by Amber Brock
“I would’ve thought you’d be more worried about me running around with…someone like him, serious or not.”
“It’s not ideal, of course.” Hen paused. “I don’t know. Max is different, isn’t he? I mean, he’s not like what you hear about them. Knowing him…it’s not as much of a problem. I’m starting to think—” She caught herself. “Never mind. It’s late, and I’m just glad you’re safe. I’m going back to bed.”
After Hen left, Kitty crawled into bed. In the darkness, the faces of boys she’d been interested in over the years went through her mind. There was Phil, whom she let go when he gave up on aspirations of being a banker in favor of becoming a professor. No professor could launch Kitty into the world she meant to be a part of. At least he had the right pedigree, unlike Stephen. Stephen had seemed like such a good choice: handsome, debonair, sophisticated. Turned out his grandfather was nothing better than a first-generation immigrant, an Irish cop in the Bronx. The grandson of an Irish cop would never get an invitation to join the polo club, no matter how nicely he dressed. As she went back further in her history, she realized that she’d never, not even in her most romantic moments, chosen a boy simply because she liked him. What was more, she couldn’t recall anything about their hopes or passions. Phil became a professor, but of what? What kind of music had Stephen liked? What she remembered of them was more like a dossier than the memory of a boyfriend she’d once cared for. She’d always chosen a guy because of how he might elevate her status, not how he made her feel. And she never thought about them much when they weren’t around.
Max, on the other hand, was always on her mind. She could picture the subtle changes on his face when he played a song he really liked, the way he leaned back to let the music flow. The thought of his laugh was enough to make her smile. As the echo of it rang in her ears, she heard an insistent voice. Not some prophetic voice from on high. This voice was her own.
This is it, it whispered. This is the guy for you.
Her last thought before she drifted off to sleep was how glad she was that her own voice was the one she could most easily ignore.
* * *
The next morning, Hen woke Kitty a little earlier than she would have preferred. “Why don’t we go exploring?” Hen said.
The image of the beggar girl flashed in Kitty’s mind. “I don’t know if we should go on our own, without Andre. Let’s get a cabana at the pool.”
“There’s a pool at the Imperium.” Hen sat on the bed. “Don’t you want to see as much as you can while we’re here?”
Kitty scrambled for a counterpoint. “We don’t speak Spanish. What if we get lost?”
“Hmm. Good point.”
“We’re going out tonight. Let’s just relax this afternoon.” Kitty picked up a stack of magazines from the bedside table. “We need to talk about the fashion show anyway. It’s only a couple of days after we get back to Miami.”
After they changed into bathing suits, they made their way down to the pool. They took their place at the rented cabana, flipping through magazines and munching on sandwiches delivered by the concierge staff. Kitty pointed out dress and skirt styles she wanted to look for at the fashion show. When the sun began to sink, Hen suggested that they go back to get ready for their big night out. Sebastian called as Kitty was pinning her hair, and she gave him the casino’s address so he and Max could meet them.
A few hours later, the elevator doors opened and Kitty and Hen stepped out into the hotel lobby. Heads around them turned as they strode toward where Andre stood, checking his watch.
“I hope we’re not late,” Kitty teased.
He looked up and his eyes widened. Kitty had helped Hen dress up a long, ivory gown with a pink silk scarf draped around her neck and trailing down her back. For herself, Kitty had chosen a sleeveless black dress with a lacy bodice and a long, snug skirt. Both girls sported sparkling earrings that caught the soft yellow light in the lobby.
“No, no,” Andre said. “Wow, you two look gorgeous.”
Hen bit her lip. “You think so?”
“Couldn’t be prouder to have you on my arm.” He offered each girl an elbow. “Let’s go.”
Andre ushered them out to the waiting car. The trip was a quick one, and before they were too far from the hotel they saw spotlights sweeping the sky, announcing their destination. They pulled up to a beautiful older building that had clearly been freshened up with new paint and a burgundy awning.
