Acapulco Nights

by K. J. Gillenwater

  The door slid open. Our short trip to the next floor was mercifully over.

  “Hon,” James urged. “The door’s open. Let’s not hold the elevator.”

  My muscles thawed. My feet moved. Joaquin stood so close to me in the cramped elevator that when I exited, my arm brushed against his sleeve.

  I shivered.

  James grasped my elbow and pulled me the rest of the way out of the elevator. As the doors were about to close, Joaquin reached out his hand to hold them open.

  I braced myself for it, the confrontation, the revealing of information James had no idea was coming. I felt sick.

  “You dropped your shoe, querida.” Joaquin held out a red strappy heel. One of a pair I planned on wearing that evening.

  I’m sure I flamed as red as my shoe at the endearment.

  Gingerly, I took the heel from his outstretched hand and squeaked out a thank you. Dumping the shoe unceremoniously into the ice bucket with the rest of my footwear, I turned away from the elevator doors. I couldn’t look at him. Not with James here.

  The doors whooshed shut.

  I let out the breath I had been holding.

  “What does ‘querida’ mean?” James asked. His eyes scanned my face, which was probably still flushed pink.

  “Oh, I guess he was flirting with me.” I hoped he would believe me. Thank goodness James hardly knew a word of Spanish.

  “It was almost as if he knew you.”

  “Hmmm,” I answered noncommittally.

  He looked from me to the closed elevator doors. It only lasted for a moment, but I could sense he had a question in his head. Something didn’t seem right to him.

  I drew his attention to a sign showing the location of our room. “I think we’re down here.”

  I repositioned the ice bucket against my chest. “Do you have the key card?”

  “Yep.”

  “Then let’s go. We’ve got a couple of hours until we’re meeting everyone.”

  “Oh, really?” James asked with a naughty smile on his face.

  “Gee, can you think of anything we can do to pass the time?”

  “I can think of a few things,” he said in a husky whisper, his eyes sweeping my figure.

  I could feel his eyes on me as we strolled down the hall. Absence really did make the heart grow fonder. I grabbed the key card from his hand and slid it through the reader on the doorknob.

  I held the door open for him as he yanked my heavy suitcase into the suite. Kicking the bag out of his way, he shut the door. He came up close to me, a light of desire flickering in his eye. He gently removed the shoe-filled ice bucket from my arms and set it on the floor. Pulling my body toward his with an aching gentleness, he pressed his lips softly to mine.

  “I missed you,” he whispered against my mouth. Then, he trailed kisses down my neck and slipped the strap of my sundress off my shoulder.

  A slow ache built in my chest. I touched his face with my hands and guided his mouth back to mine, needing to feel his sweet kisses again. Everything about his lovemaking was gentle and quiet. He touched me as if I were a bird about to flutter away.

  He reached behind to unzip my dress inch by agonizing inch. His smooth, warm touch slid from my back to my shoulders, down to my waist—as my dress dropped to the floor.

  Goosebumps rose on my arms in the air-conditioned room.

  “Let’s move you to the bed.” He scooped me up in his arms and left my dress behind. The sensitive parts of my almost-nude body brushed against his clothes, and I wished he would rid himself of everything. I pressed myself to him, letting him know by touch alone how much I had missed him.

  He carried me through the living room area, into the bedroom, and laid me gently on the bed. Then, he braced his hands on either side of me, looking down at me with pupils as large as a cat’s. He swept his gaze down the length of my body, over my rounded breasts and down to the jut of my hip. He slid his finger into my panties and drew them down, agonizingly slow. My stomach quivered at the smooth slide of silk down my thighs and the heated warmth of his hands against my skin.

  I felt adored, treasured, loved.

  Kneeling above me on the mattress, he kept his darkened eyes on my now-naked body as he pulled off his shirt and unbuckled his belt. Then, half-dressed, he bent down to bring my nipple into his mouth. A warm swirl of desire rushed through me as he caressed me with his tongue.

  I couldn’t stay still any longer. I reached for the waist of his pants, pulling them down and off. I needed him inside me, I needed him to be part of me.

