“You don’t care?” I pouted and waved a dozen paint chips in his face. “How can you say that?”
“Pardon me. What I mean,” he said calmly, snatching the chips from my hand and using them to swat me on the ass, “is that I want you to decide because every time I look at the walls, I’ll think of you.”
“Oh. Good choice then,” I said, leaning into his kiss.
Later when Rafa was occupied with the many visitors that seemed to come and go at all hours of the day, I sat at my desk and saw he’d left me something to read. Leaving things on each other’s desks had become a habit for us since the morning after our session with Piraña, when Rafa left me a stack of research he’d printed from a medical database. The sticky note on top said, “Please read this so you don’t spend the day wondering if we’re going to die.”
I winced when I saw the text was completely in Spanish, as I’d have a hard time reading Dr. Seuss much less medical literature, but Rafa had kindly highlighted a few key passages and words like oro-anal contact, cholera, dysentery, E. coli, rhinosinusitis, hand-washing, monogamous, and barrier. At the bottom of the stack was another sticky note attached to a little packet that resembled a large condom wrapper. He’d written, “This is a barrier. We used one. XXOO.”
I thought back to what had seemed a reckless act in the moment and realized all the steps Rafa had taken to make it seem that way for me but still keep us safe. We’d happened to have conveniently been on the floor away from our sheets, then we’d taken a shower right after, and the next morning the pillows we’d used had disappeared, not to mention a barrier so skillfully applied I hadn’t even known it was there. That was my Rafa, self-proclaimed science nerd by day, sexual magician by night.
Today he’d left me a copy of his registration ticket for the USMLE exam. I had twelve months to get his English good enough to pass the first part of the test leading to a US medical license, and I was acutely aware he thought he couldn’t do it, which motivated me even more. Not only would he learn enough to pass with flying colors, he’d know more than he needed. As an incentive, I’d have to set up a sexually themed reward system, but it would absolutely happen. Reading together every night was helping, but it wouldn’t possibly be enough, so to start, I decided to teach him by scanning the study guide for essential vocabulary and assembling those words into a list to be memorized. Then I’d show him how to respond by writing out answers side by side so that he could see where his mistakes were. He’d tell me what he was trying to say in Spanish, and I’d translate until we had a good answer. Over time he’d do more of the writing in English and I’d do less until he didn’t need me to translate anymore. We’d focus on repetition of simple sentence structures and that would be enough; he wasn’t writing a novel, he just needed to communicate in a clear, detailed manner. I made a note to call Kieran’s tech person and have a couple of computers and large monitors set up just for that purpose. As for the reward, I decided that at the end of every successful lesson, he’d earn a blow job. Perfect.
“What are you smiling about?” I’d been so occupied with my lesson plans I hadn’t noticed Rafa come in with Lidia and Raquel, both dressed to the nines. Damn, I’d forgotten about our plans to go shopping today.
“You’ll find out,” I said, squeezing his arm. Behind him Lidia and Raquel looked positively exasperated.
“Mija, let’s go!” said Lidia, pointing to her Rolex.
Fifteen minutes later the three of were just about to head out of the front gate in Lidia’s cream-colored convertible Bentley when Rafa and Sandro flew out the front door, yelling at us to wait. Lidia slammed on the brakes and rolled her eyes in my direction.
“What’s up, honey?” I said to Rafa, peering at him over my sunglasses.
“Look at his face,” whispered Raquel from the back seat. “Are you grounded or something?” The three of us giggled like schoolgirls as Rafa and Sandro walked toward us, exasperated and obviously not in the mood for games.
“You know you have to take security with you,” said Rafa, approaching the car. His tight black t-shirt hugged him in all the right places and I swore I heard Raquel sigh from the backseat. “Sandro says you need three men today.”
“Hell no,” I said, narrowing my eyes at poor Sandro, who wouldn’t look at me. “Sorry, but we’re not dragging three guys around with us to go shopping, OK? Love you!” I blew him a kiss and motioned for Lidia to put the car in drive while Rafa and Sandro stood beside the Bentley, immobile.
“Forget it, Amanda,” said Lidia, slouching down in the seat, already defeated. “Don’t bother.”
