She lifted her eyes, and the heat in them went straight to my dick.
Jesucristo
. That was the trouble with getting too close to Bella. I was always going to be susceptible to her. Anything she did to remind me of that night was always going to knock me right over.
“Ha,” she said. “I finally found a way to shut you up.” Bella put a little more effort into her merengue, looking smug.
“Just for that, I’m going to spin you now.”
Her eyes popped wide. “No, don’t.”
I shook my head. “This isn’t the tango. Merengue is an easygoing dance. I’m raising your right arm, and you’re going to turn around under it without breaking the beat. Nice and slow. Now
turn
. To your right.” I lifted our hands above her head.
Bella rotated right on schedule, facing me again after four beats. If I wasn’t mistaken, she looked rather pleased with herself.
“See? You can stop acting like this is torture. I’ve kept you away from your family for at least three minutes.” I returned my hand to Bella’s sleek waist, trying not to notice how good it felt to hold her there.
“Good point,” she murmured.
The dance floor was more crowded than it had been a few minutes ago. And I could tell when Bella relaxed, because she smiled at me the next time I turned her.
This was worth a weird-ass night with her family. Because I’d finally made Bella smile.
Unfortunately, all good merengues come to an end. And even though the crowd applauded more enthusiastically for my dance than for any other, the band segued into a slow song. I heard the opening strains of Louis Armstrong’s “A Kiss to Build a Dream On.”
“Okay,” Bella said, stepping back. “I danced. Can I have more wine now?”
“Almost,” I said, stepping close again, putting my hand on the small of her back. “One more. Because it just doesn’t make sense for your fake boyfriend to skip the slow dance.”
“This is your game, not mine.” But Bella put her hand on my shoulder anyway, and let me lead her slowly around the floor.
I was born in the wrong decade, I swear it. Because dancing to live music with a beautiful girl was absolutely my idea of a good time. “Turn,
belleza
,” I said, lifting my hand to gently spin her.
When she came back around to face me, she had a startled look on her face.
“It just means
beautiful,
” I said. “A good fake boyfriend would use that word.”
“I get that,” she said, putting her head on my shoulder. “It’s just that the first time you called me that, I was riding your dick.”
“What?” I sputtered.
Her mouth was just beside my ear, so she whispered. “You heard me. All those things you whispered to me in Spanish when we were naked. That was hot as fuck.”
Annnd
now I was hard.
Do not think about that night
, I ordered myself. But my body heated anyway.
“Damn, that was fun,” Bella sighed, her hand on my chest. “It’s really too bad I’ve given up men.”
All the awkwardness of the moment bubbled up then, and I laughed. “Maybe you should have brought a fake
girlfriend
as your date. That would shake up the family.”
Bella giggled, and her hair tickled my chin. “You’re a freaking
genius
. Next time I’m doing that.”
Does it make me an idiot that I hated to hear her agree with me? I was really enjoying my role tonight. Maybe too much. I held her a little closer as we danced. The band had no vocalist, but I could hear Louis Armstrong’s voice in my head.
Give me… a kiss to build a dream on.
“I’ve always loved this song,” I confessed.
“Wait, really?” Bella stood up taller so she could look me in the eye. “Have you listened to the lyrics? The guy gets a single kiss, and he basically says that it’s enough — he’s just going to fantasize about it for the rest of his life. I mean… what a
rip
.”
I bit back a smile. “It’s romantic.”
“It’s
unsatisfying
,” she countered. “Here, I’ll show you.” Before I knew what was happening, Bella came closer. Her silky thumb stroked once across my cheekbone. Then she stood up on her toes and kissed me.
The first press of her sweet lips against mine stopped my breathing. Though you couldn’t have paid me to resist her. Sheer instinct made me lean into that kiss with my entire being.
Bella’s mouth melted onto mine, and a needy little sound issued from the back of her throat.
Heaven
. I deepened the kiss, and our tongues touched once. She tasted of red wine and desire. An electric pulse traveled the length of my body. Unbidden, my hands pulled her closer, my fingers in her hair…
The sound of applause brought me back to earth with a thunk. The song had ended, and the band segued into some kind of swing tune. Bella and I broke apart on a gasp. For a second we just stared at each other. “See?” she said eventually.
But I didn’t have the faintest recollection of the point she’d been trying to make. “What?”
Amusement tickled her features. “Never mind. I hear my wine glass calling me.” She tugged on my hand.
