There was no feeling in the world like dancing, she reflected as they climbed the stairs to her apartment. Well, except sex, maybe. Except that dancing lasted longer than sex. Well, usually it did. She giggled.
He looked at her suspiciously. “All right. You’d better get inside and get to bed, I think.”
“Are you saying that because it looks like I’m drunk?”
“No, not at all. . . .”
“Because I’m not. I’m only a little tipsy.” She tried to look at him archly, then had to stifle a hiccup, which made her giggle again.
“Oh, okay. Well, that’s good, then. You won’t wake up hung over.”
That was true, Jessica realized. It was good not to be hung over. It was nice of him to think of that, too. He was nice. . . . While she was thinking all this, she’d somehow found her keys at the bottom of her bag and unlocked the door.
“Okay, then,” he said. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Maybe we can get together for lunch on . . . Oh, wait, Sunday is Father’s Day, isn’t it? Well, maybe we can . . .” His forehead scrunched up a little as he tried to think of what they could do. He looked cute like that. All confused and worried about what he could do to make her happy, because he was glad he’d had the nerve to ask her out and that she’d given him the chance.
“Jonathan,” she said.
“Yes?”
“Are you going to come in or what?”
He looked surprised again, but again, only for a moment. Then he was kissing her, and she was kissing him, too.
She didn’t know how long it lasted. When they came up for air, their arms were wrapped around each other.
“Come in,” she whispered. He did.
They didn’t get any farther than the couch. Kissing all the way, they both sank onto it and then kept kissing. Jessica’s hand tangled in Jonathan’s hair. He was so blond, so cute, she thought as she pulled him against her with the other hand.
This time he really was into it. The way he was kissing her was setting her on fire. Her tongue wound around his as she hurried to unbutton his shirt. His hands searched her body for the zipper to her dress. She led him to it — it was on the side, under her arm — then let him pull the halter strap over her head.
He looked down at her for a moment. Jessica wasn’t the most well-endowed woman in the world, but she had enough to keep a guy happy, she knew. Plus, she was glad she’d put on a really cute strapless bra and couldn’t wait to see his reaction to it.
The look on his face said volumes. But instead of saying anything himself, he turned his head to the side.
Jessica sat up a little. “What’s wrong?”
He inhaled sharply, and she realized he was going to sneeze. Maybe he has asthma, she suddenly thought. Maybe she was putting him under too much stress and he needed an inhaler.
But then, instead, he exhaled slowly. “Sorry about that,” he said with a sheepish smile. She smiled back, and then he lunged back at her as if he couldn’t wait to be making out with her again. She decided not to worry about whatever it was that had just happened. He didn’t seem to be worried now.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. With her help, he pulled off his shirt. Jessica ran her hands all over his chest and shoulders. His slender muscles turned her on. His chest had a little more hair than she was used to, but it didn’t bother her. She trailed her fingers through it. She heard his quiet moan as he nibbled on her ear.
Together, they got her suddenly annoying dress down her torso and off her body, and Jessica kicked it under the coffee table. This is it, she thought as his fingers grasped at her bra hooks. She reached for his belt. We’re going to get it on! she thought. The buildup was killing her. She’d never been so ready for anything in her life.
She had undone his buckle and was about to reach back and help him with the bra when he pulled away again.
This time he did sneeze. Not just once, but twice in quick succession. It sounded as though his head might blow off.
From the floor, near her discarded dress, Jessica heard a long hiss. She turned and saw two green sparks, glowing in the dark.
“Ricky!” she cried. She’d totally forgotten about the kitten. It was a good thing he hadn’t run out the door when they’d come in.
“You have a cat?” Jonathan stated the obvious. By then, he’d seen Ricky, too. The kitten was standing there with his back arched up as far as it could go, giving Jonathan the most threatening look he could manage. Jessica didn’t know whether to laugh or take the kitten in her arms and alleviate his fear.
