Hula Girl

by Ward Cosio, Lara

  “Jesus, they’re big in real life, aren’t they?” I ask as I come up behind her and wrap my arm around her chest.

  She laughs and squeezes my forearm. Looking back at me, she whispers, “Where did you come from?”

  “All I know is I’m right where I want to be,” I tell her, and she practically swoons, leaning into me.

  When she looks back at the field, I can feel her release any worries she’s had with a deep exhale.

  “This is the kind of romance you like, isn’t it? Good seats at a baseball game is all it takes,” I tease.

  “You have no idea.”

  “No?”

  “You’ve just swept me off my feet, Surfer Boy.”

  Smiling, I lean down and kiss her, soft and slow. Pulling away, she turns around and looks up at me. We share a silent moment, each of us with a small, satisfied smile on our faces. Then I stroke her cheek before cupping it.

  “Are you ready for this?” I ask and glance at the field.

  She places her hand on my hip, her fingers slipping just inside the waistband of my shorts. “I’m so ready it scares me,” she says softly.

  Squinting at her, I try to make sense of that.

  “They’ve got to win, right?” she says quickly.

  Now I get it. I was asking about the game, and she was replying about something completely different. About us.

  But the admission spooked her, and now she’s brushing it off. I’ll let her off the hook on it—for now. This afternoon is supposed to be all about her experiencing her beloved Dodgers in a new way, after all.

  * * *

  Our seats are first row, with the protective foul ball netting the only thing between us and the field. With drinks, Dodger Dogs, and a competitive game, we’ve got it made.

  Ava is very serious about her baseball. She knows all the players, including their strengths, shortcomings, and quirks. We talk easily as we watch the game, and I share with her my history of playing in high school.

  “Oh god, I’d love to see you in a baseball uniform,” she says, turning to me with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

  “I’ll do that when you wear a hula girl outfit.”

  “Be careful what you wish for.” She raises her eyebrows at me playfully.

  Because I find it very hard not to do so whenever I possibly can, I slide my hand into the hair at the nape of her neck, pull her to me, and kiss her deeply. She’s sexy and fun, and I don’t want this to end.

  I pull away from her abruptly when I realize what I’ve just thought. She looks at me with a mixture of confusion and amusement before shrugging off my sudden withdrawal and turning her attention back to the game.

  Gulping down the rest of my beer, I finally understand what she was trying to do by saying we shouldn’t get invested in each other. There are consequences to this. It’s temporary pleasure with the promise of future heartache, because neither of us is willing to change our lives. Hers is here, pursuing her career. Mine is in Maui, pursuing my peace.

  Thing is, I’m already a goner for this girl.

  27

  Ava

  I can’t get used to the weight of this ring on my finger. It’s distracting me from focusing on the conference call blaring from my office speakerphone.

  It is a stunning piece of jewelry. I’ve found myself gesturing an awful lot with my left hand ever since he slipped the ring on me yesterday afternoon.

  That it was only yesterday that this happened is hard to believe. Taking me to that Dodgers game is just as hard to absorb.

  Our hometown boys won and to celebrate, I had Ford take us to my favorite taco food truck near the stadium. We ate one taco after another, standing under a streetlamp in the street, until we were ridiculously full.

  Afterward, we went to my place again, not even making it as far as the bed before we pulled each other’s clothes off. I can’t get enough of him and it seems he feels the same way.

  He woke me before my alarm went off in the morning and made slow, sleepy love to me.

  And then he got up and started the coffee maker before hopping into the shower. Still in a post-orgasm daze, I curled up in bed and inhaled his scent. As I listened to the water from the bathroom, I marveled at how quickly we’ve become comfortable with each other. It felt like this in Maui, too. Like we needed no separation from each other, that we simply fit together.

  Later, I kissed him goodbye at the door when he was leaving to go to his firm. And then I kissed him again. And again, until he stepped back inside, kicking the door closed behind him as he pulled his fly open with one hand and pulled up my dress with the other.