I got a hold of myself as we walked toward the table. There was nobody on the planet like Bella. And no matter how fucked up things were, she was never boring. Smiling to myself, I gave her a single kiss on the temple as we walked. “Thanks for the dance.”
“Wow, they are totally buying it,” she said.
“What?”
“The fake boyfriend thing. Look at them.”
I lifted my eyes to the table, and found Bella’s family watching us. To be more accurate, they were staring at us in fascination.
“You underestimated me,” I said as we approached the table.
“Eh,” Bella said, pinching me on the wrist. “They can be super gullible. You have no idea.”
I laughed, but our private moment was over. I pulled out Bella’s chair again, and she gave me a slight eyebrow lift that seemed to say:
now you’re overselling it
.
“I do hope that Tucker sits down before the meal,” Julie said, scanning the crowd.
“Where
is
Prince Charming, anyway?” Bella asked, gulping her wine.
“He saw some of his associates across the way,” Julie replied. “You know how he is, always working.”
“Oh, I know how he is,” Bella muttered. “Always working
something
.”
“You two looked lovely out there,” their mother said, changing the subject. “Where did you learn to dance, Rafe?”
“In my mama’s kitchen,” I said. “Every good Dominican boy can merengue.” I let the Spanish roll off my tongue, the way it’s supposed to. “But I can do all the ballroom dances. I learned them at my public elementary school in Washington Heights.”
“Really,”
Lydia enthused. “That is so charming.”
“That’s just Rafe,” Bella put in. “He’s the charming one in this relationship.”
A salad plate landed on the table in front of me then, and I realized how hungry I was.
“Is someone seated here?” the waiter asked, indicating the empty place next to Julie.
“Yes,” she said.
“Here I am!” a man’s voice boomed. He yanked back the chair beside Julie and kissed her before he sat down. “So sorry! But I saw the boys from State Street over there. You
know
…” He dropped his voice and turned to face Bella’s father. “They’re still sitting on that vacant piece of land in Red Hook. I think we can pry it away from them after the new year.”
Bella’s father, who hadn’t said ten words all night, nodded sagely. “Can we now? That sounds promising.”
The newcomer jerked his napkin off the table with a snap and dropped it in his lap. He had a way of moving which drew attention to everything he did.
I hated him on sight.
Julie gave her husband’s shoulder an affectionate rub. “Maybe you can spend some time with your family now? We’re almost never together like this.”
Beside me, Bella stabbed her lettuce with unnecessary force. She did not spare a glance at her brother-in-law, even though he was right across the table from her.
“You haven’t met Rafe,” Julie continued. “Bella’s boyfriend.”
I gave Bella a gentle kick under the table.
See? It worked
, I telegraphed.
She didn’t even look up.
“I’m Tucker Fanning,” Julie’s husband said. “Nice to meet you.” He gave me a salute in lieu of a handshake, since the table was so wide.
“Pleasure,” I said, reminding myself of Bickley. I wondered what he’d make of this party.
Julie carried the conversation after that. She did a lot of gushing about the night’s keynote speaker, but I was watching Bella eat her salad. I could feel waves of stress rolling off her, and I didn’t like it.
Tucker Fanning must have been indifferent to them, because eventually he asked her a direct question. “So, Bella. What do the undergraduates do for fun these days?”
Bella set down her fork. “Well, Tucker. We do whatever we can to broaden our little horizons. It isn’t all keg stands and bong hits anymore.”
If I wasn’t mistaken, Bella’s sister practically braced herself against whatever Bella was about to say.
“Truthfully, I’ve gotten a bit bored with my usual.”
“Is that so?” Tucker asked, holding his wine glass in a way that somehow managed to look pompous.
“Vanilla sex just doesn’t do it for me anymore. I’ve been dabbling in some kink and fetish play. Just the sort of thing you’d enjoy, actually.”
Her father dropped his fork onto his plate with a loud clatter. “Jesus, Isabelle!”
At that, Lydia laid a hand on his arm. “She’s just saying it to get a rise out of us.
Must
you always fall for it?”
Without a word, he rose from his chair. Taking his scotch glass in hand, he drained it, then marched off toward one of the bars.
“I’ll just…” Tucker got up and took off after him. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that it was Tucker and Mr. Hall who were married.
“Why?”
squealed Julie. “Why must you do this? Now Daddy will be all upset, and on the night when I’m getting my award!”
