Save the Last Dance

by Jami Davenport

  Rico and Mariah spent their last few days boating to the outlying islands the ferry didn’t service. Anchoring in secluded little coves, they walked in the old growth forests on Matia Island. They searched for signs of the old hermit’s farm on Sucia Island. After hiking to the one-room schoolhouse on Stuart Island, they stood on the cliffs overlooking Haro Strait with Victoria, B.C., in the distance.

  On more than one occasion, Rico tried to tell Mariah his true identity. She would hear nothing of it. Since he didn’t really want to tell her, like a coward, he let it drop. He wasn’t sure why he was so reluctant, maybe because he didn’t want anything to change between them, even though it was inevitable that it would.

  On their last night together, they sat on the flying bridge with a bottle of wine and watched the sunset. He made love to her with a combination of wild desperation and profound tenderness. Afterwards she clung to him, nothing but silence between them. Neither of them could think of any words to make it any easier. A deep sense of sadness settled on Rico as their relationship unwound in the chilly night. After tomorrow, nothing would be the same.

  The water lapped against the side of the boat and lulled Mariah to sleep. Rico watched her for a long time in the shadows and moonlight. He’d lived a fantasy this past month. Now the real world demanded his return. He sighed and buried his face in her hair.

  This woman had burrowed under his skin, in his blood. She lived in his dreams, and she lit up his days. He felt her pain so completely, it was as if it was his own. He wondered how he was going to just walk away from her with only a “thanks for the nice time.” Yet, he knew that’s exactly what he had to do.

  For both of them.

  * * *

  Rodrigo and Mariah ate lunch together in silence at the small round table in her breakfast nook. His luggage sat by the front door. Mariah tried to find some humor in that. She wondered why he wasted his time packing those clothes. The garbage can would have been a better place for them.

  Rodrigo fidgeted with his fork and toyed with his food. Mariah held her tongue. She couldn’t think of a word to say that would make this any less painful. “I love you” probably wouldn’t be a good idea unless she wanted him to leave immediately.

  Laying down the fork and abandoning his food, Rodrigo cleared his throat. He raised his eyes to meet hers. She managed a weak smile, while her heart suffered its first crack.

  “Mariah, I wish I could tell you that we had a future.” His voice broke, husky and raw with emotion. “But I don’t want to lie to you.”

  She shook her head and broke contact with those espresso eyes of his. If she looked at him, she’d cry. “Please—don’t. I never expected anything from you. Yet, you gave me an incredible gift, and I’ll always be grateful.”

  Rodrigo nodded. He rose to his feet, pushed his chair back, and turned away. Shoulders slumped, he carried his luggage to the SUV and loaded it. Mariah didn’t follow him. She stared at the water in the cove and kept her back to the door. Rigo’s footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor. She glanced over her shoulder. He stopped a few feet from her, holding his leather coat in one hand and a small box in the other. Her heart wrenched in her chest. She looked away and dabbed at her eyes with her napkin.

  “Mariah, I have to leave now. I can’t wait any longer.”

  Standing, she turned to face him. Unshed tears blurred her vision.

  Take me with you.

  Her eyes pleaded with him, not daring to speak the words out loud. She swallowed and forced herself not to cry. It was here—the moment she’d been dreading, the end of her dream summer. Their fate lay in his hands. If he’d asked, she’d have followed him to the ends of the earth. Only he wasn’t asking.

  Rodrigo shifted his weight from foot to foot. He cleared his throat again and met her gaze. “I have something for you.” He held the small velvet box out to her.

  Mariah took it gingerly from his hand. She opened it slowly and pulled out a diamond pendant at least a karat in size. “It’s...it’s beautiful.” She sniffled, trying not to choke on the words. “But I can’t take this. It must have cost you a fortune.”

  “You’ve got to take it. Please. This is nothing compared to what you’ve given to me.”

  If she’d given so much to him, why was he leaving her? She scolded herself. He’d never promised her anything more than a month of paradise. She’d read more into his actions and words than she should have.