  I’ve never been so relaxed about being late to the office. How else could I be when I’m so intensely sexually satisfied and falling so hard for him?

  “Are you still there, Ava?”

  Sitting up straighter, I zero in on the voice and wonder how long I’ve been checked out.

  “Ah, yes. Sorry, I had someone here in my office,” I say, thinking quickly. “Can you please go over that last point?”

  From then on, I return to my usual laser-like concentration. I have work to do, after all, since this time, I’m picking Ford up from his office later today so I can take him to meet my mom.

  * * *

  I thought Miller, Newell & Kahn was a nice law firm, but it’s nothing in comparison to McAvoy & Partners. The elevator ride to their offices takes an obscene amount of time, but I suppose that’s what’s to be expected when you’re going all the way up to the forty-sixth floor.

  When I enter the reception area, I’m greeted by not one, but two pert, smiling blondes behind a huge shared desk.

  “Hi,” I say, not sure which one to look at. I finally pick the one on the right at random. “I’m here to see Ford McAvoy.”

  “Senior or Junior?” she asks.

  “Oh, um, Junior.”

  “Your name?”

  I straighten my spine and give her my name.

  “Have a seat.” She nods to the sleek leather settee by the wall of windows showcasing the city.

  As I start to do as I’m told, I wonder why I didn’t just have Ford meet me downstairs instead of doing this formal pickup at the office thing. A part of me wonders if he was hoping to impress me, but I dismiss that idea. He’s not the type to want to show off. Or if he did, it would be about catching waves. A vision of us together on his longboard flashes in my mind. That was such an incredible experience. Gliding on those waves felt heavenly. And then, lying on the board with Ford, feeling his heartbeat somehow sync up with the gentle lapping of the water was the most soothing feeling. For a moment, I wish we were back there. I wish we were spending lazy, long warm days together at the beach and having poke at Makai’s before stumbling tipsy back to his little shack on the sand.

  “Ah, there you are, Ava.”

  The voice interrupting my little fantasy isn’t Ford’s. At least not my Ford’s. I look up to find his father coming toward me with open arms as if we’re old friends.

  Standing, I smooth down my dress and smile at him. “Looks like you’ve been troubled by mistake,” I say. “I asked them to let your son know I’m here.”

  “Oh, don’t be too hard on Emily.” He stops himself and glances at the reception desk. “Or was it Emmaline?” he asks with a shake of his head. “I can never keep them straight. I mean, who can when they’ve got such similar names?”

  “Yes, well—”

  “That is an impressive ring, Ava,” he says, taking my left hand into his.

  “Thank you. I … well, I really love it.”

  “I imagine you do.”

  I’m not sure what to do with that response, so instead, I skirt past it. “It was very kind of you to come out to get me. Maybe you wouldn’t mind showing me to Ford’s office?”

  For a moment, he just watches me. Examines me.

  I imagine most people would be intimidated by this close inspection, but I’ve had more than my fair share of successful older white men like him assessing me i
n this way. Instead of wilting the way I’m sure he’d intended I do, I wait him out.

  “Yes,” he finally says. “Shall we?” He holds out one arm to gesture toward the door and uses his other to guide me by the small of my back.

  His presumptuous touch puts a pep in my step, and I move through the expansive office space to create some distance between us. I don’t know where I’m going as I pass by rows of secretaries directly outside of glass offices, none of which contain Ford.

  “Why don’t we step in here,” he says, stopping at an empty conference room.

  Before I can question why we’d make this detour, he pulls open the glass door and steers me inside. It’s a mid-size space with an oblong table large enough for ten padded-leather chairs. There are two seventy-inch plasma screens on the wall at one end of the room and what appears to be a catering spread of sandwiches and beverages leftover from an earlier meeting on a built-in countertop at the opposite side of the room.

  “I’m glad we have a minute here, Ava,” he says.

