Primitivo

by Croft, Rose

  “I can get it.” She scanned over me, and her pink tongue subtly poked over her bottom lip. Don’t do that, angel or I might go straight caveman.

  “No, I got it.” I was still staring at her like a moron while she was focused on a particular spot on my chest, and her face dropped. I glanced down noticing where I had Eric’s name and the slight scar above it where her name used to be. I’d had it surgically removed. It was painful and left some slight scarring. Much like the damage she did to my heart when she left.

  Regardless, why did I feel like I was the one who committed a crime when she dropped her head and stared at her folded hands? “I’ll get the coffee,” I said somberly and stood up and went to the kitchen.

  Sofía

  He’d removed me from his heart. Didn’t I already know that? I guess I wasn’t expecting he would go through a painful procedure to have my inked name removed from his skin. Why would he walk around with another woman’s name on his chest if he were with someone else? He had every right and reason to do it. It still didn’t make the hurt any less.

  Soon, Emilio stood in front of me with a steaming cup. “Here, I made it sugary sweet with a lot of cream.”

  “Thank you.” I braced the cup between my palms. Emilio remembered. I didn’t know why I drank coffee because I had to doctor it up to take away the bitter taste.

  “Where’s mine?”

  Emilio shook his head at our son. “You don’t drink coffee, mi hijo.”

  “Sofí does. I want what she has.” Eric crawled over to me.

  “You won’t like it,” Emilio warned.

  “Can I try yours?” Eric reached in, and I glanced warily at Emilio.

  Emilio shrugged like let him see for himself.

  “It’s hot, baby. I don’t want you to burn your mouth.”

  Eric leaned in over my cup and scrunched his nose when the steam hit his face. “Too hot, and it smells funny.” He shook his head.

  Emilio and I shared a smile. Regardless of my missing name on his chest, I couldn’t stop staring at his nude upper body. Lately, when we’d been intimate, he rarely bothered to take off his clothes, or it was too dark to see. Now, I saw every curve, every tight muscle, his dark hair that started below his belly button leading under the waistband of his shorts he wore low on his hips. He was built like a sun god. I could feel my nipples tighten thankful I’d put on a bra.

  Emilio’s eyes scanned over me. “I’ll start the pancakes.” His voice was deep and scratchy, rubbing me the right way.

  “I wanna put the chocolate chips in, Papá!” Eric interjected. “Did you know I can cook?” he asked me and pulled me along with him to follow his dad.

  I unhooked my legs and stood up. “No. I’m so impressed.” I truly was amazed with anything my son could do.

  We all hovered over Emilio in the kitchen as he made the pancake batter. I lifted Eric up on the counter, and my lips curled in content as I watched father and son together. Both shirtless in their black shorts. Dark wild hair cut close on the sides and longer on top. I loved Emilio’s hair longer, but he looked like every woman’s dream with his shorter stylish look. I longed to touch his heavily shadowed face.

  He peered down at me next to him and smirked. Busted! His look said. My cheeks felt flush.

  Eric dipped his finger in the batter. “Hey, no double dipping,” Emilio teased. “That’s disgusting.”

  “I’m not.” Eric licked his finger and was about to dive in and go for round two.

  Emilio grabbed his little hand mid-dip. “When you stick your finger in there, then put it in your mouth and put your finger in the bowl again. That’s double dipping. Nobody wants your germs.” He chuckled.

  “I don’t have germs,” Eric protested and proceeded to steal a few chocolate chips from the open bag on the counter and pop them in his mouth. “Do I, Sofí?”

  “Of course, not, you’re perfect.”

  Emilio had a fake scowl on his face. “Don’t encourage him.” He nudged me playfully. “He already has a big head.”

  “My head’s not big. It’s normal.”

  I grinned and leaned into Emilio whose arm snaked around me and pulled me against him. It was a natural reaction, and I had an overwhelming urge to lean up on my toes and kiss his cheek. He stared down at me, too, like he wanted to devour my face.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Eric dump the whole bag of chocolate chips in the batter. “Oh! Would you like some batter with your chocolate?”

