One More Year: The Romantic Path of Ana Lee (The Path Less Taken Series Book 1)

by SJ Cavaletti

  I had fallen asleep involuntarily. He nudged me gently, “Hey doll… I don’t mean to be rude but I have to get going. You can stay here if you want. I’ll be back in about an hour.”

  “Oh, no… that’s fine… I’d rather sleep in my own bed,” I said, “I’ll call a cab.”

  He volunteered his reason for departure: he had to walk his son to school. The moment shocked me into sobriety. He assured me he and the mom had been broken up for ages and then showed me a quick photo of Jayden on his cell. Strangest ending to the night I could have ever imagined.

  Vincent had been my best-kept secret and I’m pretty sure I was his. Initially, I didn’t tell a soul about our flings because we worked in the same club and I didn’t want the drama with the two other dancers that weren’t over him. Rooms turned frosty when they were both in them. Worse yet, I noticed they couldn’t concentrate on customers if they were near each other on the floor so who knows how much money they lost because of the Latin Bull.

  When I left that club to work at Brick Road I perpetuated our secret out of habit, addiction and principle. The private information also belonged to Vincent and it wasn’t my business to tell his stories for him. But truth be told it was easy to keep my mouth shut; the secrecy itself was a turn on and all part of the fun. Slinking around town in undiscovered places that were attractive only to our carnal need to touch each other… It was a high. It had been nearly a year and never once did we cross paths with a familiar face while we galavanted about town. Guess we were pretty good liars.

  But I had started to sense the time was coming to an end. Vincent had started to confide in me, a sign his feelings ran deeper than the ultra thin condom. He told me about his son who was 4 and how although he had an amicable relationship with the mother, Debbie, she remained unconvinced that he could handle having Jayden overnight. It broke his heart as he dreamed of making popcorn, watching a movie and falling asleep with his little boy next to him. Turned out that beneath the bull was the delicate moo of a calf.

  When Vincent talked about his yearning to be a better father it made me wonder if my own Dad could possibly at times have wished to become something more than functional. After all, Jayden may only ever experience once a week Daddy… maybe there were forces beyond my own Father’s control as well. Vincent and I did grow closer over the time; I even thought to myself that we could possibly make a relationship work once I had moved to Brick Road. Him being in the business seemed to solve many of the jealousy and judgment issues that arise between the underworld and the overworld. But although I grew to care about Vin, I knew he wasn’t the One.

  Back in the Matrix, hundreds of fucks later, Vin didn’t know I had fallen in love with someone else and wouldn’t be bedding him ever again. But he did know by the look on my face that I wasn’t as happy as usual to see him. He flared his nostrils. It was a subtle and unconscious movement but still spoke volumes. “Come talk to me” is what it said.

  Angelo knew Vin as they had both worked in the strip club scene for years.

  “Hey you studly man,” Angelo said, completely oblivious, “You trying to cut in for a dance with me?”

  Vin laughed then he grabbed my wrist gently and said, “Sorry, I had my eyes on this one.”

  I feigned confusion so Angelo didn’t catch on.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” Vincent asked.

  “I couldn’t leave my boyfriend here dry,” I said, pulling my hand away and wrapping it around Angelo.

  Vincent threw his head back with a smile on his face then snapped it back into its front and center location and looked at me. He ran his tongue over his lips.

  “I’m pretty sure I can buy you both a drink if that will make you happy.”

  Angelo took a step back and folded his arms over his chest. He looked at Vin. Looked at me. I shot him my best “I have no idea where this is coming from” expression.

  “Don’t worry darlings… I’ve got a wet spill on aisle three to clean up,” Angelo said as he blew me a kiss and walked away.

  Vincent bought me a drink and we found a corner to sit in.

  “This is nice,’ Vincent said.

  “What’s nice?”

  “Just being normal,” he said.

  Uh oh.

  “So what did you get up to last week? You skipped town?”

  What?! How on earth could he have known?

  “Yeah, I went into the Brick Road to snoop on you. Thought it might be cute to see you dance but they said you called in sick,” he said with nonchalance.