  I’ve turned my eyes to the view of the city through the floor to ceiling windows. It’s an impressive sight. I’d guess that’s at least part of why we’ve ducked into this space. He wants to show me his success. But he wasn’t counting on the sour smell of the roast beef sandwiches in the corner. The contrast feels very like my understanding of who he is through Ford’s description. He’s preoccupied with appearances, and yet refuses to acknowledge what’s right under his nose.

  “You went to Southwestern, is that right?” he continues.

  Turning to him, I fix a blank expression on my face. His knowing which law school I went to is probably only the tip of the iceberg. He’s probably done more research on me than that. I keep my own counsel, as the expression goes, by remaining silent.

  “Yes, well, that’s what I hear anyway,” he continues. “It’s a nice success story for a disadvantaged girl from Boyle Heights.” He tries for an amiable smile, but it does nothing to offset the condescending remark he tried to pass off as a compliment.

  There’s nothing disadvantaged about me. I didn’t grow up with the wealth he has, but I had what matters—a loving, supportive family. Still, I don’t strike back. Instead, I keep biting my tongue, letting him reveal more of his motives in diverting me to this meeting room.

  “Randall sure speaks highly of you.” He chuckles. “And he’s tickled that it seems he’s to thank for you and my boy getting together. I mean, if you hadn’t tripped up in that deposition, you’d never have even gone to Maui.”

  Wow. He went right for my weak spot.

  Or at least, that’s what he thinks my weak spot is. That I made one error—and not even a significant error in the grand scheme of things—at work is not something he can hurt me with. What kind of lawyer would I be, after all, if I wasn’t able to recover from that?

  “It was definitely … fortuitous,” I say.

  He raises his eyebrows at my choice of words. And it was a deliberate choice. He thinks he has the upper hand here, but I can see where he’s going. I can see it a mile away.

  “You do know about Ford’s plan to resign, don’t you?” he asks.

  I nod.

  “So, then you know that the very generous paychecks of this firm will cease.”

  And there it is, just as I suspected. He thinks a disadvantaged girl like me can only want one thing from his son: money. Never mind the fact that I have my own successful career.

  “I don’t want or need his paycheck,” I say.

  “Is that so?”

  “Not that I need to share this with you, but I make a good living.”

  “I’m sure you do … fine.” He says the word “fine” as if it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. “But he will soon have nothing from this firm. No income, just so we’re clear.”

  I’ve had enough of his emphasis on this point. Time to disabuse him of the antiquated, sexist notion that all I’m after is landing a rich husband.

  Just then, Ford—my Ford—pulls open the door and steps in, eyeing us both warily as he tries to assess what he’s interrupted. But I don’t let that stop me from what I say next.

  “It’s okay if he’s penniless,” I say. “I’m not after his money, after all.”

  “No?” Senior looks skeptical.

  “Nope.” I shrug. “I’m after his phenomenal legal mind. You’re really going to miss his skills once he and I partner up.”

  “Partner up?” he asks with an arched brow.

  “Marriage is a partnership, isn’t it?”

  “I—”

  “Oh, sorry, I know you’ve never actually been married. But Ford and I, our relationship is a true partnership. And the natural thing would be to take that into a legal practice, too. We’d make a very tempting alternative for some of the clients Ford still has here, don’t you think?”

  Senior’s mouth drops open for just a moment before he recovers himself. “Wait a minute. Are you saying—” he starts, but Ford interrupts.

  “Ava, we have to go.”

  I make a show of looking conflicted over cutting things short. Then, I shrug with a small smile. “Gotta go,” I say, and wink at Senior.

  I’ve played it cool, but as soon as Ford pulls me out of that meeting room, I can feel my heart beating wildly. Ford’s got my hand and is leading me through the expansive office. I feel all eyes on us. Suddenly, I can’t contain a giggle. It turns into real laughter that I can’t even muffle with my hand to my mouth.

  I don’t know what came over me.

