Alejandro is single, right? Check.
Alejandro is extremely handsome, good looking, and his blood pumps strong and hard through those veins, correct? Check.
Alejandro could have any girl he wants, so he probably doesn’t want to commit to any of them because there’s no challenge for a guy like him, possibly? Check.
“Your croissant, miss,” the waitress says, obviously noticing that I’m a native English speaker. But does she notice that I very quickly have no appetite?
“What did I miss?” my dad says, plopping back down in his chair.
I just shake my head.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Dad?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing.”
“What is it? You can’t ‘dad’ me and then just say it was nothing.”
I bite my tongue, but I just can’t hold back any longer.
“Has Alejandro ever had a girlfriend?”
“Not that I know of. Why? I mean that’s a weird question.”
“Just curious.”
“Why would you be curious of that?”
I’m pretty sure my dad pulled me out of the hotel this morning because he suspected something is, or was about to, go down with Alejandro. But I’m sure it’s clear to him now that if I did have any thoughts about doing something with him, or maybe already did, those ideas are quickly fading in the rear view.
“Just wondered what he’d do today. I mean we left him by himself and all.”
“Don’t worry about him. He’ll be online doing something.”
“What, exactly?”
“I don’t know, but he’s online a lot. He’s been known to disappear for a few days at a time and then just kind of reappear.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Why are you so curious?”
“Actually…I’m not.”
I stuff the phone back in my pocket and bring the espresso with a shot of milk to my lips. It tastes bitter to the point of making me want to puke on the spot. I manage to choke it down, but there’s one thing for sure. This new information about Alejandro looks pretty damning…and it’s one hard pill to swallow.
CHAPTER 12
Alejandro
Two days later
She’s been distant the last two days. It seems like every activity is now some kind of father / daughter bonding thing, and I’m being left completely out in the cold and I can’t figure out why.
When Eric practically dragged her out by the arm that morning a couple days ago she seemed as shocked as I did. Now they seem to be completely on the same wavelength, even having conveniently eaten when they return which leaves me walking out of the room and eating Chinese out of a cardboard box, by myself, close to midnight…two nights in a row.
I can’t even get her alone to ask her what the hell is going on, not that I expect she'll tell me. We switched phone the minute she got back the other day and of course I immediately checked my messages. There were a few unread ones, but nothing from Felicity so that can’t be it. If the message didn’t come in then no harm, no foul, right?
I go for a late afternoon walk only to return to a note on the table.
Don’t wait up for us. Dinner and then dancing. Catch ya in the morning if you’re up when we get home.
This is complete bullshit. This has turned from the two of them wanting to have a bit of their own family time into me being completely blown off. There’s no other way to look at it and I’m not going to sit here another night and look at four walls by myself.
I get dressed and head down to the lobby.
“Excuse me,” I ask the receptionist. “Do you know where my friends went this evening? I can’t seem to get in touch with them.”
“Yes, of course. We called them a cab for dinner and they mentioned after they were headed to Pacha.”
My hands ball into fist. “Thank you,” I say through gritted teeth before pivoting on the ball of my heel and quickly exiting the hotel.
Pacha is one of the most popular clubs in the world, and is also famous for pickpockets, druggings and a whole host of other problems…like grabby boys.
I’ve had enough. I’m going to go there myself and do some grabbing of my own…grab my woman and remind her, and the world, who she belongs to.
Me.
CHAPTER 13
Lizzy
Dad and I approach world famous Pacha and the sounds of their techno beats are already pouring out into the streets.
I have to admit clubs aren’t my thing…and neither is techno music. I’d much rather be at home with a book and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s right now, but since we came all this way to Spain we might as well check it out…even with my dad as my chaperone.
My friends have been increasing the frequency and urgency of their text messages, telling me I need to lose my V-card before I get back.
Well…that mission’s already been accomplished. The question is, am I going to go for a Spanish guy now as my anger is leading me down that kind of poor decision making path?
Not that Spanish guys are good or bad, I mean Alejandro’s Spanish so technically I’ve already been with a Spanish guy, my first guy. It’s just that I’m so furious that he’s involved in something questionable no matter how I slice it or even when I try and run the story through my head giving him the benefit of the doubt.
My dad seems way more at ease too, and he’s been not so subtly dropping little hints that Alejandro wouldn’t make a good husband for “a woman” too. Of course I think he’s picturing “a woman” as me, and that’s who he’s “protecting” from Alejandro.
