comments only confirm to me that I’m lying to myself. I’m not really angry with that boy. What I really feel is grateful. I’m not sure of how he did it or what it means, but I can feel that my life has somehow changed since I looked into his eyes.

Carmen agrees to put Ada and Pearl to bed, a task which I rarely ask of her. After kissing them goodnight I grab a grape popsicle from the freezer and head back out into our yard in my bare feet. I sit on the swing and watch Pearl’s window until the light goes out.

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friends were willing to go. It was the only way we could afford to buy it with our own money. That was before Robert made partner at the firm and while we were both still swamped with student loans. A yard, an upstairs and a downstairs had been so much more important to us than a zip code – we both wanted to raise our children in a house rather than a city apartment. My parents thought we were nuts and offered to all but buy us a condo on the Upper East Side. They’ve yet to come visit us still to this day. It’s only been ten years but it feels like a lifetime ago now.

Soon after Pearl was born, Robert made partner. He’d promised that the long hours and late nights would stop, but they didn’t. They probably never will. On days when I allow myself to wallow in self-pity I feel like a financially-kept single mother. It’s a stretch, and pretty unfair because I have Carmen, but it’s lonely. I’m lonely. I consider waiting up for Robert but I’m tired. I wonder where the golden-eyed stranger is and what he’s doing right now. I break the popsicle stick with my molars and rub my teeth with the splintered edge.

The kid shows up in my dream. His eyes are an even brighter gold, his lips full, his smile so carefree and confident. He’s near enough that I can smell him and feel the warmth radiating off of his body. He doesn’t touch me but I can feel the electricity between us, a kinetic hum in the air.

Robert slips into bed silently hours later. I’m half asleep, dreaming and awake, fanaticizing, and yearning. I want Robert to touch me but I know he won’t so I grab his flaccid penis and give it a light squeeze. He turns to me and I am on him like wildfire. I can’t stop myself and my desire feels insatiable.

In the morning Robert lays in bed with his hands folded behind his head watching me move around the bedroom.

“You’re up early,” he says.

“What?” I respond, annoyed. A smile creeps across his face.

“Who are you and what have you done with my wife?” He says and his smile widens playfully. I hop back onto the bed and kiss him long and urgently.

“Seriously, Kate. You seem so happy. Something good happen?”

“I think I just had one of those first day of the rest of your life things yesterday. I feel different. I don’t know, it sounds dumb, but I feel more alive.”

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husband Teddy, who’s a professional surfer, of all things. They also run a local surf shop. Sarah has never been one to mince words, especially with me. She’s brutally honest and insightful. She‘s always the first person I turn to, for any advice or for sharing news. As soon as Carmen shuts the front door I run to the kitchen, pour myself a huge mug of coffee and reach for the phone. Sarah answers on the first ring.

“Kate the Great! What’s going on? How’s the princess and her princesses?”

Sarah thinks I lead a charmed life. She also thinks I spoil my girls and that my husband spoils me. I can’t help but smile.

“Hell, Sarah, probably not as good as the sea slut.” This is my name for her ever since she confessed to me that all of her boys were conceived on public beaches.

“Listen, Kate, it’s almost lunch and I’ve ordered pizzas for the gorillas so I’m gonna have to jet when they come if I want to get a slice, otherwise I might starve. I promise I won’t hang up on you, but talk fast, you’ve got 30 minutes.”

“I don’t know if I can do it in 30, Sar, this is big.”

“Okay. I’ll eat the slice on the phone and lock myself in the bathroom. I have to be a ninja about food or I risk never eating. First though, really quick, can I tell you that I gained 5 more pounds in less than a month? Not cute. Remember the army green bathing suit I wore to swim-camp for both seventh and eighth grade?”

“Umm, yes!”

“Okay. Remember the pictures of us that Aunt Fannie took where I look all fat and pasty and have like a thousand red welts from mosquito bites all over my thighs?”

“Yup.”

“Move those up to my arms. That’s what my arms look like now.” “Covered with welts?”

“No, dumbass, white and fat and pasty,” Sarah says. “Not pretty. I should have a fucking salad. That’s why I’m locking myself in the bathroom after one slice.”

“Oh, I thought that was to stay away from the gorillas.” “That too. Start talking, Kate.”

I remind myself that I can tell Sarah anything. That I have shared my worst thoughts with her and she’s never faltered.

“I had a bizarre encounter with a man yesterday that I just can’t get out of my head, Sarah. I mean it wasn’t even really an encounter and he isn’t really even a man . . . yet.”

“This sounds like I should lock myself in the bathroom now. Fuck it. I’m making an Ovaltine for lunch. Go on.”

I hear her yelling to Josh, her eldest to get the money for the pizza out of her wallet. At least she had Josh early so he’s old enough to help her out with the younger boys.

“Shoot” she says.

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and he made a comment about the tattoo on my hip. Pretty innocuous, but you know how the guys in this neighborhood are. I turned around because I thought I was going to tell him off or at least shoot him a look, but when I looked into his eyes I felt . . . it felt like the world stopped and I completely, I mean completely lost myself in his gaze.”

“Shit. What did you do?”

“Nothing, Sarah. I took the girls to class and spent the whole hour trying to gather myself, trying to recover from the way he looked at me. It’s hard to explain, but it was kind of like he wanted to do me and kill me at the same time. His eyes were that golden brown color and I don’t know – it took my breath away. Then when we went out after class, he was waiting for us.”

“No shit?”

“And the crazy thing is, he didn’t even really say anything. He walked us to the swings and then he just grabbed Pearl and put her on the swing.”

“That’s weird.”

“I agree. But the thing is, it seemed totally natural, like we’d done it before or at least like he maybe has kids of his own. More than that too, like we’d all done it before. Then he told me that ‘I deserved better’ and he sauntered off. So incredibly sexy. And he looked at me again. Twice.”

“Is that it?”

“Yes and no. I mean, I fucked Robert like a teenager last night and I couldn’t stop thinking about him, the kid, not even for a second. I feel sort of crazy because I’m turned on by the whole thing, but I’m also really pissed that he would judge me like that, just by looking at me. I mean he has absolutely no idea who I am. He has no idea what my life is like. See I’m getting pissed now just thinking about it.”

“Oh, Kate, you’re so stupid.” “Thanks, Sar.”

