Jesse slung his sport coat over his shoulder and walked toward the cement block and brick Atlantic Ocean Christian Fellowship that for good or bad had been his second home all his life. Sweat rolled down his neck and he ran a finger under his collar, loosened his tie.
An ancient white Volvo rolled across the grass and dirt parking lot and coughed into silence beside a fan palm. He stopped under the shade of the carport, curious. Orange sun glinted off the windshield of the unfamiliar car.
A girl slid out, shaking the wrinkles from her peasant skirt. She bent at the waist and flung mahogany curls nearly to the ground.
A second and a half glimpse of her exquisite, ivory neck tattooed to his brain.
The girl stood and fluffed her hair into place with her fingers. She stopped as though she felt his gaze. Her eyes found him.
He gave her the full-on smile that once made drama queen Jenna sigh and slap her forehead.
She squinted at him as he walked toward her. Sunset dusted her curls with henna. Pale freckles sprinkled the white, white skin of her cheeks.
He held his hand out to her, playing the church Jesse. “Hi. I’m Jesse Koomer.” The interchange rolled in slow motion. He wanted to touch her.
She slid a delicate hand into his.
Warm tendrils crawled up his wrist.
“Tía. Nice to meet you.”
He couldn’t place her accent. “Not from around here.”
“I’m from Calgary, Alberta.”
Tía eased her hand from his, and he realized he’d held it too long.
“I’m ready for a new start in Florida—someplace where it doesn’t snow.” She pulled her curls up off her perfect neck and fanned herself. “It’s warmer, that’s for sure, eh?” Her stomach growled. Alarm flitted through her eyes, and she crossed her arms over her stomach.
His forehead wrinkled in concern. “You okay?”
“Not so much.” Her hands moved in quick, feathery motions, punctuating her words. “I ran out of money in Jacksonville. I hoped I might find a family at church to put me up for the night. But now that I’m here, it sounds crazy.” She hesitated as if she’d get back in her car and drive away.
“Someone will take you home,” he blurted.
She gave him a tremulous smile. “Do you think so?”
He’d never wanted to rescue someone so badly in his life. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”
He turned toward the church, begging her silently to follow. He shot a glance at her.
Her shoulders lifted, then relaxed. A look of determination settled on her features. “This is where I’ve landed. No more gas. New Smyrna Beach must be God’s place for me.”
He felt like shouting amen like old man Rivers did when Dad made a good point in a sermon. He opened the church door and guided her through, his fingertips pressed against the fabric of her blouse. An ache to take care of her washed over him.
As she walked through the doorway, he catalogued her worn sandals and fine-boned toes, slender waist, the blue veins under translucent skin on the insides of her wrists, the curves beneath her modest blouse, and the blue-green of her eyes—an exotic mix of helplessness and sensuality.
He led her to the kitchen and snagged a box of Cheez-Its out of a cupboard. Her eyes filled with damp gratitude. He leaned against the counter, content to watch her peck at the crackers like a hungry robin. Her back eased against her chair as he talked about the church and himself. “What about you?”
A look of longing bloomed in her eyes. “I want to teach little ones. I’ve got to get a job and save money for university.”
Jesse smirked. “Daytona State College has a branch in town where you can get your education on the cheap.” Inexplicably, the picture of Kallie clenching her schedule in her fist on the first day of class sprung to life. He ran water into a Styrofoam cup, dousing the memory and handed it to Tía.
Her eyes sparkled with hope.
Inside, he quivered like a new string on a guitar.
After church, he stood in the glare of headlights, a hand raised in farewell, as Tía pulled out to follow the Malcombs’ SUV home. His hand dropped and the taillights disappeared. A flash of exquisite neck lingered.
Chapter 18
Cisco flopped onto his back. The vinyl of the couch felt like cement. Avra lived in his head in that spot between sleep and wakefulness, the one place where he couldn’t shut her out. He hadn’t laid eyes on her in weeks—since she dumped him. How did a person just disappear in a town this small? He tossed again.