  As he parted my legs with a slow sensuality, the memory of Joaquin’s hand sliding down my hip, only to stop because of a phone call filled my head. He didn’t stop because of my objections, but because of a phone call. James’s phone call.

  My breath caught in my throat. My limbs tightened. James brought his face up from my breasts.

  He knew. He knew something was different, something was wrong.

  I curled away from him into a ball on the bed. Tears formed in my eyes. The guilt of what I had done was too much to bear. James touched me so sweetly, so kindly. His gentleness pained me. I knew his trust could be easily lost.

  “Suzie?” he asked, pressing his body to my back. Keeping me warm, when I didn’t deserve the warmth he offered. “What’s wrong? Is everything ok?”

  With one quick motion, I wiped a hand across my eyes and then reached for his hand. He let me take it and draw it over my waist. I said nothing. I wanted him close to me.

  He curled up against me. I knew he wanted me to answer him. I imagined the thoughts running through his head. Thoughts of worry and doubt.

  I pulled his hand to my breasts and left it there. He caressed their curved softness, and then he pulled me against him, so I could feel his erection.

  I rolled over on my back and looked into his eyes. Those calm, green eyes that hid nothing.

  “Kiss me.” I strained my head toward his. I wanted him to kiss me hard. I wanted nothing gentle or sweet. I didn’t deserve such gentleness.

  His lips slipped softly over mine, and I pressed hard against his mouth, to show him what I needed from him. But he circled my wrists and pushed my arms against the bed, forcing me to slow down.

  He dragged his mouth away from mine. We were both panting. I arched my body up against his, demanding he continue.

  He let go of my wrists and stared at me, drinking in my naked body. But I saw confusion there, too. I never acted this wild with him. Never this rushed and harsh. We were slow and gentle together like water lapping at the edge of the shore, rushing in and out but always returning, always connecting, never letting go.

  With my hands free, I reached for him. I pulled him back down to me again, and we lost each other in a bruising kiss.

  Darkness slipped in softly while we made love. Its shadows arcing across the bed, where we lay entangled and spent. James combed his fingers through my hair and sighed against my cheek.

  He was content. He was in love.

  I was frightened.

  My heart fluttered against my chest, and I wished that I could still it with a single thought. A single, beautiful thought. James loved me. James loved me. The phrase echoed in my head.

  Then I thought ahead to the party. The meeting with Joaquin. I worried my body would betray me. That James, as he touched my hair, my face, would feel the betrayal in me. One more lie I had to tell, and then it would all be over. After tonight, there would be no more lies.

  James laid his hand over my chest, and we both closed our eyes in exhausted sleep.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Suze, wake up.”

  I stirred in the bed, the sheet tangled around my naked thighs. My mouth had turned chalky and dry. “Hmmm,” I mumbled.

  I dreamed James and I were at home in our little green-and-white house on a Saturday morning. He was going to run out for coffee and muffins like he always did.

  “It’s time to get up for the party.” He shook me by the shoulder
. “Janice will be waiting for us. Remember? We’re meeting her at the pool?”

  I bolted awake. “What time is it?” I rubbed my heavy lids.

  "Six-thirty. We didn't sleep very long."

  I looked over at him, the bedside lamp bright in my unadjusted eyes. He sat at the foot of the bed. "And you're already dressed? You didn't sleep at all," I accused.

  He had donned khaki pants and a loose white linen shirt. Somehow the man who wore chinos, a button-up shirt, and loafers to mow the lawn, knew exactly what to wear to a party in Mexico? He made absolutely no sense. Every day held a new surprise.

  I shook my head at the craziness of it all. The airport, the meeting in the elevator, the rough tumble in bed all mixed together in my head.

  I got up, wrapping myself in the white sheet that had been in an untidy heap at my feet, and headed to the bathroom. "I enter a mess, but will come out a goddess," I announced.

  "You're already a goddess," James said appreciatively from his spot on the bed.

  That's when I noticed my whole back end was exposed to his view. I tugged the sheet around me and laughed. Even in this messed up, upside-down situation, James could make me laugh.