Jonathan sat up straight. “I’m allergic to cats.” Then, as if to prove it, he sneezed again.
“Oh no!” said Jessica. “Are you okay?”
He nodded, then put his hand over his face, obviously trying not to sneeze again. He stood. “I have some stuff in my car that’ll keep me from . . . Oh, wait. No, I don’t. I left it at home.”
Jessica stood now, too, feeling slightly foolish in her underwear. Ricky took the opportunity to dart into her bedroom. “I’m sorry. I should have told you I had a cat.”
“No, it’s not your fault,” he said. “I should have asked.” He sneezed again, three times in a row, unable to help himself anymore. Obviously, Jessica realized with profound disappointment, she had to get him out of her apartment.
She helped him find his shirt, and he put it back on. She offered him water, aspirin, and tissues, but he refused them all, between sneezes. She was annoyed with herself for not having any antihistamines in the apartment.
“I’m really sorry,” he said again.
“Don’t be,” she said. “It’s not your fault.” She glanced at her dress, wadded up under the table. “Maybe I should . . . Do you still want to . . .” She didn’t want the evening to end like this. But Jonathan’s face and neck were turning red, she saw now. He tried to be unobtrusive about it, but he was scratching his neck now. Maybe he was breaking out in hives, Jessica thought with alarm. “Do you want to go to your place?” she finished weakly, already knowing the answer had to be no.
“No,” he said. His voice was as disappointed as she felt. “It’s going to take a while for my pills to kick in. And, besides . . . I didn’t, um.” He coughed uncomfortably, then sneezed. “I don’t have anything. I mean, I’m not prepared.”
Jessica realized that he meant condoms. He didn’t have any. He didn’t? she thought, puzzled. Apparently, he hadn’t expected them to go all the way, even after last weekend. She had condoms in her bedroom but decided not to tell him that. He was scratching his forearms now and didn’t look as if he were in the mood anymore. “Okay. I understand. I guess you’d better go.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, still scratching as she led him to the door.
“It’s not your fault,” she said again.
“I’m going to make it up to you next weekend,” he said, right before a particularly loud sneeze startled them both.
“Okay.” She smiled and kissed him good-bye before he could sneeze again.
After he was gone, she couldn’t help throwing a pillow at the couch in frustration. Then she saw Ricky watching her from the bedroom doorway.
“You little brat,” she told him as she walked over and lifted him into the air. “Now I know why Guillermo left you here.”
But she was just kidding, of course. She stood there in her underwear, petting the kitten. Guillermo didn’t even know that she was dating another man, much less that the man was allergic to cats.
Ricky began to purr in her arms. Jessica looked down at the little bundle who’d gone from angry to innocent in a matter of moments. If she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn that the kitten was trying to make her feel guilty.
29
She woke up a little sore, but not hung over at all.
The only way to keep from being sore next time, she reminded herself, was to go out dancing more often. She went into the kitchen for a glass of water and saw that there was absolutely nothing to eat.
H
alf an hour later, as she rolled her cart down the grocery store aisle, Jessica let her mind drift back to the night before. It had been great — until Jonathan’s allergic reaction had ruined it all.
She thought of the episode on her couch, before the sneezing had begun. She’d been so ready to make love to Jonathan.
And yet he hadn’t been planning to make love to her. He hadn’t brought any condoms with him, and he didn’t even have any at home.
Was it a sign? she wondered. Maybe she wasn’t meant to have sex with him.
Without warning, the memory of her first kiss with Guillermo crossed her mind.
And how they hadn’t stopped at the first kiss. But not because she’d tried to stop him and failed. No. Obviously, he was used to women throwing themselves at him right away. But for some reason, that hadn’t bothered her at the time. Not enough to keep her from going way further than a first kiss, that was.
The worst part was that it hadn’t even been a real date. It was more like a National Geographic special on animal mating. Their first “date” hadn’t been until a week later, when they’d driven through downtown together to look at architecture, then stopped for burgers before going back to her place.
