Rush

by Beth Yarnall

  His grandmother gave her daughter a disapproving look, then turned to Mi, examining her head to toe. “You are not Latina.” Her tone did more than suggest that this was not a good thing.

  Mi would have answered, but Lucas beat her to it “No, Abuelita. She’s not.” He sounded weary as if this was a long-standing argument in which there would never be a resolution.

  “Mario Ortiz’s daughter is in town. You remember her, pretty girl, nice broad hips for lots of babies. She asked about you. I’ll phone her and have her join us for coffee and dessert.”

  “Do that and we won’t stay past the first course,” Lucas replied with a challenge in his voice that matched the look on his face.

  His grandmother reached up and patted him on the chest, which was as far up as she could. Pride showed on her face, softening her words. “So much machismo just like your abuelo. God rest his soul.” She crossed herself in the Catholic tradition, kissing the locket around her neck as a finale.

  “What do you do for a living… Mi, is it?” Elisa asked. Lucas looked at her with a mixture of relief and gratitude for the subject change.

  “Yes, I prefer Mi.” And here’s where it got tricky, Mi thought. People were either repulsed or fascinated by her job. “I’m the host of a shopping show on TSN.”

  “Oh, I love the Television Shopping Network!” And then recognition dawned on Elisa’s face. She gave Lucas a knowing smile and wink, which was quickly replaced by a look of distress. “Oh lord, that’s the show that got blown up.”

  Carmen, silent until now, spoke with a soft voice contradictory to her extraordinary height. “It was on the news and the paper this morning.” She looked to her mother. “You remember.” Her lips twisted into a smirk. “The show that sells sex toys?”

  “Carmen,” their grandmother scolded. “Watch your language in my house.” Then she turned her dark, wrinkly eyes on Mi, slicing her to ribbons with her laser stare. “Lucas, explain.”

  Lucas went into a brief explanation of what had been happening at the studio, leaving out the part about his being Mi’s bodyguard. Mi tried not to stare at the carpet, keeping her gaze on Lucas, but with four sets of Vega eyes fixed on her this was not an easy task. The air in the room seemed to thicken with condemnation. Mi tried not to twitch under the pressure, listening to Lucas as though her existence depended on it. And it probably did.

  When Lucas finished, his grandmother burst into a flurry of Spanish aimed at him. Mi bit her lip. It seemed disapproval was a universal language.

  Elisa used the distraction to sidle up to Mi. Putting a hand on Mi’s arm, she leaned in to whisper in her ear. “So, do you get a discount?”

  “Mostly I get them for free,” Mi whispered back.

  “I think you and I are going to be great friends.” She linked her arm through Mi’s and steered her out of the room. As soon as the door closed behind them, Elisa let out a deep breath. “Once she gets going, it never stops. You’re lucky not to know any Spanish. Come outside with me.” She went on ahead, leaving Mi to catch up.

  Mi followed Elisa out to a covered patio, where Elisa leaned against a railing. She pulled a packet of cigarettes out of her pocket and offered one to Mi.

  “No, thanks,” Mi said.

  Elisa lit one up and inhaled, then blew a stream of smoke over her shoulder. She crossed an arm over her middle and propped her elbow on it, holding her cigarette up. “I love your show. You’re so good, you make me want to buy everything. Except those things guys use to get off, of course.”

  She took another puff off her cigarette. “So how did you two really meet? Because I know Lucas, and he’s more straight-laced than Abuelita. I can’t believe he’d go after someone like you. No offense, I think you’re fantastic, but it’s a wonder he can walk with that stick up his ass.”

  Mi laughed and it felt good. She liked Elisa a lot, but didn’t quite feel comfortable enough to fill in the gaps Lucas had intentionally left blank. “We met on the set of the show as Lucas said.”

  “Well then how… oh, right. Cal. Mmm, that is one sexy cowboy.” Elisa’s opinion didn’t seem to need Mi’s agreement, because she plowed on ahead with the conversation without her. “She could be at it for hours in there. Much is expected of Lucas, as I’m sure he’s already told you. Being the heir and all. And at the top of the list is his marrying a woman of Mexican descent to continue the Vega line.”

