Felix bustled back over, all smiles to realize we knew one another already.
I, on the other hand, was in a state of shock and ready to get the hell out of there before the cops came and dragged us off in handcuffs. When did I fall so far out of touch not to know people did cocaine in nightclubs as casually as they drank a margarita?
Mari’s greeting to both men was a simple handshake, not the warm kiss she usually gave even her casual friends. I wasn’t sure if she was reacting stiffly because of Michael’s condescending reference or because she too had seen him snort a snootful.
Michael set his cocktail in the exact spot where his face had been, probably to cover any leftover evidence. I guess he got nervous all of a sudden that a Pollyanna like me might not take kindly to his brazen drug use.
“Felix, we’re going to head out,” Mari said suddenly. “Daphne’s had a long day and I have work to catch up on tomorrow. Thanks for getting us in.”
I echoed her appreciation and we left hand in hand.
“Was it all right that we left? I didn’t know Felix was friends with that creep. I just wasn’t in the mood to listen to him tonight.”
“Are you kidding?” The look on her face when I told her about the coke was one of total shock, which I was glad about. It might have been a deal breaker had she blown that off as no big deal. The very idea that a cokehead had ridiculed me for my nonprofit work was absurd.
“I really do have work to catch up on tomorrow,” she said as we climbed into her car. “A couple of my portfolios are out of balance and I have to figure out where I screwed up before I meet with my clients on Wednesday. If you’ll let me stay the night we can have a couple of hours together in the morning. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
“You’d better. I have a gun under my bed.”
As we pulled out, I caught a glimpse of the woman who had been watching us inside. Her eyes continued to follow us as she strode briskly across the valet circle and climbed into—what else—an enormous black SUV parked in the fire lane.
Chapter Fourteen
A flower vendor met me as I stepped off the Metromover platform and I didn’t hesitate to trade him a five-dollar bill for a colorful array of tulips, lilies and roses wrapped in cellophane. Though I’d already met several members of Mari’s Cuban family, I was still nervous about the birthday party. Mari hadn’t exactly said so, but I had a feeling Mima’s opinion carried a lot of weight with everyone, so I wanted to make a good impression.
I’d taken the Metro mover to Brickell so Mari wouldn’t have to deal with downtown traffic, and the whole time I was riding, I was looking below to see if the SUV happened to be there. The fact that I’d seen so many in such a short span of time was clearly a coincidence, and my paranoia a delusion of grandeur that I was important enough to follow.
I dialed Mari as soon as I saw her Porsche turn the corner. “I see you. Do you see me?”
Her Porsche came to a halt at the curb with the window down. “How much for a hand job?”
“I’ll give you twenty.”
We both had changed into jeans from our work clothes, and I filled mine out pretty fine if I had to say so myself.
Mari nodded toward my wrapped gift. “I hope you didn’t spend a lot. There are twenty-two of us and we compare notes.”
“Fine, I’ll be sure to get you all a cheap book about dinosaurs. Los Dinosaurios. Is that okay?”
“Perfect. What if he asks you to read to him?”
“I can muddle along when I see it written down. My working knowledge is limited though. I know how to ask for important things, though, like vino blanco, and el baño.”
“Let’s hope you never need more than white wine and a bathroom.”
We pulled into a wide circular driveway in front of a two-story Mediterranean-style house, yellow with white trim and a red tile roof. The yard was brightly lit, landscaped with fan palms and towering birds of paradise. At least a dozen cars, including several luxury vehicles, spilled over onto the lawn.
“Welcome to Mima’s. Pepe and Lucia moved back in here with her a few years ago, but it will always be Mima’s to our family.”
“Is this where you rode out Hurricane Andrew?”
“The pantry off the kitchen.”
The house was teeming with people, including several small children who ran screeching from room to room. All the random chatter was in Spanish until Chacho, Mari’s cousin who had helped lay the sod at Saraphine’s house, stopped chasing the little ones to greet us. “Hey, I remember you!”