Her cheeks turned hot at the memory of it all. She pressed her hands to her face and forced herself to think about the little Virgin Mary swinging from her rearview mirror, focusing on it until her head cleared.
There was no use feeling guilty about it now, though, Jessica told herself. All that Guillermo stuff was in the past.
She would go to his show tonight, not because he deserved it, but just to get closure. She would see him one last time in a place where she could have a good last memory. In her mind, she would tell him good-bye. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be any stupid nude paintings of other women. But, then again, what did it matter? From now on, as far as she was concerned, he could paint all the desperate old rich ladies he wanted. She wouldn’t care anymore.
“After the show tonight, this is it,” she thought aloud. She wouldn’t waste her time with him anymore. No more shady nonrelationships for her, ever again. She’d learned, from the short time she’d spent with Jonathan so far, that she deserved better.
She pushed her cart slowly through the coffee aisle, smelling the gourmet beans without really seeing them there in their grinders. Then her phone rang, interrupting her empowering reverie. It was Toby.
“Hey, g-friend. Are we on for the Tropico drag show tonight?”
Oh, shoot. She’d forgotten all about that.
“Uh . . . I don’t know yet. What time did you want to get there?”
“Early. Like, at ten. Why? You got a date with your new man?”
Jessica didn’t even need to think up a reply, because Toby kept talking. “Two nights in a row, huh? Michelangelo and Jeff told me they saw you humping some white guy at the House. You have to tell me everything, Miss Multicultural Ho.”
“It’s not like that. I’m not seeing Guillermo anymore.”
“Whatever. Tell me all the details later. My mom’s waiting to use the phone. Just tell me if you’re going tonight or not. And don’t say no.”
“Yes, I’m going.”
“Good. Pick me up at ten, then.”
He hung up, leaving Jessica annoyed. But after a second, her annoyance was replaced by relief. Now she had the perfect excuse to leave Guillermo’s show early. Even if he begged her to stay, and to forgive him, and to take him back.
30
She’d decided not to go with the sunglasses. That would have looked ridiculous, because it was seven o’clock in the evening, and the exhibit was indoors.
Instead, she was wearing a short black skirt, a tank made of fuchsia sequins, and silver sandals. Not because she was going to see Guillermo, but because she was going out with Toby after the exhibit. That was how she’d explained it to herself as she’d flat-ironed her hair and then picked out silver drop earrings and bangles. At the last minute, she’d put a black suit jacket over the whole outfit. That would be disguise enough.
As she headed to the door, Ricky jumped down from her bed and ran toward her for some affection. He wound himself around her legs one, two, three times, almost making her fall. “Quit it, Ricky!” she told him. “I’ll come back and play with you later tonight.”
The Centro looked great, she had to admit as she pulled into its newly asphalted drive. Since she’d quit working there three years ago, their neighborhood had gone from shotgun shacks to expensive bungalows, and the Centro had gotten enough funding to totally renovate their building. The whole thing was done up in a classy twenties Spanish stucco style. The only thing ruining it was the cheesy murals painted all over the sides and back. She recognized the artist — Robert Fernandez, her ex-boyfriend from her days as the Centro’s curator.
She got to see his whole masterpiece as she drove around the building trying to find parking. All three murals were full of skeletons, corn plants, fire, struggling brown youths climbing mountains in trousers, and wife beaters. It was totally depressing and, worse, unoriginal. His art, now that she thought about it, was full of omens that she never should’ve hooked up with him in the first place.
She finally squeezed into a space next to a double-parked Mercedes, rolling her eyes at rich people’s driving habits.
As she made her way through the parking lot, Jessica adjusted her silver faux python bag on her shoulder and thought, for the tenth time since leaving her apartment, of how glad she was to be out of this scene now. No more midnight phone calls for her. No more surprise paint blobs showing up on her clothes after waking up next to another starving artist. She was past all that now. She was on her way to becoming an executive, who spent time with other executives, trading business tips at trendy restaurants. She was dating Jonathan and no one else.