“It looks like a Hollywood premiere,” Hen whispered to Kitty. “A red carpet and everything.”
The trio strolled down the carpet to the entrance, where a man in a tuxedo shook Andre’s hand. “Mr. Polzer, so glad you could make it. Welcome to the Diamant. And please, tell Mr. Tessler I’d love to buy him dinner when I’m in New York.”
“Sure, of course.” Andre led Hen and Kitty into the building, then leaned in to them confidentially. “Mr. Tessler wouldn’t do business with that man in a million years. He’s probably in Meyer Lansky’s pocket. Most of these guys work for the mob. But we can enjoy his hospitality, can’t we?”
Kitty cast a glance over her shoulder. The pudgy man with the thick Bowery accent was already greeting his next guests. “Maybe your mother was right,” she whispered to Hen. “Maybe it is nothing but mobsters.”
They passed the coat check and headed for the gaming room. The cavernous space had a domed ceiling painted midnight blue, with shimmering gold stars. Tables featured the usual games—chemin de fer, roulette, and chuck-a-luck—with bleach-blond bombshells and men counting bills off rolls of cash surrounding each one. Waiters passed carrying trays of drinks. Kitty accepted one and noted that the swizzle stick bore the name of the new casino emblazoned on a plastic diamond.
Once again, Kitty quickly tired of the gaming. She amused herself by guessing which blonde would be the first to pop out of her strapless gown by leaping with joy at a win. When that didn’t happen, she strolled around the room with Hen, trying to discern fake jewels from the real thing.
“What time do you think it is?” Hen finally asked. “Aren’t Max and Sebastian meeting us here?”
Kitty snuck a peek at the wristwatch of a man nearby. “It’s nearly midnight. Let’s get Andre.”
They located Andre at a roulette table, and he agreed that they could go. He said good-bye to the man who had greeted them, and they went out into the cool night air. Cars were still arriving with guests for the opening, even as others milled outside the front doors, waiting for their drivers.
“Perfect timing,” Hen said, pointing to where Max and Sebastian stood on the other side of the street. Kitty waved, and the boys waved back. She started to cross, but a car roared up the road toward her. Andre gripped her arm and pulled both Kitty and Hen out of the way.
The car screeched to a stop in front of the entrance, nearly ramming into a limo letting out guests. A few people leapt out, screaming in Spanish. One of them fired a gun into the Diamant’s neon sign, causing it to go dark. The casino guests who’d been at the entrance cried out and ran for cover.
Kitty wanted to run, but her feet froze to the sidewalk. Andre dragged her into the shadows, where Hen cowered against the building. He stood in front of the two of them, blocking Kitty’s view. She searched across the street for Max and Sebastian but could no longer see them. Her heart pounded. Where were they?
The person who’d fired the gun continued to yell, gesturing violently at the casino. A shock went through Kitty as she realized it was a woman. Not just any woman, but the woman she’d seen serving at the Tropicana. The one with the pale green eyes. Sebastian’s friend. Kitty only recognized one word out of what the woman was saying: mafia. Sirens in the distance finally silenced the woman, and she rushed back into the car with her compatriots. As they drove off, someone in the backseat threw out a stack of pamphlets, which fluttered in their wake.
Everyone who
remained on the sidewalk stood quiet for a moment. A woman wailed, breaking the spell. Kitty took a shaky step forward, picking up one of the pamphlets. It was plain white, with large words in red capital letters on the front. LA HISTORIA ME ABSOLVERA. DR. FIDEL CASTRO. Before Kitty could open it, a hand tore it from her grip.
“Put that down.” Sebastian tossed the pamphlet to the ground. “You can get arrested for having that. Come on.” He offered Kitty a hand. Max stood behind him, his face ashen.
“What the hell is going on?” Andre said. “They’re firing guns. I don’t want Hen and Kitty out here.”
“My car is around the corner,” Sebastian said. “I will drive you back to the hotel. And then I need a drink.”