  The pancakes were quite chocolaty, but delicious. Eric sighed after the last bite and patted his flat stomach. “I’m so full.” He had melted chocolate smeared on the side of his mouth and syrup on his chin.

  “I bet you are. You ate like a horse.” Emilio laid his fork on his empty plate.

  Eric scoffed and rolled his eyes. “That’s dumb. Horses don’t eat pancakes. They eat hay.”

  I hid my smile and stood up gathering the plates. Eric and Emilio teased constantly and were so close. “It’s a saying. Why don’t you run to the bathroom and wash the chocolate and syrup off your face before someone mistakes you for a chocolate pancake and eats you?”

  “Eww, that’s gross.” My little boy slid his chair back and trotted off to the bathroom.

  I started washing the dishes and felt Emilio’s hard body behind me. “You okay?” He had both hands braced against the counter cocooning me in, and his lips were close to my ear.

  “Yes.” I had to concentrate not to drop the plate in my hand.

  “You sure about that? I’m pretty sure you’ve washed that plate to death.” I looked down and saw where I kept running the sponge over the same spot.

  I smiled and rinsed the dish. “The pancakes were good.”

  “Yeah. I’m on a sugar high, and I think I need to…” His warm breath curled down my neck with each word. “Burn off some energy.”

  I leaned into him as one large hand slid over my stomach. His voice was smooth, liquid fire like a fine cognac. “I forgot how beautiful you are in the mornings.” He nipped at my shoulder. “I could eat you up.”

  I bit back a sigh, remembering how amorous he was in the mornings. We used to spend all day in bed on the weekends, and Emilio loved me until I had no energy to do anything else.

  He squeezed my hip lingering behind me until suddenly the contact was broken. “What the fuck are you doing up so early?” he grumbled.

  I controlled my breathing and saw Yovani passing through the living room with mussed dark hair, shirtless with athletic shorts. Did everyone here walk around shirtless in shorts?

  “Ooohhh, Papá said—”

  “Eric!” Emilio and I warned at the same time. I eyed Emilio over my shoulder, and he flashed a rueful dimple. “Sorry, Eric.”

  “Little man woke me up. Didn’t you?” Yovani stretched lazily and had the perpetual trademark family smirk on his face.

  Eric ducked his head with a sorry-not-sorry look. “I wanted to play Xbox with you.”

  “Yeah, why don’t you do that?” Emilio agreed and tugged on my tank from behind.

  Eric was already jumping over the arm of the couch, and glanced back at me. “Sofí, come play with us. I’ll teach you.”

  “Okay,” I said and shut off the water as Emilio grumbled about wanting me to play with him.

  I bit back a grin and turned facing him. “You can play too?”

  “I could, but that’s not the game I want to play.” He winked and led me to the living room.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To grab a bite to eat.” Emilio pulled out onto the street. His words were light, but he was gnashing his lips between his teeth, and his hands on the steering wheel were clenched in a death grip. He was hiding something. If you knew Emilio, certain mannerisms were always easy to see when he was bothered—bothered was too mild a word. He had vengeance on his mind.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then, why are you gripping the steering wheel like you’re trying to c
hoke it to death?”

  He loosened his grip and exhaled. “Sofí, I can’t… let this go. I want to kill them for what happened to you. All of them.”

  I blinked slowly wanting to reach out and soothe him, but he needed his time to vent. I did too, Papi.

  “I’m trying to do the right thing and be patient, but it’s hard.”

  Emilio rarely showed vulnerability. He always jumped in fearless like he was invincible and could personally demolish problems one way or another. His heart was in the right place and regardless of whatever we were, I was grateful. I touched his shoulder lightly. “Let’s try to enjoy this time. Okay?”

  We met Adrian at La Calle Doce for a late lunch. He was sitting alone in a booth in the corner impeccably dressed in a black suit sipping an amber drink looking like the poster boy for over-achievement.

  He spotted us, and the corner of his lips lifted. “Wow,” Adrian breathed into his drink as Emilio and I approached the table. “You look gorgeous.” He ran his eyes appreciatively over me. Was it a bit over-the-top? Probably, since I was wearing a casual pink maxi dress.