“No, I mean you completely misunderstood what he meant.” “What do you mean? How do you know what he meant?”

“Because it’s totally fucking obvious. Kate, when you share a look like that, an exchange like that, it’s almost always mutual. The air doesn’t start crackling between one person and what they wish the other person was feeling. Know what I mean?”

“No,” I say.

“Simple. He felt it too. That’s why he followed you and waited for you to come out. It’s also why he thought he could hold your daughter, because you’d already exchanged a mutual intimacy, even if it only lasted a second.”

“Then how did I misunderstand the exchange?” “Simple. He . . . What’s his name?”

“I have no idea.”

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“Take Joshua. He’s fifteen now and he drives me fucking nuts because already he can’t escape the realm of himself. Teenagers, and even young adults only know how to talk about themselves. Everything they say is me, me, my facebook, my twitter, four thousand photos of myself. You really don’t start realizing other people exist and have feelings until you’re at least twenty-five these days. Golden-eyes was talking about himself.”

“I think you’re going to have to spell it out for me,” I say.

“To that cocky, young boy there already existed something between the two of you. It was a warning, Kate. ‘You deserve better.’ He meant, ‘You deserve better than me.’”

My blood runs cold and I have to lean over into my lap to keep from passing out. My breathing is shallow and coming faster than I can manage. I love my brilliant best friend. I am reeling from the idea that this affliction could be mutual. That he might be somewhere right now thinking about me. I feel an urgent and ridiculous need to find him, to see him again.

“I think I need to go,” I say.

“Oh, no fucking way, Kate. Don’t you dare! I know you and you need to squelch this shit, toute suite. Don’t you even think about fucking with what you have. Should I remind you? Beautiful, rich, sweet, lawyer husband who loves you. Two gorgeous, perfect princess girls who adore you AND their father. A stunning fucking house – a charmed life. Don’t even consider pursuing it. All he is, Kate, is maybe, and just a maybe here, an amazing fuck but, believe me, a lifelong headache. Probably heartache too. Walk away from it now. Walk away while you still can.“

“It’s not like we exchanged phone numbers, Sarah.”

“Not yet. I’ve known you since I was seven, sister. I’m not dropping this. You can go if you need to, but I’m not dropping this. You know why? Because you’re not dropping it and I have to be the sane one. I can hear it in your voice. You’re half-way gone already. “

“Thanks for listening. I’ll probably never see him again,” I say. “Yes you will, and you’d better squelch it and run the other way.”

“I love you, Sar!” I say and make a smooching sound into the receiver before hanging up.

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M

CHAPTER 2

onday afternoon, the encounter begins to feel more significant because I have to take the girls to their ballet class and I can’t pretend last week didn’t happen. I’m nervous and excited about the possibility of running into him again. I’ve spent all morning considering what Sarah told me. My romantic self really wants to believe that our exchange was mutual even if any kind of relationship is absolutely impossible. My more rational self acknowledges that the man is beautiful and probably has hot, young, twenty-year-old girls lining up to pleasure him, and that my forty-two-year-old mom body isn’t in high demand. He probably flirts with everybody. I doubt he knows from our brief exchange that I have a PhD and I speak four languages, that I can be really funny, or that I play piano.

Nothing prepares me, however, for the deep, aching disappointment I feel when we walk by the playground and he isn’t there. I scan the groups for his friends but no one looks familiar. I save face by hurrying my girls along and busying myself with their buns and ballet slippers. Once the girls are in their studios I head to the ladies room and examine my face in the mirror.

My big, blue eyes look sad even when I’m not, but today especially, they are turned down more than usual. My dark, wavy hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail. I look distraught.

“It’s for the best.” I say out loud looking at myself in the mirror but my voice wavers and a sob escapes me. I’m shocked at my own reaction so I go into the stall for privacy and close the toilet lid and sit down. I’ve really lost my mind over this. What, did I think I was going to start dating again? I need to talk to Sarah. I take out my phone to text her and I see that she’s already sent me something.

Did you see him?

No and now I’m crying about it. Seriously?

Yes. I’m in the bthrm at the ballet crying.

Shit, Great. Don’t cry. I’m sorry but it’s better this way.

I send her a smiley face. There is no emoticon to express the sense of loss I feel. It threatens to engulf me and without thinking I stand and open the stall door. I slam through the bathroom door and then out the front doors of the ballet school and march toward the playground. As I come around the corner I see him standing in a circle of friends. He looks up and our eyes lock. He takes two long steps to the iron fence and puts out a toned arm on the top bar. He swings his legs easily over the top of the fence and strides right toward me.

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last few steps on death row, ready to meet the end and whatever lies beyond it. Another part of me feels out of time, and I embrace this moment as the only place I want to be, as if no other path existed for me.

When he reaches me his face breaks into the irresistible smile I have seen twice before. He grabs my hand and encloses it with his, pulling me off the sidewalk and into the street. He walks right out into traffic without looking and brings me diagonally across the street. The cars stop for him and one of them honks.

“Where are we going?” I whisper.

“Somewhere private,” he says almost sternly but looks at me with a hint of a mischief. “I only have an hour, my kids . . .”

“I know.”

The golden-eyed kid leads us across the cemetery and appears to be heading to the Catholic Church on the corner. He jogs up the lengthy staircase pulling me along behind him. The temperature drops drastically once we’re inside and I immediately begin to shiver. It’s more nerves than the cold that has me trembling. Candles flicker along the last line of pews as well as at the base of the altar, making the shadows dance in the low light. The air is heavy with frankincense and candle smoke, but we seem to be the only people in the nave. He pulls me into the last pew, never letting go of my hand. We sit sideways to face each other and he grabs my other hand.

“This is private,” he says raising one eyebrow. His voice is surprisingly low and raspy, it echoes lightly inside the church.

“I shouldn’t be here,“ I say. “I’m married and I have two kids – I’m a lot older than you. A lot. What are we doing?” Apparently, I’m rambling like an idiot.

He raises his finger to my lips and when he touches them the charge between us is so intense, the only feeling I can relate it to is pain.

“Don’t do that,” he warns.

“What should I do? I don’t know what to do. I haven’t since the moment . . .”

“Shhh,” he touches my lips with his fingers again. “Don’t do that either,” he whispers.