  But damn, it felt good to see Senior’s shocked expression.

  Ford pulls me into a side room, and before I know it, he’s closed the door and pushed me up against it, his body pressed to mine.

  He’s grinning.

  “What was that all about?”

  “I, uh …” Looking around, I see that the room is a study space. It’s small, with a table and four chairs and a library reading lamp atop it. There are several law texts, a copy of the Los Angeles Times, and a legal pad scattered there. Otherwise, we’re alone. “I don’t know.”

  “Not many people can do what you did just now to my father.” He draws his fingers through my hair gently, his eyes full of admiration.

  “What did I do?”

  He laughs. “You caught the bastard flat-footed.”

  “Oh,” I say.

  “You want to partner up with me, huh?”

  “Um, that just kind of came out,” I say. “Seemed like the way to throw him.”

  “It sure as fuck did. But you gotta watch it, honey. He can be vicious.” He touches my chin, making sure our eyes meet. “I don’t want you getting a target on your back out of all of this. I couldn’t stand it if he went after you.”

  I like that he’s protective of me. But despite all the years of Randall trying to do the same thing, when it comes down to it, I know no one takes care of me better than me.

  Grabbing his hip, I pull him closer. “I know how to handle myself.”

  “Hell, yeah you do,” he murmurs as he presses his lips to mine, kissing me tenderly at first. That quickly escalates to kisses that are so heated that we’re pawing at each other at the same time.

  “Hey,” I say breathlessly as he kisses my cheek and neck, getting rougher and more desperate. “I was thinking about your shares issue.”

  He pulls away for a second and looks at me quizzically. “You were?”

  “Yeah, a little.”

  “Jesus, that turns me on.”

  I laugh and then kiss him, pulling on his bottom lip with my teeth as I pull away. “Have you looked into whether the bylaws have ever been amended regarding shares transfers? You know, special circumstances you can use as precedent for doing something different with your shares?”

  “I, uh …” he starts, and I can see his mind working.

  Now I’m the one to kiss his neck, biting at his skin, wanting to take this into something that will satisfy us both. We get lost in each other, but when I reach down and
stroke him, he pulls away and goes to the table, leaning over.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  He looks up at me with a smirk. “I will be. I just need a minute.”

  I realize he’s being prudent to stop things given where we are. Still, I can’t help but ask, “Probably not a good idea to have sex in the office?”

  “There’s nothing I’d rather do.” He sighs regretfully. “But you’re right. Probably not a good idea. The whole floor saw us come in here. I don’t think we need that story going around.”

  I nod. But then say, “Hey, what does it matter to them? We’re engaged, aren’t we?”

  Meeting my eyes, he shakes his head with an appreciative smile. “You better believe it,” he says and quickly closes the distance between us.

  28

  Ford

  This girl. Man, she’s something. I’m watching her from the backyard of her mother’s small home. She and her mom are just inside at the kitchen counter, pulling together dinner. Ava is lightly frying corn tortillas before dipping them into enchilada sauce whereupon her mom takes them and fills them with a combination of cheese, onions, and chicken. Pretty soon, we’ll have plates filled with those enchiladas, topped with fresh avocado along with rice and pinto beans to go with it. My mouth waters, both because it smells so good and because I worked up an appetite back at the office. That quickie was phenomenal.

  Yeah, we had the office talking. But we walked out of there on a cloud. It’s hard to care what people think when I’ve got Ava by my side. Nothing else matters.

  That feeling lasted the whole car ride here. I should have been worried about what her mom would think of me, but all I could do was stare at my Hula Girl in amazement.

  I needn’t have worried about Rafaela, Ava’s mother, anyway. She greeted me so warmly and with such generosity that I immediately felt welcome. After giving me a bottle of Pacifico beer, she suggested I enjoy the breeze in the backyard while they finished up dinner. I’ve been out here, sitting at the wrought iron table, nursing my beer, and musing on all of this.