Deception

by Victoria Saccenti

  “In case you aren’t aware, I’m extremely fond of Soledad. I won’t allow anything or anyone to jeopardize our friendship.”

  Pressing his lips together to control a remark he’d regret, he waited. He knew there was more; this was only an opening salvo.

  “FYI, your behavior didn’t go over my head. You’re attracted to Hunter. Soledad’s close friend.” The accusation in her voice surprised him.

  “Mom, I—”

  “Don’t interrupt. I’m still talking.”

  Wow.

  “Orlando is your hub, your preferred weekend hangout.” The paper bag crinkled. She must have moved the jar again.

  He sighed. This was the eternal complaint, and he was sick of hearing it. “And your point is?”

  “It’s Saturday. Why are you here? Is it Hunter? Because if you’re going to be sniffing after her—”

  Damn.

  “Son of a gun.” He faked a loud guffaw and slapped the steering wheel, pouring on an exaggerated amusement he didn’t feel one bit. Shrewd, impossible to fool, Brenda Reid threatened to stand in his way. Out of all the inconvenient coincidences in the world, Soledad, Hunter, and his mother were connected. What were the chances of that?

  “Not funny,” she grumbled.

  This was an unplanned setback. He’d intended to go all out against Hunter and the sooner the better; however, dear Mom had put the kibosh on that idea. The speed of his attack had to be adjusted, from the original estimate to a couple of weeks or a month—hopefully, not longer. If the delay pacified his mother and still yielded the right results, he didn’t care. That also meant revising his conversation with Danielle. Instead of a complete schedule interruption, he’d propose occasional interludes. Would she agree? Of course she would. He’d convince her in one of their sessions. He smiled, delighted with this fun twist.

  “Joe… Joe? Did you hear me? Am I talking to the air? Where are you?”

  “Right here, Mom.” He patted her hand. “You’re getting all worked up for nothing. Hunter is a good-looking woman. So what? Any straight guy would check her out. And on that note, Hunter and Soledad could be having an affair.”

  “Not Sole. Although she lives alone, she’s faithful to her girlfriend.”

  “Good to know. Maybe there’s a chance for me with Hunter.” He winked without effect. Her combative expression remained in place.

  “I’m kidding, Mom. Lighten up. Where’s your sense of humor? Your friendship with Soledad won’t suffer or diminish on my account. I promise. Now, give me a nice smile. Come on. Come on. Let’s see it.”

  Brenda’s frown relaxed. A reluctant smile appeared.

  “There.” He chuckled as he patted her hand again “Love that.”

  “Charmer,” she muttered.

  He sighed. For now, this storm had abated.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HUNTER USED HER butt to shut the laundry room’s door situated at the back of her landlord’s house. As she balanced a pile of clean clothes between her arms, chest, and chin, she managed to pull open the door of her small cottage with her fingertips. Hooking the top of her foot around the edge of the door, she slammed it shut, then walked two steps and released the bundle onto her bed. She proceeded to fold her still-warm garments while hand-pressing a few wrinkles that formed right after she pulled the load out of the dryer. She organized the stacks of tops and jeans, then put everything away.

  That took ten minutes. What do I do to kill time?

  Hands on hips, she glared at her textbooks on the table.

  Out of the question.

  She didn’t have the head to read through the pages and memorize translations for more legal terms. She checked the clock next to her bed and groaned. It was only ten thirty on a Sunday morning, and the tired gray walls of her cottage had started closing in on her. Anxiety and loneliness were scaling up her legs, ready to swallow her up. Soon she’d be submerged in this bizarre emotional sea. She needed distraction… Human company.

  Yes. Kelly and Pete. Why didn’t she think about them before? She dialed quickly. After four rings, the call went to voice mail.

  “This is Kelly. You know what to do.” A soft beep followed the recorded message.

  “Hi, doll. It’s me, Hunter. What’re you doing? Call me.”

  Disappointed, she dropped the phone. The device clacked hard against the wooden table. Wiping her face she paced her small living area around and around. After the third circle, she stopped, flopped down on the single armchair in the room, and exhaled. Along with the huge exhalation, she let everything go, including the uncomfortable thoughts she’d suppressed.