“Daphne,” I reminded him.
“La jefa.” He grinned at Mari. “Pepe told us you had a new girlfriend, but he didn’t say who it was.”
Mari nodded. “I gave her your phone number so she can call you and Talia whenever her work crew bails on her.”
Her deadpan delivery left Chacho speechless.
We walked through the elegant home, with its intricate crown molding and terra-cotta tile floors. Gorgeous Caribbean art and overstuffed furniture with abundant pillows gave the place a comfortable, homey feel. Mari introduced me to one face after another, mostly Hispanic names I’d never remember.
From Mari’s descriptions of her beloved Mima, I expected a spry woman who doled out sweets to the little ones on the sly. Instead, we reached the kitchen to find an elderly woman in a wheelchair, singing to a small boy who was sitting on her lap.
“That’s Mima and Emilio, the birthday boy,” Mari said softly, obviously not wanting to disturb the precious scene.
Emilio sang the last few words with her, clapped his hands and scooted off her lap to run after the other children.
“Mima?” Mari kissed her grandmother and spoke to her in Spanish. When she spun the chair in my direction, I realized the woman had suffered a stroke that paralyzed the left side of her face and body. “Mi novia, Daphne.”
Her Girlfriend. I liked that a lot.
“It’s very nice to meet you.” With Mari translating, I was able to tell her what a lovely home she had, one that was full of beautiful things and many people who loved each other.
It was interesting to me that Mari had talked so much about Mima and never mentioned her condition. I guess I wouldn’t have either, not if I wanted to believe she’d get better.
I stuck close to Mari’s side and met still more family members, including her mother, Estrella. Without ever seeing Mari’s father, I knew she looked just like him, because she and her mother could not have been more different. Estrella was a couple of inches shorter than I was and several pounds heavier, with bold facial features and wavy hair. I learned she was technically still married to Mari’s father, who was in Cuba, but lived with her longtime boyfriend Cesar about an hour north of here in Coral Springs.
I wouldn’t exactly call Mari’s demeanor toward her mother cool, but it didn’t compare to the warmth she seemed to share with Pepe and Lucia, or the love she showed for Mima. According to Mari, Estrella didn’t normally attend events such as these, not surprising since this was, after all, her estranged husband’s family. It was hard not to wonder how she felt about Pepe taking over her family after her husband left.
By the time we circled back to the living room, Felix had arrived…without Robbie T, of course. It was too bad he couldn’t find acceptance with his family, but the cultural expectations for Hispanic men are difficult to overcome. I was glad for the familiar face.
“Ladies, good to see you again.”
“I have a bone to pick with you,” Mari said, steering him by the elbow into the corner. No doubt, she was ranting about Michael’s behavior at the club and her concerns that Felix could suffer from the fallout.
I waved across the room to Pepe and Lucia, who were working the room with smiles and hugs.
“Wow, I didn’t expect that,” Mari said when she returned. “Felix said Pepe called him and asked him to show Michael a good time at the club. He’s brought Michael on as a client after all.”
“I thought he wasn�
�t going to do that.”
“So did I. Can you excuse me for a minute while I talk to him?”
I found a stool in the corner from where I had a great view of most of the action. Mima’s caretaker had wheeled her into the dining room so she could watch the party, and Felix was having his turn at her knee.
Mari and Pepe weren’t being festive at all. On the contrary, they seemed to be having angry words until Pepe threw up his hand dismissively and stormed into the kitchen. Mari glared after him for several seconds, and then shook it off before returning to my side.
“From here, that looked like it didn’t go well.”
“I don’t know what’s up with him. It’s fine if he changed his mind about Michael. He doesn’t have to answer to me about that, but I’ve been sending him e-mails for the past three days so I can make sense of what’s going on with a couple of my clients’ portfolios, and he hasn’t gotten back to me about any of them. And he doesn’t want to talk about it tonight because it’s a birthday party, not a business meeting. I’ve never seen him be so rude. I told him if he’d just answer my e-mail, I wouldn’t have to keep bothering him.”
