by Ann Whitaker
She licked her full lips and continued. “He began following me every time I left the house. Sometimes he’d be in his squad car, other times in his pickup. Once, he even borrowed a car and wore a fake moustache, thinking I wouldn’t recognize him. It was crazy. Another time, he saw my car parked at a friend’s house and let the air out of my tires. Obvious it was him—he wrote Butch Loves Babe on the windows in white shoe polish. That’s when I finally broke down and told Mamá the whole story. She told Papá. Then, a few nights later, Papá caught him on our property, looking in a window, and called the police.”
“Did they arrest him?”
“You kidding? He convinced them he was conducting surveillance, though he never worked undercover. He said Papá’s import business was a front for smuggling drugs and illegals from Mexico. He also said I was trying to get even for him breaking up with me. His buddies at the police department believed every lie, even though he had no proof.”
Drugs and illegal immigrants. Butch had said the same to me. No wonder Berto blanched when I’d mentioned the feds. I flashed back to my encounter with the ICE men in New Orleans. Could there be some truth to Butch’s story? Was it possible Berto and Nick were smuggling drugs into the country?
Babe broke into my reverie. “That’s when I decided I couldn’t go to school in Austin. Too close to home. I was afraid Butch would come looking for me, so I moved to California to live with an aunt. I’d done a little acting in high school and thought I’d try my luck. It’s taken six years, but I’m finally getting enough work to support myself.”
Babe’s whole body seemed to relax once her story was out. “When I do come back—which isn’t often—Mamá and Papá don’t let me go anywhere alone. The restraining order means nothing, so Nick takes me everywhere. I don’t know what I’d do without him. He was my first love, you know.”
No, I hadn’t known. Evidently they were rekindling the old flame. It made sense. Even if she wasn’t beautiful and young, she was Hispanic like Nick. I was a pale comparison to her dark beauty. And besides that, you didn’t have to use your imagination to see she had boobs. Big ones for such a petite frame.
Babe looked up at me, her eyes pleading. “Now you know why it’s so important for you to file assault charges. Butch is getting worse, and the police might believe you.”
A red stoplight flashed in my mind. I mentally looked both ways, then pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs. I’d had more than enough involvement with the law since I’d come to Waco. “I’ll think about it.”
Babe reached up and lightly touched my arm. “I know you don’t owe me any favors. It’s more for Mamá and Papá than for me. And please don’t tell them I told you. It’s been so hard on them, not knowing if they might be arrested for something they didn’t do. Until he pulled this with you, Butch was just annoying. Now, I think he’s getting dangerous.”
I thought about how he’d claimed Babe “belonged” to him. But no need to tell her that. She seemed distressed enough.
She reached out again and touched my arm with her slender fingers. “Nick says you’re a good person. If you won’t do it for me or my family, then do it because it’s the right thing.”
I chewed on my not-so-plump bottom lip. “What makes you think the police would believe me? I went to Lovers Leap voluntarily.”
Babe folded her hands in her lap and picked at a cuticle. “They’ll believe you.” She paused. “Because you’re Anglo.”
Thinking of myself as “Anglo” made me feel ashamed. Most of my life, I’d felt guilty about having been born into money. But Babe was proof money wasn’t always enough.
She slipped out of the apartment, leaving me alone, except for a loud voice inside my head I couldn’t muzzle. And the germ of an idea taking form. Nothing to do with filing charges. My own Plan B.
So much for a nap. A glance at my watch announced it was time for Noche and Blanco’s afternoon lesson, so I changed into shorts and sneakers and headed up the path toward the house. Carmen and I had decided earlier it was too hot to work the dogs outside, so we were meeting in the ballroom.
The thermometer near the fountain read 95 degrees, but the heat index made it feel more like 105. How did people here tolerate this humidity? I didn’t mind sweating if I was working out, but sweat rolling down my forehead and burning my eyes while standing immobile in the shade made me even more eager to pack up and head back to the hot gusts and parched clime of Abilene.
