Playing With Fuego

by K. G. MacGregor

  I had no delusions that Mari would sweep me off my feet and make me her princess. We were from two different worlds, and while it was true that she actually had swept me off my feet, I fully expected to find myself back on earth eventually. That could happen when I failed to dress with the appropriate flair or when I turned down an extravagant invitation because I couldn’t afford it. Or it could happen anytime we were out together and ran into her Spanish-speaking friends. Any of those could awaken her to our stark differences.

  Until that moment, I was happy to go with what we had. Mari and I were still getting along famously without ever having discussed the nature of our relationship. She wasn’t that far removed from the Delores Disaster—which I could tell still bothered her—so I couldn’t honestly expect her to get serious again anytime soon.

  All that said, I was perfect for her, even if she hadn’t realized that for herself. We fit together, not only in bed—where we’d spent a great deal of time over the past six days—but also in our temperaments. To me, that’s what it really means to be compatible.

  She deflected a lot of the anxiety and frustration I felt about Miami by unlocking many of the things that seem so foreign to me. It wasn’t the yachts or trendy nightclubs, though it was nice she could give me those experiences. It was more the everyday things, and it had a profound effect on how I saw the whole city. We’d gone out Wednesday night to Versailles, the iconic restaurant on Calle Ocho—Southwest Eighth Street, the heart of Little Havana—where all the politicians stop by to schmooze the Cuban vote. My only other experience there—four years ago with Emily—drove home my feelings of “otherness.” It took us fifteen minutes just to get through the English translations on the menu, and even then I ended up with something I hadn’t meant to order and a waiter who treated me like I was an idiot.Things like that didn’t happen when I was out with Mari, who not only handled all the translations, but also the social parlance that got us a great table and a waiter who fell all over himself to make us happy. I could learn to love just about any place where I was treated like that.

  And what had I done for Mari? Nothing short of saving her life by pointing out that just because her car could go from zero to sixty in four and a half seconds didn’t mean it should, especially when all three lanes of Dixie Highway are stacked up ahead. When that argument failed to sway her, I pulled out the big guns and told her she was scaring me.

  For a second or two, I considered mixing and matching my earrings again to convince her I really had done it on purpose the first time, but then I decided that would dangerously undermine my already dubious fashion sense. The only way I could pull off blending in among style mavens was not to get noticed at all.

  It was already nine thirty and I was starving. I understood finally why Hispanics eat dinner so late when Mari told me we weren’t even going to the club until midnight because nothing ever happens before then.

  When Mari knocked, I’d just put the finishing touches on my makeup, and had to admit I looked sort of okay. She was only twenty minutes late, and since I’d been persuaded to open my waiting window as much as forty-five minutes, I didn’t even hold it against her.

  “Hey, cutie.” Seeing her smile as she eyed me up and down excited me as much as the idea of getting a wolf whistle from Olivia Wilde.

  She wore a gorgeous open-back silver top that gathered at the neck over the sort of short black skirt I was afraid to wear. In her two-inch heels, her legs just went on and on. “You look stunning.”

  As we kissed, she slid her hands under my waistband to massage my behind. It wouldn’t take much of that for me to chuck our plans for going out, but then she gave me a firm squeeze, disentangled and lapsed into what I’d come to know as her business voice.

  “I just ran into one of my new clients in your elevator, Ronaldo García. I had no idea he lived in this building.”

  Finally, a chance to learn something about my mysterious neighbor. “I’ve tried to get to know him but I don’t think he or his wife speak a word of English. What kind of work does he do?”

  “He imports precious stones from Brazil, mostly emeralds.He’s just getting his business off the ground.”

  “They’re both so impeccable. And their baby is adorable.”

  “I haven’t seen her, but having a family is what motivated him to start an investment account. He wants to bring his wife’s mother to Miami to help take care of her.”

  “Wonder where he’s planning to put her? Their apartment’s just like mine—two bedrooms, two baths.”

