by cross, kali
“Bitch.” I laugh, glancing at my phone absentmindedly. I still look at my phone every night to see if there’s a text from Tommy….hoping he’s had enough time and he’s ready to talk.
I wonder when that will stop. Constantly feeling the pull to check my phone to see if he’s ready to talk, come to his senses…willing to trust me again. Shake it off. He’s out. Let him go.
I text Bobby:
Where are we going?
My phone pings:
It’s a surprise, pequena.
I type:
What do I wear?
My phone pings:
Jeans are fine.
I take an advantage of my non-date by wearing my most comfortable jeans, boots with a Joan Jett t-shirt I happen to love, and Sally happens to hate. I smile at my sweet f-u to her for her comment about dressing like a thug from the eighties. I’m not trying hard, just getting out there again, a fun outing with a friend. Sure he’s been asking me out…Sally’s right…it’s ok to be single for a while. Sure, he’s gorgeous, all dark hair and sultry brown eyes, but I’m not on the market.
So, I do what’s easiest - spiked hair and heavy eye makeup. It takes about thirty minutes and I’m ready to go. No frills, no fuss.
I text Bobby:
Where am I meeting you?
My phone pings:
This is a date, pequena.
I pick you up like the lady you are.
It’s hard not to smile. His sweetness is touching. I don’t do “dates.” I don’t like all that formal shit. I know his heart is in the right place, trying to show me I deserve the full treatment.
I don’t do the door thing. I’ll meet you in the lobby at 7.
After I finish in the bathroom, I walk to the bed to shove some missing items into my bag. “Good golly, miss molly, Amber. You’re wearing the Joan Jett t-shirt again?” She laughs, her eyes twinkling. “Nope, you are not taking this date seriously at all. What’s wrong? None of your pajama bottoms are clean?” She cracks up at her own joke.
“You said don’t make an effort.” Looking at my watch, I realize I have half an hour before he shows. “That reminds me, I asked Bobby about you a while back, and he seems to have the impression that you were mistaken about him having a problem with all your ladies. He said he didn’t have a problem with it. Actually, he said you broke his heart.”
“Are you serious? He told you that? Huh.” She looks at my closet, moving hangers and inspecting the items on each hanger, oblivious to my comment.
“What, why do you look so...so, reflective?” I tilt my head. My eyes zero on what she’s doing, and I say, “I’m not changing, Sally.”
“Yes, you are. Just because you aren’t serious about this date, doesn’t mean you won’t run into someone who does interest you. You are single and no longer allowed to dress like a homeless person.”
“Very funny. I do not look like a homeless person. I am deeply offended.” I smirk at her.
“Here, put this on.” She slings an off the shoulder number in purple at me.
I inspect the top, worried it might give him the wrong impression. Fuck it. I might as well look nice. Who knows maybe I’ll take a page from Sally’s book and get a waitress’ number.
My eyes glance back at the bathroom.
“Are you serious?” She exclaims, crossing her arms. “You’re wearing a bra. Geez give me some credit. Just change.”
“Ok, but don’t try to cop a feel now that I’m single. I’m not interested in becoming one of your many, Sally Westin.” I pull up the hem of my shirt. “Answer my question…what about what Bobby said?”
“It’s not how I remember it, that’s all. I remember that I thought I had found the ideal match, one that would please my dad. And one I could live with, a guy who didn’t have a problem with my liking women. Hell, he loved that. He likes to watch,” she says with a wink, smiling. “I thought I had found a guy who accepted me for who I was and didn’t try to change me. And, he was good, I mean really, good in bed…for a guy.” She smiles shyly. “The bossiness got to me, telling me how to dress, what to do, who to be friends with. It was like my dad, but on high octane. He wants to be a politician you know. He is always aware of how things look, what people might say. I broke his heart? Please. I don’t believe that.” She frowns slightly and she rolls her eyes.
“Geez, why am I going on this date?” I slip the top on and plop onto the bed, my head in my hands. “He sounds like my mother.”
