by Shelly Cruz
“Wow, that’s pretty cool. I can’t wait to hear that.”
“I think so too, although as a kid I hated it because I thought it was so boring.”
We make the rounds saying hello to all the family, and I introduce Massimo to everyone. My aunts all fawn over him, saying he’s so handsome, squeezing his cheeks, touching his arms, “Que guapo, guao” or “Que lindo nene.” It’s a little embarrassing, but he’s such a good sport about it.
“You seem to be a big hit with my aunts.”
“I’m a charmer—what can I say?” His shoulders shake in quiet laughter. We stop when we see my parents in the far corner of the kitchen, my father with a beer in hand, and my mother sitting and talking to one of my aunts.
“Hello, Mr. Lopez,” Massimo says, extending his hand to greet my father. “It’s good to see you again.”
Last month we had Thanksgiving at my house, which is when he met my parents and siblings for the first time. I was more nervous than he was about it, worried that they’d grill him or make him feel uncomfortable. But I worried for nothing because Massimo immediately felt comfortable, fit right in with my family, and spent most of the night talking with my brother and father about cars and football.
“Please, call me Hugo. Good to see you too,” my father responds and hugs me, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Hola, Nena.”
“Hi, Papi,” I say, before bending to kiss my mother. “Hi, Mami.” Massimo is right behind me doing the same.
“Hi, Mrs. Lopez.”
“Nene, mi nombre es Blanca. You call me that, okay?” she declares, more than asks, and places her palm on his cheek, patting it gently.
“Okay, Mrs.—I mean Blanca.” He smiles at her, and my heart constricts seeing his interaction with my mother. My parents asking to be called by their first names is their way of letting Massimo know that they like him. I had introduced Stefano to them, but they didn’t warm up to him as they have with Massimo. It’s funny how we see things so clearly in hindsight.
“Okay, let’s go eat,” I say. “I wait for this night every year because all my aunts make their best dishes, and I overeat—like a lot! It’s all so good, so I hope you’re hungry.”
There are so many food choices that I make sure to load up both of our plates with my favorites, arroz con gandules, pernil, yuca con mojo, maduros. Before sitting, I grab a malta from the fridge, and we sit down with one of my cousins, Felix. We don’t see each other often, mostly at the family events throughout the year and always on Noche Buena. Turns out Felix and Massimo have some friends in common because Felix is a DJ around the city, and Massimo is well-known in the restaurant/club circuit.
When we finish eating, we go into the cellar, where it’s an open space for everyone to dance. It looks the same as when I was growing up. The walls are wood paneling from floor to ceiling, the floor is a dark gray concrete, and there’s a wooden bar in the back-right corner. The congo drums are along the back wall, and there are a few folding tables and chairs opened up around the perimeter. In a few hours, nearly everyone will be down here singing and dancing, and it’ll be as packed as any nightclub.
We gravitate to the left side of the room where it’s less crowded. From here, I can point everyone out as a way for him to know who everyone is. One of my cousins is to our right with her three kids settling a fight between them, the youngest of the kids crying over whatever happened.
“Do you want kids?” Massimo asks me.
I look at him, adjusting the frames on my face. “Um, yeah, I do.”
“Doesn’t sound very convincing,” he responds, raising an eyebrow.
“You just caught me off guard is all. I wasn’t expecting that question.”
“With so many kids around, it just popped in my head. Figured I’d ask.” He shrugs before pushing back the curls falling over my left eye.
I continue scanning the room. “That’s Felix’s wife in the orange shirt,” I say, pointing across the room to my left. “And their two daughters, the youngest one is adopted. She became part of the family when she was six because her parents were drug addicts.”
“She’s lucky she found a family. Adoption isn’t for everyone.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Not everyone is open to adopting a strange kid into their family.”
I give my glasses another nudge. “That sounds kinda heartless.”
“I’m not trying to sound that way. Just saying that it’s not for everyone.”
“Would you adopt if you had the opportunity?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I want my own biological kids.”
