I stared blankly at the tiles on the floor.
I wanted Papi to live, but there was a part of me that wanted it all to be over, for me as well as for him. I was ashamed for even thinking that way, but that was the truth of it. I just wanted the end to be easy for him. He had suffered so much and he didn’t deserve this. I didn’t understand a god that would do this to a man who had lived a good life. It made no sense.
I tried to shut out the buzzing of the strip light overhead, ignored the sympathetic glances of the duty nurse. I disappeared somewhere inside. At some stage someone asked me if I wanted a coffee and I shook my head, numb.
I thought about Reyes, I wished he were there with me. I thought about that afternoon in the Fontainebleau. I had always hoped I would see him again, but not like that. I could still see his face when Angel had walked into the bar. If there had ever been any hope for us, it had been extinguished right then. So now I really was alone.
Well, not quite. Lena arrived a little while later, she had locked up our flat and driven to the hospital in her nightgown. She didn’t say anything, just sat down on the plastic chair beside me and put her arms around me.
We waited.
An hour later the doctor came out of the emergency room. He didn’t say anything and he didn’t need to. His face told me everything I needed to know. I didn’t cry. I was way past that. I just said: “Can I see him?” and he led the way.
Chapter 14
He didn’t look like my papi anymore.
His eyes were already clouded, his jaw slack. I picked up his hand and held it. This was my fault. I had wanted my freedom and now I had it.
He had been my rock since Mama died, the one certainty in the midst of so much upheaval. I sat down on the chair beside the bed and waited to feel the upwelling of grief I had expected to come, but there was nothing.
This couldn’t be him; this was someone else’s father.
I laid my head on his chest and kissed him.
I remembered the last thing he had said to me. “I’m holding you back, cariña, it’s time I moved on.”
I slipped the silver wedding band off his finger and put it onto mine. “There,” I whispered. “You’ll always be with me now.”
He felt so cold. I pulled the sheet up to his chin to try to keep him warm. “Goodbye, Papi,” I said. He was finally free.
And so was I.
Angel was waiting for me in the corridor with two of his bodyguards. “Where’s Lena?” I said.
“I sent her home. I can take care of you.”
“I don’t want you here.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying. Come on, the car’s waiting, we’ll take you home.”
I barely knew what was going on. I let him lead me out to the car. I didn’t remember driving back to the flat, I just remembered thinking: I can’t leave Papi there at the hospital on his own, there’s no one to take care of him.
If I could have been more positive, perhaps he would have held on. He knew I wanted to get away, that was why he gave up.
We got back to the flat in Little Havana, and Angel made his goons wait in the car. It was the first time he’d been in the flat. He looked around at the motel furniture crammed into the tiny room, the newspapers Papi had left piled up on the table beside his bed, the sweat-stained sheets on my father’s bed, and his face twisted into a grimace. He looked so tailored, so out of place there. “Jesus,” he said.
“Do you want coffee?” I said. I just stood in the middle of the room. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.
“You can’t stay here.”
“This is where I live.”
“Baby, listen to me, you can’t stay here.”
He was right. I couldn’t stay there, not anymore. I found a suitcase and started blindly throwing clothes and shoes in it. When it was full I shut it and sat down on the bed.
“I can’t find my purse,” I said.
He found my handbag next to the bed, found my wallet inside. He opened it and looked through it like he was a cop and I was under arrest or something. I realized then: he does think he owns me.
“What’s this?” he said. It was the newspaper cutting of Reyes and me, the one I had torn out of the Diario del Marina. “You keeping pictures of Garcia?”
I didn’t answer him. I made Papi’s bed, fluffed up the sheets, arranged the pillow just the way he liked it. I tidied his books beside his bed.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“He hates it when the flat looks messy.”
“He’s dead, baby. It doesn’t matter anymore.” Dead? No, that didn’t make sense.
I sat down, then stood up again. “Do you want coffee?”
“No, I don’t want any fucking coffee. Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”
I heard a woman screaming from a very long way away and I realized that it was me. Suddenly I was on the floor, curled up in a ball, and Angel was talking to me but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I saw Lena standing in the doorway with her hand over her mouth, and then Angel’s goons barged in and one of them scooped me up in his arms and carried me outside to the car.
Chapter 15
When I woke up the sun was streaming in through the window, it was another fine day in Miami. I stretched, looked at the digital clock beside the bed. It read two sixteen, but that couldn’t be right.
I looked around, tried to work out where I was. The sun glittered on the ocean, the cars streaming up and down Collins Street. I was in the Fontainebleau. How did I get here? Then I remembered: Papi is dead.
Angel walked in from the balcony holding a copy of Life magazine. He took off his sunglasses. “Hey, you’re awake.”
“How did I get here?”
“I brought you in the car. You couldn’t stay in that dump you were living in. You needed someone to look after you. I had to call the doctor, he gave you something to help you sleep.”
I was just in my underwear. I started looking around for my clothes.
“What are you doing?”