Once more, Nick sat by the pool, a plastic bottle of water in his hand. This time I waved and kept walking. “Hey, Julie. Can I talk to you a minute?”
When he stood, I stopped abruptly and faced him. My gaze drifted downward over his unbuttoned shirt, past his swim trunks to his legs, well-muscled and golden, like the rest of him. I held my hand up as if to shade my eyes from the sun, but it was my reaction to his body I was trying to hide. I deliberately looked at my watch. “Gotta hurry. Meeting Carmen. We have a training session.”
Nick reached down and dusted off a nearby lawn chair with his bare hand. “I don’t want you to think I was spying. I wasn’t. But I just saw Babe leave your apartment.” He pulled back the chair and beckoned me to sit. “She asked you to file charges?”
“Yes.”
Nick waited for me to elaborate, and when I didn’t, he held his palms up. “So?”
I paused a second. “So I owe you an apology.”
He laughed, his teeth bright against his golden skin. An ache in my chest made me look away. He moved closer, and the magnetic field around him began to pull me in. My breath came in short gasps. If he was aware, he didn’t show it.
“Apology accepted,” he said. “Do I get to choose which transgression I’ll have you apologize for?”
“Don’t push your luck,” I said, unable to keep my lips from arching up in a smile. But when my hips started arching toward his, I braced myself against the table and tried to keep my voice steady. “Look, Nick, I’m sorry I kept insisting you tell me about Babe and Butch. You were right. It wasn’t any of my business.”
“Babe told you?”
“Yes.”
Nick sat down and pointed to the chair beside him. I sat on the edge, poised for flight.
He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned toward me. “Carmen and Berto felt humiliated and betrayed. It’s a sore subject. But things have changed since then. I understand the new police chief is strict about ethics and discipline and has been trying to weed out the bad seeds. But if you don’t press the matter, there’s not much they can do. You’re lucky you got away unhurt. If you’d fallen…” A look of pain filled his eyes. “Next time, it might be different.”
“For me there won’t be a next time.”
“For someone else then.”
I nodded grudgingly. “Babe said the police would believe me because I’m Anglo. To tell you the truth, that really offends me.”
“So what if they do believe you because you’re Anglo?”
Because it isn’t fair. A Chihuahua doesn’t think he’s better than a poodle. People may be snobs about their dogs, but dogs don’t care whether another dog has a pedigree or is black, brown, or white.
“Cops also tend to protect their own,” I said.
Nick bent so close I could feel his breath on my face. “But what have you got to lose? You might get a crazy cop off the streets. Carmen and Berto deserve that. And Babe really deserves it.”
I closed my eyes and breathed in his scent, Coppertone laced with sex pheromones. When I opened my eyes, his lips parted slightly. I pulled back and glanced toward the big house. “Officer Ecks said it’s my word against his. And I do work for the Espositos.”
Nick slapped his hands on top of his head in frustration, puffed out his cheeks and blew out the air. “You’re probably right. But it will make Carmen and Berto feel better. And Babe, too. Don’t you think it’s worth a try?”
I hated myself for being so needy, but I couldn’t stop myself. “And you care a lot a
bout her.”
“You kidding? Who wouldn’t? She’s beautiful, kind, talented. If I can help it, no one will ever hurt her again. I’ve always loved Babe.”
He’d finally answered a question.
I trudged up the hill to the big house wishing I could close my eyes and beam myself back to Abilene. Just as I’d thought, I was merely someone to fill the interludes when Babe wasn’t around. That’s what I got for not living up to my vow. Okay, technically I was still a born-again virgin, but I had Philip to thank for that.
Nick was probably right. What was the worst that could happen? Butch already blamed me for his injuries. For all I knew, I was just one step away from being locked up and made to wear one of those ugly jumpsuits—orange was not my color. I imagined myself being found guilty and dragged out of the courtroom protesting my innocence. But no matter how bleak a picture I envisioned for myself, it was Babe’s face I saw. And her words that echoed through my thoughts: It’s the right thing to do.
