Catch Me in Castile

by Kimberley Troutte

  “I don’t know what you mean.” I gave her my best coy smile. “Have you seen Maria this morning?”

  “She is reading on de veranda.”

  Uh-oh.

  The table and chairs had been put back in their proper places. All the dishes, silverware and even crumbs had been removed. It was as if nothing clandestine had happened the night before. As if I hadn’t lied to her.

  “Morning,” I said, all sunshine and roses. “How are you today?”

  Maria reclined on a lounge chair under a large umbrella. She didn’t bother to pull her nose out of the book she was reading.

  “Someone called.” I plunked down on the lounge chair next to hers.

  “I let it go on the machine. I’m in no mood to chitchat this morning.” She waved her hand in a flicking-a-fly gesture.

  “It was some guy. Martin?” I cocked my head at her.

  “I especially don’t want to talk to Martin.”

  “Don’t blame you. He sounded a bit prima donna-ish.”

  She glared. “I don’t want to talk about him either.”

  “Oh.” I pretended I hadn’t heard the bite in her tone. “I’m off to stretch my legs. Care to take a walk around town with me?”

  “Not really.” She turned a page in her book.

  I frowned. So that’s how it is going to be? “You sure? We can stop for some jamón serrano. I’m buying.”

  “Not this time.” Little circles of red bloomed on her cheeks.

  “Maria, you seem a little peeved. Can we talk about…things?”

  I wasn’t thrilled to see the sadness in her eyes. “I’m not peeved, I’m hurt. You could have told me you had a date with my brother. I hoped you two would hit it off. I mean, you’re only staying for a few weeks, but I thought a little fun would do you both some good.”

  I was a steaming pile of manure. “I’m sorry.”

  I expected her to say, “Yes, yes you are,” in her joking voice. What she said was far worse.

  “Why do you do that? Keeping Jack a secret from me really hurt. Friends are supposed to share.”

  “I didn’t mean to hide anything from you. I was…” ashamed? guilty? stupid? “…wrong. I wanted to tell you about Jack.”

  She waved the book through the air, shooing away the idea. “Before, or after it was all over?”

  “Before. I just couldn’t.”

  “Couldn’t what? Trust me?”

  “I trust you.”

  “Really? Why don’t you tell me about the car?” She crossed her arms. “The one you let everyone believe had an accelerator problem.”

  I stopped breathing.

  “It didn’t really malfunction, did it?”

  Panic whooshed down on me like a falcon smelling the blood of its prey, picking and slashing my thoughts with its sharp talons.

  “You had every intention of smashing the car full speed into the building. So what was that, Erin? A death wish?”

  “No, I…I…” The hand of terror crushed my windpipe, cutting off my words.

  Her voice was low. “Did you want to kill someone? Everyone?”

  My heart constricted. The world closed in around me. “No. No, I don’t…I didn’t mean for any of it to happen. I…” was confused, hurt, scared, “…lost my mind.”

  “Because of the drugs? Don’t look so surprised. I saw your supply in the bathroom drawer. Sleeping pills, antidepressants, muscle relaxants, anything else?”

  I made a strange garbled noise, which in no way resembling human speech.

  “Are you hooked on anything else?” she repeated firmly.

  I shook my head.

  She wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “Aw, Erin, why didn’t you tell me? I can help you. I know good doctors and an unbelievable therapist in Los Angeles. We’ve got to get you clean before you get behind the wheel again.”

  My insides tore apart. Sweat poured down my cheeks, mixing with the tears. I covered my face with my hands and rocked forward, my forehead touching the lounge chair. “Oh God!” I cried out again. “It’s all true.”

  She rubbed my back. “It’s okay. Shhhh, you’re all right. Breathe, Erin, breathe.”

  I was back inside the Buick again. “I barely remember starting the car. I was overcome with this—” I flapped my hands, “—blinding rage.”

  “I know.” She rubbed circles on my back.

  “What if I had… I could have…run over someone.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “I was out of my mind.”

  “Yes.”