Father knows best right? I mean they are best friends, but then again why would dad question Alejandro if they were?
Maybe they truly are just business partners at this point and my dad saw this as a fun get-away from his regular life. I know my dad didn’t come here to engage in nefarious activities…at this point I think he wants nothing to do with women, my mom having run him through the wringer.
But why would Alejandro be buying girls…paying for sex?
Is he that damaged that he doesn’t want some kind of real bond with anyone, even though he had me completely believing that’s exactly what we had…a real connection?
I guess it doesn’t matter. I’ll be out of here in a few days and that’s that. I have my good memories that I can take back home with me forever, and of course I’ll just have to be more careful with guys in the future. It just goes to show they will say anything to get in your pants, especially handsome, smooth talking European ones with big muscles and a Mediterranean tan.
“You need to keep the lid on your drink, miss,” the overly huge bouncer says to me. “I’m not going to ask you again.”
I don’t remember him asking me the first time.
My head jerks back in annoyance, but I snap the plastic top back on the drink as he says. For such a nice place they sure are lame about serving drinks in these cheap plastic cups. Considering my back is against the wall, literally, I might as well be back at college sipping a drink, watching guys play beer pong with those plastic Solo cups…not that I’ve ever played beer pong.
Maybe that’s part of the problem, too. Putting all my eggs in one basket, in Alejandro’s basket, has me feeling the way I am right now. Angry, confused, hurt…anything but good.
Maybe those girls at college who just jump from guy to guy and enjoy life to its fullest are on to something. Sure, I couldn’t have a bunch of random hook-ups but maybe I need to steal a page out of their playbook and loosen up a little. I need to be more carefree, flirty, and talkative. It might even help me land a job, which I really need with graduation on the horizon. And it surely will help me meet new boys.
“Whatcha drinkin?” a voice says from next to me.
I look up and see a handsome guy about my age who looks like he’s just interested in starting small talk. My dad obviously sees him addressing me, but he’s just looking off into the crowd, seemingly fixated on th
e dancers on stage who are certainly putting on quite a show…although they could probably put on quite a bit more clothing as well, if I were the costume designer at least.
“I don’t know. It had some sort of funny name. I just saw that it was pink on the menu so I pointed at it.”
“Sex on the beach maybe?”
“I think those are more orange actually, although I’m not sure,” I say, thinking back to the menu. Sex on the beach was, predictably, the first drink on the list.
“Well, I think a lot of people will be having sex on the beach tonight. That’s for sure.”
“You mean…or?”
He just sips his drink through a straw and smiles mischievously.
I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I think everyone in this place is here to hook-up, at least except for me that is. I just wanted to check it out and see what all the fuss is about.”
“Yeah, me too. What’s your name?”
“Lizzy.”
“I’m Chad. Nice to meet you. Do you like techno?”
Chad and I chat for about ten minutes and my dad seems completely at ease with it all. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s about my age, he knows that this won’t last long, or that he’s still fixated on that brunette dancer who looks like she’s about ready to fall out of her top every time she does that crazy spin move each time the beat seems to peak. Regardless, I’m having a nice time.
And when Chad takes me by the hand and shows me how to dance to techno I really start to understand why all these Europeans like this music so much. It used to just sound like one big song to me, all smashed together for hours, but now I see how you feel the music, and why it doesn’t need lyrics, even though lyrics have always been my favorite part of music.
I can’t help but smile. I’m exploring a new place, new music, and learning new things about life, and myself. This is good.
And when Chad grabs my drink and sets it down on the table next to him I have both hands free to dance to the beat.
“I swear drinking does something to my bladder,” my dad says. “I’ll be right back.”
My dad ducks off to the bathroom and Chad is quick with, “Is that your dad?”
“Uh huh.”
“Cool guy, but I bet you didn’t come to the club to be with your dad.”
“It’s fine. We’re just here to check it out. We probably won’t stay long.”
The look on Chad’s face changes just momentarily, but I catch it, and suddenly he’s his jovial self again.
“No worries. Then I guess we have to drink while we can.”
I laugh as he hands me my drink and I take a sip.
We continue dancing for another few minutes but suddenly I notice that I’m not quite in the same spot as we were.
“We should really stay close to that wall where we were. My dad will be looking for me.”
“Sure. Let’s dance in that direction until we’re there.”
I start to do exactly that, but my knees feel a bit shaky. “Whoa there,” Chad says, taking my hand. “I got ya.”