What would it have been like if Avra had given herself to him? He jerked awake. It was wrong to even think about it. He felt it in his gut. On some level, he’d loved her strong convictions, the thing that initially set her above all the girls he knew, like a princess. His nose smashed against the back of the couch. He groaned and sat up.
At least he left her principles intact. He kept his promise to her old man. He was glad for that much.
Avra and Kallie lay sideways across Avra’s bed, two spoons and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia between them.
“Thanks again for getting me through calc.” Kallie glanced at Avra.
“You almost had an A. Don’t ever say you’re too stupid to get math.”
“I hope I never have to get any more math. The only reason I got calc is that you taught me. Now, I find out I only needed Algebra for my major.”
“So, you stretched your brain. It was good for you.”
“I liked my brain in its old shape, thank you very much.”
Avra smiled slightly.
Swiss Army Romance’s melancholy notes floated around them like the sadness inside her.
“How are you, really?” Kallie’s voice was subdued, as if she was afraid Avra would shatter if she asked in a normal tone. “It’s been over a month.”
Avra licked her spoon and laid it on the nightstand. “Some days the pain actually seems smaller.”
“Getting dumped has always terrified me.” Kallie sat up. “I don’t know how you are even going on.”
The compassion in Kallie’s eyes sprung tears to her own. “I’ve been hanging with God a lot.”
“Does God care?”
“A week ago I didn’t know if He cared. But, yeah, He does.” She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. “‘God is near to the broken hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.’ That’s me.”
“My dad broke my heart—” Kallie stopped, took a shaky breath. “Do you still love Cisco?”
“I don’t know how I’ll ever get him out of my heart. On Sunday I felt movement behind me in the sound booth at church and I thought it was Cisco. No one was there.”
“You make me glad I never gave Jesse a chance. Was it worth it—letting yourself love Cisco?”
“I don’t know.” A warm breeze rustled through the oak outside her window and ruffled her hair.
Kallie’s eyes lit up. “I’ll highlight your hair! It’ll make you feel better. I watched Kylie do Maddie’s. I know I can do it.”
“Why not? It’s not like I’ll lose a guy over a bad hair job.”
“Gee, thanks for your vote of confidence.” Kallie dashed to the drugstore for the highlighting kit before Avra could change her mind.
While her hair “cooked,” Kallie gave her a manicure and pedicure. Her nails looked like they belonged to someone else, but she liked them. She actually did feel a little better.
Drew banged in through the screen door as Kallie washed the bleach from Avra’s hair in the kitchen sink.
“Hey, Kal. What up? Trying to drown my sister?”
“Cheering her up.”
“Oh.”
Avra waited for Drew’s usual diss, but it didn’t come.
“I’m feeling pretty bummed myself. How about you wash my hair too?” He grinned at Kallie hopefully.
“Let me cut your hair, bud. I need practice.”
“Um.” Drew stood on one foot in the doorway. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m all abo
ut your running your fingers through my hair. It’s the scissors I don’t want.”
“Clippers?”
“See you, Kal.”
Kallie swatted him with the towel she’d been using to dry Avra’s hair as he ducked into the living room.
A laugh burst out of Avra’s throat, surprising her. “I may have gotten you through calc, but you’re getting me through Cisco.”
Cisco sat on the edge of a picnic table in Isabel’s backyard, his feet propped on the bench. Rapid-fire Spanish zinged around the lawn under colored lights strung between trees. Isabel whacked at her piñata and missed. She slipped the blindfold down, found him before she searched for the errant piñata.
Isabel’s mother, in a low-cut blouse, bent over her boyfriend and laughed at something he said. Relatives who reminded him of his own milled around the yard. Isabel’s older sister watched Isabel’s antics with a sad-eyed toddler in ribbons on her hip. The party was as familiar as the smell of Mamá’s neck. Even the aroz con pollo was the same dish his family ate on birthdays.