“Nena.” My father interrupts us, and I’m glad for it. That conversation with Massimo was awkward and uncomfortable, and we’re not in the place to have that discussion. “Vamos a bailar.”
Felix is at the DJ table he set up and Los Hermanos Rosario’s “La Dueña del Swing” starts playing, which is one of my dad’s favorite songs. He grasps my hand and starts pulling me toward the center of the floor to dance, something he’s done since I was little. I learned to dance with him from a young age by placing my feet on his while he carried me around the dance floor. As I grew, we would always dance merengue and salsa at all of the family parties.
“I’ll be back,” I say to Massimo. “Watch and learn so we can dance later.”
My father and I dance among the others—aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, all crowded together, shaking our hips as we spin and twirl. I see Massimo off to the side, watching us with mischief in his eyes. No doubt he’s enjoying watching me shimmy my hips. When the song finishes, I go see Felix and ask him to play Marc Anthony’s “Nadie Como Ella” before walking over to Massimo.
“You and your dad dance really well.”
“He’s my favorite dance partner,” I admit.
“Daddy’s girl,” he says, rubbing his thumb across my beauty mark. “I can see it all over his face.”
“Yeah, my brothers and sisters rag on me all the time. Tell me that because I’m the baby, I have it easy, and my parents treat me differently.” I shrug.
When the Marc Anthony song begins playing, I grab his hand. “Come on. I asked Felix to play this so we can dance. It’s a good song for you to learn how to salsa.”
“I can’t watch you shake those hips if we dance,” he whispers into my ear.
“No, but you can get away with having your hands all over me in the presence of my entire family.”
“When you say it like that, I’m down, but go easy on me because I’ve never danced to this music.”
Dancing with Massimo is more like counting steps, which is expected, considering it’s his first time. But it doesn’t matter—he’s indulging me, smiling, and moving energetically to the beat of the music. And if he’s uncomfortable, he hides it well. Besides, he’s enjoying being handsy with me.
“I’m terrible at this salsa thing,” he says, laughing.
“Yeah, you are. But it’s okay; you’ll learn the more you do it.” I look into his eyes, hoping he can see that mine are telling him I want him to stick around.
CHAPTER 7
Loyalty
MASSIMO
Two Months Later
“HAVE YOU THOUGHT ANY more about coming to work at my place?” I ask Lena as we back out of her driveway. We spent the night here last night because we were at her brother’s house in Newton until late. We’re driving into the city to my apartment so I can get dressed because we’re going out to dinner later for my birthday, which was earlier this week. Stella and Lena wanted to do something more elaborate since I turned thirty, but I asked them to please not make a big deal of it. We compromised and decided to have dinner with my parents, siblings, and some of the guys.
“I think it would be weird,” she proclaims. “You’d be my boss. I don’t know how I feel about that.”
“Well, yes, but it wouldn’t be like that. You know we’re starting to talk about opening the second restaurant. Hopefu
lly, by the end of this year, we can find a location for it and have it open next summer. I want you to be the bar manager for both.”
“I’d still be working for you.”
“Technically, yes, but I see it more as you’d be working with me. I want you to run both of them with me. Create signature drinks, train staff. That kind of stuff.”
“I do like the idea of that. But I’ve also been thinking about my future. Do I really want to bartend for the long haul?”
“What are you thinking about doing?”
“Not sure, really. As a kid, I always thought I’d be a lawyer. Some days I think I want to go back to school. Other days, not so much,” she says, turning away from me, staring out the window as she twirls one of her ringlets with her left hand.
“That’s incredible, Lena. I can see you doing that. Then we’d have a lawyer in the family.” She glances over at me and raises an eyebrow at my proclamation. Lena is observant and intuitive, reserved yet feisty, passionate, and persistent. I can totally see her being a lawyer.
“Tell me more about why you’re thinking about law school.”