  “Don’t know. He hasn’t said anything about buying something new. He’s very frugal, though, and conservative with his portfolio.”

  “I guess that’s what babies do to people.” I’d be sorry to see Ronaldo and his family go, not because they were great friends, but because they were great neighbors. With my luck, they’d sell to a salsa band.

  “Speaking of babies, my cousin’s little one turns three on Tuesday and we’re having a huge party at Mima’s. I’ve been given orders to bring you.”

  “Orders from whom?”

  “Lucia. She’s managed to convince everyone you’re a good influence on me, so don’t go getting arrested between now and then.”

  Though she’d set me up for the perfect comeback, I stayed true to my vow not to tease her anymore about her littering arrest. Besides, I liked her thinking I was a good influence. “And what about you? Are you ready for me to meet the family?”

  “Sure, it’s no big deal.”

  That wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear. Introducing a new girlfriend to the family was an important ritual, because it was supposed to be a statement to everyone that This One was important enough to bring home. If it was no big deal, maybe it didn’t matter to her what sort of impression I made, or what impression they made on me.

  Stewing in silence over her flippancy was not how I wanted to spend my evening.

  “If it’s no big deal, then why should I even go?” I didn’t mind that coming off as sharp, but I hadn’t meant for it to sound whiny. “Don’t you want your family and me to like each other?”

  “Of course, and I’m sure you will, but that has nothing to do with why it’s not a big deal. I was just saying that because I didn’t want you to be nervous about anything. Our family is very close and some people aren’t used to that. I know they’re going to like you…”—she hooked her arms around my waist again and kissed me on the forehead—“because there’s nothing not to like.”

  Good thing I’d shown a little restraint. What I thought was glib had actually been sweet. “They won’t be upset I’m not Cuban?”

  She loosened her hold in a pretty clear sign I’d struck a nerve. “Upset isn’t the right word, but it’s not anything to do with you. Mima doesn’t speak very much English, so she’ll be disappointed she can’t talk with you.”

  That’s the part I just didn’t get—how someone who had spent fifty years in this country had gotten by without learning the language. The whole city of Miami had been turned on its head because of people like Mima.

  “At least you’re Catholic. That’ll count for something.”

  “Raised Catholic,” I corrected, since it had very little to do with my actual beliefs. “I’m more of a Recovering Catholic.”

  “I’m a Holiday Catholic myself. Good for Christmas and Easter but not much else. I’ve got all the rituals down though.”

  “Sounds like my neighbor Mordy. Six days a week he’s agnostic. On the Sabbath, he becomes an Orthodox Jew.”

  “He’s the one you want me to meet, right?”

  “And his Irish wife, Edith. Let’s do that so we can go eat before I fall over.”

  From the hallway outside their door, we could hear Edith and Mordy shouting at one another.

  “Maybe we should come back another time,” Mari said warily.

  “Believe it or not, this is normal.”

  Edith answered my knock with a friendly smile. And she had a revolver in her hand.
/>   “Edith, what’s going on?”

  “She’s going to kill me,” Mordy yelled from the living room. But instead of running for his life, he was sitting on the couch sipping Manischewitz. “She thinks I’m having an affair.”

  Edith laid the gun on the table and whispered, “Watch out for that. I can’t remember if it’s loaded or not.”

  Never a dull moment.

  “Edith, you need to put it away before it goes off.” Accidentally or on purpose.

  “His girlfriend called here a little while ago and I answered. She tried to make out like it was a wrong number but I know better.”

  “Zilch! That’s what you know because it’s all there is to know,” Mordy groused. “Did it ever occur to you the poor woman might have just dialed wrong? All it takes is one fat finger. You’re paranoid.”

  “I’m with Mordy on this one.”

  “You always take his side,” Edith said, her face falling as if I’d hurt her feelings. At least her voice had calmed from its menacing growl.

  “If he’d been holding the gun, I’d be on your side.”

