Ryan scoffs, “You think I can’t handle youbeing in law school? That I won’t compete for your time?”
“I just want you to be prepared. It has to bemy sole focus.”
Ryan smiles. A wryly, arrogant smile. Likehe’s telling me to bring it on. “Alana, I lost you for five years,you really think I’m going to let a little thing like law schoolget in my way? I’ll fight infinity if I have to, to keep you by myside.”
“You sound pretty sure of yourself.”
“I am sure of myself. I know what I want. Andif you can deal with my challenges, I sure as hell can deal withyours. So, can we try?”
Try? I stare at Ryan blankly. Can we try?
“Maybe,” I cave; unsure about theoutcome.
Ryan breathes a sigh of relief, “I can livewith maybe, for now.” He leans in to kiss me, but we’re interruptedwhen his phone rings.
He shoots a dirty look at the dresser, thenmoves to answer the phone.
“Hey man,” he says as he picks up his watchand checks the time. “Yeah I’m on my way. I won’t be late, stophassling me,” Ryan glances over at me. “Yes. Yes,” he smiles thenlooks away, “you’re an asshole, I’ll see you in twenty.”
“Who was that?” I ask, and for some reason Ifeel like I was part of that conversation.
“Divan, he was checking up on me. Thinks he’smy mother for some unknown reason.”
“Who’s Divan exactly?”
Ryan smiles with a cagey expression, “Youprobably know him as the Dominator.”
Holly’s petrified eyes flash in front of me.Then I remember when he came to get Ryan while we were on thestreet.
“The one with the nice smile.”
“Nice smile? Not many women describe him thatway,” Ryan laughs.
“Well that’s what I noticed.”
“Well, don’t notice too much, okay.” Ryankisses me possessively then slaps my ass right before disappearinginto the bathroom. “And be here when I get out,” he orders throughthe door.
Baby, I don’t think I could go anywhere evenif I tried.
I walk with Ryan to Culture, it’s a fewblocks from his apartment and on the way to the train. It’s a warmspring evening and there are more people on the street then onewould expect for a Thursday night. As we make our way up to theclub, I can see the line already forming outside. I recognizeLorenzo checking IDs. He looks like a bad-ass Big Pun weighing inat three hundred pounds and sporting a thick black goatee. Wearen’t twenty yards from Culture’s entrance when the shouting andcat calling starts. Half the women know Ryan’s name. Well, Ryan’sothername. “Jack! Jack!” There are whistles and screams.You’d think he’s a freaking rock star or something. “Jack theStripper! Take it off!”
Really?
I look at Ryan with wide eyes. He justshrugs. He’s not embarrassed or uncomfortable, and on some level Iknow he likes the attention.
Ego.
“Alana,” Ryan murmurs into my ear as I lookat the line of hungry women. “You’re squeezing the shit out of myhand.”
“Huh?” I glance over at him and let go.“Sorry.” I think I’m going into shock.
“Hey,” he pulls me behind Lorenzo where thegirls can’t see us. “Are you okay?” he asks as my back brushesagainst the brick wall.
“This is all just a little overwhelming forme. I need to get used to it.” I’m looking everywhere but athim.
“Please try,” he urges with a slight edge tohis voice, spurring me to bring my eyes to his.
“I am,” I respond uncomfortably.