  Rodrigo took the necklace from her and fastened it around her neck, planting a kiss on top of the diamond that nestled itself between her breasts.

  “I have something for you to remember me. Remember us. I’ll never regret the time I spent with you, Rigo.” She handed him a watercolor of the sunset at Matia Island.

  Rodrigo took the picture from her and stared at it. His dark eyes were misty when he raised them. “This is incredible, just like I remember it, Mariah. Did you paint this?”

  Mutely, she nodded.

  “I’ll keep it always, bella. Always. I promise.”

  “I’m going to miss you.” Her voice sounded strangled. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her as if his very soul depended on it—maybe it did. She knew hers did. Savoring the false security and warmth generated by his arms, she could have stayed there forever. Unfortunately, forever only lasted about sixty more seconds. Rodrigo drew back so he could look at her.

  “You’ve helped me heal. For that I’ll be forever grateful. Now, I have to do the rest myself. If I can’t find the missing pieces of my life, I might as well cut out a part of my heart. An important part. You understand that, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” What if she was one of his missing pieces? Had he ever stopped to consider that? She had. Mariah clung to him, knowing that it was all crumbling to dust around them.

  “Before I go, I’ve got to level with you.” He held her tighter, burying his face for a few moments in her hair. “I’m not who you think I am.”

  “No.” She sobbed into his chest. “I don’t want to know.”

  He smelled so good, so masculine, so much like her Rigo. Mariah struggled to free herself from his embrace, but it was futile. He was much stronger. Goosebumps broke out on her skin. She shivered, yet she wasn’t cold. Her worst fear was about to be realized. Oh, please, let it be something else.

  “Rye, calm down. I’m not a serial killer or anything.”

  “I know that,” she wailed. “I—just don’t want to hear what you have to say.”

  “Why? I don’t understand.”

  “Because, I have my suspicions. I don’t want it to be true. I don’t want you to be who I think you are. I want you to be my Rodrigo. I want you to be the guy I love to dance with, the guy who makes me laugh, the guy with the billion-dollar smile, the guy who makes me feel things I never thought I could feel.”

  The last remains of her fantasy love affair disintegrated with his next words, words she dreaded hearing. His words spoke a truth she knew in her heart, yet denied to her very depths.

  “My real name is Rico Sanchez.”

  “No. No! NO!” He couldn’t be Rico Sanchez—that would make him a deceiver of the worst kind, a man who’d say anything to get what he wanted.

  Her Rodrigo whispered seductive things to her in Spanish. He promised to be her Latin lover. He gave her the moon and the stars.

  She felt sick, even though on some level she’d known the truth from the day they’d met. He’d concealed an important part of himself, his identity. Her tears soaked his t-shirt. Who he was changed everything. The crack in her heart opened into a fissure, then it broke and scattered into thousands of jagged pieces.

  Rodrigo sighed. “Rye, you can’t change who I am. I can’t change who I am.”

  “Why not? You’ve pretended to be someone else for the last month.” He cringed as her words stung him. She didn’t care. He deserved it.

  “I didn’t plan on deceiving you. I wanted to be with a woman who was with me because of the person I am, not because of my notoriety or my
non-existent money. Was that too much to ask?”

  She pulled free of him. “And that makes it okay? You lied to me. You thought you could string me along just like you did your adoring public for years, didn’t you?”

  “Mariah, let me explain—”

  “You took advantage of me.”

  “I didn’t mean to. I—Look, Mariah, I’m guilty of lying to you this past month. But I tried to tell you who I was, and you didn’t want to hear it. I’m a washed-up Latin superstar. I’m barely making ends meet because most of the money I made went up my nose until I hit rock bottom four years ago.”

  “A member of your crew was found dead in your hotel room of an overdose. Even worse, she’d been your brother’s girlfriend.”

  “I didn’t supply her with anything. I wasn’t using that room that night. You need to believe me. To trust me.”