  Emilio clamped his hand on Adrian’s shoulder none-to-gently, but joked, “I know and don’t ever say that shit to me again.”

  Adrian laughed without a care in the world and took my hand placing a kiss on the back of my fingers as though he were a gentleman from a past century. The man knew how to turn on the charm like it was second nature.

  “Newsflash, don’t ever do that shit again, either,” Emilio amended, scowling as he pulled me possessively to his side.

  “Relax, primo, it’s called having manners.”

  He led me to the seat and slid in close beside me. “Whatever, cabrón. Don’t mask your game in chivalry. My bullshit meter is very sensitive.”

  Adrian chuckled good-naturedly. Nothing seemed to bother him. A server approached and asked us for our drink order. Emilio raised his eyes to me.

  “Wine? I don’t know which, you pick.” He scanned the drink menu and ordered a glass of cabernet sauvignon for me, and Basil Hayden on the rocks for himself. Adrian smiled at his choice.

  “Sofía, tell me again about the last night you saw Tito.”

  My skin automatically trembled when I heard my cousin’s name.

  Emilio clamped his hands together leaning forward. “Why are we bringing this up again?”

  Adrian leaned back in the booth casually; his face was impartial like he was in attorney mode. “If we want to catch Tito, I need to know every single detail about him. I’m not trying to be harsh, but you both need to put your personal feelings aside because, in the end, we all lose if we’re not thinking straight.”

  “What the fuck does that even mean?” Emilio’s shirt was taut over bulging muscles, and I knew he was tense.

  I interjected, “He’s right. I’ll tell you anything you need to know.”

  Emilio leaned back and slid his hand over the back of my neck. His thumb ran circles over my skin, calming the anxiety. How he could be so in tune with my body sometimes surprised me. “I thought we were supposed to celebrate our latest conquest. Not talk about this downer crap.”

  “We are,” Adrian said. “But I’d like to gather some more information first.”

  I felt the heat rush up my neck to my face from the few sips of red wine and how Emilio watched me with concern etched in his face. “Are you sure?” he questioned.

  I closed my eyes and nodded with an air of confidence I didn’t exactly feel.

  “Emilio?” I heard a familiar voice and opened my eyes, and my heart stopped. “Sofía?” The voice was accusing although she tried to mask it.

  “Belinda.” I felt Emilio’s thigh touching mine tense as he dropped his hand from behind me and stood up and greeted her with a peck to the cheek.

  “How are you?” she asked him as she laid her hand on his arm.

  “I’m good,” he said with casual ease. The familiarity between them was obvious and hurt like a bitch. “And you?”

  “Perfect. I was having a late lunch with my parents.” Belinda pointed across the room at the stunning older couple who waved in his direction. “You should come say hi. They would love to see you.” She shifted her eyes to me with a slight curl to her lips. “They were so devastated when we ended our engagement.” She dropped her eyes as though she’d lost a loved one. “You were always their favorite.”

  My heart flat-lined minutes ago, but now it felt like someone yanked it out of my chest before punting it off a cliff, while it hit every boulder on the way down to the bottom. Thud. Roll. Thud. I was doing well to stay in my place and not slither to the floor in a pile of mush.

  Belinda looked down at me with her perfectly made-up face and smiled a toothy smile between her plump, red-painted lips. “Sofí… It is you,” she said as though she’d uncovered a mystery, then added, “You look great. We were so worried about you. We always knew you were susceptible to going down the wrong path.”

  I cringed and dug my nails into my thighs over the fabric of my dress. I wanted to respond, but I couldn’t form the words I wanted to say.

  Through my haze of jealousy, I was vaguely aware that she turned to Adrian and made boring, throw-away conversation that privileged people did in social settings. He answered politely, but there was something in his voice that seemed clipped. Adrian was the epitome of urbane civility. He talked so smoothly you couldn’t help but be charmed by his words. I mean, the man loved to talk. However, he wasn’t engaging Belinda in clever conversing. He glanced at me solemnly as he spoke.