It was hard to imagine Pepe being anything but polite, especially to the niece everyone said was his favorite. Whatever was bugging him obviously didn’t last. Before long he was calling the family together to cheer on Emilio as he opened his presents.
When he got to the dinosaur book, Mari urged me closer to talk to him.
“Do you like dinosaurs?” I asked.
He nodded as he studied the writing inside. “Es español o inglés?”
“It’s both. Spanish on this side and English over here.” I pointed to the facing pages, and decided to try one of the few Spanish phrases I remembered from high school, in honor of his birthday. “Cuántos anos tienes, Emilio?”
His curious look, combined with a few giggles from some of the teenagers in the room, had me rethinking what I’d said. Spanish speakers don’t ask how old you are, but how many years you have.
“Dígale uno solamente,” Talia said, snickering.
“Only one?” What had I asked? Cuántos…how many. Anos…oh, no. I could feel my face heating up, and from the laughter that grew around the room, I was now sporting a deep red blush.
Even Mima was laughing.
The word for years was años, not anos…which probably meant I’d just asked a three-year-old how many assholes he had.
“Oh, mi dios.” I buried my face in my hands and then peeked through my fingers at Mari, who was smiling and shaking her head. There was no way out of this but to laugh along. When someone asked about my most embarrassing moment, this would be the story I would tell for years to come.
“I’m sorry I laughed at you but that was hilarious.”
“I probably scarred poor Emilio for life.”
“Maybe so, but the rest of us can’t wait to post it on Facebook.” She gave me a sympathetic hug before breaking into giggles again with Talia.
While they were cutting Emilio’s gigantic chocolate birthday cake, I retreated to a chair in the corner of the dining room, where I was soon joined by Lucia.
“I hope you don’t feel embarrassed, Daphne. We all made silly mistakes when we learned English.”
“That poor child. Did you see the look on his face?”
She laughed and gave me a hug. “You were a good sport. I’m so glad Pepe insisted on Mari bringing you to our dinner on the yacht. You’re a breath of fresh air.”
I smiled. Not a real smile. The kind you stick on your face and hold so people won’t know you’re thinking a Great Big WTF. I remember Mari describing how she’d followed Pepe’s plan to go to UM, to become an investment manager and join his business, but I never would have dreamed he had dominion over her dating life as well. Had she also reported back on the status of her “conquest”?
When I thought about the sequence of events, it didn’t take long to put all the pieces together. Mari had probably mentioned the bit about taking me to the symphony…or maybe Pepe had heard it from one of his friends who shared the box at the Arsht Center. He thought it would be good PR to have somebody from a nonprofit center on hand to help schmooze his clients—until he realized they were right-wingers. Then he put on a big show of pretending he didn’t like their politics when it was probably mine he didn’t agree with, since he’d taken on Michael as a client after all.
Or maybe he figured I’d be a good influence on Mari after Delores. Whatever. And all he had to do was insist. Nobody says no to Pepe.
What. Ever.
Mima’s caretaker rolled her wheelchair next to me, said something to her in Spanish and left the room. I’d been ready to storm out but doing that now would be rude.
“Would you like some cake?” I caught myself acting like an idiot, enunciating slowly in a loud voice like Mima was hard of hearing. I stood up and pointed to it and she nodded.
I wanted the night to be over so I could go home, slam my door a few times and drink a whole bottle of something. Mari Tirado had a lot of nerve.
When I got back with the cake, I realized I didn’t know what I was doing. I handed Mima the plate, which she took with her good hand.
The caretaker returned with a linen napkin and tucked it around the collar of her dress. “If you’d like to help, you can hold the plate up close to her mouth.”
“Of course.” I didn’t mind helping at all. In fact, it gave me a chance to calm down a little. I wasn’t looking forward to the scathing conversation Mari and I would have on the way home, and I especially dreaded the outcome. If Mari was seeing me only to please Pepe…that was so twisted I didn’t even want to think about it.