In a single movement he pulls me to his chest and I hold my breath. It’s a hug. Okay, I can give him a hug. He grabs the back of my neck and begins to knead my flesh. I melt under his touch and the tension and fear dissolve into a million pinpoints. He’s built and strong but his touch is soft and sensual. A shudder runs down my spine and another whimper escapes me. He kisses my hair and pulls me all the way onto his lap wrapping his muscular arms around me.

“As much as I like the mystery, you should tell me your name. I think I need to know your name.” “I’m Kate,” I say, my eyes searching his for answers as to what’s happening.

He pulls me to his chest again and nuzzles the top of my head. “Jaley,” he whispers right into my ear.

“Like the comet?” I ask.

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I wrap my arms around his neck and pull myself further into his lap, burying my face in his neck. He kisses my hair and rocks me and whispers into my ear, “Nice to meet you, Kate.”

When we walk back to pick up the girls, he holds my hand the entire time. Passing by the playground it seems like everyone stops and stares. It’s obvious that he knows all of these people. One of the friends from his group lets out a high pitched whistle and Jaylee responds with his two fingered salute.

“Those,” he says gesturing in their direction, “are my boys right there. Want to meet ‘em?” “No.” I reply and he squeezes my hand.

It does occur to me that it’s absolutely ridiculous that I’m holding his hand. I have no idea what I’d say if my husband walked around the corner or even a friend for that matter. What would I do, introduce him? I don’t even know him. Oh this is the kid from the thug-ground that I’ve been thinking about incessantly for a week. I can’t stop because I think he’s invaded every cell in my body. And now, I’m holding his hand – why you ask? Well, because I’m fucking crazy.

As if he could read my thoughts, Jaylee drops my hand when we reach the Ballet School. The girls come running out of the studios when class is finished and Ada doesn’t bat an eye when she sees Jaylee.

“Hi!” she says hugging his jean-clad leg.

He reaches down and scoops her up onto his hip. She squeals and laughs. “Are we going to swing again?” she asks.

“I don’t know, chica. Ask Mami,” Jaylee replies.

“I’m sorry. Jaylee this is Ada and this is Pearl. Ada is five and Pearl is nine.” Pearl hangs back, her arm wrapped around my waist, her face questioning. “It’s okay, sweetie. Jaylee is Mommy’s friend,” I say.

It is so not okay. Mommy is lying. Mommy has lost her mind. Jaylee mouths the word swings to me, his brow furrowed. I shake my head, no.

“Let’s go home and grill veggies again. You two can show Jaylee your butterfly garden.”

I’m a certifiable idiot. I’m going to show this kid, who I know absolutely nothing about, where my family and I live. Not only that, but I’m exposing my two young daughters to him. The only information I do have is that he hangs out on the thug-ground where gunplay frequently happens and where drugs are most certainly sold. Great parenting, Kate! Great fucking everything!

Carmen is immediately suspicious when she opens the door for us. She frowns at me and then fusses excessively over the girls. Jaylee introduces himself to her in Spanish and I can see her soften slightly around the edges.

“Jaylee babysits, Carmen. He’s a friend of Stephani’s. She recommended him for days that she has classes and can’t watch the girls,” I stumble through yet another lie.

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most likely because babysitting is a sensitive subject for her. Technically, we hired her only to help clean and cook and not to watch the kids, but she helps me out tremendously, with everything, all of the time. When Robert and I go out, I call Stephani to watch Ada and Pearl and it makes Carmen uncomfortable to bring someone else in when she thinks she can take care of them herself. I maintain the clear boundary only because I don’t want my kids raised by a nanny like I was. I want to be the parent. Carmen helps me pull veggies out of the crisper and I hesitate momentarily before grabbing two of Robert’s cold beers from the bottom shelf. Carmen’s eyes widen because obviously no sane mother gives beer to the babysitter.

“You can take off now if you’d like, Carmen. Robert is coming home early tonight to meet Jaylee.” The lies are now flowing freely out of me.

After I’m sure Carmen’s car has pulled away from the house I grab the bowl of veggies, the beers and the lighter fluid from under the sink. I pause at the screen door and watch Jaylee pushing Pearl on the swing. He’s got Ada on his shoulders and both of my girls are giggling and grinning. The sad truth is that they’re starved for male attention because they hardly ever spend time like this with their dad. As the door slams behind me, it dawns on me that I am too.

The evening unravels with near perfection: a bright pink sunset, balmy warm air and water balloons. The girls are ecstatic. Jaylee keeps up with their banter and plays with them almost like a peer would. He tosses them into the air tirelessly and allows them to soak him with their terrible aim and weak throws. While I’m making the girls pick up all of the pieces of broken balloons, Jaylee casually peels of his drenched white t-shirt and rings it out. He hangs it on the top bar of the swing set and turns to help us. His chest is defined, hairless and, surprisingly, devoid of tattoos. I’ve never considered myself the type of woman that drools over the perfect male physical specimen. I tend to like men with character, but tonight I’ve suddenly and unwillingly become a convert. Our eyes lock and my breathing becomes irregular immediately. The now familiar hum starts deep in my belly and radiates out to my limbs. I feel dangerously out of control and reckless. I want his hands on me.

Jaylee walks over and kneels down to where we are huddled, never breaking eye contact with me.

“Why don’t you go do the bedtime thing and I’ll clean up this mess?”

I read stories to the girls in Pearl’s bed but they are more interested in the story of Jaylee. “Is he really going to be our new babysitter?” Pearl asks

“I don’t know, sweetie, maybe we can ask Daddy what he thinks,” I answer. “Why is Jaylee a boy babysitter?” Ada says and I tickle her in response.

I kiss the girls goodnight and rise to draw Pearl’s shades. I can see Jaylee in the yard, still shirtless and doing jail pull-ups on the girl’s swing set. It all seems outrageous. What would I say to my husband about the half naked young man who’s working out in the back yard if he were to arrive home from work right now? He’s our new sitter and he’s already helped himself to all of your beer and now he’s getting naked. Oh, and I think I want to fuck him.

(22)

brush my teeth. I grab my toothbrush and toothpaste out of the bathroom and fly down the stairs. I pull out a bottle of ancient brandy from the pantry and quickly take a swig. I need courage. Am I planning on kissing him? One deep breath later I take another one. Then I brush my teeth furiously in the kitchen sink. This is all a really bad idea. I have never in my life before acted so selfishly. I decide I have no choice but to ask him to leave, to forget where I live, and to avoid the playground on Mondays.