  Elisa took a hit off her cigarette, trailing the smoke out slowly, then gestured toward the house. “Ignore Carmen, she wishes she was born a boy so she could’ve inherited in his place instead of being Lucas’s stand-in. But then she would’ve had to spend hours in Abuelo’s study learning how to run the family business and wouldn’t have had time to read.” She put a hand over mouth and stage whispered, “Romance novels.” She laughed. “Carmen tries to hide them, but I know and now you know—” She gave Mi a conspirator wink. “—that she likes bodice rippers, the steamier the better.” She flicked her cigarette over the railing. “But then so do I. I sneak them from her when she’s not looking.”

  Mi smiled. “I like them, too.”

  Elisa smiled back. “I just knew when I saw you, we were destined to be friends. You’re much better than that bitch, Vanessa. Prettier too. Who does your hair? I love the highlights.”

  Mi put a hand up to her hair. “Oh, they’re natural.”

  “That’s it. The friendship is off. You cannot have prettier hair than me. I won’t allow it.”

  “Yeah, but look at your legs, they go up to my chin. I’d love to be tall and long legged like you.”

  “Okay, friendship’s back on.” Elisa moved to the patio door. “Let’s go see if there’s anything left of Lucas. Poor boy.”

  Mi followed her back through the house. Elisa stopped at a table and opened a drawer, pulling out breath mints and a small bottle of perfume. She popped a couple of mints, offering the tin to Mi, then gave herself a spritz of perfume. “Ssh, I’m a secret smoker.”

  “I won’t tell.”

  “Goes with being the gad-about youngest daughter. I’m thirty-two, only a year and a half older than Lucas, but mentally he’s at least ten years older. Abuelo made an old man out of him. In a way I feel sorry for Lucas, being the only boy under Abuelo’s constant scrutiny. He was a… hard man. So cold. He didn’t have any use for me, thank God, so he left me alone.”

  They stopped at the doors to the Rose Room. Elisa put her ear to the panel. “I don’t think she’s done with him yet,” she whispered.

  Carla appeared. “Dinner’s ready, Miss Vega. Would you like me to announce?”

  Elisa waved a hand. “No, thank you, Carla. I’ll do it.” She waited for Carla to leave. “Watch this,” she said to Mi, then threw the doors open dramatically. “Dinner is served,” she announced in a heavy British accent, finishing with a deep bow.

  “Elisa Maria Guadalupe Vega!” their mother gasped out. “You were raised better than that.”

  “Sorry, Mami.” Elisa didn’t sound very sorry.

  Mi met Lucas’s gaze. He held out his hand to her. She went to his side, noting the sharp look his grandmother gave her. Mi guessed Lucas hadn’t been successful at bringing her around to Mi’s side. He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and led her into the dining room, leaving his family to follow in their wake.

  He leaned down so Mi could hear him. “Are you all right?”

  “I am. Are you?”

  “I’m really sorry. I wasn’t expecting this reaction. She’s not normally like this, so… insistent. And rude.”

  Mi waved off his comment even though she had felt the sting of his grandmother’s disapproval quite keenly. “She loves you.”

  He gave her a pirate’s grin that sent a delicious flush of heat straight through her. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

  The dining room was unbelievable, like something off a movie set for a nighttime soap opera. More glitter and sparkle to reflect the light that illuminated several portraits along the walls. Lucas dire
cted Mi to a seat next to the one he took at the head of the table. He waited for everyone to sit before being seated himself.

  Mi’s eye was drawn to the portrait on the wall directly behind Lucas’s chair. It was a full body portrait of a man in his mid-forties dressed in clothing from another era. The hair was in a style of the same time, but the face! Mi’s gaze bounced from the portrait to Lucas and back again. The resemblance was striking, so much so goose bumps scattered over Mi’s skin and a chill raced up her spine. The face was the same, and yet not.

  “My late husband, Joaquin Vega,” Lucas’s grandmother said. “God rest his soul.” She crossed herself and kissed her locket. She beamed at Lucas with a grandmother’s pride. “My grandson is his image, don’t you think? He’ll carry on the Vega legacy.” She pinned Mi with her sharp gaze. “Family is all there is.”