“I have to get out of here.”
He grabbed me and tried to put me back into the bed. I twisted away. “The doctor said you have to rest.” He fumbled on the bedside table for some pills, unscrewed the lid, dropped a couple into his palm. “Here, take these, it’ll help.”
“Why are you here?”
“I told you, baby, now your father’s gone you’ll need someone to take care of you.”
He couldn’t show up to the hospital when his wife was having a baby, but here he was with his girlfriend, holed up in one of his father-in-law’s hotels when his girlfriend’s father dies. He was a strange guy. “Angel, I appreciate how you’ve helped me, I really do, but I have to get home now. I have things to organize.”
“You don’t have to worry about anything, I’ll take care of it.”
“No, you don’t have to take care of anything, not anymore. I can look out for myself. Where’s my clothes?”
“You’ve had a terrible loss, you can’t go home, not like this. You’re staying here.”
“You mean you’ve kidnapped me?”
“No, I haven’t kidnapped you.”
“Then where are my clothes?”
He debated with himself. Then he lost it and threw the pills at the wall. “Jesus H!”
I opened the closet. He’d hung my dress up for me. It hit me then, that he probably did love me, finally, in his own way. Life was a funny thing.
I slipped my dress over my head, found my shoes and put them on. “Where’s the rest of my things?”
“What the hell are you going to do?”
“I’m going to organize a funeral for my papi, and then pack up my things. I don’t have a whole lot to move, so it shouldn’t be hard.”
“And go where? You want me to find you a place? I can get you a nice apartment, right on the beach, a fancy car. You can have a nice life, baby, you won’t have to worry about anything anymore.”
“You want me to be your
mistress?”
“Sure, what’s wrong with that?”
“That’s sweet of you, Angel, but I have to pass.”
“You should think about this, it’s a good offer.”
“If I was a ten-dollar hooker, it’s a great offer. Call me crazy, but I’m setting my sights a little higher than that.”
“Yeah, on what?”
“I have this dream. You remember all those actresses used to come to the Left Bank? They were always so glamorous and so assured. It’s the kind of confidence you get from knowing you can make any kind of money you want and you don’t need a man to do it for you. I want to have people shout out my name and I want to see a flashbulb pop when I smile. That’s my dream. Not spending all day in a hair salon and looking in the mirror for wrinkles, worrying about losing my meal ticket. I want the fairy tale, the happy ever after. I don’t want to be anyone’s mistress.”
“Even if you had the fairy tale you’d fuck it up.”
“I’d like to give myself the opportunity. I’m leaving town, Angel.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I can, unless you plan to shoot me and throw me in the river with some of your ex-associates. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I don’t have my father to worry about anymore so there’s no reason for me to stay.”
“You going to run after Garcia, is that it?”
“Where’s my bag and my keys?”
“I asked you a question, is this about Garcia?”
“He thinks I’m crazy, Angel, and you know what? I think he’s right. Now where’s my bag?”
He looked sulky. He leaned against the door. “You’re not leaving here.”
I sat down. “Okay. But you can’t stand there forever. Sooner or later you got to sleep or go out and dump a body in the river or something. So either you get your goons to tie me up and throw me in the trunk, or give me my things and get the hell out of the way.”
“You know your trouble? You don’t appreciate nothing. You know how much I spent on you?”
“I think you got your money’s worth, I got lockjaw to prove it, but if you like I can give you an IOU. What’s the bill?”
His face screwed into a grimace. “Don’t go,” he said.
I touched his cheek, but when he tried to touch me back I held his wrists and stopped him. “I’ve lost you, haven’t I?” he said, like he only just knew it.
I pushed him back on the bed. I would give him this one last time. I took off his clothes and did all the things he liked, with my mouth, with my hands. But I promised myself I would not let him touch me, never again.
I kissed his neck, his chest, cupped him in my fingers, made him groan and twist. Then his eyes went wide; it was all over so quickly. I went into the bathroom to wash up, and when I came back my bag was on the antique oak table in the middle of the room. He was standing out on the balcony, his back to me, staring at the sea.
I opened my purse. The cutting of Reyes and me was gone. I guessed there was no point in asking him where it was, he would have torn it up and tossed it away. It seemed Angel was finally jealous of someone.
I left the diamond necklace he gave me on the table.
“Goodbye, Angel,” I said.
“You’ll be back.”
“No, I won’t.” I said, and this time he must have known it was true.
Chapter 16
It was a bright, warm day when we buried Amancio Fuentes.
Statues of angels stood guard above those who could afford them, those who couldn’t made do with a few words of praise in Spanish or Italian, some sculpted marble and perhaps a photograph. Family crypts extended like a city street along a narrow walking path.
I had an umbrella to keep off the sun. I was touched by how many of Papi’s old friends had come, though a few of them looked as if they weren’t doing that well themselves. One of them used to own one of the best restaurants in Havana, now he was the janitor at a high school.
The priest said a few words and we lowered him into the ground. Lena held tightly onto my arm during the committal.