  “I don’t need your excuses. I may be easy to fool, but I’m not stupid. You’re a fraud, Rico Sanchez.”

  “I’m sorry. If I’d told you sooner, would it have changed things?” His voice caught.

  She looked up at him, her vision blurry through her tears. “Yes, it would have. I wouldn’t have fallen for you.”

  “Mariah—” Rico’s face reflected his guilt.

  “You need to go now. I knew what was happening. You’re not responsible for my gullibility. I’ll be fine. I’m strong, and I’ll get over this. Good bye, Rodrigo. Rico,” she added as if saying his name sealed their fate.

  He hesitated, but something in her eyes must have warned him to drop it. “Goodbye, Rye.” Not looking back, he turned and trudged to his vehicle. His SUV disappeared down her driveway in a small cloud of dust. That was the slowest she’d ever seen him drive.

  Disconsolate, she wandered to the barn and entered Sueño’s stall. Her old friend sensed something was wrong. He nickered a comforting welcome to her.

  The dam broke. Tears streamed down her face. He body shuddered with racking sobs. She threw her arms around Sueño and buried her face in his mane. He nuzzled her with his nose, not understanding her grief but knowing she hurt.

  In the background an old Garth Brooks song, “The Dance,” played on the barn radio. It couldn’t have been more appropriate, as he sang about how his life was better left to fate because if he’d known how it would all end, he might have missed the dance.

  Chapter 13—The Company

  Rico went straight to work from the LA airport. The place was in an uproar, slamming him back to reality. Three of Rico’s best managers stomped out the door as he walked in. Dragging them back to his office, he placated them with raises and promises to keep Ed under wraps. Somehow.

  Angel bolted through the door as his managers left. “Thank God, you’re back, Rico. I couldn’t stop him. He’s out of control.” She glanced behind her, flipping her long ebony hair off her shoulder. “Did you convince them to stay?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I did.” Rico clutched his head in his hands and closed his eyes for a moment, attempting to recapture the tranquility of the San Juans. Yet, those feelings slid through his fingers like water through a funnel. Instead, he felt a raging headache coming on. He cursed the bimbo for dumping his father and leaving Angel and him to take care of the fallout.

  “Where’s Ed?” Rico glanced at his sister. As ambitious as she was beautiful, most men ran for their lives rather than be in the shadow of her strong personality.

  Angel flopped down on a leather chair and propped her legs on his desk. “Looking over your new acquisition.”

  “What? What new acquisition?” He didn’t like the wary look in her eyes. This was bad. Really bad.

  “Before I tell you about that, let’s start with the not-so-good news.”

  “Go ahead. Let’s get it over with.”

  “We’re being sued for sexual harassment by the little hottie in the mailroom. She claims Dad’s been hustling her and threatened to fire her if she didn’t sleep with him.”

  “Did he?”

  “Partially. He’s been hustling her, but he swears he didn’t threaten her.”

  “I have to admit I believe him. That’s not his style. Is the legal staff on this?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So what’s the good news?” His head pounded. The worst hangover in the world never felt this bad. Yet, he hadn’t had a drink in over twenty-four hours; maybe that was the problem.

  “Well, it isn’t exactly good,” she hedged.

  “Just spit it out.”

  “Dad bought controlling shares in Insignia. In other words, you own it.”

  “Insignia? The recording company?”

  Angel nodded. She seemed to be fascinated with her fingernail polish.

  “They’re close to bankruptcy and—oh, shit, that’s the company that holds Ramon’s contract.”

  “The same one.”

  “Where did he get the money for it?”

  “You don’t want to hear this.”

  “Go ahead. When you’re done, you can just shoot me.”

  “He used this company as collateral.”

  “I would’ve had to sign for that.”

  Angel nodded. “Are you going to have your own father thrown in jail for fraud?”

  “Oh, man.” Rico pushed his hair out of his eyes. “The sale can’t be finalized yet.”

  “No, but there’ll be a heck of a lawsuit if you try to back out now. Not to mention all the adverse publicity.”

