The Cuban

by Kim Rodriguez

  Sandro got me into the car quickly, and as he was about to shut the door, he spotted the coconut in the driveway.

  “You want me to take care of that?”

  “I’m not sure where it’s supposed to go. All I know is that it can’t break.”

  “I know what to do.”

  He sped down the empty freeway and went through a couple of red lights without blinking an eye, driving like he was part of a presidential motorcade, with no regard for stoplights or traffic signs. The only thing he yielded to were other motorists, and at one in the morning, we didn’t pass too many.

  “Do you always drive like this, Sandro?” Maybe he was more upset than he wanted to admit, and I didn’t want to end up in a horrible accident, especially tonight.

  “Always,” he said in the mirror. “We have to.”

  “Don’t you worry about getting pulled over?”

  He smiled. “That wouldn’t happen.”

  We arrived at The Copper Crown in record time, and unlike the other night, the parking lot was deserted.

  “Where is everyone?” I didn’t see a soul outside, which was eerie.

  “We’re closed Sundays and Mondays.” He pulled right up to the front door and turned around.

  “He doesn’t know you’re coming, but I’ll wait close by until you let me know what to do. Not him,” he said, and pointed at me. “You.” With that, he got out and opened the door. As he helped me out of the car he added, “If you can keep him out of here until tomorrow, that would be best. He doesn’t need to see her being taken away.”

  I followed Sandro through the anteroom of the dark, empty club, and instead of going all the way to the back as before, he pushed open a door to that led to a concrete stairwell. Unlike the club, which was dark and exotic, the stairwell and the floor it opened up to was well-lit and inviting. The upper level consisted of one central corridor with several doors off to each side. We walked about fifty feet until we came to a set of double doors all the way in the back.

  “That’s mine,” he said pointing to the single door to the left. “This used to be a motel, so when Doña Delfina bought the building, she kept a floor of rooms up here for herself and for staff.” He bowed his head, as if even saying her name was difficult. “She was a smart lady.”

  He inserted a key into one of the double doors and let us into the living area of the suite. The room was filled with familiar faces as well as two paramedics and two police officers in uniform. Most of them were drinking coffee and speaking quietly, but there was a collective sigh of relief when I entered. Carlos and Javier came right over, gave me a kiss on the cheek and thanked me for coming.

  “Follow me,” said Sandro, wanting me to keep moving. “Please just try to get him out.” He stopped at what I presumed was the bedroom door and put his hand on the knob. “I’ll be right here.”

  As soon as I stepped in, I saw her. Doña Delfina lay peacefully on her bed in a pretty long-sleeved white nightgown, hands folded and eyes closed. She looked like she was sleeping, and someone, probably Rafa, had arranged long stemmed white roses along the foot of her bed.

  Rafa sat beside her on a wooden rocking chair, head in his hands, exactly as he had been earlier before he’d left me. I took the desk chair and set it down right next to him. He must not have heard me come in because he looked surprised to see me. I hesitated, wondering if he would be angry with me for coming. I prepared myself for the cold shoulder when he stood up, expressionless.

  The first thing I noticed were his glassy, bloodshot eyes. He could never be anything but beautiful, but it was by far the worst shape I’d ever seen him in. My heart broke, and when I reached for him, he took my hand and kissed it as he liked to do.

  “Sit with me.” I hesitated, knowing that everyone was waiting for us. “I know they want me to go. Just one more minute, and I’ll say goodbye.”

  I sat down next to him, and he spoke to me as he looked at her. “This was her rocking chair, and she sat in it night after night when I was sick. She prayed over me, fed me pumpkin soup, and told me funny stories. One day I asked her why she was so good to me, and she said it was because we were connected. She said, ‘I know I’m not your mother, but I’m your mother’s mother.’ She always spoke in riddles like that.

  “Amada, tonight she told me she left me everything. This is all mine now.” He looked around the room, visibly moved by her generosity. “Doña Delfina wanted to take care of me even after she was gone. She’s changed everything for me again.”