  “I crashed the car into the posts at full speed. No sane woman would do that.”

  “No.” She chuckled. “Quite a few of us were glad you did.”

  I blinked at her. “Huh?”

  “DH&L was loaded with corrupt, evil men. You were our Great Female Leader. We were all pulling for you, even the scary chick in Accounting. You are our hero, Erin.”

  “I don’t…understand.”

  “If you couldn’t make partner, which, face it, wasn’t going to happen after you professed undying love to Jack…” She made a face and patted my back sympathetically. “If you didn’t make it to the top, then by God, creaming the building with their Buick was simply brilliant. You went down in flames. Great, big, beautiful flames. But you kept the power and showed them good. Now they’ll be more careful to treat women with respect. You paved the way.”

  I shook my head. “I went nuts.”

  “Over the top, sure, but you should be proud of the effort you expended for that place. You gave it your all. Every last sleepless night.”

  I frowned. She couldn’t possibly know about what really kept me up at night. “I made monumental mistakes. They’ll haul me off to jail once the investigators figure out what happened.”

  “Nu-uh.” Her smile was huge. “It’s over. They’re not pressing charges. I’ve kept my feelers out over there, listening in on the company meetings.” She shook her head at the look on my face. “Don’t you know the first rule in business? It always pays to make nice with the administrative assistants. The partners know the truth and they’re letting it go.”

  “Why would they?”

  “Fear, my friend, is a powerful motivator. The partners are afraid you’ll countersue. You know, Mr. Big Shot overstepping his bounds with his employee, demanding sex for favors, in the office no less, and then giving the position to a far-less-qualified man. You would win. No question. The board of directors would be forced to fire everything in pants and you’d end up the only partner left. No, DH&L can’t afford to let your story leak out. The insurance company has already provided a brand new Buick for some other chump to drive.”

  I blinked at her, letting her words sink in.

  “It’s over,” she repeated. “Put it behind you.”

  “You knew what really happened?” I faced her. “All along?”

  “Not all of it. I wanted you to come to terms with it on your own. You needed time. But I’ve grown tired of watching you punish yourself. We all make mistakes, Erin. Believe me, some of them more monumental than others. You’ve got to face life openly, honestly.”

  “I am—” hiccup, “—trying.”

  “Yes.” She smiled lovingly. “I can see you are.”

  “I…am so…sorry.”

  She patted my head. “You don’t need to be. We are friends, are we not?”

  “The best.”

  “You relax, I’ll get you something for those hiccups.”

  I slumped back into the lounge chair, heavy and hard. I was exhausted. Emotionally spent. It was good to finally release the pressure squeezing my heart. Things would be better now. I could move on.

  “Oh, and Erin, there’s one more thing I need you to do.” She stopped with her hand on the handle of the sliding glass door.

  “Sure, Maria.” Hiccup. “Name it.”

  “Stay away from my brother.”

  “What?” I croaked. “I thought you wanted us to…get to know one another.”

&n
bsp; “I did, when it was all fun and games. Now I realize you are in the delicate process of inventing yourself. I’ve been there. I know how hard it is.”

  “No, you don’t understand—”

  “Listen, Erin, I’ll help you in any way you need me to. But Santiago has enough problems right now. He needs fun, hot sex, no emotional ties. It’s best if you stay away from him.”

  She closed the door, apparently not hearing my response. “What if I can’t?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Here, drink.” Maria returned with a mug. “Rosa says she made this tea special for you.”

  I drank it all, drowning the hiccups and wishing I could wash away Maria’s words. It killed me that Maria thought I wasn’t good enough for her brother. Her statement had stolen a little chunk out of my heart.

  “I think you should take that walk. Get outside and clear your head.”

  “Let’s talk more when I get back.” I needed to get through to her, explain I wasn’t crazy, or at least not too crazy. Santiago and I were good medicine for each other.

  “Sure. I’ll be here.” Settled back on the lounge chair, she picked up the book. She seemed satisfied, no longer angry.

