by T. R. Cupak
Chapter Four
I return to the party, and Paula intercepts me.
“Come on, you have to meet the family.” She drags me around the patio introducing me to newly arrived faces. I meet a dozen tios and tias whose names I’ll never remember.
She introduces me to several children and a few teenagers, one of them I recognize from the Audi. He is sitting beside the girl from the backseat.
“This is my son, Gustavo.” Paula kisses the top of his head. “And this is Rosa, his ruca.”
“MA!” he yells, embarrassed.
“I’m kidding,” she insists, then shakes her head behind Gustavo’s back.
I find myself laughing with her when I should be warning her. Even if Gustavo and Rosa are released later, they will be listed as present during the raid, their names forever tainted in the system. Even worse, if Gustavo works for the business, he could go to jail too.
“Mi amor,” Marcus calls to me. He stumbles when he moves from the dirt to the paved patio.
“Are you drunk?”
He holds his forefinger and thumb together. “Just a little.”
The group of men behind him cheer in Spanish. “He’s getting married, he needs a drink!” one of them yells.
He falls into my arms. “I told you I loved you today. And you didn’t say it back.”
I was wondering if he noticed.
“I don’t say like to say it for the sake of saying it. It kills the magic.”
In the past, I declared my love too quick and too often, forcing the men in my life to tell me they loved me after every call, every text, before going to work, after work. They became meaningless words.
“I don’t get it.”
“Because you’re drunk. Come on, let's get you in a chair.” I try to find an empty space, but people are everywhere, eating, drinking, celebrating our engagement.
Holy fuck, I’m engaged.
I find an empty room inside the house. It appears to be a game room, with a pool table and large flat screen tv. I unload Marcus on the leather sofa and fix my dress. I should get an Olympic medal for hauling a grown man while wearing wrap dress.
“I brought some coffee.” Mrs. Arini walks in with a mug in her hand. “Come on, you’re a man now. Quit acting like a stupid boy.” She scolds him then turns to me. “If you need something, I’m in the kitchen.”
“Actually—” I stop her hasty exit. “I don’t know your first name.”
“You can call me Mrs. Arini.”
“Mama,” Marcus whines.
“Valentina,” she reluctantly discloses. “You can call me Valentina for now.” She leaves the door cracked open.
It’s a small victory, but I’ll take it. Not that it matters. She’ll hate me tomorrow; they all will. My phone tinkles, and I know it’s Theresa. I can’t answer it now, not in front of Marcus.
“Who’s calling you?”
“Nobody. Just Theresa. Girl talk.”
“Answer it, tell her the good news.”
“Not a chance…I mean, not right now. She’ll want to talk for an hour.”
The recovery is believable.
“I want you to know I meant everything I said tonight. You’re my soulmate, Scarlet.” He rubs the bird on his arm. “Now my father has to make good on his promise.”
He’s chatty when he’s drunk and I need information.
“What promise, baby?” I allow him to lay his head in my lap. I stroke his hair in hopes to stroke a little honestly out of him.
“The old man said when I found the woman I wanted to marry he would let me out of the business. I never really thought he would keep his word.” He starts to laugh. “I gave him no choice now. He can’t keep me close if I’m married to a cop.” His laughter grows, and he starts to cough.
The little voice inside me says ‘Run. He’s using you to get out of his family business.’ When I look at his sweet face, his red lips, and thick eyebrows—I don’t care. He feels right, even though everything is about to go wrong.
“Here, drink this.” I offer him the coffee. He needs to get sober.
“Thank you, mi amor.” He sits up and gulps it down then hands the mug back to me. “I knew from the moment I saw you. Your name tag said Macaw. I knew then you were the one.”
I was in uniform the day we met because I was on duty. If we’re being honest, I’d noticed him long before the day I stopped by his stand. Marcus is known as the hot avocado guy.
“Did you feel the same way about me? When did you know?”
“I’m not sure. Probably after the first night we spent together. I watched you sleep and thought ‘I could stare at that face forever.’”
That’s not a lie. I’ve wanted Marcus to be the one from the moment I handed him my phone number. I swore I wouldn’t do anything to jinx us. I was so worried I would be the one to screw everything up, I didn’t pay attention to the signs. How could I without stereotyping him, his family? Not every Mexican importer is a drug smuggler.
His eyes are glossy and heavy from the alcohol. Even though he’s drunk, his expression is serious. “There are things about my family,” he starts.
“You don’t have to explain.” I don’t want him to confess a word. If he tells me anything about their illegal activity, I have to report it.
“I need you to know, Scarlet.”
I place my fingers over his mouth. “Shhh. Not tonight. Let’s just have tonight.” I slide my hand around the back of his head and pull him to me.
We kiss a few times softly.
“I’ve never made out with a girl at my parents’ house,” he confesses.
“I’m your first.”
“My first, my only.” He kisses me again, this time with more control. He softly pulls me towards his lap.
“We can’t,” I whimper. “I want to, but not here.”
“My car,” he suggests.
“No, mine.”
He takes me out a side door to avoid the party. The coffee and the crisp night air seem to have sobered him up. I click my alarm, and the doors unlock on my Honda. I pull the driver’s seat forward and climb into the back. He follows me in, closing the door behind him.