When I work up the nerve to go back outside it’s completely dark. I flick on the outside light from the back deck and it illuminates the yard. Jaylee is gone. His white t-shirt still hangs on the swing set. My hands fly to my mouth to stifle a gasp that springs forth unannounced. I am again stunned by how much this affects me. Am I losing my mind? A second ago I wanted him gone and now that he’s gone, the loss I feel borders on agonizing. I don’t even know this person. Why am I so affected emotionally by every little thing he does? The doorbell rings and I gasp again in surprise. I run to the front door and Jaylee is standing on the porch, shirtless and smoking a cigarette.

“I think I should go,” he says

“Me too. I was just going to ask you to leave.”

He flicks his cigarette into the street and runs his hand through his hair.

“I can’t be what you’d need me to be. I saw here tonight what you have. You’re a damn good mom. Nice place. A husband that does good by you. I don’t want to fuck that up for you. You deserve what you got.”

He thinks he’s not good enough for me? That’s why he’s leaving? He is all I want right now, all I could possibly need. Oh God, I really just want to grab and kiss him. Is he saying this to make it less painful for me? He’s realized I’m so much older than him. I’m not what he wants. He’s escaping before it gets too messy.

I nod my head defeated and look up to meet his gaze. His eyes are burning so intensely that I believe he can see right through me. He must know what I’m thinking. I can’t speak. I want to tell him not to go. I want him to pull me to his chest again like he did in the church. He reaches out and runs his finger from my earlobe to my chin. His touch is divine. Addictive. So dangerous.

“I’d kiss you goodbye, Kate, but I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.”

(23)

I

CHAPTER 3

’m standing in line at the grocery store when I feel someone staring at me. I look up and see one of the young baggers looking right at me. He smiles as if we know each other and I turn to look behind me to make sure he isn’t looking at someone else. When I turn back around he’s laughing at me. He’s a teenager, maybe eighteen at most. When I approach the checkout he’s still staring at me.

“You’re Kate, right?” he asks. “I am,” I reply.

“You’re Jaylee’s girl,” he says without any irony.

Molten electricity pours into my veins at the mention of his name. I can feel the heat rising to my face and my heartbeat starts to quicken.

“Who are you?” I ask trying to sound casual.

“Jaylee’s my boy. My name is Oscar, but everybody calls me Flash.” “Nice to meet you, Oscar – Flash,” I say.

I grab my groceries from him feeling embarrassed and confused. I manage to flag down a cab and crawl in the back with all of my bags. Since when have I ever felt ashamed of my groceries or by the need to feed my family? How would I have wanted to present myself? Am I self-conscious because of what I think he’ll tell Jaylee or am I now concerned about what all neighborhood thugs think of me?

Jaylee’s girl. I can’t stop replaying it in my head. It makes me giddy. I’m drunk on these two words. Jaylee’s girl. I‘ve only truly spent time with him once. Nothing really happened between us, at least not on paper. I haven’t seen him in weeks, yet his friend calls me Jaylee’s girl. Does that mean he talks about me? I wish, more than anything, that I could know what it means to be his girl. By no stretch should I be called a girl. I think I was born twenty-odd years too early.

“What’s up, Mary Kay?” Sarah yells into the phone. “Mary Kay?” I ask.

“Yeah. Letourneau. The OG Cougar. Seen the kid?” Sarah loves to inflict pain like this. She’s teasing, but she loves to push the boundaries and see if she can get a rise out of people. I’ve been on the receiving end ever since grammar school so her biting comments barely faze me.

“That’s why I called. He sent me a text.”

“You gave him your digits?” Sarah asks incredulously.

“No, that’s the thing. I have no idea how he got my number. I didn’t even tell him my last name. He knows where I live so maybe he looked it up that way?”

“What’s he want?”

“He asked me on a date,” I say.

(24)

“Right now?” I ask.

“Yeah, right now! Text your child bride! That’s how they communicate these days anyway. Get a tumblr account, old woman. You’re going to have to learn how to sext too. Maybe Joshua can teach you.”

“God, Sarah. You’re gross.”

“Oh, I’m gross. That’s why we’re here because I’m the gross one. Text him.” Jaylee, this is Kate. How did you get my number?

I know it’s you. U lft ur phone on the tbl in the yard. I lifted it. U mind?

“He got my number from my phone. I left it in the back yard.”

“I guess that’s not too stalkery. I can’t believe he’s already been in your yard. Next it’s your pants. Ask him if he knows you’re married,” Sarah prods.

“He totally knows.” “Ask him.”

Jaylee, you know that I’m married, right? Sí

“He knows,” I say

“Ask him where he wants to take you on the date.”

“Jesus, Sarah! I feel like we’re in seventh grade right now. Why don’t you just talk to him for me.”

Where are we going on this date?

JERSEY- UNION CITY- U dance Salsa?

“Oh my God, he wants to take me dancing!” I haven’t been dancing in years. I love going dancing almost more than I love anything else. The idea of Jaylee dancing seems incredibly sexy. Irresistible. Nothing can make me not go dancing with this man.

“Kate, you still there? “Mmmhmm.”

“You are such a goner. I’m sure you’ll call me later to help pick up the pieces so I’ll spare you the warnings, but I’m going heavy on the ‘I told you sos’ when this shit is over.”

(25)

“Dream on, Kate. I know how this story ends.”

“Give me some credit, Sarah. I don’t know how it ends. You can’t start blaming me before anything even happens.”

I say goodbye to Sarah and quickly text Jaylee back.

Yes! I want to go dancing with you. GR8! I’ll pick you up at 8 on Sat.

Between now and Saturday I’ll have to make the decision whether or not to tell Robert. If I tell him it seems more innocent, like Jaylee really is just my salsa partner. If I don’t tell him then I’m keeping it secret because Jaylee is much more than just a dance partner. I decide that I have to tell him. For all I know, it might be what this relationship turns into. The challenge will be telling Robert without giving away my true feelings for Jaylee. A challenge that’s much easier said than done, considering that just saying his name causes my blood pressure to rise and my face to flush.