  The fiasco of the past two weeks flowed out.

  Three days had passed after Hunter saw Brenda and Joe at Costa del Sol. She used that time to steady her nerves, reinforce her walls, and gather all weapons to drive back Joe’s advances.

  “Tell you what I’d really like… See you. Soon.” Joe’s words, loaded with a subtle sensuous intent had rung in her ears over and over. Worse, they’d teased her senses. But Hunter refused to be an easy conquest. She prepared for his first approach the following Wednesday. Although she had no real basis for this possibility, it made the most sense. Locals enjoyed going out midweek. The bars were less crowded. The ambiance was more intimate.

  I’ll resist him every step of the way had been her silent mantra from Sunday through Tuesday. Tuesday night, she didn’t sleep. She tossed and turned with crazy dreams.

  Wednesday morning, she managed to drag her exhausted body to the bathroom. She studied the pale, bleary-eyed image her ruthless mirror reflected, and shuddered. She couldn’t face her enemy in this shape. To mount a good defense, she needed to be at the top of her game, or at the very least, appear calm and sound coherent.

  She couldn’t do either.

  Without delay, she opened her medicine cabinet, popped two PM pain pills along with a handful of water from the faucet into her mouth, and gulped everything down. She closed the shades to darken her studio, returned to her rickety daybed, and stretched out, waiting for the pills to do their magic.

  It seemed as if she’d just fallen asleep when the prickly sensation of ants crawling over her body woke her up. Hunter jumped to her feet, frantically wiping away the imaginary pests. She’d slept as much as her mind and pent-up apprehension would allow.

  As the countdown to work progressed, she selected her favorite, most alluring outfit: a black miniskirt that showcased her long legs, along with a matching scoop-neckline top. She selected for this ensemble her best pushup bra, and she knew the man-killing effect was on. Men salivated at the vision of bouncing tits that threatened to spill out. Joe would be no different.

  In order to make one hell of an entrance, she’d saunter through Pete’s wearing her high-heeled platforms. To be effective, she had to arrive late at the bar. Once Hunter explained her strategy, Kelly would forgive her tardiness.

  Every single detail had been planned. She’d even steeped and chilled tea bags to reduce the swelling under her eyes.

  That evening, Dan stopped by Pete’s around 6:00 p.m., alone. He sat at the bar, enjoying his customary two beers. He didn’t mention his absent friend, and she’d die before she asked him anything. She agonized the rest of the evening. Each time the front door swung open, her breath hitched and her heart skipped a beat, only to be disappointed a second later. Of course, it turned out to be an unusually busy night. The constant in and out of customers and Kelly’s sympathetic face made matters worse.

  Wednesday night came, went, and Joe no-showed.

  The bastard had guessed her intentions.

  He’d left her waiting, all dolled up and ready for war.

  That was all right. He would come Thursday night instead.

  Still, she was furious. She’d burned the perfect outfit to entice and torture Joe Reid. Nothing in her wardrobe was as nice or as flattering, and she couldn’t go shopping. Her budget didn’t allow for frivolous spending. She’d have to put something together. After a des
perate search through her closet, she found a satisfactory getup, then rushed to work.

  Thursday night came, went, and Joe no-showed.

  Dejected, frustrated, and cranky, Hunter left work early.

  A glimmer of hope remained. Friday was day three and could be the charm. He’d come then. He had to.

  Hunter’s opportunities to ram temptation home and make Joe beg for her seductive attributes hadn’t panned out yet. She had to establish the upper hand. That was her game and her aim. Only, she needed help, as she’d used up her entire sexy-clothes inventory. Assistance came from an unexpected source: Soledad’s lover. Yanira was a fashionista and a godsend. Her height and build were closer to Hunter’s, plus she understood the special requirements for this situation and owned the wardrobe to fulfill them.

  Yanira stormed through her closet. Garments flew in every direction as she opened and closed several drawers. Just as Hunter was ready to accept defeat, a triumphant Yanira pulled out a slinky long-sleeve red knit top. Nothing outrageous at first glance, until she turned it around, and Hunter gasped with delight. The wide-open V neckline would plunge to her mid-abdomen; a loose crisscrossed red cord held both sides together. It was revealing—as it showed part of her breasts—without being too vulgar, and worked perfectly with her torn skinny jeans. Ecstatic, Hunter rushed home to relax and get ready for work.