“What if they come looking for us?” I worry. His family catching us in the backseat of my car should be the least of my problems.
“They won’t.” He unzips his jeans and pulls them down, exposing his hard-on.
I’m wet just looking at him. I could stare at that for the rest of my life.
I don’t have a lifetime. Just tonight.
I bend down and kiss the top of his penis. He grips a handful of my hair. I open my mouth and allow him to slide inside. My teeth scrape his shaft as I work him in and out of my mouth. He doesn’t seem to mind my teeth.
“Oh fuck, Scarlet. I love fucking love you.” He mumbles declarations of love in between cussing and moaning. Unlike before, I don’t want to finish him off. I want him inside of me.
I sit up when I feel him pulsing. I pull my panties off and straddle his lap. He slides in easily. I grip his head with both arms and allow him to control our movement. He forces me to go slow, lifting me then slowly lowering me onto to him. It’s glorious torture. A tear slides down my face, then another. I’m going to miss this. Miss him. He’s my everything. My knight in shining armor. My prince. And I’m going to let him be arrested.
“What’s the matter?” he asks. “Am I hurting you?”
No, I’m going to hurt you.
He pauses and wipes my tears.
“Don’t stop. I don’t ever want this to end.”
“It won’t.”
I cry harder, masking it behind moans of pleasure. I squeeze him tighter.
“We have forever.” He forces me to look at him. “I love you, Scarlet. I’ll love you forever.”
“I love you, Marcus.” The words spill out of me. “I love you. I do. So much. I’m so sorry.”
“Baby, stop crying. Why are you sorry you love me?”
He doesn’t understand. H
e doesn’t know. I can’t tell him. If I do, I’ll lose my job, possibly my freedom. If I say nothing, I lose him.
Either way, I don’t win.
“Make love to me, Marcus.”
His erection never falters, never lets me down. He angles himself so he can go deeper inside of me. I wrap my arms around the front seats and stare at the stars through my sunroof. The windows begin to fog, but the sunroof is clear. I count the stars as Marcus starts his final ascent.
“Look at me, baby,” he commands. “I want to see your face when I come.”
I sit up. I place one hand behind his head the other I put on the roof of the car as leverage. We stare into each other’s eyes, his eyes filled with love and lust. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he comes. A man is never more vulnerable than in the few seconds after an orgasm. He holds me like I’m going to fly away.
“I love you so much, Scarlet.” He kisses me softly.
If he’s exonerated, we can be together. We’ll move away from here, to another state. Hell, to another country.
I’m thinking too far ahead.
He hasn’t even been arrested but I know it’s coming. I know charges will be filed. There’s enough evidence of a bird smuggling operation in the backyard to put him away for a long time. He even admitted to me that they sell birds from time to time. The only way for him to escape jail time is if he flips. If he loves me as much as he says, maybe I can convince him to do it. If he goes down and I don’t report what I saw here, what he’s confessed—I go down too. For the second time in my life—I lose everything.
He pulls his shirt off and hands it to me so I can clean myself. I know the moment we exit this car, everything changes.
Marcus zips up his pants, then uses his fist to wipe the side window. “I think it’s clear.” He moves to open the door.
“Marcus, wait.” I grab his bicep, the one with the scarlet macaw. His favorite bird. His spirit animal.
Maybe he’s right. We are soulmates, fated to meet.
Destined to save each other.
About Nicole Loufas
Nicole was born and raised in California. She claims to be a San Francisco native, however she's lived in both Northern and Southern California. She credits her creativity to the fact that she attended 12 schools between kindergarten and her senior year in high school. Her nomadic childhood allowed her to reinvent herself often. Some might say she was a liar. While others see the stories she told as a coping mechanism. Twelve schools, in six cities, in twelve years—give her a break. Today she channels her storytelling ability into writing novels. Long story short—kids that lie become writers.
A NEW BEGINNING | M. Clarke
Chapter One
“What are you doing?”
I jerked and nearly hit the lamp next to me. With my knees on the sofa, shoulders slouched, I was peeking through the blinds.
“Checking out the new hottie moving in next door.” I bit my bottom lip, embarrassed at being caught.
My roommate, Kayla, hauled her ass next to me and poked her finger between the blinds. “I don’t see anyone. I only see a bunch of boxes.”
“Hold on. He’s coming.”
I rolled my eyes at our behavior, but at the same time, I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t like our previous neighbor. He played loud music into the night and had too many parties. Naturally I was elated when he moved out.
“Ohhhh… I see why you were gawking.” Kayla nudged me, her tone like an immature schoolgirl’s.
“No, it’s not him. It’s the guy behind the guy holding a microwave. The guy holding the appliance must be his friend.”
Kayla flashed a dorky grin at me and craned her neck back to the view. “Nikki, you’ve been staring out the window too long. Or I should say, at him too long. But I have to admit, he’s good looking and so is his friend. Maybe they’re more than friends. Maybe they’re both taken. What if they turn out to be as obnoxious as our last neighbor? Ugh! I need to stop thinking.”