Though I wasn’t a vengeful person, it was time to set Plan B into motion. Everyone else had a secret. Why not me? It would cost me big bucks, but if it worked it would be worth every dollar. All it would take was a couple of phone calls and some patience. Thank God for MasterCard.
Chapter Sixteen
Overcast skies met me when I left my apartment, and I saw no hope of the sun peeking through. The weather matched my mood. I longed for my Waco stint to end so I could return to my dull life in Abilene, but time crawled slower than a fully loaded eighteen-wheeler up I-20’s Ranger Hill, and I was still no closer to finding a husband. So far, my only success had been Carmen and the dogs.
My encounter with Butch convinced me I needed a cell phone. I waited till Nick and Berto were in town on business and borrowed Carmen’s car. The last thing I wanted was Nick following me because he felt a sense of duty. Once more I ventured alone into the wilds of Waco, recently ranked sixth most dangerous town in Texas. Yee-haw!
I pulled the Lexus onto Lakeshore Drive and headed for the nearest Wal-Mart. This time, not even the vista of the lake rising up as I topped the hill boosted my flagging spirits. Like the sky, the lake was gray and lifeless, the humidity oppressive. I set the A/C on maximum and cranked the fan up to high. Then I leaned back against the leather and pretended I was back in the dry, open spaces of West Texas.
I parked at the far edge of the Wal-Mart parking lot, not wanting to chance a ding or dent. By the time I reached the front door, I was dripping with sweat. I pushed my hair back from my face, wondering if my melted mascara had left black rings under my eyes. Then I remembered I didn’t know anyone in Waco, so what did it matter? It wasn’t as if I would find a husband in Wal-Mart while shopping for a disposable cell phone.
The automatic doors opened, a welcome blast of cool air hit me, and a nondescript greeter offered me a basket. I smiled magnanimously, thinking I could brighten her day, and politely declined.
Weaving my way through the throngs of shoppers, mainly women with small children, I headed for electronics, where I perused a rack of prepaid phones, picked one off its hanger, and began reading the specs. They all seemed to have the same basic features, though they ranged in price from fifteen to fifty dollars or more.
I became engrossed reading the tiny print. I figured all I needed was the ability to call and be called, but even the cheapest model had a calculator, a conversion table, and a calendar, plus some features I didn’t even understand. I noted none of them had a husband-detector. Now that could make someone millions.
“Could I help you with a phone? Answer any questions?” The voice came in the vicinity of my left ear.
I jumped and let out a little “eek.” Then I whirled around, embarrassed, and found myself looking into the soft, gray eyes of a very handsome young man. At least my built-in stud detector was still fully functioning.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.
I held a hand to my chest and gave a small laugh as I caught my breath. “My fault. I spook easily.”
He was only slightly taller than me and close enough I could see the cleft in his chin and the promise of a dimple in one cheek. Judging from his smooth skin, he couldn’t be more than twenty. I backed up a step for a better look.
“Our higher-end phones are in the display case. I’d be glad to show you those.”
“Oh…no, but thank you. This one’s probably all I need.” I’d read that three kinds of people used disposables. Hookers, drug dealers, and terrorists. I hoped he wouldn’t think I was a hooker. “But I’m not sure how to…maybe you could explain.”
“Sure. Activation is easy. You can do it by phone or online. But are you sure this one has all the features you’ll need? Most of these have call-waiting, voice mail, and caller ID. I don’t know how long you’ve had your current phone, but we do have camera phones if you’re looking to update.”
“I’ve…I’ve never owned a cell phone.” In fact, I was probably the only cell-phone virgin in the whole store.
If he was surprised, he had the courtesy to hide it. Sliding a different model off its metal rack, he held it out for me to examine and began enumerating its features.
“If you’re looking for a bargain, this one’s your best bet. No camera, of course, but if you don’t want bells and whistles, it should suit you fine. I sell a lot of these.”
He was wrong about one thing. I did want bells and whistles. Just not the cell phone variety.