Bella gave her sister a laser stare. “Your award was bought and paid for, Julie. The ceremony doesn’t matter, does it?”
“
That
is a wicked thing to say,” her sister argued, pointing her salad fork at Bella like a spear. “Couldn’t you just give Tucker the benefit of the doubt? For just a couple of hours?”
Bella rolled her eyes. “I keep
telling
you. He got plenty of
benefits
from me.”
Their mother put her face in her hands. “Why? Why must we always end up here?”
“Because he is still here,” Bella said. She threw her napkin on the table and stood. “And that means I can’t be.” Bella picked her wrap up off the back of her chair and tucked her little handbag under one arm.
“Bella!” her mother called.
Stunned, it took me a second to react. But Bella wasn’t coming back. “Excuse me,” I said. Then I left the table too, jogging to catch up with the sexy red streak who was aiming for the exit.
Note to self: Bella is a darned good runner, whether she knows it or not.
F
uck
!
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.
I hightailed it out of Cipriani, making poor Rafe chase after me.
By the time we hit the sidewalk on 42nd Street, I was breathing hard and trying not to cry.
Rafe steered me down the block, across the street, and down into the subway entrance. He swiped a Metrocard through the turnstile then pointed at me to go through. When he joined me on the other side, I had the presence of mind to ask, “Where are we going?”
“Uptown,” he said, steering me toward the shuttle track.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I thought I could get through tonight without wigging out.”
“What’s the deal with that guy?”
I
really
didn’t want to tell him the story. On the other hand, I’d dragged him to a dinner he did not get to eat. And then dragged him out again. Meanwhile, he got a glimpse of both me and my family at its worst. “He works for my father.”
“So I gathered.”
“Three years ago, I spent the summer before my freshman year at Harkness in South Hampton. We have a beach house there. My father was staying out there, too.”
“Okay.”
“Well, Dad never comes out of his office. And I was working at a kids’ camp, but mostly just goofing off.”
“Okay.” He chuckled.
“Tucker Fanning — who I shall henceforth only refer to as Fucker Tanning — used to take the train out during the week to meet with my father. And he stayed in our guest house.”
“Sounds pretty grand.”
“Oh, it was. He and I had a fling. And by ‘fling’ I mean we had lots and lots of sex. I was eighteen, and he was twenty-six.”
Rafe flinched. “Whoa. Was he married to your sister then?”
“Oh,
God
no.” What a question! Even at eighteen I’d never screw a married man. And I’d never do that to my sister. Because I’d assumed she had my back.
I was wrong.
“In fact,” I told Rafe, “he’d just broken up with the Norwegian model he’d been dating. I was flattered. And quite obviously an idiot.”
The train came then, the doors opening right in front of us. We stepped inside and sat down on the bench. “He shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that,” Rafe said, his face stony.
I touched his elbow. “That’s not really the problem. I had it bad for him. I thought the sun shone out of his ass. Really, I did.” Rafe gave me a sad little smile, and it gave me the courage to plunge ahead. “I served myself up to him on a silver platter, Rafe. It’s not like I was some innocent virgin before him, either.”
Rafe flinched. “But he broke it off?”
With a groan, I shook my head. “He didn’t break it off. That’s the weird thing. He made all these crazy promises to stupid eighteen-year-old me. We were going to meet up in Europe during one of my school vacations. We were going to keep our affair secret, because it was too big to tell the world.” I rolled my eyes for emphasis. “I don’t know what came over me, honestly. But the sex was really good. It wasn’t like fumbling around with the teenagers at my high school, you know?”
He gave me an awkward shrug.
“We carried on like this, stolen hours on the beach, etc. At the beginning of freshman year, there were a lot of texts, and a lot of dirty Skype calls. Then Christmas comes around, and we have a house full of people. And I’m wondering which bathroom we’ll end up screwing in. But Fucker Tanning gets down on one knee in front of God and everybody and proposes to my sister.”
Rafe’s eyebrows shot toward the sky. “Say what?”
“That’s right. He’d been seeing her the whole time. They kept it on the D.L. though, and he said it was because he didn’t want people to gossip about how he was dating the boss’s daughter.”
“
Jesucristo
. What did you do?”
“I did what any self-respecting girl does. I cried my eyes out in my bedroom for all of Christmas break. Then I went back to college. They set a wedding date for a year later.”
“You didn’t
tell
her?” Rafe asked.