  I tied my Reeboks and stepped outside into a furnace. The day was getting hotter by the minute. A steady, scorching breeze blew on my body, drying my sweat. Undaunted, I plugged on, down the long driveway overhung by ancient olive trees, trying to bring my heart rate up, burn some calories and leave my past woes behind me. It was time to reinvent Erin Carter in the right image.

  How hard would it be to find a small house in Salamanca? I smiled. It could be done. I had no job or prospects in LA. There wasn’t any real reason to stay, was there? Plus, and it was the big plus, Santiago was in Salamanca. We would put our past problems behind us and move forward. Together.

  A dark car was parked on the road at the bottom of the driveway. The man inside reading a newspaper startled when I walked past his window. He seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place him. He lifted his paper higher to block his face.

  Turning onto the main road, I tried to pick up speed, but the heat was a beast. I regretted not bringing a water bottle with me. Thoughts of buying a great big one con gas spurred me on.

  My pocket vibrated. “Is this Erin Carter?” I could almost hear the woman’s professional smile.

  “Speaking,” I huffed as I walked up a particularly steep hill.

  “This is Pamela Lansing. How are you today?”

  “Listen, whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying.” I turned the phone over to hit the “off” button. Rich laughter on the other end made me bring it back to my ear.

  “Ms. Carter, someone would have to pay me a million dollars to sell crap by phone. No, I’m a headhunter, and your pretty head—I’ve seen photos—is in great demand.”

  “Huh?”

  “Tell me you haven’t signed a contract with any other firm yet.”

  “Forgive me, Ms.—”

  “Lansing.”

  “Yes. Um, are you sure you’ve got the right girl?”

  “Stockbroker extraordinaire for the folks at Warner Brothers, Sony, DreamWorks? Let’s see.” She ruffled through some papers. “A three-bedroom apartment in Palm Grove, speedwalks down Wilshire. Am I warm?”

  “Jeez, who are you?”

  “Pamela Lansing, Headhunter extraordinaire.” She laughed. “My clients know a lot about you.”

  “This firm, does it have a name?”

  “Not so fast. I can’t divulge that information until we come to an agreement of sorts.” Papers ruffled again all the way across the world. I imagined she was staring at my headshot. “So, you didn’t answer the most important question. Have you signed on with another firm yet?”

  I had to cover my mouth to keep the snort from escaping. “Ah, no. Not yet. You know those client lists belong to the firm, not the stockbroker.”

  “Of course the firm owns the lists. But we both know at least half the clients will jump ship of their own accord and follow you to our side. Probably more. I’ve checked around. Your clients worship you like a goddess, Ms. Carter.”

  I stopped walking. I didn’t ask how she knew so much about my confidential client list or dispute her logic. Many of my past clients would follow me, if the firm proved to be a good one.

  As if reading my mind, she said, “This firm is reputable. And that being said, you probably can guess who my clients are.”

  “Baker, Lynn and Taylor.” The enemy. Up until the day I quit.

  “Can I set up the meeting for tomorrow afternoon?” She pushed.

  “Sorry. I’m out of the country.”

  “Lovely. How much distance did you have to put between yourself and those assholes?”

  That time I did snort. “You do get right to the point, Ms. Lansing. I needed a vacation. Badly.”

  “Of course you did. Those old employers of yours need a good ass kicking, or maybe a substantial lawsuit. I can’t imagine why they hadn’t made you partner yet. Smacks of sexism to me. Are you ready to come home?”

  I didn’t answer. Instead I thought about Santiago. And those lips. Oh sweet heaven, those lips.

  “Here’s the deal. My clients want you. A partnership seat will come with this contract.” She heard my gasp. “That’s right. These guys need a fourth partner and love the idea of bringing in the ‘feminine element’. They won’t wait forever, however. How about you take a few more days to sightsee in…?”

  “Spain.”

  “Nice. One more week running with the bulls then come in. Sound good?”

  “It’s rather sudden.”

  “Shouldn’t be. A woman with your talents should be aware of her self-worth and be willing to fight for it.”

  A girl-to-girl slap.