  “She loved you.” It seemed like he was going to break down, so I squeezed his hand so that he would look at me. “Yes, she’s gone, but you’re not alone. I’m your family, too. You’re part of me now, and even if you reject me, it won’t change the way I feel.” He bowed his head and listened as I clasped his hand in both of mine.

  “You’re a queen,” he said, “and look at what a vulgar thing I did to you today because I lost my temper. I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m not worthy of you.” We sat in silence for a moment and I considered whether I could finally tell him everything. I didn’t know if the words would come out, but for him, I would try.

  “My son’s name was William.” Rafa looked up and turned toward me. “He was five when he died. We knew he wasn’t a typical child, but when they told us he might be autistic, we didn’t believe it. We were hoping he’d grow out of it, but still we took every precaution with his safety because his behavior was so unpredictable. Then, around Thanksgiving four years ago, I had to attend a conference, and it was his father’s turn to have him, so they went to visit my son’s grandmother. I’d warned her to keep all the doors locked because William had a tendency to run off, and she did, but one day he followed her out to the garage. He pressed the button and slid out underneath the door before she could catch him.” I realized I’d never said the words out loud until now, and I began to sob. “He was hit by a neighbor’s car and didn’t make it.”

  Rafa embraced me, wanting to take my pain onto himself. “Amada,” he said. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been living with.”

  I wiped my eyes, angry at myself for crying again, but it was good to share the burden. “Everything fell apart after that. I quit my job right away and was depressed for a long time. My brother suffered right along with me and did everything he could to get me through it, but there’s nothing that can stop the pain that comes from losing your child. Nothing. I drank a lot. Then after a few years, I started traveling and that helped. But it wasn’t until I met you that I was able to see the beauty in life again. So when you say you’re not worthy, you just don’t realize what you mean to me. You saved me. You’re my life and my family now. I love you.”

  Rafa kissed my mouth, then each of my eyes, and then spoke into my ear as he liked to do. “I love you, too, Amada. I meant it the first night and I’ve wanted to tell you so many times since then. I don’t know why I’ve been afraid to say it, but I’m not afraid anymore.” Still holding my hand, he looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes and said it again. “I love you.” Te amo.

  “Rafa, can we please go home?” I asked. “I’m sick without you. Nothing is right unless you’re there. I promise we’ll figure it out so that it works for both of us, but for now, just come with me, please.”

  He glanced at Doña Delfina one more time, then back at me.

  “Yes, you’re my home, Amada,” he said, finally ready to go.

  Rafa and I came out of the bedroom hand in hand, and the people who’d been waiting on us rushed in. The crowd in the living area had doubled, and I imagined that many people would come over the next few days to pay their respects. Almost everyone in the room patted Rafa on the back or shook his hand on the way out, but when Sandro gestured to me, I led Rafa as quickly as possible out the front door. He’d had enough for one night.

  We walked back out through the club and made our way to the front circle drive where the sedan was waiting. This time, Rafa opened the door for me and Sandro got right
in the driver’s seat.

  “Back to the house?” Sandro asked me in Spanish, as he put the car in gear. I noticed that he was perfectly bilingual as so many people were in Miami. He switched effortlessly from English to Spanish, and I decided that Rafa would be able to do the same within a year.

  “Yes,” I said, turning to Rafa. “Should we get your things before we leave?”

  “Done,” said Sandro.

  He put the car in drive, and in less than a minute we were back on the freeway to Boxwood. It was a relief to be with Rafa again, and I knew everything would be fine now that he’d let me take care of him. As we practically flew past the Miami cityscape, for the first time I noticed what he was wearing.

  “All white?” I asked.

  “Her dying wish. I’m a santero now.” He put his hand between my knees, and because my pencil skirt was so tight, thankfully there wasn’t room left for him to do much more. “I can’t believe what I’m thinking, Amada, but even now, after this terrible day, I still need you more than I need to breathe.” As sexy as it was to hear him say that, I knew Sandro was listening to every word, so I simply put my hand on his thigh and stayed quiet.

