by Lexie Ray
“I will ask no questions,” I said. “Seven it is.”
He picked me up at my apartment in the convertible, even though I’d had plenty of clothes at his place. I wanted it to be special, like a real date, and Xander was game to play along. We were zipping along the highway when everything fell apart.
“Damn it,” Xander sighed, checking his rearview mirror. He sounded more perturbed than genuinely upset.
“What’s the matter?” I trailed my fingers along his arm, thrilled that I could do so without guilt, smiling at the goose bumps I was able to raise. It gave me goose bumps of my own to realize I was responsible for them.
“I was speeding,” he sighed guiltily.
It was then I realized we were slowing down, inching toward the shoulder of the highway. I whipped my head around to check behind us. Sure enough, the red and blue lights of a police cruiser wheeled and winked.
Was this how it was going to end? My heart felt like it was trying to hammer its way out of my chest. Was this how I was going to get kicked out of this country? Maybe the officer wouldn’t ask for my ID. I didn’t have one to give, not even if I’d wanted to. I just needed to calm down, to stay quiet. There was no reason for a cop to be interested in me. I wasn’t the one speeding — even if I was also breaking the law just for trying to exist here in Miami.
I turned back around to notice Xander studying me.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. We’d come to a full stop, and I knew it was just a matter of time before the officer would approach the vehicle.
“Nothing,” I said, faking brightness. “We’re just going to be late for our reservation, won’t we?”
“I’m not worried if you’re not,” he said, putting the car into park. “Relax.”
“I’m fine,” I lied, catching myself wringing my hands and sitting on them to stop myself.
“You’re not fine,” Xander said, laughing at me. “You’re as anxious as I’ve ever seen you. Do cops make you nervous? Do you have a brick of cocaine hidden away in your purse?”
I forced myself to laugh, painfully aware that the cop had climbed out of his car and was approaching us.
“Don’t worry,” Xander said, his voice reassuring. “I’ll take care of it.”
Take care of it? What in the world did that mean? Was Xander about to do something dangerous, something that he would regret? Something I would be horrified about? He certainly seemed very calm about it, whatever it was.
“Sir, do you know how fast you were going?” the cop asked. I looked straight forward until I worried that it might seem suspicious. But would glancing around look unnatural? I realized I was still sitting on my hands, which couldn’t have looked good. God, why couldn’t I stop fidgeting? It would be my own damn fault if the cop took interest in me. I was being incredibly interesting.
“Fast enough to outrun you, you fat fuck,” Xander said cheerfully. I cringed. What the hell was he playing at? Was he trying to get arrested? I would most certainly get found out, in that case. I clasped my hands tightly. Maybe it would be for the best. Maybe I belonged in Honduras with Antonio, working for change. Maybe I’d never been meant to be in Miami after all. I didn’t deserve the American dream.
A long period of silence stretched between Xander and the cop, and I gradually accepted my fate. I would die in Honduras, the same country I was born in. Plenty of people did it. Why did I think I was special enough to escape that fate?
“I ought to give you a ticket, motherfucker,” the cop answered, chortling. Shocked, I stared at him. The man was actually laughing, and Xander was laughing, too. What was going on, here?
“Give me the ticket, man, I dare you,” Xander said. “You know I’ll get that shit taken care of.”
“That would cause too much stink and not enough fun,” the cop said, “or else I would. I actually didn’t recognize you until I got out of the cruiser.”
“Really?” Xander asked, sounding surprised. “You know my car.”
“Yeah, but all I saw was a convertible with its top down, and some douchebag enjoying himself with a beautiful woman,” the cop said. “That’s usually not how you roll, man. No offense, ma’am.”
I jumped a little, realizing the cop was addressing me. I smiled quickly and shook my head.
“Well, I have to say it’s Sol who makes me ride with the top down,” Xander said, grinning at me and patting my knee. “And who makes me happy — not a douchebag.”
“I commend you for your service to the Miami Police Department, ma’am,” the cop said gravely, tipping his hat to me. “This bastard here is usually so miserable that he makes all the other guys around him miserable, too — me included.”
I laughed uneasily, not sure what the cop was talking about. What was becoming clear to me was that we weren’t going to get in trouble.
“All right, man, we done here?” Xander asked. “You’re making us late to dinner.”
“God forbid you miss a meal!” the cop exclaimed in mock horror. “Tell you what. To make it up to you and your lady friend, I’ll escort you all the way to the restaurant. We’ll blow through traffic.”
“Sounds good, brother,” Xander said, shaking the cop’s hand. “Lead the way.”
We followed the police cruiser, its lights blazing and siren wailing, all the way to the restaurant.
“It’s really a nice way to get around, isn’t it?” Xander remarked to me as all the other cars pulled aside for us, letting us pass. “We’re making good time, anyway.”
I smiled and nodded, still not sure what to make out of the exchange between the man beside me and the cop in front of us. Why had they joked like that? They obviously knew each other. Were they friends?
“Here we are,” Xander said, pulling in to a parking spot and waving as the cop left. “And we’re not even late for the reservation.”