“He has nice qualities, too, Amber. Now I want my friend back so please do not think I am convincing you to take this any further than this date.” She sits down next to me on the bed, squeezing my hand. “But, he is incredibly sweet. You get sick? He takes care of you. Someone mistreats you or gets up in your face, and he’s the first to defend your honor. He’s loyal, Amber. He will be by your side through the good and the bad. He loves, and he loves hard with all of his heart. There’s no half way with him.”
“Sounds like Tommy.” I study my hands, gripping my fingers. Shake it off. He’s not coming back.
“Yeah, Tommy is loyal. That’s one of his great qualities. But, we’re moving on, right?” Her eyes twinkle. “Hmm, what else can I tell you about him? Oh, his best quality.” She leans in and in a low husky voice, she says, “He has an open mind about sex. Nothing is too freaky, and he loves to experiment. We were a perfect match in the bedroom, except for the lack of a vagina, of course. But on paper, we both have open ideas about sex. It’s too bad that he annoyed me to no end the rest of the time.” She smirks and runs her hand across my back. “And, the fact that I prefer to be with a women ninety-five percent of the time, made a huge difference. Now, if he only had boobs and a vagina, I probably could have made it work.” She shrugs and giggles, but her face has a twinge of regret.
I wonder if she misses him. There’s a knock at our door at six forty-five, on the dot. I open the door and motion for him to come in, rolling my eyes as I turn away.
“I saw that, pequena.” He chuckles. “Hi Sally. How are you?” I take this opportunity to look at them while a fumble with my bag. He looks open and genuinely glad to see her. She looks happy to see him with a touch of annoyance mixed with sadness around her eyes. He was probably the closest thing to the perfect husband she is ever going to find. Too bad he’s a guy. Worse yet, too bad she can’t have what she deserves, a person she chooses.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Where are we going?”
“The best restaurant in town.” He smiles, unwilling to say anything more, obviously.
He walks me to the north end of campus and across the street, chatting the whole way. He tells me about Spain, being away from home, his relationship with his parents, everything. He is very open and answers all my questions. It’s nice. He is funny, insightful, entertaining, and charming.
“So, you went to boarding school from the age of six to high school. Who was your worst roommate?” He asks.
“Easy. Missy Callahan. She was pretentious beyond belief, annoying, and she hated me. She loved torturing me. I think she spent all her free time trying to humiliate me any way she could. The worst part was she was sleeping with one of the teachers so it was near impossible to get her busted for any of the shit she pulled on me. I got her in the end, though.”
“How?” He asks, his eyes narrow.
“Nair in her shampoo. She had to wear a wig for the rest of the year.” I giggle. “I heard once when she was having sex, and it came off in the guy’s hands.”
“Pequena, a revenge streak. I like it.” He nudges me with a mischievous grin.
“How about you?” I ask. “Worst roommate.”
“That would be Archibald Winslow.” He sighs, his eyes narrowing, and his lips twist into a frown. “He used to love to talk about my heritage like it was something less than appropriate for our boarding school. He would call me names and degrade me at every turn. Like you, I got my revenge.”
“What did you do?”
“I had
a prostitute pick him up in a bar and leave him with a little gift.”
“What kind of gift?” My eyes light with intrigue.
“She had a case of gonorrhea. I had her tie him up, shave his entire body, balls and all, and fuck him. I told her to tell him I sent her so that every time he had to take a pill, scratch his balls, or his legs would itch, he would think of me and remember that you don’t fuck with Roberto Sanchez.” He puffs out his chest and smiles down at me. “Every time I needed a laugh, I would just stare at his legs in gym class, and I always felt better. Needless to say, he never messed with me again. He learned his lesson.”
Wow. That’s hard core.
The restaurant is this white building that looks like a Dairy Queen from the fifties, with glass windows and picnic benches in front. Red Coca-Cola signs, fountain service, and the owners name in a green sign are on the front of the eatery. The name reads “Dirty Martin’s,” but as Bobby informed me, everyone calls it “Dirty’s.”