I crossed my arms, indignant. “Of
course
I told her.
Eventually
. It took me a pretty long time to just get over the shock. I kept waiting for someone to call me up and say that it was a joke. I mean… the things he used to say to me. So many promises, so many lies. It took me a few months just to wrap my head around it. But when summer came, I had to look my sister in the eye again. And
he
was always around. And I just couldn’t stand it anymore. So one night when my sister was over for dinner, and it was just the family, I told them the whole sordid tale.”
Rafe was watching me so closely then. I could see wheels turning behind his chocolate eyes. And when he figured out what had happened, he suddenly looked sad. “They didn’t believe you.”
Slowly, I shook my head.
“Seriously? They thought you
invented
that?”
“Well.” I had to clear my throat. “At first, they listened. My sister freaked out. She confronted him. And for one whole day I thought logic would prevail. But of course he lied through his teeth. The guy is
slick
.”
Rafe made an angry sound in his throat. “That’s… incredible, Bella. Your parents ought to believe family first.”
Maybe
. But Rafe didn’t know me all that well. “My family already thought of me as the crazy one. ‘There goes poor, slutty Bella, looking for attention.’ I wasn’t an easy kid. They set rules, and I broke them. I was always lying about where I was going, and who I was with.”
Rafe did not look convinced, and I loved him for it. “Skirting your curfew is not the same as making up a story about your sister’s fiancé.”
True
. “They didn’t take the trouble to make the distinction, I guess. To my father, Fucker Tanning had been part of the family for a few years already. They thought of him as the good son they never had. And he said he wanted to take care of their perfect daughter. Meanwhile, they had this
other
daughter that was always giving them heart attacks. My parents walked in on me once with a boy from high school. We were screwing in their bed.”
Rafe laughed into his hand.
“I know. It’s hysterical. I was always
that
kid. When my sister was eighteen and I was fourteen, my mother took us out for a girls’ brunch at the Russian Tea Room. My sister said, ‘Mom, I think I need birth control.’ And then I said, ‘Oh, that’s easy. You can just buy condoms at the drugstore. That’s what I do.’ My mother choked on her caviar.”
“
Dios
.”
“
Dios
shakes his head whenever I get a big idea.”
At least I had Rafe smiling now. And I loved his smile. “Someday,” he said, “you might have a daughter…”
“People keep warning me that karma is a bitch.”
He shook his head. “That’s not what I mean at
all
. You’ll have a daughter, and she’ll be able to tell you whatever is in her head. And you won’t hit the roof — you’ll just deal with it, you know? The girls in my neighborhood, they hit high school and all the aunties start heaping on the guilt. ‘Don’t wear short skirts, because the boys will think you’re easy. Don’t let him kiss you. Don’t let him touch you. Go to confession.’ It’s crazy.”
“I wouldn’t last an hour.”
His smile fell. “I’m sorry your family got it so wrong, though. That’s not fair. Even if he is slick, they should listen to you.”
“I’ve had a long time to think about it now, though. I think my mother actually believes me. But she doesn’t know what to do. And the more psych classes I take, the easier it is to see that Fucker Tanning is pretty cracked.”
“He has to wreck it some time, right? Nobody can lie so much and get away with it.”
I’d thought that, too. But three years later… “I have to assume that he’s still cheating on her.” Even though I was pissed at my sister, this bothered me. I’d just discovered the horrors of having a doctor tell me I’d caught something. I hope my sister didn’t eventually figure it out
that
way.
God
. “He’s held it together until now. Besides, my sister also thinks that the sun shines out of his ass. I’ve tried to warn her. But it’s not like anyone wants to hear what I say.”
The shuttle docked underneath Times Square, and Rafe and I walked out. I followed him to the uptown number two and three train platform. “Where exactly are we going?” I suddenly thought to ask.
“To get some dinner in Washington Heights,” Rafe answered immediately. “I’m starved.”
“Sorry,” I said again.
He reached over and squeezed my hand. “Don’t be.”
An express pulled up, and we got on. After the sing-song warning tone, the doors clattered shut. Rafe pointed at a single empty seat, and I dropped into it. He took up a position right in front of me, holding the bar over my head.
Looking up at him, I said, “I got really drunk at their wedding.”
“I’ll bet.” Rafe chuckled.
“Julie claims that I ruined her special day by puking onto the topiary after the cake was cut. But that shit was tainted long before I threw up.”