Another smile and a nod from me, and we walked inside. I felt a little numb to the finery of our surroundings, as a man in a suit showed us to our table. I’d never eaten anywhere as nice as this place, and it had been longer than I could remember that I’d eaten at a restaurant at all.
I had a glass of water in front of me at our table before Xander called me out.
“You haven’t said a word since we were pulled over,” he remarked. “Is everything all right?”
“It’s fine,” I said. “It’s just … that whole thing was so confusing.”
Xander laughed. “Sorry about that. And I guess the cat’s out of the bag, now, so that’s something.”
“What cat?” I asked, even more confused.
“I mean, remember how I didn’t want to really talk about work or what I did for a living?” he asked. “I’m sure you know, now, so it’s not a secret. No one can get away with talking dirt to a cop but another cop.”
Realization — and quiet horror — dawned on me.
Xander was a cop. There wasn’t a way to solve this. There wasn’t a way out. He hadn’t figured out what I was yet only because we hadn’t spent that much time together. But if he did, he’d have to do something. He was a cop. He had to report me to the proper authorities.
We could never be together.
“You’re freaking out,” Xander said, covering my hand with his. “Why?”
“I’m not freaking out,” I lied, shaking my head dismissively. “I need to go to the bathroom, actually.”
I made a move to stand up from the table, but he didn’t let go of my hand.
“So you can freak out in private?” he asked. “Sol, you can talk to me. You haven’t been the same since you realized we were getting pulled over. Do you have an issue with cops? You can tell me. You can tell me anything. I just care for you so much. I don’t want there to be any problems between us whatsoever.”
I swallowed and stood up, plastering a smile firmly on my face.
“Nothing’s the matter,” I said. “I just need to go to the bathroom.”
He let go of my hand, even if it was clear to see he didn’t want to, and
I fled to the privacy of a stall in the women’s bathroom. What was I doing? I needed to get out of here. It just wasn’t going to work. I wasn’t meant to be with Xander. I should’ve realized it from the beginning. I needed to walk back out there, find some way to amicably end this thing before it really got started without arousing suspicion, and try to get him to take me back home.
And then I could never speak to him again.
I splashed water on my face and stared at my reflection in the mirror. Would there ever come a day when I could look at myself and be secure with what I saw? The only thing I saw here was a girl in trouble, an illegal person, somebody nobody wanted. Maybe Xander wouldn’t understand it now, but if he ever figured out about my situation, he’d know that I was saving him a lot of trouble by taking myself out of the situation.
If only he weren’t a cop.
Even then, I didn’t think I’d tell him who I really was, or where I really came from. And how long could relationships based around lies actually last?
No. Now was the time to end this, before either of us got hurt more than we already would.
I smiled tenuously as I arrived back at the table, scrambling to find the right words to say. I didn’t get an opportunity to say a thing.
“It’s because I’m a cop,” he said quietly, his eyes boring holes into a piece of bread he’d placed on his plate but hadn’t eaten. “You’re afraid of cops.”
I tried for a light approach. “Isn’t everyone? Cops are just kind of scary. The uniform. The gun. The power.”
Xander shook his head. “Your fear is different,” he said. “Real. Deeper than just the surface. You’re afraid of cops. Why?”
“I would rather not say,” I said, my voice soft. Could I beg him not to ask me anything else? I couldn’t stand to lie to him. I didn’t want to lie anymore. I just wanted to be with someone who loved me, crimes against America and all. It was going to be impossible to find.
“Has something happened to you?” Xander asked. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
He was getting so close to the truth. Should I just let him keep going? Let him figure it out for himself? Accept my fate?
Going back to Honduras almost felt more welcome than lying to the man sitting across the table from me.
“In my country, cops are something to be feared,” I said honestly. “Cops are the government, and the government is corrupt — something to be feared.”
“In Cuba,” Xander said.
I swallowed. I had to lie now, and the weight of it tore at my throat.
“In Cuba,” I agreed finally.
“But this isn’t Cuba,” he said. “It’s Miami. You don’t have anything to fear from the cops here unless you’ve done something wrong, unless you’re involved in something illegal.”
How could simply wanting to live here be considered illegal? It was, and I was breaking the law. That was why I was afraid of the cops. I was afraid they’d send me back, send me away from the place that had promised to solve all of my problems. How could it be that America was so difficult if it was supposed to be so free?
“I guess it’s something I need to get used to,” I said, smiling faintly. “It’s hard to let the past go.”
“What did you tell me?” Xander asked. “You have to let the past go. You have to let it go so you can move on. I don’t have to know what happened to you in Cuba to make you come here. You can tell me, but I won’t force it out of you. I want you to know that you can trust me, though.”
“I don’t want to cause you pain about your profession,” I said, sensing an entrance. “Maybe it’s best that we don’t get involved with each other.”
“We’re already involved with each other,” Xander said, laughing shortly. “There isn’t any going back from that.”
“I mean maybe it’s better to stop before our feelings get any more serious,” I said, trying again. This wasn’t easy. Xander wasn’t letting it be easy.
