THE BIG MOVE (Miami Hearts Book 2) (19 page)

              He couldn’t have insulted me more if he’d spat directly in my face. Since when did Antonio get so high and mighty? He’d lived through how it had been when we first arrived in Miami. He’d understood desperation and hunger — and the ever-present fear. We’d both had hope, however, that no matter how bad things were at the beginning, they’d get better. That was the main difference between America and Honduras for us. In our lives in Honduras, it was never going to get better. In America, it was only going to get better — until, of course, Antonio got deported.

              “Come back to Honduras,” he wheedled. “You won’t have to take your clothes off for money. We’ll be together again. We’ll see this country turned around. We’ll change everyone’s opinions. We’ll do real good — together.”

              I took a deep breath. “There’s a big difference, Antonio, between me working at the club I work at now and me being a girl in Raul’s stable. I can leave the club any time I want. I never would’ve been able to do that in Honduras, with Raul. And he would’ve broken me. You know that.”

              “You think you can leave the club whenever you want?” he asked. “Then do it. Leave. Just try to make money somewhere else — anywhere else. If you had the papers, maybe you could do it. But you don’t, Sol, and they’ll never give you the papers once they figure out how you got there, how long you’ve been living in the shadows.”

              “I already have another job,” I said. “A job I took in order to get the money to buy your freedom. It is possible. I have done it.”

              “Where?” Antonio sneered. “Are you walking the streets now?”

              “Who are you?” I cried. “Why are you being horrible to me? I loved you! I worried about you day and night. I worked day and night. I did things I wasn’t proud of, but I did them for you, for us. How dare you question me? Everything was for us.”

              “Sol, I didn’t mean …” His voice trailed off, relenting a little, reminding me of the man I used to love, but I’d seen who he’d become — what he’d become.

              “I work at a snack shop, for your information, not as a street walker,” I spat. “I work at a snack shop with my friend.” I felt a surge of warmth toward Jennet. She’d made so many things possible for me. Without her, I would’ve still been coming up with the money for Antonio’s ransom. And life would’ve been a lot less bright.

              “I wasn’t thinking,” Antonio said. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve been through a lot …”

              “And, for your information, I have slept with a man for money,” I said. There was no reason, now, not to say it. If Antonio already assumed it about me, then what could it hurt? “I did it for you, of course. But you know what? The very first man I slept with for money, I fell in love with. It’s the strangest thing. He is wonderful, caring, understanding, and there for me when I needed him.”

              Antonio was silent for a long time. I wondered if I’d wounded him at least half as deeply as he’d hurt me.

              “Do you think I asked to be deported?” he wanted to know. “Do you think I wanted to be sent away from you?”

              “I think you never planned to make it back to Miami,” I said. “I think you decided you were done.”

              “I didn’t ask for any of this,
amor
,” he said, desperation a raw edge in his voice. “Life has simply happened to us. What are we supposed to do?”

              I shook my head. “I don’t know, Antonio. What should we do? We both want each other to do something that neither of us want for ourselves.”

              “This is it, isn’t it?” he wondered aloud. “This is how it ends for us.”

              Even if it was inevitable, even if it was the right decision — the only decision — we could make, it still wasn’t easy to hear, to process. Antonio, the man I was talking to on the phone right now, the man who was worlds away from me physically and emotionally, was my first love.

              “I thought we’d be together forever,” I confessed. “I really did.”

              “It was puppy love, maybe,” he said, sounding tired. “We were young.”

              “It was real,” I insisted. If this was over, truly over, then I couldn’t handle either of us lying to ourselves. “It was real, Antonio, but there were things we just couldn’t overcome.”

              “You will always be in my heart,” he said. “No matter what happens. No matter who you end up with, no matter who I end up with. You have a permanent residence in my heart, Soledad. Do you understand me?”

              “I understand you,” I said. “You have that same space in mine. Always.”

              “I am sorry, so sorry it ended like this,” he said. “I wish I could find it in myself to return to you, but staying here, trying to push for change … I must do it.”

              “I know,” I said. “Just as I must stay here and live my own life.”

              “
Te amo
,” he murmured. “
Te amo siempre.”

              “I love you, too,” I said. “Always.”

              And with that, a chapter in my life closed.

In my time in America, I’d learned the phrase “when one door closes, another one opens.” It made sense to me. When a relationship or job or opportunity or experience ended, a different thing would begin. But how was I supposed to understand the door of my relationship with Antonio closing well after the door with Xander had opened?

              I had some soul-searching to do. Some of the things that had happened during that conversation with Antonio were hard to take. There were regrets, sure, but I couldn’t dwell on that. The fact was, the pain that I felt knowing our relationship was over was less, somehow, or at least different from the pain I’d had knowing his life was in danger.

              I never would’ve guessed that he’d been able to befriend some of those captors, turning them against the doctrine of their gangs, showing them the error of their ways and the hope of reshaping their country.