  “So why do you think I skipped town?” I asked, trying to remain calm.

  “I had a drink with Angel and she told me you met a rich customer the day before,” he replied, completely unalarmed by the thought of it.

  Oh my God! That fucking bitch implying such things! Pins and needles started prickling through my body and seemed to end up on my cheeks. I turned flush.

  “Why the fuck would meeting a rich customer and going out of town be correlated?”

  By the state of my reaction they clearly were. He looked at me and smiled.

  “It’s not a problem, Ana. Lots of dancers go on dates outside the club. And you’d be really good at coining some extra dime. Clever girl. Good talker. Sympathetic…”

  I knew he was trying to compliment me but it wasn’t having that effect. I considered lying about the whole thing but I knew that wouldn’t work. I needed to break it off with Vin and if I started a relationship with Carlos everyone would know… sometimes telling the truth yourself prevents other people inventing a version of it for you.

  “Yes, well, I did actually go out with that guy. But he didn’t PAY me,” I said, trying to remain neutral.

  Vincent cocked his mouth in confusion.

  “I really liked him and wanted to get to know him better,” I added.

  Momentarily speechless, I could tell he was hurt and also perplexed.

  “Ah ok, sorry I didn’t mean to suggest…” he spluttered.

  I tried to be cool and interrupted, “That’s fine. I mean, it’s a pretty normal thing to assume I guess. But I thought you might know me better than that.”

  “Know you better than what?” He asked, wondering what I meant.

  That’s the moment when I realized that I had adopted a sex industry caste system. My classes probably went something like this:

  Topless dancer- Someone that dances topless with no contact (In SF if a Club serves alcohol bikini tops and bottoms had to remain on if the customer was closer than four feet away)

  Full nude dancer-Someone that dances full nude with no contact

  Escort- Someone that accompanies men out privately and may or may not have sexual contact

  Prostitute/Porn-Someone who is paid for sexual contact

  Vincent’s assumption jumped me from Topless Dancer to Escort in a split second. For him, this meant nothing, but in that moment I realized that I did not consider myself the same as some of my fellow sex industry colleagues. Somehow, my class was above the rest. I made a mental note to challenge this illusion at a later date.

  Vincent quickly put on a jersey of the same color, “Ana, I don’t think you’re cheap and easy or anything. Lots of dancers go out with guys for money and don’t cross the line.”

  I wasn’t sure his ‘being cool about it’ attitude made me feel any better about being lumped in with the masses. In fact, his hypothesis was one that haunted me for many moons to come.

  He put his hand on mine, “So are you hanging with this guy tonight or can we maybe get out of here?”

  “Are you touching me in public?” I asked, smirking.

  “Yeah… yeah I am,” he said, “Ana, you’ve gone to another Club. There’s no drama. Right?”

  Only there was. He was a really nice guy but I just didn’t want to fuck him anymore.

  It’s never easy to break off a relationship. Whether it’s friendship, a friend with benefits or a marriage, telling someone that it’s over is like standing up against a glass wind
ow on the one hundredth floor. You know you are safe but for some reason it’s still scary. But I did it. He was upset but cool about it, as people are, and he left after downing his cocktail.

  Jamie had said many times in her infinite, street smart wisdom, “Best way to get over a man is to get under another.” Perhaps that wasn’t my exact approach but with the anticipation of seeing Carlos at the front of my mind it certainly pushed Vin to the back. I took myself off to the bathroom to reset. Just as I took out my brush from my purse I noticed my phone lit up. I had several texts from Carlos. My heart immediately skipped a beat. I took up my phone and read that Carlos was coming back to town just for a day before having to head out again for a week. Could I please have lunch with him at his apartment?

  Apartment? I thought he had said he lived near Tiburon across the Bay? Never mind. The answer was:

  ME: YES!!!!! What time and where?

  He wrote back almost immediately, before I had even finished brushing my hair:

  CARLOS: Gus can pick you up at 12. I have to leave by 3.