I’m not sure how I feel about taking his hand, but right now I have no choice. If I want to remain upright I need to hold it and hold it tight.
Damn, mixed drinks really are strong.
We start to move back toward the direction where my dad is, but it’s seemingly taking forever.
“Is it just me, or is it hot?”
“Let’s get some air.”
“No, no, no. Let’s find my dad first. I have to…”
Everything seems to slow down even more.
I look at Chad and see his expression has completely changed as he slides his arm around me and pushes open an exit door. In slow motion he tells the bouncer, “No, she just had a bit too much to drink.”
“No, don’t let me go with him,” I say, but I realize my mouth must not be moving as Chad moves right past the bouncer and at this point is damn near dragging me to…a black van with the back doors open.
“Come on! Let’s go, before someone sees us,” I hear and I know I’m in deep, deep trouble…but my body won’t let me do a single thing to stop it.
CHAPTER 14
Alejandro
Traffic is absolutely hectic at this hour so I rent a Vespa from some small shop just next to the hotel, paying triple for a rush job which allows me to cut the line, and leaving my credit card with him.
I speed through the streets of Barcelona, not sure why I’m in such a mad rush, but I just feel that I need to be. Something inside me tells me to get to that damn club as quickly as possible.
The odds are extremely high that everything’s fine, but I don’t like it. I don't like these big, international clubs, and the clientele they attract.
And I don’t like the thought of my woman surrounded by all those horny, drunk, young punks trying to chat her up, or worse…feel her up.
My hand clenches, goosing the throttle as I weave through traffic. I’m fast, but I’m under control. I’m not reckless, but I damn sure am cautiously assertive, and soon I’m at the club…with nowhere to park.
Damn!
The line of people is massive and there’s nowhere I can dump this Vespa.
I gun it around back, hoping to find a place to stash this thing for however long it takes me to find my woman, find out what the hell’s going on, and get her out of here.
When I round the corner I see an ally, pulling into it heading to the back where some alcohol delivery van or something is parked. Perfect. I can slide in like I’m one of them, getting right into this club without giving this meat market one dollar of mine. I hate supporting places like this, even though the money isn’t a problem.
I pull the bike up and lean it against the wall, not even messing with the kickstand and run quickly to the club.
Something out of the corner of my eye catches something not quite right with the van and I freeze, turning to look at the guys who are trying way too hard to look casual.
My eyes scan the situation and I see one guy carrying out a girl who looks like she’s had too much to drink.
Not a girl…my fucking girl!
I absolutely lose it running straight at that guy, who lets go of her. I catch her just before she hits the ground and carefully slide her to the side, leaning her against the wall.
The guys jump into the van, but no way in hell I’m letting these fuckers get away.
Running to the driver’s side I grab the handle but it’s locked. I slam my elbow through the glass, grab the guy by the face, but he hits the gas and we’re moving.
I chicken wing the door so I don’t get dropped and run over as he maneuvers through the alley, my hand still palming his dome.
I take my hand off, grabbing the wheel and jerking it to the side, sending the van crashing into the wall, not twenty feet from where they were parked.
I look back and see Lizzy still there against the wall. She’s my first priority, always. But I have to make sure these pieces of shit never do this to another woman again.
I grab the latch, unlock the door and lower my feet to the ground, jerking the door open and pulling the guy from the driver’s seat.
He raises a canister of pepper spray, but he’s not fast enough.
I put the heel of my palm right into the base of his jaw and ram it up so fucking far he’s the one who more than tears up as the canister of pepper spray falls to the ground.
I grab him and slam his head into the brick wall twice and he crumbles into a pile.
Running around the other side of the van I see his accomplice dashing down the alley, but I catch him in less than ten yards, jumping and tackling him like something out of an ESPN highlight during football season.
Suddenly there are cop cars everywhere and three cops try and pull me from the man, but my rage is too much. Anyone that hurts my woman is going to get my full wrath…always.
As they’re lifting me I put the heel of my boot into the back of his head and I hear the smashing of his teeth on the pavement.
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“Enough!” the cop yells, thinking I’m some tourist.
They manage to get me off the guy, but by this point it’s more of me being finished with him and has nothing to do with them.
There’s a reason why Spain is famous for their bulls, and I’ve just rampaged like one in a China shop, this small alley unable to contain my anger.
Summer Vacation With Dad's Best Friend (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 108) Page 6