  “So? I’ll set up the meeting for, um, July sixth and call later with the confirmation and directions. And Ms. Carter? Erin—” her voice dropped and for a moment she sounded like a friend, “—this is an offer of a lifetime. Do yourself a favor. Take it.”

  I dropped the cell back into my pocket. Now I had two directions to point my feet—the Spanish road with Santiago by my side, if he’d have me, or the lucrative partnership path I’d always dreamed of.

  I sighed. Fate, life, love rested at the crossroads.

  “And only one week to decide,” I muttered.

  I rounded a corner and found myself at the Plaza Mayor. Waves of steam rose up off the pavement. I kept as best as I could to the shadows alongside the buildings and searched for a place to order a drink. Finding a little café, I wandered in to escape the heat and sat at a table near the window. I downed the first bottle of water in about two seconds and ordered another.

  Across the street was what could only be an apparition. When she tossed her hair over her shoulder, I jumped up from my chair, dropped a wad of bills on the table and ran out. In my rush to catch up, I smacked into a telephone pole. I glanced down fleetingly at the oily black tear in my T-shirt.

  Dang it! My favorite Tommy Hilfiger. Another reason to curse the woman.

  Mindful of the traffic, I crossed the street and tailed her for seven blocks to a tall apartment complex. Inside, the beautifully coifed Helena entered an elevator and told the attendant “once”.

  I gasped.

  Santiago lived in one of the tallest apartment complexes downtown—on the eleventh floor. An apartment, I reminded myself, he had never invited me to.

  Now, I knew why.

  “Excuse me, sir, can you tell me which flat belongs to Doctor Botello?” I asked the elevator attendant in Spanish.

  He pointed to the end apartment. He was too busy closing the doors in my face to hear my “thanks”.

  It wasn’t courage or stupidity making me march myself down the hallway and knock on the door. It was a deep psychological need to see for myself. If he was living with Helena, I had to know.

  “Hello. Can I help you?” Helena asked.

  Rendered speechless, I just stood there staring. Possi
bly even grimacing. Who knows, maybe I snarled.

  “Oh, you are injured. Can I get you a bandage?” she asked.

  I was startled to see dried blood from my run-in with the telephone pole.

  “Bandage?” she asked again.

  I shook my head.

  “Is there something you want?” She tossed her hair from her eyes like a nervous tick. That fiery mane made my blood boil.

  She doesn’t know who I am. She must think I’m a lunatic. And at that moment, I probably was. “I want to speak with Santiago.”

  “I’ll tell him you came by. You are?”

  “A close friend,” I said curtly. “Very close.” We locked eyes. The silent tension hung thickly in the air. My hands clenched. My jaw tightened.

  A light bulb went on. Her persona shape-shifted the moment she figured out who I was. “What’s the message?”

  I could feel the corners of my lips rise. “Tell him we need to discuss Victoria Secret.”

  “Is that some sort of code?”

  “He knows what it means. Intimately.”

  I was down the hall before she could say more. It was good to make my presence known. Really good. I had thrown the gauntlet down at her feet and was willing to fight her for him.

  With each step toward the Botello home, the bravado diminished and doubts began to creep in.

  What if he chose her over me? Nice stable Helena with the tiny waist and perfect hair. Helena, the hospital volunteer, mommy material in the making. Helena, the one who lived here and would probably never leave. Helena, the one in his home, sharing his bed.

  Damn it!

  I stumbled and weaved like a drunkard down the street. Sweat dripped like a faucet down my face. I wiped my eyes with the corner of my shirt and pressed on, finally making it back to the long driveway. The dark car was gone. Heading up the walkway to the front door, my feet were heavy as bricks. The vow I had made myself to straighten things out with Maria seemed impossibly difficult at the moment. What I really needed was something to drink and a cool place to rest.

  I found a cup of lukewarm tea on the table by my bed and drank it greedily. It was sweeter than the last time Rosa made it and had a slight tang, but it was delicious. Rubbing my forehead with the back of my hand, I was surprised to feel so much perspiration.