Mari joined us and knelt on the floor next to her grandmother. “Mima, te gusta?”
“Si.”
Of course she likes it. What’s not to like about chocolate cake?
I didn’t understand the rest of what they said, but when Mima finished her cake, Mari kissed her and said goodbye.
“Are you ready to go?” she asked. So innocent.
I made the rounds to say goodnight and laughed along as everyone got in a last chuckle over what I’d always call my Anus Debacle. Then I walked out to the car silently and waited for Mari to open the door.
“Is everything okay?”
I didn’t know where to start, so I didn’t.
“Please don’t be mad. They were only teasing. Everyone likes you, I promise.”
“Big deal. It only matters what Pepe thinks.”
“What?” She turned in her seat to face me, making me wish I hadn’t started it. I just wanted to go home. “What’s this about Pepe?”
“Lucia told me you only brought me onto the yacht because Pepe insisted. Is that why you’re telling Mima I’m your girlfriend? Because it’s what Pepe wants?”
Her face twisted with confusion until she did the worst thing she possibly could have done. She laughed.
“Don’t even!” Now I know why Edith had gone for her gun. “Well, is it true?”
“Technically, yes. I told him—listen to me.” She reached for my hand and when I tried to pull away, she gripped it even tighter. “I told him I didn’t want to invite you if it was going to be just another boring business dinner. I wanted you to have a good time, so I said I’d rather wait until we could relax and enjoy it. He was very excited to hear I wanted to ask you out, and he insisted I invite you. In fact, he promised to get the business discussions out of the way early so we could have a good time. So yes, he insisted.”
I had two choices, neither good. I could assume she was a squirmy liar and be furious, or I could believe her and feel foolish. Since I’d already set the lifetime bar on idiocy with Emilio, I decided foolish was not much of a leap.
“Do you feel better now?”
“I do.”
“Good, because there’s something else I want to say.” She still had my hand and raised it to her face to kiss my palm. “That was so sweet when you helped Mima with her cake.”
&
nbsp; “Oh…it was no big deal.”
“It was to me, because it made me realize I’ve fallen in love with you.”
I experienced a shudder deep in the pit of my stomach, the kind that happens only after a profound surge of emotion or when your airplane drops unexpectedly. “Then I guess you’ve finally caught up with me, because I think I fell in love with you that day back in Little Haiti when you told me you’d been helping Saraphine figure out how to save for retirement. I thought that was the coolest thing I’d ever heard, and it showed me what a good person you were.”
“And when were you planning on telling me this?”
“Verbal communication is so yesterday. I thought I’d show you instead.”
The compact seating in the Carrera didn’t lend itself to all I wanted to show her, but by the time her tongue wrapped around mine, I hardly cared that the gearshift was prying my ribs apart.
Chapter Fifteen
What I need is a really good curse word, something that evokes the vilest, most offensive thoughts possible so I can project them from myself instead of feeling as if they’re being heaped upon me.
“Sorry I’m late.” I slid into a chair at the far end of the conference table from Gisela. I was particularly sorry today because it was a full staff meeting, which meant I’d kept everyone waiting. I hate when they do that to me, and since they all know it, I was sure they were taking a lot of pleasure in my obvious frustration.
Being late for work was the least of my worries. I’d arrived in a very expensive taxi after having my car towed to a shop in a strange neighborhood just past the airport. The mechanic, who spoke very little English, didn’t have time to look at it, but after I signed a statement agreeing to pay up to two hundred dollars for repairs, he promised to call my cell phone with a diagnosis. At least that’s what I’d thought he said.
“No problem, Daphne. I was just getting to the volunteer report.”
I had my papers ready and rattled off all the relevant numbers. We had a steady stream of volunteers to tap through the end of October, but things were looking bleak for the holiday months, especially since our next project was slated for Allapattah, a mixed neighborhood of mostly Caribbean and Central American immigrants, many of whom preferred living under the radar of law enforcement, the tax man and immigration officials.
Playing With Fuego Page 14