  “Boss,” said Sandro, “you want me to stop and pick up any groceries?” He and Rafa exchanged a knowing glance in the rearview mirror.

  “Good idea,” said Rafa, slowly inching up my skirt, and I tried to keep him still, but he would not be stopped. Shaking my head, I darted my eyes in the direction of the front seat, but Rafa just shrugged.

  By the time the Mercedes pulled into a secluded overlook by the ocean, Rafa had my skirt halfway up my thighs. He was all hands, like a horny teenager, and it reminded me of being seventeen years old in the back seat of my boyfriend’s car. In spite of the somber night we’d had, I couldn’t help but smile as he snaked his way under my top and caressed my breasts. “What is this?” he whispered in my ear, intrigued by the unusual shape of my bra.

  “I wasn’t sure what I’d have to do to get your attention, so I came prepared.”

  He traced his fingers along the scalloped lace edge. “Sandro, groceries.”

  “Anything specific?” he asked, putting the car in park.

  “Get some rice, picadillo ingredients, a loaf of bread, butter, Bustelo, sugar and a cafetera.”

  “Got it,” said Sandro, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Back in ten.”

  “Twenty. And put on some Zeppelin.”

  Sandro turned on the satellite radio and made a quick exit. Before the door had even shut, Rafa unbuckled my seatbelt and pulled me over so that I was sitting sideways on his lap. He kissed and touched me all over, and I wrapped my arms around his neck as he caressed my legs and let myself get lost in his kiss and in the music. Nothing in this world could be sexier than listening to Jimmy Page work his magic on the guitar while Rafa worked his magic on my body. Nothing.

  Rafa went higher and followed the seam of my stockings up under the back of my skirt, gliding his fingers past the lace top and the garter in search of my panties, but when he found nothing but bare skin, he let out a groan and pushed his tongue in my mouth so hard that I almost fell off his lap. He put his hands in my hair and broke our kiss to look at me.

  “You,” he panted. He might have been trying to say something, but I was in a state and didn’t let him finish. I took my top off to expose the shelf bra I’d worn just for him, dying to feel his mouth anywhere on my skin, and when he saw my nipples peeking out over the top of the demi cups, he lost it. He took one roughly in his mouth and bit down, while using his fingers on the other to pinch me hard. I’d never been bitten on the breast like that, but the pain quickly turned into a pleasure so intense I thought I might climax right then and there. I clenched my legs together and arched my back, and resisting the strong urge to bite him back, I dug my fingernails into the top of his shoulder instead. He shouted an obscenity I didn’t understand, and I watched with detached fascination as the bloodstain began to travel along the top of his white collar.

  “I need you inside me,” I begged, wondering how many of the twenty minutes were left as I writhed in his lap. “Please, Rafa.”

  Needing no further invitation, Rafa grabbed me by the hips and turned me away from him so that we were front to back, and although I knew there was no other way to do it in the car, I wished I could see his face. He yanked my skirt up past my thighs and within moments his pants were around his ankles and he was inside me. I moaned as he wrapped both arms around my chest and pulled me tight, nestling his face between my shoulder blades.

  Rafa moved for both of us, grinding himself into me with ease. He filled me up so completely that I became aware of nothing but us, and the feeling of his skin on my skin deep inside my body took on a life of its own. We had ceased to be in control from the moment he entered me, and now our energy was far more potent as one than as two.

  His hands were everywhere tonight, on my neck, in my mouth, and especially on my belly. The shelf bra must have made him borderline delirious because he wouldn’t leave my breasts alone, kneading and giving them far more attention than he ever had before.

  “I want to see your face,” I said, sucking on his fingers. “Kiss me.”

  In one swift motion he maneuvered us both out, leaned me up against the side of the Mercedes facing the ocean, and kissed me wildly, pinning me against the car with what felt like all his strength. Whenever he was out of his mind with desire like this, it made me appreciate just how much he held back for my pleasure, because if I hadn’t specifically asked to be able to see him, I knew he’d already have me bent over, his favorite way to have me.