Rafe snickered. “I
almost
feel sorry for her. Almost.”
When the doors opened at 72nd, quite a bit of the crowd got off. So Rafe dropped into the seat next to mine.
“Tell me where you’re taking me,” I said, hoping to lighten up the evening again. For a few minutes there, I’d actually had fun. Dancing with Rafe had been the high point of the last few weeks. Not that I was about to tell him that.
“To my family’s restaurant,” he said. “Is there anything you don’t eat?”
I grabbed my chest in mock horror. “Dude, I’m from New York. You can’t scare me even if you try.”
Rafe grinned.
M
any subway stops later
, we emerged in Washington Heights. I’d never been to this neighborhood before. It was past Columbia University, where my high school friends and I used to go to drink in the bars that served college students without ID. It was north of the hospital and north of pretty much everything. The only time I’d set foot up here was on a school trip to The Cloisters museum.
I didn’t like to think of myself as an Upper East Side snob. But there it was.
“Are you freezing?” Rafe asked.
“No, I’m fine.” Truly, I was getting cold. But after that scene I’d put Rafe through earlier, I wasn’t going to complain about
anything
else tonight.
“I wanted to walk past the site.” Rafe pointed down the block.
“Oh! For our project?” What a lousy teammate I was. It hadn’t even occurred to me that we were only blocks away from our Urban Studies assignment. I followed him to West 165th Street. And there it was, the ugly building from the photograph. “Can’t imagine why we’d tear this down,” I teased.
“Right? But we don’t need to look at the building so much as what surrounds it.” He put his hands on my shoulders and turned me. “Across the intersection, there’s an apartment building. That looks like a nice place.”
It did, too. It was six stories high, a pre-war brick building. One of thousands in the city.
“But those are some pretty gritty retailers over there.” Rafe indicated a check-cashing joint and a pawn shop. There was also a skeevy little bodega and a shoe repair store.
“This spot has good foot traffic, though,” I said. “We could put something better here. A grocery, or a restaurant.” I took out my phone and began to turn in a circle, snapping photographs of everything.
“The judge is a food guy, remember. If we did something with food, he might like it.”
I gave Rafe a little poke in the ribs. “Look at you, Mr. Tactical! I like it.”
He put a hand on my back. “Speaking of food, let’s go eat.”
A
few minutes
later he led me under a striped awning into a brightly lit hive of activity. The restaurant wasn’t fancy. The interior looked like it had been there since the seventies, if I had to guess. There were Formica tables with metal edges, and the walls were painted in colors which were just a little too bright to be stylish.
But the place was
jammed
. I couldn’t even see it properly, because there was a knot of people between the door and the dining room.
“
Dios
,” Rafe said under his breath. A small missile hurtled into his knees. When I looked down, I saw a toddler-sized person with gorgeous brown skin and curly black hair. Rafe leaned over and scooped the child off the floor.
“Wafe,” it said.
“Hey, Gael,” Rafe said. “Where is your
mami
? There are a lot of people who are trying to pay.”
“
No sé
,” the child said.
Rafe carried him around the end of the counter to where the cash register was. “Sorry for the wait,” he said to the couple who was first in line. “Did you need to check out?”
The couple handed him their check and a credit card, and Rafe handled the transaction, while his very small relative poked him in the cheekbone.
“None of that,” Rafe said, grabbing one little arm in his hand and tucking the kid farther back onto his hip. “Your hands are sticky, little man. Did you get into the
dulce de leche?
”
Rafe cashed out three couples before he was even able to mouth “I’m sorry” in my direction.
A young woman came skidding on high heels to the front of the restaurant. “Rafael!” she cried. “
Lo siento
. I got caught up helping untangle a delivery order.” She grabbed the child out of his arms.
“His hands are sticky,” Rafe warned. He skirted the woman to come back to my side.
“You look handsome tonight,
señor
.” She grinned. I saw her eyes flick toward me. “And aren’t you going to introduce me?”
“Cara, this is Bella, who has not had dinner yet. Bella, this is my aunt Cara. Now we’re grabbing that two top before somebody else does.” Rafe put a hand on my lower back and guided me towards a little table by the window.
I sat down, but then Rafe made an irritated noise. “
Ay
, the table.” He disappeared for a moment, reappearing with a cloth to wipe it off. Then he put two rolls of silverware down before finally collapsing into the seat across from me. “Nothing is easy tonight.”