  Belinda went on oblivious. Every word that dripped out of her mouth was either about her or her concern for me and how much she’d worried for years about me and how she was so happy I appeared to turn my life around. To someone who didn’t know her, it seemed almost sincere, but I knew she was assassinating my character with every back-handed compliment she gave.

  “How’s Eric?” She directed her question exclusively to Emilio, clearly showing I was not a part of my own family.

  “He’s great.” Emilio’s response was polished, masked in unease, but he slid back into the booth beside me.

  She nodded solemnly. “I was so worried when he had that unfortunate accident in the street. You remember that, Sofí. I tried to stop him, but you were so angry about Emilio and me…”

  My hands shook at the mention of the incident. “You’re lying.”

  Her hair fell over her face as her chin moved back and forth. “Poor girl.” She turned to Emilio with false concern laced in her voice. “She’s always been living in her own reality. She wasn’t fit to be a mother, and can you blame her? The only stability she had in her life was when my family took her in—”

  “Belinda,” Emilio’s voice had a dark undertone. “We’re trying to have lunch, so if you don’t mind…” He sat as still as stone. We’d never spoken about Belinda. It was something I never wanted to discuss. But we’d never spoken about what happened with Eric either. This topic was the elephant in the room that destroyed everything in its path.

  Belinda flipped her hair over her shoulder and smiled a smile worthy of a beauty pageant. “Forgive me. I’m taking up your time.” Her nails flashed like pointy blood-stained talons as she curled her hand around Emilio’s shoulder and kissed him on the side of his mouth. Her eyes flashed to me as she did it.

  Emilio didn’t reciprocate, and he flattened his lips, but said, “Take care, Belinda. I’ll stop by your table and say hi to your parents, later.”

  “You too. So good to see you, Sofía.” She patted him on the cheek before turning on her heel and cat-walking her ass back to her table.

  “Never a dull moment with you, primo. That’s for sure.” Adrian shrugged and threw back his Scotch. “Anyway. I think we need to order another drink and food and shelve the other conversation for later.”

  Lunch was weird and uneventful. It was like a cloud of doom hung over us, and nobody wanted to say what they really wanted to say except Adrian who was basically carrying the
conversation. He mainly stuck to the topic of business and Emilio would agree or give short answers. Whatever Adrian’s agenda was, it changed like the atmosphere in the restaurant as soon as Belinda swung in like a wrecking ball. The light teasing and flirting between Emilio and I earlier was gone as if the energy was zapped from the room. Hell, Emilio didn’t even eat like he usually did. He had a healthy appetite and still had half his steak on his plate. Unfortunately, he had no problem with the drinks.

  I watched him as he downed the amber liquid.

  “She lied about that day.”

  He paused mid-tilt and quirked his head. “Not here, Sofía. I can’t go there right now.”

  “I’m not,” I said quietly. “But Belinda is lying about what happened when Eric…”

  “Don’t!” he growled. “Don’t push the issue right now.”

  He was wound tight like a rubber band about to snap.

  Adrian’s eyes bounced between us, and he said, “Let it be, Sofía. We don’t need to air out our business in public.” He signaled for the check and gave Emilio a look laced with both concern and warning.

  “I’m good, man.” Emilio raised a hand in reassurance, while I sat tight-lipped knowing Adrian was right. So much had happened between us. Could we ever move past this?

  After paying the tab, we exited our booth, and Belinda who was seated with her parents waved us over. My nerves were thumping under my skin, but I had to keep my composure. What did I say to them? I highly doubted they were thrilled to see me.

  Belinda’s parents fawned over Emilio like he was the son they never had. He was charming and polite to both, but I could tell he was covering his hurt and anger.

  As suspected, they were far more reserved when they saw me. Again, I had to endure their words that were pleasant enough but subtly laced with contempt and condescension. Arturo and Betina Corona were the epitome of grace and wealth in public. They did everything expected of people who had influence in the community, including taking in a wayward child from a poor country. But behind the walls of the palace, they spoke to me like I was the unwanted stepchild. I was constantly berated about my upbringing. I worked hard to seek their approval, but nothing was ever enough. In their eyes, I dressed like a slut; I had no social etiquette, and even the Spanish I spoke was subpar.