  “What am I going to do with a near-bankrupt recording company?”

  “What you always do. Find a way to make it work.”

  * * *

  Rico sat on his balcony in the darkness. The only light came from the tip of his cigarette. He may have sat there for two minutes or two hours. He honestly didn’t know, but the ashtray overflowed with cigarette butts.

  He’d been too busy putting out fires earlier to think about Mariah. Now that’s all he could think about. Empty beer bottles littered the table beside him. He didn’t have any idea how many he’d drunk. Instead of a pleasant buzz, the beer intensified his headache and did nothing to dull the pain in his heart. Leaving her had been the right thing to do—for both of them. At least that’s what he kept telling himself. That realization didn’t stop him from shedding a few tears for the love he’d lost. She’d felt so good to him, so right.

  She’d made him forget Carmen.

  Once again, he condemned himself to a life that consisted of nothing but work. Even as he wondered why he did it, he knew the answer. Nothing ever lasted. Eventually, love ended and left an empty hole in your heart where the love had been. He knew. He’d been there. He swore he’d never go there again. Not even for her. Love didn’t enter into any of his future plans, and he vowed it never would.

  Besides, she’d convicted him without a trial and never gave him a chance to explain. Just like the rest of them. He didn’t need that. He didn’t need her. So why did he feel so lousy?

  He heaved himself out of his chair and staggered into his bedroom. Not bothering to take off his clothes, he threw himself down on his king-sized bed. Even sleep didn’t bring relief. Rico woke up several times during the night missing the feel of Mariah’s soft warm body tangled in his. He kept reaching for her, but she wasn’t there.

  His aunt woke him up at 5:30 A.M. She needed bail money for her worthless son, then his cousin needed several thousand to tide her over until she found another job—the story of her life. Within an hour, he’d spoken to most of his extended family. Every one of them wanted something, usually money. For once he could honestly say he didn’t have any to give them.

  Finally, he stumbled into the conference room of the small offices owned by his new recording company. He was an hour late for the strategy meeting with the company executives, and he didn’t give a shit.

  Slumping into a chair, he regarded the people at the conference table with indifference. He crossed his arms in a defensive gesture, daring any of them to say a word. His tall body slouched lower, relaying quite effectivel
y an “I don’t give a damn” attitude.

  His father was flirting with a young woman at the table. Ramon sat next to him. He should have guessed Ramon would be involved in this somehow. Rico ignored his brother and focused the heat of his gaze on his father.

  He resented his dad’s interference in his life. He knew why the old man had bought this company and forged his name on the paperwork. Several reasons. He ticked them off one by one in his brain: to get him back into the music business; to make him work with Ramon; lastly, and most importantly, to force him to write music again. His father probably had some romantic idea that Rico Sanchez songs would rescue Insignia. The sooner he set everyone in the room straight, the sooner he could make sense of the rest of his life.

  Eduardo spoke first, bravely—or was that stupidly—going where no man in the room wanted to go. Bumbling and blustering, he opened his mouth. “Rico, I think I can plot a turnaround, but it’ll involve a major promotional plan. We have appearances lined up for Ramon that’ll keep him busy for the next several years. We’ll schedule you to attend every crucial industry event.”

  Rico said nothing.

  “Insignia can become a major player in the business eventually. We need your input, your creativity....”

  “Do we now?” He paused for emphasis and looked at each person in the room. “My father doesn’t have any decision-making responsibilities. Is that clear?”

  “Rico! You can’t do that!” His father stood up to protest, but Rico’s ice cold glare forced him to sit back down.

  “I just did it. I own this company, right? I bought it with my money, right?”

  Eduardo sputtered, totally at a loss for words. He couldn’t deny his son’s words because on paper Rico owned the company.

  “I want to see Insignia’s financial records, a rundown of what artists are signed to contracts and for how long, and where they are on the charts. Get me a list of employees and their duties. Who’s expendable and who isn’t.”