Afterwards I told her I wanted to be alone for a while and she said she’d wait for me by the gate. I stood in the shade of a cedar out of the Florida sun, listening to the whisper of the leaves overhead, the call of a jaybird.
When I left, Angel was waiting for me in the back of his Chrysler. His driver wore oversized sunglasses and stood in the shade of the trees smoking a cigarette. I saw some men out on the road watching the car through binoculars, taking photographs. Either press or the police, I supposed.
I stopped by the car. He wound down the window.
“Thank you for coming.”
“This doesn’t have to be the end,” he said.
“I’m leaving tomorrow morning. I’m going to Los Angeles.”
“Still this acting shit?”
“Yes, Angel. The acting shit.”
“You’ll end up a stripper, they all do.”
“I’ll take my chances. I’ve got dreams, Angel.”
“Everybody’s got dreams, what they end up with is reality.”
“Well some realities are better than others.”
“Fuck you,” he said and wound up the window. Then he wound it down again. “I ever find out you’re with Reyes, I’ll kill you both.”
And the limousine drove away, out of the gates.
I took a last look at the flat. It had been home for three years, ever since we arrived in Miami. All I had ever dreamed of was to one day get away from it. Now I lingered, couldn’t tear myself away.
There must be thousands of girls out there like me, I thought, who dreamed about becoming a movie star. Angel was right, most girls ended up as waitresses or strippers. But I was not going to think about them, or the odds stacked against me, because I knew I was going to be the one dreaming the hardest.
Besides, whatever happened, I would have my self-respect, and that was going to be important because now, whatever I did, Papi would be watching me. When he was alive I could lie to him; now that he was dead, he could see everything I did.
I couldn’t get Angel’s voice out of my head: I ever find out you’re with Reyes, I’ll kill you both. He hadn’t scared me, he had given me hope, suggested the possibility of finding Reyes again. But surely that was over after he’d seen me with Angel in the Fontainebleau.
Lena was waiting outside in the car, she had offered to give me a ride to the bus station. I shut the door firmly behind me, picked up my suitcase and walked away from Miami.
Chapter 17
Los Angeles
It was a hot day in the Valley. It wasn’t even summer and I was sweating as soon as I stepped out of the shower. I stood in front of the fan, naked, to put on my make-up. The last thing I did was shrug on my uniform and check my purse. I would just about make rent this week; the photographer who took my folio shots had cost a lot damned more than I had counted on. I knew this was going to be hard but not this damned hard. I didn’t even have an agent yet. Every waitress, bar girl and stripper in this whole city wanted to be an actress.
The couple next door were still going at it. You could hear every damned thing through these cheap motel walls. Dios mio, it was eleven in the morning, didn’t they even plan to stop for breakfast? The way she was moaning, she had to be a hooker.
I grabbed my bag and headed out. I was going to be late for my bus.
There was a swimming pool out front, but it had emptied out a long time ago, probably during one of the earthquakes. This city shook like a jelly on a plate. Nothing looked sadder than a derelict pool on a summer day in California. There was a crack along one of the concrete walls at the shallow end and now management used it to dump old furniture.
“Come on in, the water’s fine.”
I stopped, recognized the voice straight away. He had salvaged a deckchair from the junk at the end of the pool and he was sitting there with his eyes closed and his face turned to the sun like he was waiting for a waiter to bri
ng him his cocktail. He was wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt like the ones the tourists wore in Havana, and there was a copy of Variety magazine open on his lap.
“Reyes?”
“Nice place you got here. Service is a little slow, I ordered a beer half an hour ago and it still hasn’t got here.” He took off his sunglasses and gave me the benefit of that million-dollar smile. “Good to see you again, princess.”
I couldn’t believe it. My humiliation was complete. “How did you find me?”
He came up the steps, slapping Variety against as he thigh as he walked. “I’m insulted you even asked that question.”
“Did Angel tell you?”
“Angel and I don’t talk much, you know that. It was a friend of mine, Jack Rubenstein. Ruby was telling me you’d left Miami and come here to pursue a career outside of office management.”
“How did he know that?”
“Ruby knows everything that happens in Miami. That’s why we’re friends.”
“But why did he tell you about me?”
“Because I asked him to find out. I was sorry to hear about your father.”
“Thank you. He’s at peace now, at least.”
“I hope it was quick at the end.”
“Reyes, he was an invalid for most of the time we lived in Miami. He suffered every day. Quick at the end does not make up for three slow years of suffering.”
“He didn’t deserve that. I only met him a couple of times but he always seemed to me like a decent man.”
“He was the best.”
He walked with me down to the highway, hands in his pockets. He looked so different from Havana, when he always looked like a playboy out of a Peter Stuyvesant advertisement, and Miami, where he looked like a desperado. Now here he was, dressed like he was about to go on vacation. I realized Reyes was a chameleon who could change his persona with every shift in geography.
Naked In LA (Naked Series Book 2) Page 6