              It was a very Antonio thing to have happened, and as heartbroken as I was over the ending to our time together, I was hopeful for him. I was scared for him, of course — scared of what would happen to him when he inevitably ran up against opposition, but proud of him.

              It felt wrong, though, to think that I could now freely pursue something with Xander. There was still the very real risk that he would find out my true country of origin. But I couldn’t ignore how comforted I’d felt when he came to me, when he’d answered my call of despair. There was something real there, something true, and both of us knew it.

              I had to do the right thing with Xander, but I didn’t know what the right thing might be.

              The next day, I returned to the snack shop. Jennet was already there, already in full Corn Queen regalia.

              “Sol, where the hell have you been?” she demanded, folding me into a crushing, polyester and flannel hug even as she fussed at me. “I was so worried! Why haven’t you texted me back? The masses have been demanding your presence. I don’t have any liquid crack to put in the chili, and it’s obviously not the same without you here.”

              “It’s not liquid crack,” I said, my voice muffled by the costume. “It’s horseradish.”

              “You sly devil,” she said, holding me at arm’s length. “Now, seriously. Are you okay? You can’t just drop off the grid like that. That’s not the Sol I know.”

              That was a strange statement for Jennet to make. I was quite sure she didn’t know me at all, even if I called her my friend and she cared enough about me to worry if I dropped out of sight unexpectedly.

              “I was just …” I struggled for something to say. I’d decided that I should just say I was sick to explain away my absence, but it didn’t seem fair. Jennet had done so much for me. How could I keep lying to her if I wanted to keep her as a friend?

              “I broke up with my boyfriend,” I said finally. “It sounds stupid. But it was really hard. It doesn’t help that he’s back in Honduras and I’m all the way over here in Miami. He decided to stay there, and I just couldn’t go back.”

              “I’m so sorry to hear that,” Jennet said, frowning. “But I thought he was in Cuba? You’re both Cuban, right?”

              I froze, the blood draining from my face. This was what I got for trying to be honest, for trying to give my friend a peek behind the curtain. I was horrified at my slipup. Had I come this far to be derailed by my own idiocy?

              “Yes, Cuba,” I said, hitting my forehead with the heel of my hand. “I’m an idiot, and my brain is scattered.”

              Jennet laughed. “How can you get your own country confused with Honduras?” she asked, shaking her head. “They don’t even sound alike.”

              “You know, I think it was because I was looking at a newspaper this morning and there was a story about Honduras in it,” I said. “It was a sad story. I had Honduras on the brain, not Cuba.”

              It was flimsy, but would it be enough?

              “If you want, I can teach you the chili recipe,” I said quickly, eager to find a subject that wasn’t my nationality. “That way, people won’t complain so much if I ever don’t show up.”

              “I thought your recipes were supposed to be secret,” Jennet said, her eyes narrowed at me. “To make sure you were always the only one who could make them. To make sure you’re needed.”

              “An olive branch,” I said, smiling helplessly. “For leaving you hanging these past days.”

              “Can I say it’s my chili recipe?” Jennet asked, crossing her arms over her chest with no small amount of effort. The costume really was enormous.

              “Yes,” I sighed. “It will forever be known as Jennet’s Liquid Crack Chili.”

              “This is what I’ve always wanted for myself,” she breathed, crushing me in another hug. “Sol, you’re the best.”

              I thought the worst of the damage control would be with Jennet, but I was wrong. Parker practically pounced on me the moment I arrived at the club to help open — even if I didn’t need the extra money anymore. The routine was more what I craved — a sense of normalcy.

              “Sol, I was worried sick,” she said. “You have to let me know what’s going on when you don’t show up, all right?”

              “I’m sorry,” I said. “I was just … dealing with some stuff.”

              “Think about it,” she snapped, not placated in the least. “The last I see of you is you saying you’ve achieved some secret goal, and then you drop off the map for two days and two nights. What am I supposed to think?”

              “Parker, I’m so sorry …”

              “Honestly, I thought you were hurt,” she said. “That maybe you’d gotten mugged with that money. That you were too excited about it and maybe you were flashing it in public, proud of yourself.”

              I gasped. “That’s awful. You really thought that?”

              “At first,” Parker said, scowling at me. “And then I thought maybe your luck had finally run out, that something had happened and your immigration status had finally come out.”

              I flinched and looked around, but no one on the setup crew was within earshot.

              “I have strings I can pull, Sol,” Parker continued. “You have to let me know when you’re in trouble. I can be a very good friend to you, but I have to know what’s going on.”

              Parker? My friend? I felt a rush of warmth to the woman standing in front of me, even if she was in the middle of chewing me out.

              “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for everything, Parker. I don’t say it enough, but I’m thankful for you every single day.”

              “Well, I’m thankful for you, too, you know,” she said, mollified. “I just worry. That’s all.”

              It felt different — good, but different — to dance up on the stage that night, not having the gun against my head that I usually did. I was more relaxed, enjoying the music more and the intricacies of my dance steps without worrying about the ransom, the money that I’d earn from this performance. I didn’t even acknowledge any of the customers who came up to the stage waving dollar bills for a little extra attention. I danced only for myself.