Kitty grabbed Hen’s hand and they followed Sebastian to his car. The five of them climbed in without a word. Hen’s shoulders shook, and Kitty placed an arm around her.
“What was that?” Andre asked.
Sebastian’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “People are unhappy.”
“Hell, I get unhappy sometimes too. I don’t go around shooting up casinos.”
“There is a lot of trouble here. The casinos and hotels have money, the government has money, but the people are starving.”
Andre sighed. “Oh. President Batista.”
Sebastian flinched. “I wouldn’t blame him for that outside this car. Unless you want real trouble from the police. Seems like someone’s always listening these days.”
Kitty didn’t dare mention the woman from the Tropicana. She wondered if Sebastian had even seen her in all the confusion. He turned to pull the car into the Nacional’s roundabout, but Andre waved a hand.
“Park. Come inside. I’ll buy you a drink,” he said.
All Kitty wanted to do was hide in her room, but at least she felt safer inside the hotel. She and the others crowded around a table in the narrow bar area. Max caught Kitty’s eye and mouthed, You okay? She couldn’t think of anything to do but nod.
They sipped their drinks for a while in silence. Sebastian was the first to speak.
“She never would have shot at a person,” he said.
Kitty lifted her head. So he had seen the woman. But Hen didn’t seem to catch on. Of course, she had no idea the woman was Sebastian’s friend.
“Horrible, just horrible. I’m glad we’re leaving in the morning,” she said.
“It’s not always like that.” Sebastian picked at the label on his beer. “It’s a beautiful country, with wonderful people. I hope that you saw that while you were here. They only wanted to make a—a…”
“…statement,” Max finished.
“Yes, a statement. They don’t like the mafia.” He lowered his voice to a hush. “The government takes advantage of its people. The money goes into the pockets of American criminals and our president. Now there is a group prepared to change things, but change is not always pretty. Those who have tried to help are arrested, while criminals walk our streets freely. Now they feel they must do more. You understand that? This is our home.”
Hen’s lips pinched together in regret. “Of course I do. I’m sorry. I think I’m just overwhelmed.” She stood. “I ought to get some rest.”
Andre stood beside her. “Would you like me to walk you up?”
“Yes, thank you. Kitty, are you coming?”
“I’m going to finish my drink. I can make it up by myself, don’t worry about me.”
Hen glanced from Kitty to Max, then said her good nights and left.
Kitty spoke quietly. “She was your friend, wasn’t she? The woman with the gun?”
Sebastian did not take his eyes off his beer. “She is my friend.”
“I understand loyalty, but come on.” Kitty shuddered. “What she did, that was dangerous. Someone could have been hurt.”
Now he looked up, as Max shifted in his seat. “And you think someone could do that if they were not desperate?” Sebastian said. “She is a good person. And there are bad things happening.” He took a breath, as if to steady himself. His voice was calmer when he continued. “I know you don’t understand. It’s different for people like you.”
“What does that mean? Aren’t we all people?”
He thought for a moment. “When we go to the Tropicana, who am I?”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“Am I your friend, or am I at work?”
Kitty stiffened, intensely aware of Max’s presence. “We are friends. I want to be.”
“Okay. Here we are friends. And what about in Miami?”
She clamped her lips together. He was right. In Cuba, where races mixed more freely, they could be friends. Sebastian could sit at the table at the Tropicana or drink at the hotel bar with Kitty, and no one would bat an eye. In Miami, even in New York, his place was on the payroll. She thought again about what Max had said about the hotels. About how they treated people like him. About Louis Armstrong.
“In Miami, too. In New York. Everywhere.” Kitty knew the words were a promise, but she wasn’t sure it was a promise she could keep. Under the table, she felt Max’s fingers slide over hers.