“I remember growing up, my parents needed a lawyer, and he came to the house. I was twelve, and I had to translate for them to help them understand. I was so entranced by him. He sounded really smart. I asked him if he liked being a lawyer, and he told me he did. When I asked him why, he said he learned something new every day because the law lives and breathes, which makes it ever-changing. I never forgot that. Ever since then, law school is an idea that has lived in the back of my mind.” Lena’s eyes are upturned to match her grin.
“I never would’ve thought of the law like that. That’s a pretty cool way to see it.”
“That’s why it stuck with me. Anyway, I’d have to take the LSAT and apply, so we’ll see.” She lifts her shoulder in uncertainty. “I have to be mentally prepared to do it, really want it; otherwise, I’ll be miserable.”
“Think about it. If you decide to work with me and eventually go to law school, we’ll make it work. You know I’ll support you.”
“You just want the pleasure of saying you’re my boss.” She smacks my leg and giggles.
“I do like to boss you around!” I wink at her and grasp her hand, curling my fingers with hers.
“Happy Birthday, Massimo!” Everyone says in unison after I blow out the candles on the cake.
Dinner is at my friend’s restaurant in the North End. He recently hired a pastry chef from Italy, who has been getting praise for the outstanding desserts offered. The cake he made for me was ridiculously good, with layered strawberries and cream. Later tonight, we’re going to a club because Lena and Stella said they feel like going dancing. I’m not much into clubs anymore, but I have a hard time saying no to my girls.
When we’re ready to leave the restaurant, Rocco drives our parents home even though it’s just a few blocks away. It’s twenty-two degrees outside and windy, so Lena and Stella stay behind while I get the Jeep. We’ll pick Rocco up and drive over to Element, the city’s hottest nightclub. Dom, Nick, Benny, and his girl will meet us at the club.
Rocco’s friend is the manager at Element, thankfully, because the line stretches down the block when we arrive. It’s shocking to see some of the women waiting in line with no jackets, short skirts, and open shoes as if it were the middle of summer.
Once inside, we check our coats and take the stairs up to the fourth floor, which is the main floor of the club. Element is actually a restaurant and club, with the first three floors being dining rooms and the top two being the nightclub. The fifth floor overlooks the fourth-floor bar and dance area, so the space up there tends to be more crowded. The DJ booth is perched in a private balcony overlooking the entire club. Tonight, she has the crowd going wild with electronic music pumping through the speakers.
The place is packed, bodies one next to the other as we shoulder our way through the throngs of people toward the bar. As I part the crowd, I have Lena’s hand grasped firmly in mine; behind her are Stella and Rocco. Lena is looking around for Luci, who said she was meeting us here after she finished work. Since Luci bartends at a few different places around the city, she rarely gets to come out with us, so I was surprised to hear she would be here.
She’ll be meeting my friends for the first time, although she’s met Stella a few times already when Stella has hung out with Lena. Dom and Nick are already at the bar when we get there, and Benny and his girl are off to the side in their own world, dancing.
I’m waiting for the bartender to take my order when I hear Lena greet Luci behind me. Lena’s face lights up now that Luci is here. I order us lemon drop shots because Lena doesn’t like to mix her alcohol, and she’ll only do shots if they’re vodka based.
I gesture for Benny to come over so I can hand out the drinks. “Thank you all for celebrating thirty with me. I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else. Salute!” We raise our glasses and shoot them back.
Lena takes the opportunity to introduce Luci to the guys. Although I can’t really hear what they’re saying over the loud music, I can see it written all over Dom’s face that he’s into Luci. She’s a beautiful girl, so it’s no surprise. He’s gonna be disappointed to find out she’s dating someone.
“Come on, old man. Let’s dance and see those moves,” Lena says, grasping my hand and pulling me toward the dance floor.
She looks sexy as fuck tonight. She’s wearing a black skirt that hugs all her curves and falls above her knees with black tights and knee-high boots. Her red scoop-neck top lets me see the swell of her breasts, and it makes me hard. She has no idea how sexy she is. She’s modest in comparison to how most women dress, rarely showing skin. But that’s one of the things I love about her. My imagination runs wild thinking about what’s underneath her clothes, even though I already know—and it’s all mine!