  Friday night came and went. Joe no-showed.

  Mercifully, the bar was packed to the rafters. The tourist season in Central Florida was in full swing. Hunter had little time to think about her resounding defeat.

  Saturday, she didn’t expect to see Joe and wasn’t disappointed. Another week passed, and he didn’t stop at the bar or drive Brenda to Costa del Sol. In fact, it seemed as if Joe Reid had fallen into a deep sinkhole or lost interest in her—a notion that burned a hole in her gut.

  In their undeclared battle of wills, Joe had scored another point against her.

  Hunter sighed as she stood. She walked to her window and pulled down the shade slats, attracted to the activity on the flagstone walkway. In the middle of the path connecting her landlord’s home to her studio, a pair of green lizards studied each other. One extended the colorful flap of skin under its throat as its body bobbed up and down in a display of strength. Rooted to the spot, the smaller lizard waited as the larger one hopped closer and repeated the process.

  Interesting scene, coincidence, or message, the courtship dance displayed the simple yet effective behavior in the animal kingdom. What humans, with all their brilliant intelligence, complicated and messed up. That little female out there had allowed the male to work for her attention, charm her until she accepted him. Meanwhile, Hunter had intended to fight Joe all the way. Did she need to reassess her ideas?

  The phone’s vibration on the table stopped her musings. Soledad’s name appeared on the screen. Hunter pounced to answer.

  “Hey, girl. What are you doing?”

  “Making a pitcher of sangria and putting munchies together,” Soledad chirped. “Yanira’s here, and we’re wondering if you’d like to join us. We’re hanging on the patio. It’s real nice out.”

  “God. You’re a lifesaver.”

  “What’s wrong?” Soledad murmured.

  “I need to get out, breathe fresh air. Can’t take this place.”

  “Joe, huh?”

  “You know me too well, Sole.”

  Soledad chuckled. “Stop wasting time and come over.”

  “Be right there.”

  Hunter stepped into her flip-flops, grabbed her keys, and locked her door. She sped to her parked Mini Cooper as she decided whether to walk the seven blocks to Soledad’s home or drive. Driving won. This was one of those days when the idea of returning to her four walls before the sun set turned her stomach.

  She pulled behind Yanira’s silver BMW M3 and climbed out, admiring the gleaming automotive beauty as she walked past. Yanira was as discriminating with her toys as she was with her clothing and evidently earned a salary high enough to indulge her whims. Good for her.

  “Nena, por fin llegas. Took you long enough,” Yanira exclaimed as Hunter opened the wooden fence gate.

  “Don’t listen to her. Yanira loves to exaggerate,” Soledad retorted, stirring a tall pitcher filled with ruby-red liquid, ice cubes, and slices of citrus fruits.

  “Mamita, I’m faithful to my Puerto Rican roots.” Yanira rolled her eyes, placing an oval platter on the patio table. “Hunter’s Latina. She gets it.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Hunter murmured. The delicious-looking puffy half-moon pastries piled high on the platter made her mouth water. “Empanadas? Oh my God!”

  Yanira giggled. “That’s right. I forget your mom’s Chilean. I bet hers are awesome.”

  “Crazy good.” Hunter reached to grab one. Gently, Yanira moved her hand aside.

  “Easy there, nena. These came out a minute ago. They’re superhot.”

  Hunter pouted. “You’re killing me.”

  “Then take this and chill.” Soledad held a full goblet in front of Hunter’s eyes. When Hunter took it, Soledad returned to her house through the kitchen door.

  “What’s the filling?” Hunter couldn’t stop admiring the golden turnovers.

  “This half is beef and the other is chicken.” Yanira gestured with her hand as she spoke. “My Titi Luisa’s recipe. Awesome cook.” She pulled back a chair, tossed her glossy blue-black tresses around her slim shoulders, and sat. Entwining her fingers, she smiled proudly at her work. “When these are gone, I have a batch of bacalaítos waiting to be fried.”

  “It’s a food-fest Sunday,” Soledad said as she came out with a stack of plates and flatware. She moved past Yanira and dropped a quick peck on her head. “Courtesy of my talented personal chef.”