  Naturally, I ended up off my feet with my legs wrapped around his hips, the headlights of each car bathing us in light as they came around the curve not twenty feet away so that we were plainly visible to any driver who took his eyes off the road.

  “People can see us,” I gasped.

  In response, he placed one arm underneath me and used the other to pull me so close that I almost couldn’t breathe. Unable to resist, I simply gave in, forgetting about the cars, the highway, Sandro and everything else in the world except Rafa inside me and the sound of the ocean below. I yielded and let him lead us, my pelvis softening and widening in accord with my full surrender.

  “That’s it, baby. Now I’m in all the way,” he said, thrusting with almost distressing urgency. He felt how I’d opened to him completely and it made him savage, his instinct to dominate only heightened by my submission. I thought of the sweet Rafa who kissed my hand and taught me about medicine and rubbed my feet, then looked at the undeniably alpha male who at this moment was fucking me within an inch of my life. It was incredible they both were one in the same.

  “Say it again,” he barked, his body rolling inside mine.

  “I love you, Rafa.”

  He moaned and shifted so that he hit a spot inside me that could only be described as an epicenter of pleasure. Going far beyond anything I could ever find by myself, Rafa touched me in a physical and spiritual haven only he was privy to. It was his special place inside me, where only he had access. His presence there triggered the start of an orgasm, but inexplicably I curled up and tried to push him away. I still didn’t understand why I always had this urge, but Rafa had once said it was fear. He wouldn’t allow it.

  “Don’t,” he rasped. “Together.”

  “Rafa!” I cried, and we exploded in sync, our spirits now indistinguishable from our bodies, and as our joy peaked, Rafa bit my neck and kept his mouth there, sucking gently. Closing my eyes, I ran my hands all over his back, aware that he was completely inside me now, forever, in every possible sense. There was only us.

  “Goddamit,” he said, out of breath. He ran his hand through his hair and rested his forehead against mine, a semblance of his sweet self shining through again.

  “I know,” I said, laying my head on his shoulder.

  We’d barely recovered when there was a noise just beyond the clearing. “Is it him?” I asked, quickly covering up. My
eyes fixed on the lights of a yacht in the distance.

  “No,” he said, gently sliding out of me and looking down at something on himself. “He won’t come back until I call. It’s been forty minutes, sweetheart.”

  The splash of red across Rafa’s collar caught my attention this time, and now that I was fully lucid, I was horrified. I reached out to see what I’d done, angry at myself for not caring about it earlier. “Oh, you’re bleeding.”

  “So are you,” he said. I followed his eyes and saw a trace of bright red blood on his penis.

  “I must have just started! I’m so sorry!” I would have stopped him if I’d realized, but I hoped he wasn’t unreasonably squeamish about it like some men were.

  “Sorry for what? Being a woman?” Still out of breath, he laughed and zipped his pants right back up. “Anyway, it’s barely a drop.”

  “Don’t you want to wipe it off?”

  “Didn’t you wait a whole day to wash me off?” he asked devilishly, making me blush as I pulled down my skirt and pushed my breasts back into my tiny bra.

  “Still, if I’d known—”

  “Amada, stop apologizing,” he said, and shot me a concerned look as if it really bothered him. “A doctor would say your orgasm brought it on. A Santero would say that blood is life, and because we both bled tonight, we’ve been reborn. Together. Either way, it’s beautiful.”

  Still uncomfortable, I didn’t answer, so he brushed the side of my face with the back of his hand, and said thoughtfully, “You really are such a lady.”

  We got back in the car and Rafa texted Sandro, who’d been somewhere close by entertaining himself. I’d barely gotten my top on when we heard the trunk open and shut, and as soon as he got in the front seat and looked in the rearview mirror, Sandro’s eyes fixed on Rafa’s neck like a hawk.