  Mi found herself agreeing with the older woman. Family was important. What Mi had done, what she continued to do for her own family, was not all that dissimilar to what this grandmother wanted for her only grandson. Mi nodded along. “Family is very important to me, too.”

  “Then we’re in agreement.” Lucas’s grandmother turned away from Mi as if dismissing her and fixed her stare on her grandson. “Carmen will set aside time this week to bring you up to date with the business. She’s done an adequate job, but now that you’re home and healed, it’s time you took over.” She sliced a bite off her steak and looked down the table at Lucas’s sister. “Carmen, you will have Mr. Cervantes prepare the necessary paperwork for the transfer to Lucas.”

  Carmen bowed her head, clearly unhappy about being swept aside by her younger brother. “Yes, Abuelita.”

  “Don’t bother, Carmen. I won’t be able to make that appointment.” Lucas put a bite of steak in his mouth and chewed, seemingly unaffected by his grandmother’s machinations, but Mi knew better. The strain weighed down his shoulders as if he carried an elephant piggyback. Her heart went out to him. She reached out for him under the table and found his hand clenched in a fist on his knee.

  Lucas’s mother pushed her food around her plate, looking like she hoped the floor would rise up and swallow her. Elisa went about eating her dinner completely unfazed by what was happening around her. Carmen gave Lucas an unhappy look laced heavily with unmistakable envy.

  “You were raised to lead this family and our business,” his grandmother pressed on, her tone turning ugly. “Does honor and duty mean nothing to you?”

  “You have no idea what honor and duty mean to me. As a sailor, men, good men, lived and died everyday around me bound by nothing more than honor and duty.” He lowered his voice so that only those sitting next to him—Mi and his grandmother—could hear. “Be very careful about how far you pursue this, Abuelita.”

  The older woman sucked in a breath, then spoke low in rapid-fire Spanish, her tiny hand clamped to Lucas’s forearm.

  Mi’s gaze went again to the portrait. Was this the legacy the old man had intended for his family? The astonishing likeness hit her anew. This was what Lucas would look like in middle age. Already threads of gray wove through his dark hair. The lines of a life well lived were only just beginning to show on Lucas and would only etch deeper as the years passed. As Mi studied the portrait more intently she could easily pick out the differences between Lucas and his grandfather.

  Lucas’s face reflected a humanity and resilience the portrait’s lacked. The lines in the portrait’s face had taken completely different tracks than Lucas’s had, having been carved—Mi suspected—by cruelty. The look in the eyes told her as much. And then Lucas’s words came back to her The day they put Abuelo in the ground was one of the happiest days of my life. What had Elisa said about this man? He was a… hard man. So cold.

  Mi bit her lip and stared at her untouched plate. Lucas had responsibilities Mi could never be a part of. He’d been groomed to take over as head of the family and business, and to carry on the Vega name with a woman who was a part of his culture, his heritage. Whatever tiny fantasies Mi might have harbored for a future with Lucas died a swift, brutal death. Maybe it was just as well. Her family life was no less complicated, no less of an obligation than his. Their lives were as mismatched as her thrift store dishes and the Vega fine china set on the same table.

  Mi pulled her hand from Lucas’s, ignoring his quick glance at her, and went through the motions of eating her dinner. For all she could taste, the food might have been made of sawdust and glue. She kept her head down and her mouth shut.

  Lucas spat out a few curt sentences to his grandmother in Spanish, ending her rant. Mi could feel the older woman’s gaze boring into the top of her head. Whatever Lucas had said to his grandmother sent a rippling of surprise through the other diners. Four heads swiveled at once in her direction. Mi caught Elisa’s smile and nod of approval for Lucas. Then, bless her, Elisa launched into detail about her upcoming trip to Europe, stealing everyone’s attention.

  The conversation flowed in a new direction, but Lucas found himself unable to focus. He’d made a terrible mistake in bringing Mi here. It seemed as though Abuelita was determined to pick up where her husband had left off. She’d made it clear now that Lucas had been released from the Navy and Vanessa, her mission would be to mold him into the image of his grandfather. But Abuelita was not the tyrant her husband had been and Lucas was no longer the boy who couldn’t fight back against a man who’d used his strength and size as weapon.