While he talked, I assessed his attributes. Sandy brown hair, slender build, neatly dressed. Not my usual type, but his youthful innocence was appealing. Maybe he could be trained.
He caught me looking and a dimple appeared. “Sorry if this sounds rude, but you don’t look like a woman who’s never had a cell phone.”
I smiled. “And what exactly does a woman who’s never had a cell phone look like?”
When he blushed, I wanted to reach up and put a cool hand to his face. It was the same feeling I got when I saw a puppy. In fact, he was so cute I wanted to pick him up and take him home without a second thought about how big he would get or how much trouble he’d be to housebreak.
“Sorry,” he said. “It’s none of my business. It’s just that you look…well, you look…like you should have a cell phone. What if your car breaks down?”
Hmm. A protective streak. “You sound like my sister.”
He laughed. “Just so I don’t look like her.”
“Not hardly.” I was enjoying the repartee. So what if he was a clerk in a discount store. I had no expectations, no hidden agendas.
“I’m surprised your husband hasn’t insisted you carry a phone. I wouldn’t let my wife out of the house without one.”
“Oh,” I said, slightly disappointed. “You’re married?” He was just a kid.
“Not yet. I meant if I had a wife.” He held up his bare ring finger, as if that proved it.
“Ah, I thought you looked too young to be married.”
His eyes smiled. “Thanks, but I’m twenty-seven. Most of my friends are married with kids. I’m still looking for the right girl. Almost found her, but it didn’t work out.”
“Same here. Not girl…guy.” I grinned and decided I should get back to business. I pointed to the phone in his hand. “I’ll take that one.”
“Great. Do you need me to show you how to program it?”
“I can probably figure it out. It does come with directions?”
“Yes, ma’am. I recommend you use scissors when you open the package. If you aren’t careful, you can tear up your fingers on this hard plastic.”
He’d called me ma’am. I knew it was just good manners, but as usual, miss and ma’am made me feel ancient. He was only five years younger if he was telling the truth.
I swiped my credit card, punched yes that I accepted the charge, and used the fake pen to squiggle a facsimile of my signature on the plastic screen.
“Thank you for shopping at Wal-Mart. I’m Marlon, by the way. Just call and ask for me if
you have any problems.”
“You’re kidding?”
“No, seriously. I’d be glad to help you.”
“I mean about the name. Marlon.”
He reached down and turned his badge toward me. “Yep. Says Marlon right here. Everyone kids me about Marlon Brando, the old movie star.”
I didn’t need cute Marlon telling me who Marlon Brando was. “It’s not that. Marlon was my father’s name.”
“Oh, cool.”
An image flashed through my head. This Marlon—with a few more muscles—in a white T-shirt, on a motorcycle, with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. I glanced up at his lips. Full, soft, young. I shook my head to clear it, gave a slight wave, and left the electronics counter with a smile pasted on my face.
I set off for the front doors, shaking my head every time the image of Marlon on a motorcycle appeared. What was wrong with me? I was not the kind of girl, okay, woman, who picked up guys at Wal-Mart. Correction, fantasized about guys she met at Wal-Mart, even if the fantasy was tame. My mother would be appalled.
Suddenly, a loud squawking assailed my ears. I’d just set off the anti-theft device when I walked through the exit doors. Or my twenty-dollar cell phone had set it off. I froze, expecting the long arm of the law to reach out and yank me back inside. Marlon’s arm reached me first, as if he’d dematerialized in electronics and rematerialized at the door. If not for the fact he was out of breath, I’d have thought it the work of a transporter, à la Star Trek.
“I’m so sorry.” He pulled me back inside and waved away the person on guard duty. “I forgot to deactivate the phone.”
“Just so I don’t go to jail.” I’d come close enough to that with Butch and still wasn’t sure how that story would end.
“No, no way. Here, let me go swipe this and…I am so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. These things happen.”
He came back in a few seconds and placed the deactivated phone in my plastic bag. “Thank you for being so understanding.” He lowered his voice and blinked at me with his puppy-dog eyes. “Let me make it up to you.”