Through the window, lamplight illumined a crucifix. Like at his house, it was more of a talisman than a symbol of anybody’s faith. There was no crucifix at the Martins’, but they were all hooked into God. He felt clean, just stepping through their door. He hadn’t felt clean in a long time.
The American half of him had fit into Avra’s family better than the Cuban half belonged here. Neck deep in the familiar, his gut ached for what he threw away.
Cisco’s skin was hot and sticky where it touched Isabel’s. The sand on the weathered wood of the lifeguard stand dug into his knees and elbows. He wanted to get up and walk down the beach—away from the shame that poured over him like warm motor oil. But Isabel’s arms clamped around his back.
“I love you, Cisco.” She whispered it over and over in his ear.
He kissed her, tiny kisses on her lips to stop her words. Maybe she would forget what she was saying.
Sex wasn’t filling the emptiness that gnawed at him. That was one thing Isabel taught him. He was supposed to be having fun. This was fun—guilt eating his gut? He wished he’d drunk more. He would drink more.
Consciousness came slowly to Cisco—first the pounding in his head. His chest smashed against something lumpy, and the skin pulled hot and tight across his back. The insides of his eyelids glowed pink before he slit them open. Blinding sun forced them closed again. He groaned and rolled his face into shadow.
His memory yawned and stretched. He’d partied all night and crashed. He pushed himself into a sitting position, propped his arms on his knees, and shielded his gritty eyes. The sun sparkled a thousand knife points from the water that pierced his eyeballs.
Some kids played volleyball nearby. Recognition crept into his mind as sleep wore off—Drew, Kurt, Tad. It must be a church thing. His eyes searched for Avra. His breath caught in his throat. She faced him—following the ball with her body—athletic grace in every movement. His eyes traveled the firm curves of her body, undisguised by her modest suit, the graceful length of her legs—crouching, leaping. The pain in his head dug into his ribs.
Morgan fielded the ball, expertly setting it to Avra. Funny, Morgan had never struck him as the athletic type. And the guy had been hiding decent pecs under those nerdy button-downs. Cisco spat the sand from his mouth.
Avra jumped high in the air, her arm coming down in a fluid arc on the ball. The ball pounded the opposite court as three opponents dove too late and kicked up a flurry of sand. Avra’s team jumped up and down, slapping backs and yelling. Morgan grabbed Avra around the neck and pressed his forehead to hers. He said something and they broke apart laughing.
Something white, hot, and unfamiliar stabbed Cisco in the gut.
Cisco glanced at his eyes in the toothpaste-spattered mirror. He didn’t want to look at his own soul. Shaving cream peppered with dark whiskers slid toward the drain in the sink.
He spilled some of the amber cologne Isabel had given him into his palm. The color of sin. All those church services with Avra had messed with his head. He set the cologne on the toilet tank. I wish I’d never gone.
He was thinking too much. Isabel’s family was clearing out tonight, and they had her house to themselves. The musky scent filled his nostrils as he slapped it onto his neck.
This was absolutely the wrong time to think of Avra—dancing in Isabel’s living room in an empty house. His gaze settled on Isabel’s face, the dark skin, and silky hair. But it was Avra’s pale coloring and caramel hair that haunted him. Fear flitted through Isabel’s almost black eyes so quickly he might have imagined it.
His gaze slid down over Isabel’s body as she moved—a Corvette, sleek and round in just the right places. But he felt nothing. He should at least be grateful. He stared at the tiny jagged spot between her front teeth. He’d asked her once why she didn’t get it fixed, and she’d been hurt.
Avra obsessed over her complexion. But Cisco never noticed it. She thought she was too tall, all legs like a stork. But she didn’t realize how gracefully she moved on those legs.
As though she could tell he was thinking about Avra, Isabel closed in on him. She wrapped her arms around him. Sweat mingled with the musk scent he wore. She pressed her lips to his, still dancing in his arms. He lost himself in the sensations she awoke.