I plopped down, and Kayla did the same after she stopped the barrage of inner thoughts.
I released a deep sigh. “What’s your plan today?”
Kayla rested her head on my shoulder. “Nothing much. Greg is going out with some work friends, so I’m free for dinner. I was thinking of going to the gym. Do you want to come with me? It’s Saturday so you have no excuse. Actually, you have no excuse every day. You work from home. Your skinny arms need some muscles.”
I cuddled closer to her and snorted lightly. “Sure. Maybe it will get me out of this slump. I stayed up late last night trying to finish this endless chapter.”
“You should have just gone to bed.”
“I know but sometimes I get so anal. It’s been months since I finished a chapter, and I need to publish a book soon. My agent is waiting.”
Kayla’s lips curled as her eyes gleamed. “You’re a New York Times best seller. You tell your agent you’ll have one when you’re ready. Maybe you need to stop writing that fantasy stuff and write something steamy. Or at least add some sex chapters into your YA books.”
I pulled back and dropped my jaw. “What? I can’t put that in my book.”
She arched her eyebrows. “Why not? I’ve read some YA books, and they’re not so clean. Maybe writing a little steam will get your blood boiling and stimulate your mind.”
I gnawed the inside of my mouth, contemplating. “I’ll think about it.”
Kayla pushed off her feet to stand and then grabbed my hands to pull me up. “Come on, lazy butt who hasn’t had sex in years.”
I didn’t retort. Kayla was so right. After I broke up with Brad about two years ago, there hadn’t been anyone else. It wasn’t a bad break up. There just hadn’t been any spark left in the relationship.
Brad blamed our failed relationship on the death of my older brother, Sam. He couldn’t deal with my depression and sadness.
Kayla, my best friend from college at NYU, suggested I stay with her as long as I needed in New York. As an author, I could work from anywhere, so I packed up and left Los Angeles. It had been a couple of months, but the change of city was helping me adjust to starting over again.
I wrapped my arm around Kayla’s shoulder. “You driving?”
“Yup. So hurry up and change. I want to beat the rush hour.”
“Okie dokie. Let me put on some sunscreen first.”
Chapter Two
After we worked out at the gym, we went to the market, and then came back to our condo to prepare for dinner. I was the baker in our household of two, so naturally, I was cooking dinner. My dad was a chef at a famous Chinese restaurant in Los Angeles, and he’d given me his special recipes.
My dad was Chinese and my mom was Irish, it was important to my father I learn how to cook Chinese food like him.
“So, should we knock on our neighbor’s door and say hello?” Kayla opened the refrigerator and shelved the orange juice, eggplants, and other items.
“Why?” I placed the strainer inside the sink and let the water run over the squash and baby carrots.
Kayla picked up the plastic bags off the floor and shoved them inside a cabinet. “So you can see if you like him enough to date him.”
I glared at her. “I don’t need you to set me up, especially with someone next door. What if things go really wrong? It’ll be awkward if he brings other girls home and I bring other guys. And if that happens, I’ll have to move out. Got it?”
“Oh. You’re right. And I don’t want you to move out.” She gave me an apologetic look. “Anyway, want to catch a movie on Netflix?”
I took out the cutting board and sliced some garlic and chicken breast into biteable size. “Sure. I’ve been wanting to watch To All the Boys I Loved Before.”
Kayla rolled her eyes and twisted her lips awkwardly. “Here we go again with your young adult fetish.”
I stopped chopping. “Hey, I heard it was really cute. Nothing wrong with sweet romance.”
“I don’t know.” She sho
ok her head and checked her cell phone for messages. “Sorry, I’m texting Greg back. He said he’ll be out late, but if I want, I can go over to his place to spend the night with him.”
After I placed the pan on the stove, I poured olive oil and threw in the garlic. “Don’t look at me for an answer. He’s your boyfriend. You do what you want. Don’t worry about me.”
She tapped her nails on the granite island. “How about I watch To All the Boys I Loved Before with you and then afterward, I’ll go over to his place?”
“You don’t have to babysit me, Kayla. And you don’t have to watch the sweet romance because you feel guilty for leaving me.” I stirred the chicken in with a spatula.
“No. As long as we have a glass of wine, I should be fine.” She snorted.
“Deal. Why don’t you pour some now? Dinner will be done in thirty minutes.”
Kayla went around the island to the rice cooker. “I’ll cook the rice.”
Forty-five minutes later, dinner was all done. We placed the food on the table and sat across from each other.
“I think I cooked a bit too much.” I snorted, taking a sip of my wine. “And I think I’m tipsy.” I placed my hand on my cheeks burning. “Am I red?”
“Well, it doesn’t take you much anyway. And yes, you’re extremely red.”
“It’s my Asian blood,” I said. “We can’t tolerate alcohol well. Brad used to say I was a cheap date. Not in a bad way, but that he only needed to buy me one drink.”
“Well, you’ll find another Brad. Anyway, thanks for cooking dinner. I love your cooking.” Kayla served herself more chicken and beans.
I scooped rice on my plate and brown tofu. I picked up my chopsticks, and then there was a knock on the door.
We exchanged glances over our plates.
“Greg?” I asked.