She was about to see Guillermo for the last time. Hopefully, this show would give her something decent to remember him by. Plus, it’d be satisfying to see him finally taking her advice and trying to get exposure for his art, even if she wouldn’t be there to see him reap the rewards.
The first thing she noticed when she walked into the lobby was local anchorwoman Yolanda Olivarez. She was standing in front of the cheese trays with a glass of white wine in her hand, talking to two other well-dressed people Jessica didn’t recognize. Yolanda looked just as pretty in person as she did on TV but was way shorter than Jessica had expected. Maybe they sat her on phone books for the news, Jessica thought.
The second thing she noticed was that the opening was way more crowded than she’d expected. Sure, there’d been a lot of cars in the parking lot, but she’d just sort of assumed they were for one of the beer joints down the street. Instead, they were all here, inside, crammed elbow to elbow in the gallery halls. Never when she’d worked for the Centro had they hosted an event with this many people. And they were all well dressed, too. Not here just for the free wine and cheese, obviously. Had the Centro hired a new curator? Or an actual publicity person? If so, did they make that person mop floors, as they’d made her do?
The third thing she noticed, and the most surprising of all, was that people were looking at her. And whispering. Pointing, even. Surreptitiously, she glanced down at herself. Had she spilled something on her clothes? Was her pedicure chipped?
“Jessica!”
She turned and saw the Centro’s executive director, Felix Montenegro, standing beside her. He clasped Jessica’s hand with a warm, completely uncharacteristic smile. Already, this was more attention than he’d ever shown her when she’d worked for him.
“Jessica, I’m so glad you could make it. How long has it been since we’ve seen you? You should stop by more often, for our other events.”
Things were getting weird. Jessica wondered if she were still asleep, having a dream.
“So, tell me,” Felix went on. “How do you like what we’ve put together here? A small reception, but nice, isn’t it? We’re already talking about having another event in the fall. But a bigger o
ne. A nicer one. And just for Guillermo this time. None of this other crap. . . .” He waved his hand around, indicating the paintings in the front room, none of which Jessica had even seen yet. “This time it’ll be a one-man show. That is, if Guillermo wants to do one. What do you think?”
“I . . . I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him that,” she said. She wondered what Guillermo had told Felix about her. He must have said that he wanted Jessica to manage his career, after all this time. Or that they had the kind of relationship in which her opinion really mattered. She wished she could find out without having to ask Guillermo himself.
After listening to Felix suck up to her for a few more minutes, Jessica extricated herself from his clutches and escaped into the crowd. The nearest open space was in front of a painting by someone else — someone known simply as Claudia Z, according to the plaque. It was a watercolor of a fairy under a rainbow. A Latina fairy. Actually, now that Jessica was looking at it more closely, it seemed to be done in felt-tip markers. She leaned closer to make sure. Claudia Z, she saw, was asking two hundred and fifty dollars for this piece, which was the size of a piece of notebook paper. She snorted. It wasn’t worth two dollars and fifty cents, in her opinion.
Behind her, two women were having a semiwhispered conversation. They were so close, Jessica couldn’t help but eavesdrop.
“Girl, I don’t care if his paintings are good or not, because that man is fine. He can paint me anytime, you know what I’m saying?”
Jessica froze, her ears straining to pick up every word. Were they talking about Guillermo? The other woman spoke.
“So where’s this girlfriend of his? Or is she his wife? Hope not. You’d think she’d want to be here, though.”
Girlfriend? Wife? That was it. It was time to find Guillermo and find out what he’d been saying about her, before he said anything worse. Jessica turned abruptly toward the main room, where he had to be, since his name was listed first on the invitation. When she faced the two women, they became silent. And they stared.
Houston, We Have a Problema Page 18