Half an hour later the three of us were on our way to Bal Harbour, accompanied by three nice young men following in the black SUV behind us. Sandro’s new guys were unobtrusive and polite, but we were still exceptionally annoyed at the invasion of privacy.
“Why did you give in so easily?” I asked Lidia. Irritated, I pulled the hair out of my mouth again, the scarves on our heads doing little to keep the oceanfront winds from turning our hair into complete rats’ nests. Gorgeous Miami day or not, convertibles had never been my cup of tea. “You don’t even put up a fight anymore? If I’d been driving, I would have just left.”
“Mija, he would have had Oscar call me in under a minute. No point.”
“So? Don’t you know how to stand up for yourself?” Lidia just smirked at the question.
“Amanda, Lidia was Assistant District Attorney when she met Oscar,” said Raquel, applying lip gloss in the back seat. She pulled out a compact and scrubbed a little off her front tooth. “She’s a straight up bitch.”
“I’m not a bitch, and I never was,” snapped Lidia. “I’ve always been able to take care of myself and no one tells me what to do. It’s just that I choose to compromise. Latin men are jealous and overprotective, and most of the time it’s not a good look. My mother thinks it has to do with the tough conditions in Latin America, but she says once our generation starts raising our sons with a more egalitarian mindset, all that will change.”
“I have to say, Oscar Jr., is quite a gentleman. I’ve never seen a young man so respectful of his girlfriend. He’s going to make a great husband.”
“I agree,” I said. “That’s an impressive young man you’ve raised.”
“Thank you,” said Lidia. “He is, but then again, he was raised in the lap of luxury, while his father wasn’t. That’s why I cut Oscar some slack. It’s just how they survived all that poverty. If it makes him feel better to protect you, fine, but make sure he understands that ultimately you’re the one in charge and you don’t have to put up with any of it if you don’t feel like it.”
I glanced in the rear-view mirror at the SUV. The two guys in the front were staring straight ahead at us like hawks. “Oh, he definitely knows that. I’ll talk to Rafa about this nonsense when I get home,” I said.
***
It took about an hour to go the scenic route across the MacArthur Causeway up A1A through South Beach. I’d suggested we go to nearby Merrick Park, but Lidia and Raquel wouldn’t hear of it. They’d a prepared list of serious business in Bal Harbor, including but not limited to shopping excursions at Prada, Alexander McQueen, Dolce & Gabbana and Chanel, none of which were overly interesting to me, but when I remembered there was a Tom Ford shop, I was in. After tossing the keys to the valet, we were ready to head inside when two of Sandro’s men made us wait in the garage while the other parked the SUV.
“Why didn’t you just leave it with the valet?” I asked.
“No one gets in our vehicle, and from now on, the same goes for you. We park the cars.”
The two men could easily have been mistaken for any Miami local in their Bermuda shorts and Guayaberas, but I knew both were former soldiers and trusted childhood friends of Sandro’s. Agustín, Adrian, and Mauricio, who was parking the car, blended in perfectly with their surroundings, and as they spoke to us they kept smiles on their faces and their hands casually in their pockets as if discussing the weather or their
favorite restaurant.
“Señora,” said Adrian to Raquel, “you should put that away in your bag and close it.”
“You mean my phone? Why?” She waved her brand-new iPhone at him, calling attention to the thick gold Cuban link bracelets on her wrist and the glistening diamond rings perched atop petite but perfectly manicured fingers. As if to underscore Adrian’s point, her sudden movement caused the Birkin bag hanging from the other wrist to flop open and expose a Chanel wallet, a passport and the keys to a Mercedes.
“It looks like you’re not paying attention,” answered Agustín, the polite smile never leaving his face.
“Well, I’ll put the phone away,” she huffed, “but everyone knows you don’t close a Birkin.” Raquel dropped the phone in her bag and held it shut for a second, then let it fall back open when he turned toward me.
“You’re not as bad,” said Agustín, scanning me from head to toe, still smiling, “but that ring—”
“This is my engagement ring,” I snapped, cutting him off. I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to suggest I take off Rafa’s ring. “It goes where I go.”