  Mari was still standing at the door as if afraid to move.

  “My friend is going to think you don’t love each other.”

  “That’s silly. Why would I need a gun if I didn’t love him? I’d just let him go off with his little slut and be done with him.”

  I blew my bangs upward to let Edith know I was exasperated, and then shook it off. If Mordy wasn’t frightened enough to be hiding under the bed, I shouldn’t be getting worked up about it either. “Okay, this is my friend Mari. Mari, these are the Osterhoffs, Edith and Mordy, who have been married for fifty-some years and would never actually do anything to hurt each other.”

  Mari smiled before nodding toward the balcony. “Whose cat is that?”

  “Oh, my God!” My worst fear, other than perhaps seeing Edith shoot Mordy.

  Marvin was crouched on the rail eyeing a magenta bougainvillea petal that wafted by the balcony on a gentle breeze. Before anyone could move, he leapt from the rail, and we listened in horror as his screech faded in the night.

  ***

  “I can’t believe it,” Mari said solemnly, squeezing my knee as we drove across the Julia Tuttle Causeway. “Fifteen floors. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes…”

  Mari and I had rushed downstairs alone to save Mordy and Edith the anguish of retrieving the broken body of their beloved cat, only to find Marvin still chasing the errant flower. Best we could tell, a towering royal palm had broken his fall.

  As they joyously celebrated his deliverance from doom, I sneaked out with Edith’s gun and slid it under my bed. She could have it back—without bullets—when she’d calmed down.

  “Where shall we have dinner?” I asked.

  “YUCA?”

  I shouldn’t have been surprised. Everything about Mari screamed Young Urban Cuban American. It was also one of the priciest restaurants on Lincoln Road.

  “How about something a little cheaper? I might want a little left over for a mojito at the club.” To say nothing of groceries next week.

  “Then how about you let me buy dinner? And if you want to buy me a daiquiri later, I won’t stop you.”

  “Deal.” I appreciated how quickly she settled that. It wasn’t fair to make her live on my paltry budget but I have my pride.Still, if we were going to see each other on a regular basis, we had to work out the money thing. “But the issue is a little bigger than just dinner tonight. I’d like to take you out sometimes too, but I really can’t afford the kind of places you like…certainly not the places you’ve taken me to.”

  She hit the brakes, slowing us dramatically. “Now you tell me! That’s the whole reason I wanted to go out with you, so you could take me to extravagant places and pay the bill.”

  “Nice…you’re going to make this even more humiliating by being a smart aleck.”

  “It’s a nonissue,” she said, taking my hand as she resumed a normal speed. “If anyone should feel bad about this, it’s me, because I must have said or done something to make you think I care about that sort of thing.”

  Mari was very good at making me feel ashamed of myself. From the very beginning, I’d thought the worst about her instead of giving her the benefit of the doubt.

  “No, you haven’t. I’m sorry.”

  “If that sort of thing mattered to me, I’d go out with someone like Delores. What I care about is if you’re someone I can trust.”

  “I am,” I answered, fully chastised.

  “I know. After what I went through, that’s what I need to feel. This other thing…it’s a difference we’re not going to fix, so just let it go. Can you do that?”

  All I could do was nod obediently. I would never bring up the subject of money again, even if all I needed was change for a dollar.

  With the money issue settled, we enjoyed a leisurely dinner, and by the time we finished it was a quarter past twelve. We then took a short ride up Collins Avenue and valet parked at the Fontainebleau Hotel, home to LIV, one of the hottest nightclubs on the eastern seaboard. Mari took my hand and led me past a long line of people waiting behind the stuffed satin ropes.

  “Antonio!” Mari greeted the doorman with her ritual kiss to the cheek. He was only a couple of inches taller than I, with a massive chest and arm muscles, and a shaved head.

  “Good to see you, chica.” He mumbled into a slender microphone that crossed his cheek and then pressed his finger to his ear. “Felix is on the right side just below the third skybox.”

