"You're right!" That index finger of hers slightly points at me before it shoots upwards and into the sky. We chat a while about Carlton El Cabrón, and this is what I need. I don't have to mention Lido, because Angelique says she's hungry.
"Are you hungry, because I could eat," she giggles. "I bought a few groceries, a little bit before the girls arrive so I'm not out every night alone."
The girls? So this is a chick vacation. Bingo.
I follow her into the kitchen. While she's leaning over into the refrigerator, I stop myself from eyeing her ass. Those female-guy relationships without sex are bullshit, but for one night I can be respectable. She can be the first female I've wanted badly, and not tasted. But I know that if I ever set eyes on Carlton, he will need to see the best rhinoplasty money can buy. What the fuck am I talking about, after tonight, or morning … I glance outside and there are flurries of orange in the dark night sky. After tonight, Angelique Curtis will be gone to me.
"Hey, I said can you cook, it's okay if you can't?" She smiles.
"Ehhh." I shrug. "So-so. Not so much."
Yeah, just for tonight, even in Spain, de León doesn't mean a thing. I'm Eduardo, no last name …
It might be a few hours later, or so, time is of no importance. The surround sound speakers whisper a somber ballad every time one of us stops laughing enough to hear it. My stomach is full which goes to say Angelique actually can cook. And I'm in the company of good people. Angelique and I sit on the floor in the living room opposite each other. Angelique has told me about how embarrassing it was to move to Long Beach as an adolescent, and how she would lie about her father's gambling addiction.
"Even at the age of ten, something in me could tell that dad was changing. He'd come home late. Mom would talk major, major crap about it. At first, I thought he was cheating. You gotta understand, my mom is gorgeous. Flawless skin and all. No female on this universe could touch her back then. Beyonce didn't have shit on her."
"Beautiful, I get the picture. But feel free to show me a photo too," I tell her. Angelique smiles brightly for a moment as she sadly reminisces. But I'm not done.
"Um yeah, right, Ed, you're not drooling over my mom. She's pushing 50 and prettier than I am."
"Okay, no picture, but if she's half as gorgeous as you … "
The melancholy of the moment washes away as our eyes connect. She shifts in her seat. "One day, I told her to wear makeup, I tried this, I tried that. Then I'd go back to dad." She pauses to lick her lips. "I've been trying to save people, change them since I could walk and talk."
I nod my head, listening intently. Then Angelique tells me an embarrassing story about trying to save a kid at the age of five from stealing from the collection plate at church, I almost die laughing. For a while, we both let go of our own issues.
Since she doesn't need to know who I am, I reserve my embarrassing parts for the conquests I've had in Cabo de Blanco as a child.
"When I was seven," I begin, starting out the story very elaborately about how I went swimming in the lagoon and a shark bumped into me.
Angelique almost sputters on the tequila shot. "Eduardo, you're quite the storyteller. It's almost as if you've had many lucid dreams." With us sitting on the floor across from each other, she nudges me with her barefoot.
"No dreams, no fiction."
"So what happened after a seven-year-old version of you, who I can only assume was … shorter … less buff … "
"Shorter, si. Less buff, ehhh," I say and we both laugh. I take a double shot to the head and continue with how I had a brush with death and survived. Angelique is laughing the entire way through. And every moment of this reminds me that I'm alive, and being alive means there will be other passions … One day …
Her laughter ends on a sigh, and she holds the side of her rib, beneath round, perky breast. Our gander collides, and land on each other. Her teeth grazes the soft flesh of her bottom lip as awareness takes full effect. Angelique clears her throat. "So, you've been staring at me all night long, Eduardo. Are you gonna keep that hoodie on?"
The entire time she cooked, I couldn't keep my eyes off of her. I can't recall the last time a female, besides my mother or aunt, made me a meal. We just finished these sweet-spicy chicken wings that rival one of my best pal's restaurant.
"It's my ears."