Just as Agustín and I were squaring off, Mauricio strode up to the group, walking quickly but not so much that it drew attention. Like the others, he was good looking but unremarkable in appearance, but of the three he seemed to be the one in charge. His eves went right to Raquel’s still unlatched purse, then to his subordinates. “Didn’t you have the talk with Imelda Marcos and her sisters?”
We stayed close to the guys, but every once in a while, one of us would see something across the way and head off unexpectedly, causing the men to trot behind us like anxious parents chasing after a toddler. Mauricio seemed to be watching me, while Agustín and Adrian were tasked with Lidia and Raquel. After about an hour, when Agustín had bumped into Lidia for the third or fourth time, she put her foot down.
“Back there!” she barked, and surprisingly, for the rest of the day the three of them stayed a good fifteen feet behind us.
“Amada, I adore you, but I can’t stand this.” said Lidia, smoothing her chignon. “What does Rafa think is going to happen to you?”
“I don’t know,” I said, thoroughly embarrassed. “He’s been acting this way since that man, Achille, came by our house one night when he wasn’t there.”
“Did he threaten you?” asked Lidia. “What’s the problem?”
“He came over uninvited, but no, he didn’t threaten me at all,” I said, my recollection of that night’s events still hazy. “He’s actually very cultured and charming, but I think he and Rafa must be business rivals. Rafa won’t tell me anything except that he doesn’t want me around him.” I thought back to the night of Doña Delfina’s funeral and how enraged Rafa had become when he saw Achille talking to me at Madrina’s, and later when he saw the plant in the living room. “Rafa went nuts when he saw a rare, beautiful orchid someone had sent to the house. He was sure it was from Achille and threw it over the gate into the street. We had quite a fight that night.” Lidia and Raquel opened their eyes wide, as if imaging the scene. “Has Rafa said anything to Oscar or Carlos?” They both shrugged, as clueless as I was.
“So this is all about some man who has a crush on you?” said Raquel, gesturing at our unwanted shopping companions. “And I thought Carlos was a jealous ass for not letting me have a Facebook page. This takes the cake, Amanda.”
“He’ll calm down,” said Lidia. “One time an electrician working on our kitchen flirted with me in front of our housekeeper. Somehow Oscar found out about it and sure enough, that man never came back to the house, and the next day Oscar took two weeks off work to supervise the remodel himself. Rafa just wants to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Trust me, ignore it until it’s out of his system. Cuban men and jealousy. It’s their weak spot.”
Lidia was right. Rafa himself had confessed his admittedly irrational need to protect me. My sheltered life, he’d argued, apparently rendered me incapable of walking the gritty streets of Coconut Grove and Palm Beach alone. There was no other explanation for this sudden need for security. A stranger had gotten too close to me, and instead of handling it like a normal person, Rafa had gone completely overboard, reacting as if I’d run off with him or my life were in danger. I’d put up with it for now, because I knew it was only coming from a place of love, but eventually I’d have to help him understand that at the end of the day I could, and would, do as I pleased.
We strolled the mall for hours, enjoying the sunshine and beautiful atmosphere. Lidia and Raquel hit every designer shop we passed, spending thousands of dollars but still tucking the receipts way down in the bottom of their bags. I’d spent more than both of them combined at Tom Ford, ordering another six suits for Rafa, this time bespoke.
“So, you’re making Rafa wear suits now, Amanda,” mused Raquel as the clerk handed my Black card back to me. “He looks fantastic.” Knowing Mauricio was watching, I made a show of putting it back in my purse right away, then zipping it up and tucking it securely under my arm. At the last store Mauricio had asked me not to walk around with a credit card in my hand, so this time I did as he asked and was rewarded by a subtle golf clap.
“It wasn’t my idea,” I said, grinning, “but he really can wear the hell out of a suit, can’t he?”
“Are you saying,” said Lidia, arching an eyebrow, then glancing at Raquel, “he just all of a sudden started wearing suits? For no reason?”
“Well, kind of,” I said. “So?”
“Could there be someone he’s trying to impress at work?” Raquel pursed her lips into some kind of ridiculous duckface.
“Maybe you need to start popping in unannounced like I do,” said Lidia, gathering up her bags. “Raquel does it, too.”