Jaylee arrives an hour early for our date. Who arrives an hour early for a first date? Only a crazy person. I’m in the shower scrubbing my hair when Pearl knocks on the door.

“Mama, your friend is downstairs. He’s making a puzzle with Ada. Stephani isn’t here yet.”

Pearl tells me that Carmen let him in as she was leaving. That means Jaylee is the only one watching the girls now. I yank a comb through my tangled hair after jumping out of the shower, vowing to never go on a date again. Really? Who arrives early for a date? I slip into the only jeans I can call sexy and pull a silk, ruffled blouse over my head. I cram my lipstick and mascara into my purse hoping to find some time to discreetly put it on in the car. At the base of the stairs I jam my feet into my black ballet flats and follow the girl’s giggles into the living room.

Jaylee is spinning Ada by the feet and her face is beet red. She’s loving it. Pearl is doubled over in laughter, her face still red from her turn spinning. He looks up when I walk in and his amazing smile lights up the room, me and my daughters included.

“Hey,” he says, gingerly placing Ada standing up on the coffee table and coming over to kiss my cheek. His smell is intoxicating and his proximity makes me go tingly, everywhere.

“Hey,” I say beaming. It feels like such a relief to finally see him. All of the worrying and waiting, all of the longing wash away and are forgotten.

“Kate,” Jaylee says abruptly clapping his hands together. “You can’t wear that.” Another dashing smile spreads across his face – this time at my expense.

I’m momentarily horrified, but equally as quickly reassured when our eyes meet. “No jeans, baby.“

“For crying out loud! If you knew then why didn’t you text me? What am I supposed to wear? A dress? I can’t wear a dress!” I protest.

(26)

“Yay!” Ada screams in delight and they run up the stairs with Jaylee in tow.

The next forty-five minutes consist of me going back at least two decades in my closet. Jaylee simply answers ‘shorter’ to every skirt I try on and the girls squeal with delight at this new game. When I’ve finally wedged myself into a black, stretchy mini that hasn’t seen the light of day since the early nineties, Jaylee nods approvingly. Next he lightly pushes me aside and strides into my closet to check out my shoes. Predictably, he chooses what Robert refers to as my ‘ho strollers’ and hands them to me looking thoroughly pleased with himself. I cringe.

“Jaylee, you want me to dance in those?” He responds with only a slow, seductive nod and his incredible smile. “What about my shirt?” I ask, trying to sidestep the heavy sexual tension between us.

“You’ good like that,” Jaylee answers referring to the black camisole I had on under my shirt. “I can’t wear this. It’s an undershirt,” I say

“You look fucking hot, Kate,” Jaylee says and covers his mouth when I shoot him a look for swearing in front of the girls. “You look beautiful, I mean. You should dress like this all the time.”

I say nothing and smile like an idiot. It amazes me that Jaylee can say things to me that I know I would find offensive coming from anyone else. When I’m with him and surrounded by his warmth and charm, he can say anything and it makes me melt.

The doorbell rings and the girls jump off the bed yelling, “Stephani” and beeline for the stairs. I’m pulling my still damp hair into a ponytail when Jaylee rises from the bed, walks slowly over to me and wraps his arms around me from behind. My breath runs out of me and my heartbeat speeds to a gallop.

“No sabes cuánto lo he pensado.”

“No, pero yo también me he imaginado,” I answer quietly.

Jaylee whips me around to face him, his golden brown eyes wide in surprise. “You speak Spanish?”

“I do,” I answer.

“But you’re not Spanish, are you?” “No.”

“Fuck. That’s sexy,” Jaylee smiles. “What else?”

“Well, all of the Romance languages, French, Italian and Portuguese. My degree is in comparative literature. Do you . . .?

Nevermind,” I say feeling slightly embarrassed. Jaylee looks momentarily less than confident for the first time.

“I didn’t mean what other languages, Kate. I meant what else you hiding from me?” He shoves a hand into the pocket of his low-slung khakis. “I can tell you right now I’m not as smart as you.”

I’m speechless. I can’t think of how to explain to him that I don’t care if he’s educated or not, that I don’t want him to be, that I want him exactly as he is. I’m saved from trying to formulate a response because Stephani bursts through the door with Ada and Pearl following closely behind.

(27)

open when she sees Jaylee standing by my bed. I guess most women react this way when they’re blindsided by Jaylee’s looks or maybe Stephani is scandalized to see a young man in my bedroom.

“Jaylee?” she says.

My heart sinks as heat rises to my face. Oh God. She knows him. “Hey, Stephani. What’s up?” Jaylee says dryly.

Of course she knows him. They grew up in the same neighborhood. They’re probably the same age. God, they must have gone to school together. Terrible thoughts enter my mind about their history. Jaylee has slept with my sitter. He’s had sex with her or maybe her friends. She’s been in love with him, or even worse, he with her.

Jaylee moves protectively to my side. He slides his arm around my shoulder and I instinctively move away. Now I’m the one with my mouth hanging open.

“How do you two know each other?” Stephani says and I think I hear an accusatory tone, but I can’t be sure that it’s not just in my head. She’s certainly never seen me dressed like this before.

“Jaylee is my salsa dancing partner. We’re going dancing.”

The lie has no momentum. I feel defeated already. I no longer want to go dancing. It dawns on me that Jaylee and Stephani should be going out together while I stay home and order pizza with the girls. At this point it sounds so much better than embarking on a stupid date that could possibly ruin my life as I know it. Jaylee puts his hand in the middle of my back. I feel like he can hear my thoughts. His touch is simultaneously calming and electric.

“My credit card is in my purse downstairs. I’ll be right there.”

This is how I ask her to leave. Stephani takes the hint and brings the girls back downstairs. I turn to Jaylee, again with tears in my eyes.

“Don’t.”

It’s all he says to me. He takes my hand, I think it’s a gesture to comfort me but instead, he surprises me and grabs my ring finger. With remarkable agility, he wrestles off my wedding band and engagement ring. He smiles at me as he tosses them into the breast pocket of his white button-up shirt. Then he yanks me to his chest. My breath comes quickly again. I can’t kiss this man in my marital bedroom.

“Let’s go dance, Kate. Don’t overthink it.” His proximity is overwhelming. I can smell his scent, an intoxicating mix of cigarettes and cologne that I’ve already come to hunger for. He doesn’t try to kiss me. I’m shocked at his audacity but something about removing my rings releases me and I relax into his arms.

