Heavy Love(25)

"C'mon, Franco. You're highly aware little George has developed a few  sensitivities. The company jet is gassed up and ready for the states.  Once I get you back to Manhattan, the wife and family will be enjoying a  weekend at Disneyworld." He sighs. "The longer you make us wait to  return … "         

     



 

"So it's on me? Your family's happiness rests in my hands?" I chuckle.  "Bullshit. Give me a number, Ed. I'm not going back to Food Network  Channel, how long are you staying?"

"You know what, Franco? All I do is have your back. I'm not hearing  this, I'm not  …  okay three days. How does three days sound since you  prefer to give me a threatening stare each chance yo get," he huffs,  rubbing the tenderness from his shoulder. Then whispers, "Three days.  Four days – I don't know. Yes, it all depends on you."

I glance at his Adam's apple, begging to be punched. Then understand why  my friend's tone got a souped-up dose of testosterone as he says hello  with so much gusto.

"Aunty Célia!" Eduard steps behind me. I turn around to see my aunt and Juan. They're all smiles. So of course, Edward can stay.





CHAPTER 19


Angelique





I COULD HAVE lost myself in the passion of it all as we took to the  dance floor. I'd never been so enticed in my entire life. Not at the  beginning with Carlton. None of the crazy shit that my ex, Taye and I,  did around campus could compare to the things I wanted Franco de León to  do to my body all night long. He had my nose wide open, and my legs,  well, they just wanted to split wide for him, too.

"Jelly, geesh I take it the silent treatment is because I didn't come on  Monday?" Melody huffs as she rebalances an expensive canvas duffle bag  on top of her rollaway luggage.

I stop walking toward the bungalows and rest her other rollaway, that  I've been carting, in standing position. "Girl, I'm not giving you the  damn silent treatment …  just thinking."

"Thinking on vacation, that's just like my Jelly." Melody steps closer  to me, her eyes narrow as she scrutinizes my face. "Baby girl, you need a  facial. Mom and Gerald," she says of her parents – having always called  her father by his name, "have been to north Spain on a few occasions.  Mom gave me a list of spas within the general vicinity. We should find  the nearest one before the courses with Chef de León tonight."

"Why?" I snap, as sleep deprived as the horror mirroring on her face.

