Free Unfaithful by Devon Scott Page B

vibrant that for a moment she ceases to hear the conversation from the associate producer in her ear. She discards the incessant vibrating like yesterday’s newspaper; forgets the din coming from her laptop. Carly is suddenly transported back to the islands—the flavor and aura of Barbados invading her mind like a sea storm from out of nowhere. This sudden onslaught is quickly replaced by thoughts of her husband and her/their pregnancy.
    All of this in the rapid blink of an eye.
    She raises her finger to Tyler, telling him to hold on. He nods and takes a seat in front of the desk without being told.
    Carly uses the time to consider him without being caught. She swivels to the left, checking something on her corkboard while still on the phone, observing him. Associate General Counsel, the youngest BET has ever had. Top of his class at Howard, number two at U. Penn Law. Tall, athletic build, smooth face and features that indicate a gentle soul; short cropped hair, never a strand out of place. Handsome in a boyish kind of way.
    Always impeccably dressed.
    Always.
    The women in the company are forever talking behind his back, searching for a chink in his armor. He’s been at BET for three years, and in that time, he has never dated an employee—never been seen with anyone outside of work. Still, he’s a man. He’s gotta have sexual needs—or he’s gay! The rumors run rampant, yet Tyler just smiles as he goes on about his business—professional to the core.
    Except when he’s around her.
    It’s no secret that he wants her.
    Knows he can’t have her, but it doesn’t stop him from trying.
    Carly jots down some notes, makes another edit to her segment, and signs off.
    “Morning,” Tyler says cheerfully. “You’re at it early today.”
    Carly nods, smiling momentarily before a scowl paints her face.
    “I’m busy, Tyler. What is it?”
    As soon as the words emerge, she regrets them, knowing she is being unkind. He hasn’t done anything to offend her or make her mad, but this thing with Ryan has been gnawing at her insides all weekend.
    No, that isn’t right. This thing is now an open, festering wound.
    Tyler continues to smile, showing off his white teeth. He is staring at her—never glancing away—always giving her or anyone he’s communicating with his full, undivided attention. She likes that—shows he has nothing to hide.
    “You alright, Carly? Weekend go okay?”
    “Tyler—I’m fine. Just busy. Too much shit to do, that’s all.”
    He considers her for a second, then breaks into laughter.
    She stares at him as if repulsed.
    “Naw, Carly, that’s not it. Why are you always trying to front around me? You know that doesn’t work, don’t you?” He steeples his fingers on the smooth top of her desk and moves closer, eyes locking with hers. In that instant, she feels what she always feels around him—angst for this uncanny “gift” of his, for lack of a better word, this way he has of cutting straight through the morass of bullshit, seeing clearly, the way a laser cuts through smoke. She sighs, drops her shoulders a bit. Tyler watches her for a moment more before getting up to close the door to her office.
    They are now alone.
    Just the two of them.
    Carly watches him silently as he walks behind her desk, his hands finding her shoulders. He begins a slow rhythmic massage of that spot where her neck meets her shoulder blade, tight unwieldy neck muscles. Strong, smooth hands glide along skin, taming the flesh, gently moving her hair out of the way.
    She lets him.
    Powerless to stop him.
    After a few minutes of silence, he speaks.
    “Husband of yours acting up?” Tyler asks, almost in a whisper. He questions her matter-of-factly, without the slightest hint of malice.
    Carly’s head leans back; their eyes lock; hand goes to his, putting an end to this…thing.
    “Stop it, Tyler.”
    He backs away, hands in the air, a thin smile adorning his face.
    “I’m just asking, Carly. No shame in letting me