(28)

I

CHAPTER 4

’m glad Jaylee forced me to change clothes after I see how dressy the people standing in line for the small, unassuming salsa club are. A Cuban band is playing and I gather from the accents of those around me that the crowd is mostly Cuban as well. Once inside the venue strikes me as not being a typical hang out place for someone like Jaylee. It seems like the crowd is serious about both dancing and music. Jaylee ushers me over to the bar and orders two rum and cokes without asking me what I’d like to drink. I haven’t had an awful drink like that since high school. These days I only touch wine or beer, except for my recent encounter with brandy from the pantry. Jaylee pays and turns to face me. His eye contact seers through me and I place my arm on the bar to steady myself. It’s still surreal to be interacting with him. I’ve never experienced a connection so intense with anyone before. When he looks at me I become completely his, all else falls away and is forgotten. We could be standing at the epicenter of the apocalypse and I would still be captivated and held by these golden eyes. I’m doubtful that Jaylee could possibly feel the same way despite what Sarah told me. My guess is that he’s motivated by curiosity – curiosity and lust. How else could I hold the interest of this beautiful and confident young man? Deep down I know that if we sleep together both his lust and curiosity will be satisfied and I’ll be turned away, still longing for the powerful connection that’s driving me.

After a brief introduction the band starts up and the crowd begins to swarm the dance floor. Jaylee grabs my hand and leads me through the crowd until we’re up close to the musicians. He asks me if I dance Cuban or Puerto Rican Salsa. I’m taken aback and figure that I underestimated his seriousness.

“I dance New Yorican style, I guess,” I mumble. “Whatever it is that you dance in the clubs on the Lower East Side.”

Jaylee’s face breaks into his contagious smile. He tips his head back and laughs; it’s a raspy, delightful sound. “I’m just messing with you, Kate. Do whatever feels right. That’s how I play it.”

His statement sounds loaded and he lets me know that it is with his intense gaze that follows. His hand finds the small of my back and he winds the fingers of his other hand into mine. His hips meet mine and I can feel every contour of his hard, chiseled body against me. The fact that we’re the exact same height excites me in a way I never expected. With Jaylee so close we touch evenly – hip to hip, chest to chest and most importantly, eye to eye. It makes me feel like we’re equals and it’s incredibly sexy. There are infinite points of contact between our two bodies and only a thin layer of clothing to separate us. Jaylee smiles and laughs at me. He pulls me even closer and begins to move against my body.

(29)

drinks has gotten to me. I’m light headed and dizzy. I feel like I’m having an out of body experience. My desire for Jaylee is overwhelming. I’m not used to dealing with such an urgent need. I feel especially threatened because the whole thing looms with an expiration date, unknown as of yet, but still very real to me.

I tell Jaylee that I need to use the restroom and he accompanies me to the door and waits outside for me as he’s been doing all night. The gesture reminds me of clubbing with my girlfriends in college when we always went to the bathroom in pairs. I look into the mirror and study my sweaty face. My mascara has run, but my cheeks are red and my eyes look bright. I run cold water from the tap and cup it to my face and drink. New Jersey water tastes terrible. But it’s cold and it feels so good that I decide to wash my face. I grab a handful of the brown, scratchy paper towels and try to rub the transferred mascara from under my eyes.

“Kate?”

I turn and recognize an old friend, Claribel, washing her hands in another steel sink. She flaps the water drips off of her hands and kisses me on the cheek with a quick hug. I know Claribel from teaching together as adjuncts at the CUNY Graduate Center. She specializes in classical Italian Literature but she’s originally from Cuba. She’s always been a follower of the Cuban music scene in New Jersey. The last time we really hung out together was the summer before Pearl was born. We used to get coffee in between classes and sometimes catch dinner when Robert was stuck late at the office. We even went out salsa dancing together a few times since Robert refuses to dance and Claribel was single back in those days.

“Kate, it’s been ages! You look amazing. How are Robert and the girls?” Claribel asks.

It sounds so innocent the way she says it. She has no idea of the mess I’m in right now. I’d like to be able to keep it that way.

“Claribel, it’s been so long! I must look crazy,” I tell her. “I’m here with a friend.” The words gush out of me and I sound drunk even to myself. Claribel isn’t an idiot. She raises one eyebrow and then laughs hugging me.

“Are you drunk, Kate?” She asks.

“I drank a lot. Rum.” I make a screwed up face at her. “I’m here with a kid named Jaylee. He’s really just a friend,” I yell over the music.

I want it to sound convincing but it doesn’t and I can feel myself blushing.

“Well, introduce me and you can meet my boyfriend Santiago. He’s in our field. I met him at the conference in Buenos Aires last year and we moved in together three months later.” Claribel updates me on her new teaching position and what she’s been working on over the last few years. She’s been publishing like crazy and it seems pretty much a guarantee that she’ll get tenure. I tell her about Ada and Pearl and Robert because I really don’t have anything to say about myself.

(30)

imagine that we were here together. Magically, Jaylee works his charm and has her giggling seconds after their introductory kiss. Claribel’s boyfriend Santiago is gorgeous himself, in that scruffy Argentine way. He and Claribel appear to be madly in love with one another, and their joy is infectious. We hit the dance floor together and after a few songs Claribel suggests that we switch partners. I don’t want to let go of Jaylee, even for a second, let alone give him away to someone else. I force myself to accept graciously so that I don’t look like an overly possessive lunatic. We’re just here to dance, I have to remind myself.

It amazes me how much it turns me on to see Jaylee with his hands on another woman. I’m so mesmerized watching Jaylee and Claribel that I can barely keep from stepping all over Santiago’s feet. When Claribel’s back is to me, Jaylee locks eyes with me and winks. I swoon and feel like I can’t stand another moment away from his embrace. I know that I’m supposed to be a grown woman and a mother and a wife, but I feel like a teenager and it’s beyond exhilarating.

We part ways in the parking lot next to the salsa club. Claribel hugs me tight and makes me promise that I’ll call her. She shifts her feet and looks at the ground awkwardly.

“It’s none of my business, Kate, whatever’s going on between you and Robert. I just wanted to tell you that I think you look really happy. And with Jaylee, I can see why. I mean, he’s great – I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.”