“Maybe it’s the same puta who’s been bringing him food at work!” I said, feigning horror.
“What!” screeched Raquel, almost dropping her shopping bag.
“Who?” hissed Lidia. “Let’s go have a talk with that slut right now.”
“Jesus, I’m kidding!” I said, howling with laughter. “Although I do love you for wanting to kick the imaginary puta’s ass for me. Very touching,” I said, putting my hand over my heart.
“Make fun all you want, Amanda,” said Lidia, shaking her head, “but at the end of the day, Rafa is still just a man.”
“Yes, he has his faults, but Rafa would never even look at another woman. I know it in my heart, so please just stop. Come on, locas,” I said, heading toward the Rolex shop on our left across from the koi pond. “I want to look at the watches.”
By seven o’clock the three of us were tired, thirsty and hungry, not to mention loaded down with shopping bags because our fancy security team wouldn’t help us carry a damn thing. When I tried to hand Mauricio a bag he politely declined, explaining his job was to be vigilant and ready at any moment, so despite several strategic trips back to the car, at the end of the day we looked like three sweaty pack mules about to drop.
“Car,” whined Raquel, barely able to keep up. “How far is it?”
“Amanda, make one of them drive,” said Lidia, her perfect makeup from this morning now all but gone. “Tell them to keep the top up. I’m taking a nap in the back seat on the way home.”
Once we were back safely behind the gates of the house, Mauricio was happy to help me bring all the packages upstairs to the bedroom. Anxious to get home and start dinner, Lidia and Raquel left quickly, so I grabbed a snack before I went upstairs and laid out everything I’d bought for Rafa. The grand reopening of Madrina’s was tomorrow night, so he wouldn’t be home until much later, giving me plenty of time to relax and plan both of our outfits for the big event.
The next time I went to Europe I’d get Rafa an Audemars or a Patek Phillipe, but the Rolex store had been convenient today, so I went with that. I opened the three Rolex cases and lined them up along edge of the bed, tearing into the exquisite syrupy Capuchino cakes Rafa had made for me last night as I tried to decide which one he should
wear tomorrow. Rafa had absolutely refused to keep my father’s watch, so he’d been wearing the same basic Seiko he had on the ship, which was fine most of the time, but tomorrow night he needed something a little nicer. Of the three I bought him, a Sky-Dweller, a Yacht-Master, and a Daytona, I think I liked the Sky-Dweller the best. I’d been tempted to get him the model with the steel bracelet and blue dial, just because he looked so good in any shade of blue, but ultimately, I couldn’t take my eyes off the eighteen-carat gold Sky-Dweller with the champagne colored dial. It had been twice as much as the others, fifty thousand dollars, but I knew it would look spectacular on Rafa. Gold, I decided, would be the color of the night, and just as I was about to pull a strapless gold lamé Versace from the closet, my phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Amanda, this is Lisa, Sal’s girlfriend.” She sounded nervous, her Swedish accent more pronounced than usual.
“Hey, Lisa! I know who you are. What’s up?”
“Um, I’m OK.” She paused to clear her throat. “I’m calling because I think you should come down to the restaurant.”
“What’s wrong?” I wondered if there was a problem with the remodel, perhaps an item that had been misdelivered or damaged. “Is it the furniture from England? The leather is the wrong color, isn’t it? God dammit!” I’d had the feeling they were going to send us burgundy instead of red, and now there would be no way to replace it before the grand opening tomorrow night.
“No, no,” she said, whispering into the phone. “You’ll see when you get here. Can you come now?”
“Yes, of course,” I said, already looking for a dress to throw on. “Rafa’s having some kind of issue, isn’t he? Is he about to go off on someone?” God, I hoped I could get there before he started screaming. Most people didn’t understand Cubans and their endless yelling and cursing.
“You could say that,” she answered.
“Keep an eye on him in case he needs anything,” I said. “Be there in ten.”
At the guardhouse, the cocky guard named Mauricio kindly threw his sandwich onto a paper plate and drove me to Madrina’s in record time. “What’s the rush?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the road. “Problem?” The speedometer in the Rover read 80 mph, exactly the same speed Sandro drove everywhere. What was it with them?
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