  He peered at his watch. "Countdown t-minus twenty-five minutes and counting."

  "Yes, sir," I giggled, giving him a salute. The sheet slipped down over my naked shoulder.

  I ducked into the bathroom. Seeing my smiling face in the mirror, my hair mussed from lovemaking, I felt a fraud. I was a liar.

  I turned away from the mirror and leaned heavily against the sink, thinking about the night ahead of me. I had to look my best tonight. I didn't want Joaquin accusing me of not playing the role of devoted wife to the hilt. He would get one shot to do whatever it was he wanted to do, and then he would give me what I asked for. He promised me that he would.

  Only a few more hours and the lies would end.

  *

  "Did someone say there’s going to be a party?" announced James when we showed up on the patio.

  The moonlight glittered prettily on the smooth water of the Olympic-sized pool. Tiki torches dotted the patio, their hot orange flames lighting the way to the open bar. Several tables sat to one side covered with trays of appetizers and enormous fruit sculptures crafted from melons, pineapples, and mangoes. Small clusters of hotel guests chatted, and a mariachi band warmed up on a stage near the bar.

  Janice, her lithe body wrapped in a bright blue swath of filmy fabric, held up her margarita glass. “It’s already started.” Wearing black stiletto heels, she towered over her date. But neither seemed to mind.

  George stretched out his hand to James. "Hey, good to see you guys again." He gave James a punishing handshake as evidenced by the wince of pain on James's face.

  A professional white water rafter did not give wimpy handshakes, apparently.

  After exchanging pleasantries, James excused himself from the group to grab us a couple of umbrella-decorated drinks from the bar.

  Janice grabbed my arm, her voice high and shrill with excitement, "Did you get a chance to introduce James to Joaquin yet?"

  My face blanched at the thought. I couldn't even imagine what James would say if I introduced him to the supposed 'stranger' we met in the elevator and nonchalantly mentioned that he used to be my boyfriend. God, and not to mention that he was my damned husband. I found myself in a demented episode of I Love Lucy, but without the laugh track. What I wouldn't give for it all to be over after a couple of rousing songs at the Tropicana Club with Desi and the band.

  Instead, I offered up an excuse, "I haven't seen Joaquin so far. Have you?" I hoped beyond hope Janice hadn't seen him either. I bet on the fact she only had eyes for George tonight.

  "No," Janice said, distractedly.

  George had wrapped his arm around her waist. Janice was on the verge an out-an-out old-fashioned faint. In the last few days she had fallen hard for her Greek rafting god. Behind the fluffy blue dress beat the heart of a practical lawyer, but it was hard to tell when she made cow eyes at her new beau.

  Lucky for me, she was so focused on her date. It would keep me out of her head. Me and Joaquin.

  Later, when I needed to slip away, Janice would be one less person I would have to worry about. Especially now that she had the suite all to herself. In fact, judging by her current behavior, I wouldn't be surprised if she left the party early for a private party of her own with George.

  "Here you go, Suze," James returned with two coconuts filled with some kind of alcoholic drink. He handed me the one with a bright pink umbrella.

  I had a plan—a lousy, horrible plan, but it started with that one drink.

  James wasn't a big fan of alcohol, but tonight he would be. The only way to make sure he wasn't around, wasn't awake, wasn't conscious when I met up with Joaquin later than evening was to make sure he got smashing drunk.

  The mariachi band tuned their instruments, and I settled in for a long evening of pretending to drink, pretending to enjoy the band, pretending to be happy James was here with me.

  “Come on, baby, let’s show off our moves” George pulled Janice into the small crowd of dancers by the pool.

  Janice handed me her margarita. “Just watch what these feet can do!” She disappeared in a swirl of blue fabric.

  “You want to give it try?” James asked me as we watched Janice and George kick up their heels.

  I took a huge gulp of my coconut drink. “With a little bit of liquid courage, anything’s possible.” I let him lead me out into the crowd of dancers.

  *

  "Are you sure you guys are going to be all right?" Janice asked me.