They finished their drinks in weary silence. Max and Sebastian walked Kitty to the elevator and said their good-byes. As she waited for the elevator, she couldn’t help but picture the girl’s face twisting in anger as she fired her gun. What could possibly connect someone like Sebastian to someone like that? How could Sebastian defend her? Kitty had to at least ask. She ran back through the lobby.
Sebastian and Max were still close enough to the entrance to hear her calling out. They started back toward her.
“Sebastian,” she said. “Can I ask you something? Privately?”
He turned to Max, who nodded and took a few steps to the car. Kitty laid a hand on Sebastian’s arm and spoke in a low voice.
“I have to know. How did you get mixed up with a girl like that? I’m sorry, I know it’s personal, but…I want to understand.”
His shoulders sagged. “Her name is Alma. We were neighbors, classmates. She is a smart girl, and we talked about everything together. We both saw what was happening to our country, but we saw the solution through different eyes. She wanted to stay and fight. I—I had to go.” His face flushed. “I was a singer. What could I do? I wanted more than the fishing boats and cane fields. I want better for Cuba, yes, but my family comes first. I knew I could make money in Miami that would help them now. She was angry with me for leaving.”
“And she joined the revolutionaries?” Kitty kept her voice low, mindful of Sebastian’s earlier nervousness.
“Not until her brother disappeared last summer. He helped attack an army base. No one knows how many died and how many were captured.” Sebastian winced. “I want to be at home, with my family. But I see that something bad is coming. I don’t know if things will really be better, even if the side Alma has chosen wins. I still hope to bring my mother to Miami one day. Give her a better life. But it means I have to be far from home now.”
“I can’t imagine how hard that must be,” Kitty said.
“Alma believes that I am a coward because I do not fight for all Cubans. She doesn’t want to talk to me. It was hard to lose her, but I had to leave.”
Kitty tried to envision leaving New York for good. Leaving her father and Hen and the life she knew behind. “I think you made a brave choice, even though it wasn’t the same choice Alma made.”
He blinked back tears as he stared out at the Malecón. “I only hope it was the right one. Good night, Kitty.”
As he walked toward the car, she considered how grateful she was that she would soon return to a place where life was far less complicated. If such a place existed anymore.
Kitty had only been back in Miami for a couple of hours when she got the feeling she had left something in Cuba. Loco bounded around her feet as Kitty dug thr
ough her purse, relieved to find her passport and favorite lipstick. Her sunglasses had been on the coffee table in the living room, where she’d dropped them as soon as she’d arrived in the suite at the Imperium. She rifled through her suitcase even though she wasn’t entirely sure what she thought might be lost. The knot in her chest unraveled as she recognized she hadn’t left anything behind. She was simply missing Max.
She had a little laugh at her own expense. After all, she’d seen him the night before. Not that their parting had been ideal. The tension from the events at the casino and the conversation after had left everyone weary. Hen had recovered well once the plane landed, but Kitty had more trouble shaking her discomfort about their trip.
The phone rang, a happy distraction from her qualms. She sat on the bed, still clutching the last shoe she’d pulled from her suitcase. “Hello?”
“Hello, Kitty,” her father said. “How was the trip?”
She forced sunshine into her voice. “Oh, Papa, it was wonderful. Havana is so beautiful and lively. How are you?”
“I’m fine, just fine.” His voice sounded muffled and slow. She frowned.
“Are you all right?”
“Of course. I caught a catnap. Had a late night last night at the club covering closing. We had a couple of bigwig guests, and they didn’t want the party to end.”
Kitty glanced at the clock. Six in the evening. Not an unusual time for him to drift off in his chair, listening to the news on the radio on his dinner break. “Don’t you have anyone else who can do that for you? I don’t want you working too hard.”
Her father chuckled. “You just tell Andre I’ll be glad when he’s back and can cover closing for me.”
“I’ll do that.” She tugged on the phone cord. “Have you made any progress on getting down here for Christmas? It’s only a few days away.”
He cleared his throat. “That’s not going to work out. I’m sorry I won’t see you, but we’ll be together soon.”