              It was good to know I had friends, people in my corner. I’d felt so alone without Antonio, but now I knew that I was never truly alone, not when I had friends like Jennet and Parker.

              Friends like Xander.

              I smiled to myself as my music ended, noticing that I’d gotten significantly more dollar bills carpeting the stage than usual. I’d danced for myself, not worrying about fulfilling any promises, pleasing anyone else, and something had clicked.

              “I’m taking off for the night, if that’s all right,” I called up to Parker, who was perched in the DJ booth.

              “Is everything okay?” she asked, perplexed. “You’re popular tonight.”

              “I have something I need to do,” I said.

              “An escort?”

              “I’m going to ask someone out on a date,” I explained, grinning.

              Taciturn Parker couldn’t hide her happiness. “Go get him, girl.”

              And that’s how I found myself sitting on a park bench beside Xander, the full moon over Miami peeking between the multiple clouds, trying to illuminate our quiet companionship. He’d suggested the spot when I asked if we could meet, and a light sheen of sweat made his dark skin glisten in the heavy night. It wanted to rain badly. It was the kind of air that made anything seem pregnant with possibility.

              “Do you come here often?” I teased him, making no attempt to hide my appreciative glance over his biceps, the way he filled out his tight white T-shirt. He was effortlessly handsome no matter what he wore.

              “Only when it’s important,” he said. “You seem to be doing a lot better than when I last saw you.”

              “Thank you for that,” I said. “Thank you for coming when I called you. I was having a bad moment, and you didn’t have to come.”

              “I will always come when you call me,” he said. “Always, Sol. You know how I feel.”

              “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” I said. “The call I took … it was my boyfriend. The one who isn’t here. The one in Cuba.”

              I’d gotten it right that time, careful with my words, and Xander nodded.

              “I see,” he said, just as careful with his own words. “You had been waiting for him to call.”

              “I was waiting to hear word from him, yes,” I said. “I didn’t know if he would call … or if someone else would. He was in trouble.” I needed to be careful. I wanted to be as truthful as I could with Xander, but it was obvious that he couldn’t know the whole story.

              “What kind of trouble are we talking about?” he asked.

              “Trouble that you don’t have to trouble yourself with,” I said. “Because it’s over between us. Between my boyfriend and me, I mean. We agreed that it wasn’t working anymore, especially because he wanted me to return home.”

              “And you didn’t want to go back to Cuba,” Xander said.

              “That’s right,” I said. “I love Miami very much. I love the people very much.”

              A single cool raindrop splashed precisely on my forehead, making me give a startled laugh. Of all the places it could’ve fallen, it had chosen me.

              Xander leaned over, and as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him, he kissed the raindrop from my forehead, his hot lips negating the coolness of the water.

              “Is there anything else you love about Miami?” he asked, those lips brushing my ear.

              “Yes,” I said, shivering at the close contact. “I love you, too. You, most of all.”

              And then we kissed, the heat we generated searing even as the rain began to fall in earnest. Neither of us made a move to run for the nearest covered picnic area, nor our cars. We explored each other anew, explored the new possibilities that had suddenly opened up for our mutual future. I had finally accepted the idea that I could be happy with Xander. He didn’t have to know everything. He could know enough, and we could be happy.

              “You need to know,” I said, breaking the kiss, out of breath. “You’re not my second choice. Just because we’re together now, just because my boyfriend and I aren’t together now, you weren’t my second choice. You could never be my second choice.”

              “I don’t care what I am,” he said. “As long as I’m with you, that’s all that matters.”

              The rain fell unnoticed. All we had were eyes for each other.

              We made love in Xander’s new apartment — “christening it,” as he put it. We were soaking wet by the time we got there, the skies deciding to open up and pour, but neither of us cared.

              We tumbled, wet and slippery, into his soft sheets, and made it our personal mission to ensure that nothing dried out. My body was slick and ready for him. His tongue lapped at every inch of available skin. Beads of our sweat replaced the raindrops, hot and potently salty as we moved together as one person.

              There was nowhere else in this wide world I would’ve rather been than beneath him in that moment, my body taking his inside of me, caressing him, clutching at him, screaming his name as the only word that mattered.

              The next weeks were beautiful as only new love is beautiful. We discovered important things about each other, like ticklish spots and favorite colors. It was hard to leave each other for even the smallest things, like work or even going to the bathroom. I didn’t want Xander out of my sight.

              “I want to take you out on the town,” he said one evening. I’d cut my hours back at both the snack shop and the club, trying to align my schedule with his.

              “What do you have in mind?” I asked. “We still have that bike tour to complete.”

              “Something different tonight,” he said. “But we’re definitely going on that bike tour again. Promise. Tonight, though, I want you to dress up. I’ve made reservations for seven at the fanciest restaurant in town. You don’t want to know what I had to do to get them.”