  ME: Even 5 minutes with you right now would satisfy. Can’t wait to see your smile.

  I walked out of the bathroom beaming and found Angelo.

  “Mmmmhmmm,” he said, “What’s that smile all about Miss Kitty? Is there something you’d like to tell me about Vincent?”

  I shook my head rapidly, “NO!”

  Confused he replied, “Ok… so if it isn’t Vin then what’s up because girl you are lit up.”

  “So… I met a guy a few days ago and I really like him,” I said.

  “Oh reeeeeally,” he said, excitedly, “So what was that with Vin? He wants you, too? Pop-u-lar.”

  “No, that was nothing. I mean, he was hitting on me but whatever. Vincent’s hot but I can’t think of anything else but this other guy… I’m kind of smitten,” I said.

  “Is that why you skipped out on work the other night then?”

  “Yeah. You got me,” I said.

  “Well he must be pretty special because you’re a work horse. You didn’t even skip out on work when you had that hideous pimple.”

  “Shut up!!!”

  We giggled.

  “I don’t need to skip work for such things when you are the special effects makeup master.”

  Angelo asked, “So what’s he like?”

  I paused, reflecting on Carlos as though I was admiring the Mona Lisa. I liked him but I really had to think hard to find words as the feelings were so intangible and puzzling.

  “He’s really smart and deep… and emotional. He doesn’t let me get away with any of the logic based debate bullshit I learned in school. He’s real. There are no games or pretence. It’s actually a little bit intimidating because I can’t be anything but honest. It’s like he can see right through me. I like it but I don’t if you get me.”

  “Yeah, it’s really scary being vulnerable.”

  Vulnerable. What did Angelo mean by that? Before I could ask he said, “What does he look like then? Give me the juicy stuff.”

  “Well, he isn’t traditionally, you know, what I’d say is a hunk. I mean, he’s older…”

  “Um… excuse me darling, age ain’t nothing but a number,” Angelo said, pulling his shirt and dusting off his 40 year old shoulders, “Now get to the part I care about. How big is his dick?”

  I laughed.

  “We haven’t had sex,” I said.

  “Alright…” he paused, looking at me with pursed lips and curious eyes, “So are you seeing him again soon?”

  “Yeah. Tomorrow. So I don’t think I’ll be staying out too late. I actually thought to head out now so I don’t look like a hag in the morning. He only has a few hours in town and I want to be fresh.”

  “Why is he only around for a few hours?”

  “He travels a bit for work,” I said.

  “It’s Saturday tomorrow… he must be a busy man if he has to fly out Saturday afternoon. Sounds like this will be a long distance relationship. Perfect!”

  I laughed. Angelo was always so positive.

  I gave him a kiss on the cheek and said goodbye to the others saying I had a meeting at the bank in the morning and needed some rest. No more delaying that beauty sleep.

  The Apartment

  The next day I stood in the elevator with Gus who had been instructed to deliver me safely to Carlos in THE apartment. I told him I was sure I could find it but he escorted me all the way to Carlos’ welcoming arms at the door. Then he disappeared, dissolving into the ether.

  Carlos’ face fell onto mine. I had felt desperate to kiss him. So much time in between, dreaming of seeing him again and now here he was. Our lips moved like the voluptuous gushing of a chocolate foundation. Smooth. Velvety. Irresistibly delicious. He pulled my body into his, his strong arms almost lifting me off the ground.

  Finally he pulled back. His mature cologne hit my nose urging me to kiss him again but he spoke instead, “I’m so happy you could make it at this time, Ana. I’m running such a tight schedule for the next week that this would be the only time we could see each other for another week or so.”

  I tried not to deflate at the sound of less time together rather than more.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I replied.

  He giant hand led mine to the table. I loved how much bigger he was than I.

  Carlos’ apartment was modest by general American standards- two ensuite bedrooms, an open plan kitchen/diner/living room. Though the interior design was well beyond the Ikea standard of my college studio, the size was not dissimilar. Saying that, in San Francisco, as in New York, I knew the place must have cost him a pretty penny. It was on the top floor with spectacular views all the way across the Bay; today was a clear day, unusual for July when it could be as cold and foggy as Halloween in Boston.