I hug her tightly in response. I’m glad that she can see what I see in him, that I’m not alone in my wanton adoration.

She kisses me briskly on both cheeks and squeezes my hand. Jaylee and Santiago are exchanging phone numbers when we catch up to them. I can’t imagine what they could possibly have in common or why they’d ever want to call each other.

After we part ways with the couple Jaylee walks me to the passenger’s side of the car and turns me around to face him. In one swift movement he pushes me back against the car and presses his hips into mine. He’s so close I can smell the alcohol on his breath and I brace myself for his kiss. But Jaylee doesn’t kiss me. Instead he nuzzles his face into my neck and sighs.

“Kate?” Jaylee asks. “Do you want me?”

Oh God, Jaylee. Do I want you? Do you really have to ask? Want doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel about you. Of course I want you. It’s so much more complicated than that.

“What I mean is, do you want to be with me?” Jaylee asks again after my silence.

Does he mean sex? Is he talking about being his girlfriend? I want all of those things. Is he talking about forever? Because that’s what I’m thinking.

“Yes, I want you!” I exclaim. “I want you so badly it’s killing me. It’s ruining my life.”

(31)

“I’ll wait for you, Kate, but I’m not gonna wait forever. I’d love you if you were mine,” he murmurs into my ear.

Make love to me or love me?

I cannot believe that he has his fingers inside of me and that he still hasn’t kissed me. This might be the strangest sexual encounter I’ve ever had in my life. He releases me as quickly as he grabbed me, smacks my ass playfully and opens the car door for me.

Jaylee drives me home in complete silence except for the loud music vibrating the stereo. He makes a few phone calls and speaks quickly and quietly in Spanish. Back in the Heights, he parks at the top of my street away from the house and comes around to open the car door for me. He seems distracted and impatient. I figure it means he’s done with me. He mutters something about having to get the car back to his ‘boy’. I’m relieved to hear that it’s not his car. The decals and Dominican flag seat covers along with the air freshener trees had me doubting both myself and my sanity. Despite the fact the car is borrowed, I can’t fool myself into thinking that Jaylee’s car, if he had one, wouldn’t have the same aesthetic.

Jaylee kisses me platonically on the cheek. “Bye, Kate.”

“Bye, Jaylee. Thanks,” I reply. I can’t bring myself to ask if he’ll call me or when we’ll see each other next. I can’t even manage to tell him what a great time I had tonight. I turn to go but Jaylee grabs my hand and pulls me around to face him again.

“Do me a favor, would you?”

“What?” Anything. I’ll do it. Ask me.

“Don’t fuck him,” he says. It sounds more like a threat than a favor asked. He grabs my chin with his thumb and forefinger. He presses the pad of his thumb into the middle of my bottom lip and trails his forefinger down the centerline of my body, passing over my neck, between my breasts and over my belly. He stops his finger just below my navel and then looks up at me, his golden eyes burning. A shudder of pleasure and anticipation runs down my spine.

“All this that you feel. . . it’s for me. Don’t give it to him. Save it for me. That’s all.”

He gets back into the car, guns the motor and screeches away. As his taillights disappear around the corner I realize my engagement ring and wedding band are still in the front pocket of his shirt.

The porch light has been left on and I see a note taped to the glass on the inner door. It’s from Robert.

Kate,

Hope you had fun dancing. Stephani was asleep so I didn’t want to wake her – that plus I didn’t have any cash!

(32)

A sweet and sinking tenderness towards my husband floods my body. It’s true that Robert never carries cash but I suspect the real reason he left Stephani sleeping is his extreme sense of decency. He probably thought it was inappropriate for a grown man to wake a young girl. I guess Robert wins the moral high ground here; I just let a young man finger me in a parking lot in New Jersey.

I shake Stephani’s shoulder gently and she groans a few times and swats me away. She eventually rolls over and opens her eyes.

“Oh hey, Mrs. Champion, she says, rubbing her face.

She tells me that the girls were well behaved and that they went to bed on time. They spent the evening playing dress up in Pearl’s closet. I cringe thinking about where the inspiration for their game came from.

“Did you have fun with Jaylee?” Stephani asks. “I did,” I reply.

I’m trying hard not to show how elated I feel. What I’d really like to do is grab her by the shoulders and make her tell me every last little thing that she knows about him. I shake it off and pull out two hundred dollar bills from my wallet and hand them to her. This is me buying your silence, Stephani. This is me buying access to information. I really am sick.

“Thanks,” I say.

“It’s so weird that you hang out with Jaylee,” she says ignoring the amount I’ve given her. “I’ve known him, like, forever and I didn’t even know he could dance.”

“He’s a phenomenal dancer,” I say. I’m not giving anything away. I walk her to the door and usher her out of the house.

Robert is in bed breathing evenly. He looks sweet and innocent to me. Maybe I see innocence because he allowed me to go out dancing with another man. He trusts me. If the tables were turned would I feel okay about him going out with another woman? Would I be upset if he touched another woman sexually? The thought brings me right back to my moment with Jaylee and with it the intense arousal. My body feels like its radiating heat and electricity as I strip down to nothing but my heels. I wake Robert up by kissing him; I shove my tongue deep into his mouth. Robert responds eagerly and I take from him the kiss I longed for from Jaylee. Robert pulls me onto the king sized bed and rolls me under him. He spreads my legs with his knee and when he kisses me I kiss him back so fiercely that he pushes me away.

“Kate, what the fuck?”