“Sol, I love you,” he said. “I have since the second I saw you on that stage. I didn’t want you to know I was a cop because I didn’t want to scare you off. And honestly, me paying to sleep with you looks bad for me. If the department found out, I’d probably get canned. So I have a lot more to lose in this than you do. Believe me.”
“There are things you don’t know about me,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Then tell me,” he said, throwing his hands up in the air. “Tell me.”
I shook my head quickly even as the words clamored in my mouth. I did want to tell him. I wanted to be honest with him. But if I told him, if I told him everything … I could lose him. I could lose my tenuous hold on life here in Miami. I could lose everything I’d worked so hard to gain.
“I can’t tell you,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. It’s better that you didn’t know — and better, still, that we didn’t see each other anymore.”
“Sol, I don’t care what you do for a living,” he said. “I don’t. It doesn’t bother me. Keep being an escort, if that’s what you want to do. Keep sleeping with people for money. It’s the oldest job in the world. It doesn’t matter to me. I would never bust you for that. I swear to God. Just be with me. That’s all I want. Just be with me.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” I said. “I can’t tell you. You have no idea what it means to be with me. What trouble you’d get into if the truth ever got out. I can’t do that to you, Xander. Please. Don’t ask me to. I … I love you too much to hurt you like that.”
There. It was out there. I loved Xander.
Immediately, I knew it was a mistake to admit that. He grabbed my hand and squeezed it, and I knew that there wasn’t going to be a damn thing I could say to make him let go again. I’d made a huge error.
“If we love each other, then nothing else matters,” he said. “I don’t care if you’re a drug lord, or a dictator, or enemy number one. I love you, and you love me. That’s the only thing that matters, Sol. Don’t you understand?”
Could it be that simple? It seemed like a trick. Nothing was ever that simple, especially here in America.
“I think I should go home,” I said, lowering my head and extricating my hands from his.
“Sol …”
“Please,” I said. “Please take me home.”
He didn’t understand. Xander was a cop and he would have to forsake his duty in order to be with me. I didn’t want him to have to make that choice. I was poison to be with, and I was only trying to save him.
“I can’t deny you anything,” he said, standing slowly from the table. “I just wish you could help me understand why you don’t think we can be together.”
If I told him now, told him that I was from Honduras, that I was a human being who was considered illegal, would he understand that we couldn’t be together? Would he understand the implications it would have on his career, the threat to his reputation? Would it make him leave me alone?
Would it make him report me to the immigration authorities? Would it set in motion the events that would lead to my eventual deportation — something that would be fatal for me?
I kept my lips sealed shut and simply shook my head.
“I would love you, no matter what,” he pressed, but I turned my back on him, walked myself to his convertible.
The wind in my hair on the way home brought me no joy, and I was pretty sure the top down didn’t make Xander happy.
We were breaking all the rules we’d set for ourselves.
Chapter 11
If it had been heaven in every moment I’d spent with Xander in that special, dizzying time when a loving relationship first began, I was now firmly in hell. I’d been through hell, but this was a different place — a horrible place.
I couldn’t be with him because he was a police officer. It had been police officers who had sent Antonio back to Honduras. I didn’t want to go back, not when I was so in love with Miami.
Not when I was so in love with Xander.
It
was a terrible corner I’d been backed into. I loved Xander so much, and that was the reason I wanted to stay safe, to stay in Miami, to never be discovered for what I was. But now that I knew what he did for a living, I knew that I could never be with him, never give myself fully to him, and that wasn’t what love was. Love was complete honesty. Love was accepting the shortcomings of the person you were with. Love was facing down every challenge that might present itself.
And honestly, Xander was probably the biggest challenge to me. He was now my biggest threat. He could hold the key to my future, the ability to boot me out of this country and send me back to Honduras.
I didn’t know if he’d actually do it, follow the law and report me, like duty required of him. But I didn’t want to test him. I didn’t want to put him in that position.
I loved him too much to do that to him.
It was best that I never saw him again, but it was impossibly difficult. It hurt physically to not be with him. I craved him like a drug.
Every time he called me, it was like a physical blow. It hurt until the buzzing of my phone stopped, and it hurt even more after that.
Finally, I answered it.
“Please, please stop calling me,” I begged him. “Please. You don’t understand why we can’t be together, and you never can. Please stop.”
“I can’t stop until I understand,” he said, sounding like he was in pain. “Just tell me, Sol. Nothing can be this bad. Whatever you think is this bad, it’s not. Just tell me.”
“Once I tell you, there’s no way we can go back,” I said. “It will be a mistake to tell you.”
“Can’t we decide that together?” he asked. “Please. Give me a chance, Sol. Everything will be fine. I promise.”
“How can you promise?” I demanded. “You just don’t know, Xander. Nothing will be fine if I tell you.”
“You have to meet me halfway here, Sol,” he said. “We have to trust each other a little. What are we working with? You went cold when we were pulled over. You asked to leave the restaurant when you knew I was a cop. There’s something there, and you just need to tell me.”