  Bubbling with anticipation as Antonio fastened my wristband, I didn’t dare turn back to see if anyone in the line was seething at our admittance. Everyone deserves the chance to feel special. Tonight was my turn.

  Beyond the door was the most spectacular party space I’d ever seen, bursting with sound, energy and purple neon lights. I’d been to clubs in Boston, New York and Toronto, and it was clear to me LIV had been designed to make me forget all of them. The crowd on the dance floor wasn’t near capacity, but one of the girls at work told me they held people in line because it revved them up for dancing and gave passersby the impression it was packed inside.

  Mari pointed toward an elevated deck at the far end of the dance floor, where a man wearing a lime-green shirt with an ascot mixed the music. “That’s Robbie T, Felix’s boyfriend.”

  Theoretically, I know some DJs are considered better than others, but I have no idea why. What I do know is that only the best of the best work on the busiest night of the week in a club like this one. Accordingly, I replied, “He’s amazing.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it. I don’t know one from the other.”

  So much for that.

  We squeezed between clusters of partygoers who were gathered on the risers for a better view of not only the dance floor but also the skyboxes, where the VIP celebrities would gather to be seen.

  On the tier below the skyboxes were several sitting areas for small groups, modern U-shaped leather sofas surrounding sleek smoke-gray glass cocktail tables, all intended for private parties to be seen and envied. We flashed our wristbands to the bouncer and made our way to the corner.

  “Mari!” A lean Hispanic man stood to welcome her with a kiss. He was dressed in a tight gray suit with a matching shirt and thin black tie. “I’m so excited you’re here. And this is your lady?”

  I like being her lady. “I’m Daphne. You must be Felix.”

  “That’s me, the black sheep of the family. Not really…more like one of those dirty magazines you can’t show to the little ones or the old people.”

  Mari butted in. “She’s coming to Emilio’s party on Tuesday if you need a beard for Mima.”

  “Only if you’ll go with Robbie T…yeah, I didn’t think so.”

  I learned that Felix was forty-four, the youngest of Mima’s children. Besides his law practice, he played soccer in a city league and collected art.

  “And every now and then, he collects artists,” Ma
ri said, gesturing toward Robbie T.

  When the cocktail waitress came around, I tried to make good on my promise of buying drinks, including a dirty martini for Felix. With tip, it would have been a whopping sixty-five bucks—the down payment on my private jet—but while I was fumbling for bills, Mari reached past me and dropped her credit card on the tray. And before I could mount even a semblance of protest, she also dropped a kiss on my cheek. Case closed.

  After our second drink, which was on top of the wine we’d had with dinner, Felix came back from talking to Robbie T and announced, “Next one’s just for the chicas. Hope you brought your dancing shoes.”

  The energy on the floor was electrifying. Besides the dancers, there were dozens of others who lined the floor soaking up the club atmosphere, including one woman who seemed to be studying Mari and me. She was tall like Mari, attractive in an athletic sort of way…meaning she set off my gaydar. From where we were, I guessed she was Hispanic, since she had short dark hair and brown eyes. The way she was studying us, it occurred to me she might be Delores. That would suck. But then Mari looked her way several times without freaking out, so that left envy, and who could blame her? I’m out here with the hottest chica in Miami.

  After thirty minutes of jumping up and down to a long, lively girl tune, the sum of my day hit me like a bus. Besides the buzz from the alcohol, the excitement of LIV and the emotionally draining episode with Marvin, Edith and her gun, I had also logged eight grueling hours on the jobsite. By the time Mari and I finally headed back to our corner, it was all I could do to walk.

  “Look, it’s Mari and Daphne!” It took me a second to recognize Juan and Brian, the men who’d brought their jerk wad friend Michael to dinner on the yacht.

  The jerk wad himself, who was hidden by the others in the corner, his face lowered to the table, suddenly sprang up, sniffing hard as he attempted to wipe the white powder from his nose. “Our little social crusader.”