The drapes rustled and the scent from the gardenia bush outside the window swept into the room like Avra’s presence. He broke the kiss, his eyes somewhere over Isabel’s shoulder. Maybe he couldn’t concentrate on Isabel because he was sober.
He put Isabel away from him at arm’s length. “Let’s get a movie.”
Her eyes narrowed, but not before he saw the hurt in them. She turned her back on him.
He reached for her hand but she snatched it away.
“I am un juguete—a toy—to you. You don’t care about me.”
Was it true? “Come on, Is, cut the melodrama. I’m just talking about watching a movie here.”
She whirled on him then, nostrils flaring. “You’re a user just like stepfather numero dos—” She stopped. Her eyes widened in shock over what she’d said. She sliced her hand through the air. “You’re a man—”
Cisco’s forehead creased as her words, and what she didn’t say, sunk in. “What about your second stepfather?”
Isabel’s thick lashes lifted. Her eyes pooled with tears. Her lids lowered. Tears spilled from the corners of her eyes and ran down her face.
“How old were you?”
“Twelve.” He could barely hear her answer. She sank to the couch, limp as a deflated kickball.
“Ay, Chica,” He reached for her hunched shoulders, but she jerked away and curled into a ball in the corner of the couch.
“You don’t want me.”
Oh man, what have I gotten myself into? He leaned toward the boom box bathed in weak lamplight on the end table and hit “stop.” Ricky Martin’s Latin rhythms silenced. Birds chirped. A bad muffler rattled the length of the street. “You could go for free counseling at the college—”
“Don’t try to fix me.”
“You didn’t want my comfort either.”
She looked up sharply.
“Come on. Just let me hold you.” He held his arms open to her again. It’s the least I can do.
She stared at him. At last, she crawled into his arms.
“What did your mother do?”
She twisted around to look at him. “Mama almost killed him. She went after his—” A corner of her mouth turned up as she remembered “—with a scissors so he could never hurt another girl.” She stared across the room at the crucifix.
“And?”
A slender shoulder shrugged. “She missed. He went away. Now she only has novios, not husbands.”
She settled into his arms. He rocked her for a long time until his body warmed to her. He eased her away. “Come on, I’ll take you for ice cream.” God, give me credit here. At least I have this much decency left.
Cisco shifted
in the uncomfortable square chair in the counseling office at the college. Isabel had gone in forty-five minutes ago. His turn next. He’d rather have his nose hairs torn from his body.
The secretary jabbered on the phone over the coffee pot down the hall. An empty chair sat at a right angle from his with a table and lamp between them. Not even a magazine lay on the table to distract him from what was coming.
What could he say? I came because I’m using this girl, and maybe by doing something noble for her, I can level the scales? Right.
Isabel walked out with mascara streaked down her face. She shot him a grateful look and padded down the hall toward the restroom. He sucked in a deep breath, crossed the institutional gray carpet, and stepped through the door Isabel left open.
Chapter 19
Avra slipped her painted toes into sandals. There—ready for Edgewater’s Fourth of July celebration. She felt pretty. Girly. Amazing, but Kallie’s first effort at highlighting had been a success. Mom had bought her a new outfit. You couldn’t wear soccer shorts to every occasion the rest of your life, Mom said. This was as good as she was going to look—till that magic day when her skin cleared.
Cisco pulled a black T-shirt over his head, inhaling the dryer sheet scent. Last year he’d been too wasted to remember much of the Fourth of July fireworks. He reached for the musk cologne and stopped himself, catching his image in the mirror. He made himself look. His eyes crinkled at the corners. Inside, he looked hollow, as if the man who used to live there moved away.
When he was with Avra, he’d felt like a William Wallace kind of guy, like he could walk into Braveheart and be the man. Now, a leprous Longshanks stared back at him. He turned away, disgusted.
Jesse gripped Tía’s hand as they strolled into the shade along the river. He wrinkled his nose. The tide had gone out, and the ripe smell of exposed barnacles rose around them.
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