  “You say the nicest things, mamita.” Yanira puckered her lips, throwing Soledad an air kiss.

  “Is it okay? Are they ready now?” Hunter murmured.

  “Geez. We have the empanada monster with us,” Soledad grumbled as she plated two large crescents. “Here. One of each. Careful, they’re still hot.”

  Hunter clapped her hands. “They look scrumptious. Don’t worry, I know how to handle these beauties.” She split one in half, and steam rushed out. The spicy aroma of stewed chicken hit her nostrils, evoking moments she rarely remembered these days. “Thank you. This brings happy childhood memories. When life was simpler. I needed this today.”

  Soledad and Yanira settled back on their chairs. Both studied her in silence.

  “I don’t like that look,” Hunter fired out.

  Narrowing her long-lashed amber eyes, Yanira nibbled her bottom lip. Soledad fidgeted. “Is he still MIA?” That was her friend—she always went straight to the point.

  “Good way of putting it.” Hunter sliced a corner of her empanada and blew on it. “Call him a ghost. Unseen and unheard.”

  Caressing Sole’s arm, Yanira took a sip of her sangria. “The elusive Joe Reid.” Her tone was thoughtful and loaded with meaning.

  “What do you know?” Hunter eyed her, hoping Yanira would elaborate beyond the stingy comment.

  “Kenneth Reid, Joe’s father, and my dad go way back. In fact, Reid Landscaping remodeled my parents’ yard in Lakes Buena Vista.”

  “I’m confused.” Hunter frowned. “I thought Joe was overseas then.”

  “Correct.” Yanira smiled. Her teeth sparkled in the sunlight. “Here’s the story. About the same time Joe graduated, Kenneth was diagnosed with cancer. Joe managed the business while his dad went for treatments. When Kenneth recovered, Joe went to Parris Island. Now that Joe is back for good, he’s taken over the business full-time. Clear enough?”

  “I guess.” Hunter squinted one eye.

  Folding her arms over her chest, Yanira leaned on one side of her chair. “What gets you, and every hetero chick I know, is the mystery, the unsolved puzzle.”

  “And the looks.” Soledad piped up. “Let’s not forget the looks.”

  “True.” Yanira no
dded.

  Hunter moved the piece of empanada on the plate, stabbed it with the fork, and popped it in her mouth. Although the pastry had grown cold, it was still delicious. She closed her eyes, enjoying the combination of flavors bursting on her tongue as she chewed and swallowed.

  “The puzzle?” Hunter murmured a moment later, locking her gaze with Yanira’s. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “He’s very private,” Soledad added. “I’m telling you, Joe’s truck is better known than he is.”

  “Yep.” Yanira winked at Soledad, then faced Hunter. “We only see him when he drives that killer Black Ops machine to jobs and errands around town. That’s about it.” Yanira half shrugged. “He spends his free time in Orlando miles away from us. I was surprised to hear he’d gone to Pete’s bar. So you see…”

  “It’s possible I may not see him again.” Hunter released a long sigh as she set her fork down.

  Yanira tucked a misbehaving ebony lock behind her ear. Her expression remained thoughtful. “Sí, nena. It’s very possible.”

  Deflated, Hunter pushed her plate aside. “Ended before it began.”

  The remaining empanada half didn’t look so appetizing anymore.

  Historic Thornton Park was Joe’s favorite Orlando neighborhood. The hour-long trek from St. Cloud didn’t bother him at all. He also didn’t mind reining in the F-150’s high-spirited engine to fifteen miles an hour in order to traverse the area’s iconic brick-paved roads. In his opinion, the strictly enforced ordinance had a nice advantage: the slow pace allowed him to admire the unique blend of stately homes and restored Florida-style bungalows along the way.

  Thornton Park’s close proximity to downtown attracted a good mix of millennials and traditionalists. Despite the proliferation of stylish bistros, boho-chic boutiques, and specialty markets, the residents fiercely hung on to the neighborhood’s historic elegance and grace. He only regretted not ditching the condo on Robinson Street before he left for boot camp and buying here. The fact that Danielle had moved to the heart of this neighborhood pleased him no end.