  “Can I get you something to eat? I know I promised lunch but I’m afraid all that’s been delivered to us is this charcuterie basket.”

  He walked over to a round, glass-topped table where a gift basket sat full of fancy cheeses and rolls of venison sausage. There were crackers, jams and cellophane wrapped baubles of bonbons.

  I giggled, “The sight of that seriously makes me laugh. I thought you were a foodie?”

  “If that makes you laugh go look at the fridge,” he said.

  I walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. Completely empty.

  He chuckled, “I don’t live here. It’s more like a hotel room I crash in once and awhile when I go out in San Francisco. Abby got this hamper for me… I didn’t give her much notice.”

  I smiled and shook my head in sympathy. He sifted through the contents of the basket.

  “Ah. Fois gras.”

  Putting together a plate of goodies, he poured out two glasses of Sancerre wine from a bottle that I presumed came with the gift box. Carlos swayed over in my direction with a plate and two wine glasses, sauntering almost comically, as if trying to make the service look impressive. He joked rarely and it made me smile.

  “I know you don’t like to drink in the daytime but it’s this or water, I’m afraid,” he said.

  “That’s fine. I couldn’t possibly turn my nose up to what looked like a Sancerre?” I asked.

  “It is. And yes, rare are the moments.”

  I doubted Sancerre was scarce in Carlos’ life but I loved his humility. Sancerre was out of reach for my budget. I wouldn’t be having a glass of this stuff again anytime soon. Or perhaps I would? If Carlos could stay in town for a bit longer…

  I sat down on the sofa and he joined me. Taking a wine glass from his hand, we clinked glasses in what for me, felt like celebration. But instead of eating, he took our shared plate of nibbles and placed it on the table. A sultry cloud overcame his beautiful brown eyes and he also took my wine glass by the stem, setting that down, too. I felt a deep shift in his core. The light-hearted midday lunch seemed to take on an evening hue. Maybe this would be it? Were we going to make love?

  He moved s
lowly and concentrated his serious gaze on me. He looked at my ear and took a few strands of hair, arranging them delicately to the side of my face then he took his finger and ran it down the side of my cheek. His eyes ran up along my hairline, slowly, taking in every inch and again, his gentle fingers stroked the strands. When I couldn’t take it any more he finally took my chin in his hand and pulled it closer, connecting our lips like a sad goodbye. The moment went from friendly to melancholy in an instant. But love was still there. I couldn’t make sense of the moment.

  When he pulled back, his chiseled jaw strained under his clenching jaw muscles. “I love kissing you,” he said.

  My lips curled upward. Phew. It was all ok. “We do have so much in common, don’t we? I love kissing you, too.”

  “Mmmm,” he hummed in agreement as he took the plate from the table and gestured for me to take something.

  I grabbed a cracker and used the tiny knife to scoop some cheese on to it. A white cheese with a black streak running through it. Taking a bite I melted under its spell. So delicious. Carlos enjoyed my reaction.

  “So good, isn’t it? It’s Humboldt Fog. Goat cheese with vegetable ash. A very sweet cheese.”

  I shook my head but said nothing as I had already greedily popped another morsel in my mouth. He took some of the same and closed his eyes to enjoy the creamy texture. As I watched him crumble under the influence of cheese, I couldn’t help but feel close to him. I wanted to know more. I wanted to know everything. I wanted to see where he really lived.

  “Carlos,” I said, “I would have been happy to go to Tiburon or wherever it is you live if it would have been easier for you? I’m not allergic to the bridges like some people.”

  He gave a delicate chortle and then picked up his glass for another sip. He paused and I could tell something deep was being suppressed.

  “It’s a bit complicated for me at home. Well, let me start over… I think things at home are very simple for me, but most women I try to date find it very complicated.”

  Complicated at home. Uh oh.

  “And why is that?” I asked, trying to sound neutral but my goosebumps lie in waiting under my skin.