"Your ears? M-hmmm." There's laughter in her eyes, and fuck it, I don't care if she laughs at my expense. Her laughter starts so sensually and then erupts. But she holds it in. "
"Si, my ears," I point. "I'm afraid you'd laugh at me like you've already been doing all night."
"No, I'm not gonna laugh at you, Eduardo. Though, I bet those ears of yours are almost the length of Pinocchio's nose, especially since you killed a shark at age seven."
Laughter erupts from my abdominals. "You gotta believe me, Angelique. It's true. There are sharks right off the coast."
"Oh, I'm positive that there are sharks nearby. Eduardo, we've gone over my life story, and some of your … farfetched childhood adventures. Not to mention, I've told you all about my ex. The night is fading away, Ed, tell me about your heartbreak."
CHAPTER 11
Angelique
FRESH GROUND COFFEE filters through my nostrils transporting me home. My coffeemaker, my life, awakens me on a daily basis. Whether it's for work or the weekend, I wake up at nine am, always have, always will. Hell, I'll take my favorite mug to Starbucks and finish my first cup while asking for my favorite chai tea, depending on my client-list schedule. But, I'm not home. This bed is as comfortable as my own, there's just one quirk. I feel too damn happy to have just let go of that ring.
Eduardo...
A heat creeps through my belly button, coiling lower and lower. Fuck the list of items that I've ever saw in Carlton or ever even wanted. There should only ever be a single criterion on your list: find a man who you can be yourself with.
The night floods back to my cognizance. Sure I was good and tipsy, I might have told him way too much, but he listened. There was no uprising of his nose in disgust like Carlton did the first time I talked about my parents, let alone took him to the apartment they still own.
There was no pity in Eduardo's mocha eyes. He was perfect. And he ate the hot, honey wings I made. I'd wiped them up with hot sauce and honey, two staples that I always bring on vacation since sometimes I or Melody will have tea. And I love me some hot sauce. Any who, he damn near ate his fingers telling me they were so good. The man made me laugh. I know that my laughter was his goal because he was funny as hell. He was like my favorite carton of ice cream after a good, old fashion heartbreak. Okay, wait a minute, so forget one single criterion, there should be two: comfortable in my own skin, and laugh till I cry with laughter.
"Ed?" Oops. Do I really got it like that? I giggle, wondering if that is his nickname. Though he hardly mentioned the woman who broke his heart, we connected, so maybe I'll tell him my nickname, too.
"Eduardo, you enjoyed my cooking last night." I say into the open living room. "I hope you weren't just talking smack and really know how to get down in the kitchen."
He'd said he knew how to cook breakfast and desert. I don't know if he was trying to be charismatic. What I do know is, the definition wasn't invented until Eduardo was born.
Buzz. Buzz. My iPhone vibrates on the nightstand table.
Humph. He isn't responding, but I see Melody's face pop up on the screen.
"Hola, mamacita!"
"Heck," I pull the phone from my ear just to make sure my vision was correct because this energy can't be from Melody. Yup, 323- area code and all. Yet it did sound like her. "Hey, Mel."
"Why do you sound so groggy, Liam Neeson!"
"Girl, bye." I chuckle. "Comparing me to that old man. When first of all, you left me to travel to a country all by myself-"
"Don't start, Jelly. I will be there tomorrow morning."
"Melody, this was a spur of the moment kind of thing," I shake my head in confusion while climbing out of the bed. The scent of him clings to every part of me. After eating the chicken wings, we talked all night long. I want to tell her that ...
My brain shuts down as my eyes sweep across the empty kitchen. Maybe he's in the bathroom? I start for the bathroom on the other side of the living room.
The calmness that clung to me this morning is gone. The feeling of waking up a few hours after we fell asleep, just to exhale, to enjoy the feeling of his arms around me is gone.
Then I step back into the bedroom. As ridiculous as it might be, seeing is believing.