The electric beats cause our bodies to move in unison, her back to my front, and I grasp onto her rounded hips, squeezing and hugging her so she can feel my hard-on. I push her curls back from her shoulder, exposing her sweat-sheened neck, and drop kisses there, inhaling her coconut scent. Lena lifts her hands, wrapping them around my neck, pulling my face toward hers in search of my lips. When our mouths collide, she turns into me, deepening our kiss.
Lena brings her lips to my ear and whispers, “Happy Birthday, Massimo. I’ll give you the rest of your gift later when we’re home, and it’s just you and me.” Her breath is hot, her voice sultry, and I feel my dick straining inside my jeans. She’s rubbing her nose against mine and licking her lips that are covered in dark red lipstick. Lipstick that accentuates her full lips and makes me want to fuck her mouth.
“The only gift I ever want.”
“Don’t I know it,” she responds before eagerly kissing me. Her lips are fiery, and she shoves her tongue into my mouth, caressing my teeth.
She breaks away from me, saying, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom—gotta pee, and my glasses are all dirty.”
“Okay. Take Luci or Stella with you,” I say, my breathing still heavy. We start making our way back toward where the others are still by the bar, drinking and swaying to the music, the bulge in my jeans making it uncomfortable to walk. Thankfully it’s dark and crowded in here. Dom and Luci are off to the side, trying to have a conversation, so Lena grabs Stella and heads toward the bathroom.
I order a tall glass of ice water from the bartender. No more drinks for me since I have to drive later. At that moment, Rocco squeezes in next to me and starts telling me that he was talking to his friend about our next restaurant and what they were discussing. He set a meeting for us for next week where we can sit down to talk business without all the noise around us.
“Will you order me another drink?” Stella asks.
“Where’s Lena?” I respond, glancing over Stella’s shoulder.
“She stopped back there to talk to someone,” she answers, pointing toward the bathroom.
I push past her and rush toward the bathroom when I s
pot her talking to Stefano. His hand is grasping her left arm firmly, and she’s trying to push it off of her. From this angle, I can’t tell if she looks scared or upset.
I keep forcing my way through the crowd to get closer, and when I reach her, I clench his wrist, shoving it away from her. “Get your fucking hands off her!”
“Massimo, it’s okay. I’m handling it,” Lena says, laying her hand on my arm in an attempt to calm me down.
“So it’s true, you are with this tool. I had heard you two were dating but didn’t actually think you’d go out with him,” he says to Lena while looking at me.
“Stefano, I see you haven’t changed. You’re still an asshole. Come on, Massimo, let’s go,” Lena says, as she’s pulling my arm, but I’m not moving. I want to rip this douchebag’s face off for putting his hands on my girl and for talking smack.
“That’s right! Let your girl save you. You’ve always been a pussy,” he says, a sneer rolling off his tongue. Rage overtakes me, and I yank my arm away from Lena. She must pick up on my anger because before I know it, she’s standing between Stefano and me.
“Lena, move!”
“No. Massimo, let’s go.” Her arms stretch out to rest on my chest. Her eyes are searching for mine, but my blood is boiling, and all I see is my fist breaking this asshole’s nose. “I want to go home. Let’s leave.”
“Lena, fucking move. NOW!”
She flinches.
“Okay. I am moving,” she says, taking a step back, “but I’m walking to the door and leaving. So, you better come with me because I’m going home.”
She’s stoic in her words, but all I want to do is punch Stefano’s face in. She stares into my eyes before turning her back to me and leaving. Fuck!
When I look back to where Stefano is standing, he’s no longer there, and the people around me are all staring.
“What happened?” Stella asks, approaching me from behind.
Without looking at her, I respond, “Go get Luci, tell her we’re leaving.” I shove my way through the crowd, and when I get to the stairs, I take them down two at a time. Lena is on the stairs on the second floor, waiting for me, and her eyes are turbulent behind her wire frames.