Her hands go to her hips. "Because you need a stiff drink and a stiff  you-know-what. Only one of which I'm capable of providing. Might as well  get your glow on first, right?"

~~~

I had no intention of running after a cock during this trip, especially  since I brushed off Franco. My body is still pining for the way he  touched me while I drive, away from the coast, away from him. After  about an hour, my rental car zips through the lush green mountains cape  of Asturias, Spain.

Melody has been talking about "the wedding" for ages.

So far, I've tuned in and out just when needed. Then my eyes zap toward  Melody and I ask, "You already put money down for the flowers … "

"And the venue. Le Grand," she extends every syllable in an attempt to allure as I grip the steering wheel in annoyance.

"Le Grand?" My eyes flit away from the tiny road, and Melody smiles. Le  Grand, a French-style, exclusive boutique hotel in Beverly Hills, was my  first taste of extravagance. Melody's mother, Linda, and her friends  have an annual conference there. The place is always booked, Miss Linda  once bragged about having to schedule two or three years in advance.  "How? Mel, that place is elite, exclusive even. I can't afford to have a  friggen self-dedication ceremony there! Hint, hint, Mel, not a wedding,  but a quest for liberation. I handed you my damn hundred-page thesis to  read when you dropped me off at the airport, I told you it would be  reading material for your trip! I highlighted each section that dealt  with the effects of self marriage, but I thought you'd understand why  I've chosen this concept! Perhaps I should have just slapped you with  it? "

Geesh, I actually read …  some of it."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Besides, I was thinking more along the lines of  backyard …  hell, the Ramada Inn to splurge. Not a wedding but a –  "

"Ramada …  what? Don't worry, I got you," she says.

She takes us back to circa 2007 with this bull crap. Melody didn't like  the haute couture her mother always tried to force upon her, that's how I  got my love of fashion and got the other kids at school off my back.  Even though she isn't one to dress and act uber-conceited, Melody has  forgotten all the times she complained to me about etiquette classes.

"You're acting like Miss Linda."

"Are you friggen kidding me? You compare me to my mother," she shifts in  her seat as if we can initiate the stare at each other contest. "I just  want the best for you, Angelique. I've got my vices, and making sure my  bestie is laced just right is one of them. So get over yourself, it's  all paid for."         

     



 

Here we are, I'd rather enjoy the scenic venue, but I feel like the two  of us are getting ready to bump heads, per the norm. "Mel, I'm not  really getting married. Think of my thesis, liberation, and a vow to  myself. Why would you – "

"Simply because I can," she sounds just like Linda. The typical case of  nature versus nurture is living proof in mother and daughter.

I grumble. Everything about Le Grand embodies affluence. There is no  such thing as getting your money back. The car lurches to a stop as I  pull over onto the gravel.

Turning off the engine, I fold my arms. We could ignore each other for a  good amount of time, but I need to get this into her thick skull.

"You know what, Mel, you're being selfish. What happens in a few years  when I find a man that I want to marry? The very place that I've dreamt  about marrying is out of the question. I'm not marrying myself, girl,  this is a laughable."

"Selfish? I'm being selfish? Dang, I can't get a thank you for securing the venue!"

"This isn't about you. If this were my wedding, it would be about me."

Here we are, at the glaring part. We hold each other's gaze, lips sneered.

You're bossy, prissy ass gets on my damn nerves, Mel.

‘Oh-well, Jelly.'

My head tilts to the opposite side, Miss Prissy Bitch, all I'm trying to  say is that this so called wedding, regardless of the dynamics, should  be my doing.

She huffs. "Sorry, Angelique. Remember I said this was just a big party  when we chatted after that Carlton fiasco. Ugh! I can't ask for any  money back, but  … "

"So when we get back, we're having a  …  grand event?" I laugh, knowing  full well that the story has already aligned to her liking.

"You're my sister, girl," Melody gives the movie line. "All right, it  will be a grand event for us. Now, c'mon, get back onto the road.  Tonight and tomorrow are the last classes we will get to attend with  Chef de León. And I want to relish every moment of it."

~~~

Maybe I'm the punk, because Mel and I ended up staying the night at the  resort and spa in Asturias. The after-spa treatment loungewear we  brought along, we sleep in and wear home. Melody was jetlagged, the  premium massages and facials we pampered ourselves with only added  weight to it, and again, me being a punk and not wanting to see Franco  was another underlying variable.

On Friday morning, we descend the winding road after a vegan, gourmet  breakfast. On the long drive back to Cabo de Blanco, Franco is a small  seed in the back of my mind. I could play up the heartbreak of leaving  Carlton whenever Melody asks why I'm so quiet, but I don't want one of  my longest standing friends to see through my excuses. Since we barely  put Mel's luggage away before heading to the spa yesterday morning, she  gets acclimated with the large bungalow.

"Girl, I know you're not wearing those damn boyfriend jeans in the presence of Mr. Caramel Drop."

I blink. Melody is dressed to the nines in a black silk romper that  barely covers her toned legs. The situation has reversed. Usually my  swagger is on point, accessories and all, and forcing the numbers geek  to forgo the Old Navy Khakis. In response, I just turn around and open  the front door.

"Now you know I should hound you like you love to hound me. Because that  ass is too fat not to work it!" Melody quips as she steps out behind  me.

"Um-hmmm," I shake my head at her craziness. We begin walking up the  slope toward the cliff. A cool breeze reminds me to breathe as I recall  shooing Franco out of my room yesterday morning.

Melody gushes, and sighs heavily as the rear of Franco comes into view.  This scene is beginning to remind me of those cheesy romance novels that  I'd score for free on kindle. It was back when I couldn't afford books  while in college, and was also in between boyfriends. Yup, that's just  how annoying it is watching Melody stare at him.