  Several hours and way too many drinks later, James tottered on his feet. His usually neat, light brown hair was mussed and drooping over one eye. He carried his loafers, having removed them to wade in the shallow end of the pool, and the cuffs of his pants flapped wetly against his ankles.

  James leaned heavily on my shoulder, "We're juss perfek, Janny-wanny." He gave a sloppy smile and then kissed me hard on the cheek. "Juss perfek, right babe?"

  James never called me 'babe.'

  I tried my best to keep up the illusion I had gotten as drunk as my date. Most of my drinks I had surreptitiously tossed in potted palms or dumped into James's glass when he wasn't looking.

  I grabbed onto a chair for support and mumbled, "I'm tired." I half-closed my eyes and stumbled a bit.

  Janice bought it, but she was probably almost as drunk as we were. George had helped my plan along considerably by suggesting we do a toast after every song the mariachi band played. By nine-thirty George had begged off the challenge, and James splashed around in the pool.

  The next step in my plan involved helping James up to the suite, pretending to fall asleep, and slipping out the door for my appointment with Joaquin. It would work. I had gotten this far without any trouble. James was falling down drunk. Janice was hanging all over George. It couldn’t be more perfect.

  I tripped over my own feet and held on to James. We were Siamese twins attached at the rib cage. Lumbering into the elevator, I pressed the button for our floor. James chuckled.

  I looked sideways at him through my hair—once elaborately pinned up, but now hanging limply around my face. He had caught sight of our reflection in the shiny gold plating that lined the upper-half of the elevator.

  "Oh, my God," he said, laughing, "I am so wasted, and I'm in Mexico."

  "Trust me," I said, dumping the fake-drunk thing, "you aren't the only drunk person in Mexico."

  We reached our floor, and the door slid open. Dragging my fiancé down the hall to our room turned out to be harder than I imagined. The fact he was being uncooperative didn't help matters any.

  "Could you try picking up your feet a little bit?" I asked, exasperated. His bare feet moved like lead weights across the softly carpeted hall. Right at the door to our suite, key card in hand, he stopped dead in his tracks.

  "My shoe?" He looked quizzically at the lone loafer in his hand
. Somehow, he had managed to drop a shoe without either one of us noticing. He swung his head in a jerk to look over his shoulder. "Hol' on. I'll get it." He made a move to lurch out of my grasp—the grasp that kept him from falling to the floor in a drunken heap.

  "Whoa, kemosabe," I said. "Let's get you inside. I'll get your shoe, okay?" I slid the key card through the reader with one hand and clamped down on James's shoulder with the other.

  He was in no condition to protest. He nodded his head and gripped the door frame as I tried to move him into our room. "My shoe—"

  "I'll get it," I said, my voice becoming sharp. I shoved at his solid body, determined to get him in the door and in bed. His fingers slipped, and his body sagged. I leaned on him hard like a football tackle would a dummy during practice. My weight propelled him forward into our darkened room. One final grunt, and he lay sprawled across the couch, eyes closed, snoring, and holding onto his loafer.

  "I'll get it," I whispered. I headed out into the hall to retrieve his lost shoe. The door closed behind me, and I was alone in the quiet hall. My ears rang from the loud beat of the mariachi band, and my throat was dry from all the drinks I didn't drink that evening.

  I walked down the hall, picked up James’s shoe, and held it in my hands for a moment. Then, I leaned against the wall and cried.

  *

  An hour later I left our suite. I had upswept my hair neatly and had freshly applied my make-up. My eyes were no longer red. Thank goodness for Visine.

  I left James in the room exactly as he had landed, looking like a beached whale on top of the couch in the living room. I had been afraid to try moving him to the bedroom or taking off any of his clothes. He only needed to sleep for an hour more, and then I would be back.

  It would all be over soon.

  I yearned for that weight to be lifted from me. Twelve years of wondering and worrying and waiting. I should have gotten the divorce years before I’d ever met James. But how did I know I would find such a wonderful guy? How did I know that love wasn't over for me the minute I stepped back in the United States? I had been ridiculously young and had no idea what waited for me down the road. And now I was paying for that mistake and all the lies.