(33)

I

CHAPTER 5

n the morning Robert makes breakfast for me and the girls. He’s a good cook when he actually sets foot in the kitchen. Our Sundays together are really the only family time we have. Robert is buoyant and kisses us after every pancake he delivers to our plates. Today, we’re going upstate to a garden party that one of Robert’s colleagues is hosting at their new country house. There’s supposed to be a large outdoor pool, and Ada and Pearl are thrilled at the prospect of spending the day swimming. The two of them are pool rats and can easily pass an entire afternoon diving, splashing, and doing handstands. Robert leaves to get the Range Rover out of the garage and I help the girls pack up their backpacks with everything they’ll need for the afternoon. I decide to try on some dresses before I have to make a public appearance in front of Robert’s co-workers. Most of the people at his firm are both rich and beautiful, either from plastic surgery or countless hours of effort. I have a hard time relaxing at these social functions because they never feel genuine. Instead of people getting together because they enjoy each other’s company, these social calls are like an obligatory dog and pony show. The few other mothers will want to compare schools, lessons, and other strategies to obtain perfection. Everyone stands around sizing each other up and figuring out how to win the particular game of life that they’re playing. I’m well associated with these types of gatherings not only from my life with Robert, but also from my parents’ participation in the same elite circuit. I’ve got a lifetime of semi-formal, work-related social gatherings under my belt. My personal strategy for coping, ever since the age of fifteen, has been to get wildly drunk and agree with absolutely everything anyone says, no matter how banal or controversial. I stand around, smile, and nod. I’m like a trophy wife with a traumatic brain injury. Except I’ll be the first to admit I’m not much of a trophy. My breasts are real and so is the fat gathered in my hips and ass. I can’t be fake even when I try, hence the agreeing – it holds me back from actually voicing all of the inappropriate thoughts I’m usually thinking.

The drive is surprisingly traffic-free, and we stop once for the bathroom and once to pick up fresh berries from a local fruit stand. The girls are happy to be out of the city and Robert keeps his hand on my thigh for the entire drive. He’s now looked over at me a total of three times, his eyes searching mine, trying to identify what it is about me that’s changed. I couldn’t explain it to him even if I wanted to. I try to imagine what it would be like to go to a social function with Jaylee. Would he bring me to a house party or would it be a family gathering of some type? Would I feel the need to get intoxicated just to tolerate the company? I have a feeling that it would be equally as awkward but the company could possibly be less loathsome.

(34)

easy chignon. I’m going for both sexy and completely unrecognizable. I’d be happy just to sit at the bar and hide behind my sunglasses the whole time. My face easily shows the indulgence in mixed drinks last night, but it’s my feet that are a constant reminder. I’m wearing flat sandals to relieve the protest my arches are staging after dancing all night in stilettos. Other areas of my body are also over-stimulated and I can’t stop my mind from replaying what it felt like to be wrapped in Jaylee’s arms.

I sip on white wine feeling more and more liberated as the afternoon wears on. I nip at Robert’s ear playfully when I think no one’s looking. I slide my hand up his inner thigh when we sit down for lunch. First my shoes go and at some point after lunch my dress comes off too. Ada and Pearl couldn’t be more pleased that I’ve decided to swim with them and I could care less about how the rest of the party feels. It’s an unspoken rule that the ‘pool’ in an afternoon pool party refers strictly to the kids. There’s a lifeguard on duty and the children too young to swim have been left at home with nannies. It’s not unreasonable that I’ve stripped down to my bathing suit; Ada, at five can barely swim. It’s just uncharacteristic and, possibly, a tad bit scandalous.

The new desire running through my body that Jaylee has planted seems to permeate everything. I feel physically aware, more so than I’ve felt in a long, long time and whatever body issues or insecurities that usually bind me have been magically removed. I am a sensual being and I feel extremely proud and aware of every single inch of myself this afternoon. The cool water is like a tonic to my heated skin. I dip and scream and laugh with my girls enjoying a freedom which is not unlike their own. When I squint up to see Robert he is smiling adoringly at the three of us. When our eyes meet his gaze slowly changes to register lust and the expression hearkens back to the very first weeks of our own romance. My betrayal of my husband’s trust takes on a note of levity in the realization of this simple truth: Robert likes this change in me too.

The next time Stephani is set to babysit, I ask her to come over an hour early. Carmen still hasn’t brought the girls back from their play-date with a neighbor and I’ve been dying for a chance to get her alone and ask her about Jaylee. Stephani acts perfectly at ease when she arrives, which is a relief to me because I’ve been worrying that she would see me differently after our last interaction. She’s wearing super short cut-offs and a tight tank top. She kicks her shoes off in the foyer and walks into the sunlit kitchen where I’m preparing a snack for the girls. I offer her coffee, which she takes with a ridiculous amount of cream and sugar and I invite her to sit down at the eat-in table.

“Are you still thinking about starting classes again in the fall?” I ask her. I’m fearful of jumping right into a conversation about Jaylee.

“I think so, Mrs. Champion. Have you been dancing with Jaylee again?” she asks. Apparently Stephani doesn’t share the same fear.

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about him.

“I wouldn’t say he’s dangerous, exactly. His dad was. He was a Trini, but Jaylee stays out of trouble, I think,” Stephani says.

“His dad is from Trinidad?” I ask, surprised to hear that he’s not Dominican.

Stephanie bursts out laughing and then covers her mouth with her hand. She attempts an apologetic look but amusement is dominating her face.

“No, Mrs. Champion, a Trinitario. It’s a gang. Jaylee’s Dominican,” Stephani says. “Oh. Did he die?” I ask.

“No, He went to jail, back in the nineties. Jaylee was pretty young,” she says.

He was a little kid in the nineties. Don’t remind me.

“Does he live with his family now?’” I ask.

“Yeah, his sister Janinie and his mom and grandma. Over on 157th street. I think that’s how he got out, of the gang I mean, cause he, like, takes care of his family.”

“What does he do?” I ask. Don’t tell me. I don’t really want to know.

Stephani turns pink and looks down at the floor. Oh, God. I should have left it alone.

“I don’t really know Mrs. Champion. I mean, I think he’s a hustler. You know, like a lot of guys around here.”

I don’t even know what that means. He does something illegal or questionably legal. He sells stuff? He gets by. One more question. You can do it.

“Is he single?” I ask as innocently as possible.

“Jaylee? I doubt it. I’ve known him a long time. He’s a player, always has been. Why, you interested?” Stephani asks, staring me down unflinchingly.

She cuts right to it, I’ll give her that. I can’t stop the flush of heat to my face. I shake my head ‘no’ while I recover from her candor.

“Stephani, I’m married and I’m very happy with Robert. I was just curious as to why he didn’t already have someone to dance with,” I say.

“I think he is,” Stephani says. “Interested, I mean. I heard the rumor that he had it bad for somebody. That, and I saw the way he looked at you the other day.”

I need to be careful with my response. I’m tempted to confide in her just to have someone to talk to, but I know how disastrous that could be.

“That may be the case, but he’s been nothing short of gentlemanly with me,” I say.