We order at a counter in front with a white menu above our heads that has everything from burgers to chicken fried steak sandwiches with all the sides. Bobby orders a burger and a pitcher of beer. I order the same. Our food is ready in minutes. The smell of cooking hamburgers teases my stomach. I walk down the line of booths, find an open one, and take a seat. The restaurant is packed with students. “What do you want to do once you graduate?” he asks, his eyes gleaming with interest.
“A music producer.” I straighten the salt and pepper shakers, arranging the sugar with the labels facing the same way.
“That sounds interesting,” he says with a smile. “Which city do you want to work in: LA, New York, Nashville, here?”
The mention of Nashville makes me twinge. I will probably always associate Nashville with Tommy. “I don’t know. Right now, I plan on focusing on getting a job at one of the music studios downtown.”
“It sounds like you already have a plan in mind,” he says, taking a bite of his burger.
“Yeah, I want to work here while I go to school. Then graduate and move to either LA or New York. I’d like to work with either John Rubin or Rick Vernon.”
“I’ve heard of John Rubin, but I don’t know Rick Vernon.” He smiles shyly. “I would love to learn about this. If it’s your passion, I want to know all about it. You must promise to teach me.”
“Uh, sure.” Now it’s my turn to be embarrassed. I study my burger and take a bite. The taste is perfection. My eyes close, and I smile. “Wow, this is probably the best burger I’ve ever had.”
His lips curve into a leer. “Uh, I’m glad you like it.” He studies my face, and his dark eyes dilate.
My face flushes, and I look away embarrassed. I mutter, “Yeah, it’s good.”
And Mr. Charming is back with a vengeance, or rather is it Mr. Politician because he flashes me a megawatt grin and says, “Dirty’s is an Austin institution. I hope you don’t mind a burger joint for our first date. I try to always eat at the best restaurants. Dirty’s is the best. I’m glad you like it.”
So, what do you want to do when you graduate?”
“I want to get my Masters, of course.” He smiles winking at me. “Find a wife that’s fun, adventurous, a suitable background, independently wealthy, and a hard worker. Run for my first public office in a major city. I’m considering here, Chicago, or LA. They are all major cities with a significant Hispanic presence. I’ll start off in a local race and run for a single term in city government, preferably a comptroller or deputy mayor position. Make all the suitable connections to secure backing for a run for Congress, the Senate or a governorship, finally the White House.” His tone is confident laced with a bit of arrogance. I stare into his eyes. The black is lit from within and almost seems to twinkle. His mouth is spread into a playful grin.
It takes a boatload of confidence to admit you want to run for President. Wow.
“That’s quite a plan.” I chew my burger and wonder why his wife has to have a suitable background and be independently wealthy. He probably doesn’t want a wife that will drain his family’s wealth since he’ll probably need it to run for office. I’m sure he’ll campaign and take contributions from donors but with that confidence and that smile, they’ll probably be begging to give him money. Funny, there wasn’t an even passing mention of love in his plan.
“So tell me about your family.” He stretches his legs out under the booth. “What about your parents? “
“My Dad doesn’t work. My mom is deputy mayor of Chicago.”
“Really? I thought I sensed a political background, pequena.”’ Yeah, my right eye. I bet he already knew about my parents and has even had me vetted.
“And you didn’t know who my mother was. Really, Bobby? Be honest.”
“Ok, I did know who your mother was, but I want to know about you.” He winces, but at the same time, his eyes are twinkling. “Tell me why you chose Texas College?”
“I didn’t, my mother did. But Austin is starting to grow on me. I like it here. What do your parents do?”
“My family runs a foundation called ‘Hispanic Outreach.’ They also have a few businesses, but mainly they focus on their foundation. The entire family is passionate about getting a Latino into the White House.”
“Sounds like a lot of pressure on you. I take it you are their first choice for the first Latino president,” I say. I’m completely serious and have no idea how someone takes that level of expectation from their family. My crap seems like a pittance compared to this load of shit. Geez, I never thought I would ever in a million years think someone was worse than my mom. Compared to the pressure he must be getting from his family, my mother’s requests seem almost reasonable. Almost.
“Yes that’s the plan.” He smiles.