  Mi’s silence worried him. He could handle whatever his family threw at him. After all he’d learned to cope at the hands of a man who made his drill sergeant look like a Kindergarten teacher. Mi didn’t deserve the treatment she’d received from his family. So he’d put his foot down. Hard. He hadn’t meant to say those things to Abuelita, hadn’t even known they were in his head. But now that they were out, he couldn’t put the ideas away. And maybe he didn’t want to.

  He put his hand on Mi’s knee, needing that small contact. She glanced at him in surprise, then shifted in her chair so that his hand fell away. As soon as dinner was over they’d leave. He’d apologize for his family and try to explain.

  He looked down the table, catching Elisa’s eye. She flashed him a thumbs-up, giving her approval of Mi, and then she puckered her lips and fluttered her eyelashes, making fun of him. He surreptitiously flipped her the bird. She flashed him a grin in return. God, he’d missed Elisa when he was on deployment. Despite the changes in Abuelita, it really was good to be home.

  *****

  Lucas gave Mi the silence she seemed to need on the drive home. He worried that the things Abuelita had said, her rudeness, had changed something between him and Mi. She’d barely spoken all evening. And now she sat next to him in the truck, stiff and withdrawn, arms crossed over her chest, legs pressed together much like the way she’d been with him when they’d first met. He hated seeing her like that. Hated that because of him she’d closed up, having gone back into exile within herself.

  A sharp pain sliced through his chest, seizing the breath in his lungs. He gripped the wheel harder, trying get a handle on it. The pain morphed to a fist-like ache and then he recognized it for what it was—fear. He wiped the sweat from his upper lip and stole a glance at Mi. She sat unchanged, unaware of his turmoil, staring out into the night. The fear clawed at him, carving hollows in his resolve. He wouldn’t be able to make this up to her. He wouldn’t get her back.

  She’d looked at the portrait of Abuelo, listened to his family’s talk of legacy and inheritance and had come to the same conclusion everyone else did. He was the man his grandfather had made him to be. All of his efforts to fight against it were wasted. He should just take over the company, run it with the same ruthless calculation that flowed from Abuelo’s blood through to his. He’d take a wife with the proper lineage and breeding. Have sons who he’d mold and shape into his image and continue the legacy Abuelo had imagined.

  His flight from Abuelo’s house to the Navy had been a wasted endeavor. Trying to remake himself under the milit
ary’s thumb, had been a futile effort. He’d only exchanged one tyrant for a host of others, one mindset for one that was not all that dissimilar. Why was he fighting it? It would be so much simpler to give in, to allow Abuelo’s lessons to take hold, be the man he was bred to be.

  Dread rode him hard, and he couldn’t round up his thoughts on the way home or during the tense, silent elevator ride up to his apartment. And then the doors opened and they stepped into the living room, surrounded by the things of Mi’s he’d brought here. It seemed like another time, another place that he’d done this. A time when he could reach out and touch the man he wanted to be, could try that costume on and almost feel like maybe he was that man if only for a little while.

  And then he looked at Mi and saw he’d been that man with her. And it wasn’t the caricature he’d assumed it was. It was real. He took a hold of her arms, bringing her around to face him fully. He wanted her to really look at him. Wanted her to tell him what she saw when she looked at him. Wanted know if there was any chance he was the kind of man she’d want, the kind of man she could need.

  But she stared up at him with huge, blank eyes as though the part of her that had laughed and teased, loved and fought with him had died. A new kind of terror struck him, bringing with it anger and an eerie out of body calm.

  “He beat me.” The words were out before he could call them back. Not that he would. He had nothing to lose. No reason to care. “I was made to kneel for hours at the side of his desk while he worked. If I moved he hit me. If Abuelita or my mother tried to intervene he hit me.”

  His breath came in harsh bursts and he knew his fingers dug too deep, but he couldn’t let her go, couldn’t stop now that he’d started. “He used his power and size as a weapon to hurt and intimidate. He wielded it often and mercilessly. He was a monster. And he made me one, too.

  “I laughed.” His voice cracked, his big body shaking so hard, Mi trembled with him. For the first time she was afraid of him and afraid for him.