We finish our burgers and walk back to the dorm. Bobby talks the whole way back and to his credit, he asks me lots of questions. Even though I try to get him to leave once we reach the dorm, and in the lobby, and at the elevator. He refuses, and walks me all the way up to my door. We stand there, and I feel sixteen again. I’m surprised at how nervous I am. I try not to think about kissing him, but it seems like it’s all I can think about. I pull my keys out and slide the key in the lock.
“You’re not going to invite me in? I thought we had fun, pequena.” His mouth is curved into a wicked grin.
“I think I want to take things slow for once. I’m sorry. I have an early appointment with my advisor, and I need to hit the sheets.”
“I like the sound of that. Hit the sheets. Me gustaría darle las hojas con usted.” He takes my face in his hands and kisses me. It’s deep and sensual and I lose myself in it. He slides his tongue along my lip, deepening the kiss. I moan in his mouth, and his arms tighten around me. His lips are soft. His tongue tosses and turns with mine in a carnal dance.
I pull away and turn to unlock the door. He kisses up my neck and surrounds my earlobe. Oh shit. Lingering there, he caresses it with his tongue, sucking and pulling. I melt against the sensation. His hands move to my breasts, kneading them gently.
“Pequena, your mouth says no, but your body seems to want me to come in.” His soft sexy voice sends chills along my neck. The key unlocks the door, and his hand pushes it open. The room is dark. “Pequena, I can do wonders for a broken heart. Come.”
I trail behind him. “Bobby, hmm, I don’t know.”
He reaches my bed, turns and pulls me against his firm chest. His hands lift my face to his, and he kisses me, his lips caressing mine. He lowers himself to the bed, with me in his arms, his hands stroking my breasts, sliding inside my shirt, kissing my neck with slow sensual kisses. His smooth hand encircles my neck, and his thumb pushes my face to the side as his mouth goes for my weak spot.
“Ah, pequena, you like that. Your pulse quickened.” He licks my earlobe, raking his teeth over my earlobe, slow and rough. My breath hitches, wishing for more. “Ah, I see.” He lowers his mouth to my earlobe, his hand around my neck, holding my head firmly, and bites my earlob
e.
“Oh God!” I whine, panting hard, my body wanting more.
“Ah, so you like a harsher touch, pequena. A little pain gets your heart racing. Very interesting.” His hands shove my shirt up, yanking down my bra, his fingers rolling my nipples roughly, and sending heat down to my pussy. “Take this off, so I can lace your pleasure with pain, pequena.” His wicked smile heats my core.
The doorknob turns, and Sally flips on the light. “Oops, geez, guys, I’m sorry”
I scramble to pull my shirt down, and Bobby says, “Do you want to join us? It’ll be like old times.” He smiles and looks at my shocked expression. “Pequena, I’m joking. Sally and I are friends.” He strokes the bottom of my chin with his finger, kissing my lips. “Besides, the first time I have you, I want you all to myself.”
I practically melt right into the bed. Rico Suave…yeah right…on steroids. This guy is dangerous.
Sally is still at the door, saying, “I can go to the student union. Please don’t let me interrupt.”
“It’s ok. Bobby, I’m sorry. I don’t think I can do this. It’s too soon.”
“I understand, pequena. We can take it slow. I like you. I want more than a one night stand. I don’t want to scare you off. Hell, it’s taken me weeks to get you to go out with me. I should go.” He smiles sweetly. He leans down and kisses me thoroughly. He walks to the door, turning to wave at both of us with a smile, and closes the door behind him.
“I’m sorry, hon. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. Do you want a drink?” Sally asks, a blush rising.
“Yes, I most certainly do.” I shake my head. “Are you sure you don’t mind my going out with him?”
“I’m sure.” She smiles, squeezing my shoulder. “It never would have worked. Sooner or later, probably much, much sooner, I would have left his bed even if he did put a ring on it. Not having a vagina? It’s kind of a deal breaker for me.” She shrugs, giggling. She walks over to the kitchenette and concocts one her lemon drops for both of us.