YOLO_You Only Live Once

by Sue Seabury

  “Find any keepers?”

  “Well, one.” She fumbled around in her pocket until she located the conch shell. The bar was closer than she anticipated and the shell hit it with a thump. “Actually, this little boy found it.”

  Hugo’s fist closed around the shell. “Little boy? What do you mean?”

  “There was a family having a picnic on the beach. Two families, two women anyway, and a bunch of kids. It was so sweet. The food smelled divine.” Kat gave herself permission to eat all the fried food Hugo had to offer and dipped a chip in the salsa. Heavenly. She sighed.

  “You are telling me there were several people throwing a party on my private beach?”

  Kat stopped mid-crunch. A drop of salsa fell on the counter. “Oops. Shorry.”

  Hugo gave the clump of juicy tomato an impatient swipe.

  Kat shrank down. She wished the barstool weren’t quite so high. “Um, I dunno. They weren’t doing anything, just having lunch and playing in the water. The man with the guitar was really good.”

  “There was a man?” Hugo seemed to expand to fill all the space behind the bar.

  Oh God. Had she narrowly missed being slung into a burlap sack and shipped off to Brazil? “Um. He seemed very nice, respectful. They all did. None of them came anywhere near me except the little boy who gave me the shell.”

  “I am sorry to tell you, but it is illegal to take conch shells out of Puerto Rico.” Hugo slapped the shell down on the counter and looked around, as if searching for his machete.

  An abrasive screech cut the air, and seemed to clear the last drops of alcohol from Kat’s veins. The gang was back. Thank goodness.

  Queenie slugged from one of the test drinks without asking. She sighed dramatically. “What’s this? I need more, like, immediately.”

  A sun-burned Pete with white raccoon eyes loomed over Kat’s left shoulder. “Saving this seat for me, Cathy?”

  If she was going to survive this week by herself, she had to take charge and make decisions. She just decided this did not include sacrificing her time to people who didn’t interest her. Her vacation was just that:hers. She slid off and slapped her barstool. “Yup.”

  She slipped around the other Cigarbellies who pressed forward to claim food from the snack tray and clamor for drinks.

  Kat used the confusion to duck around the corner to the reception area.

  “Whew.” She still felt hot. Must be the alcohol, another reason to slow down. Regretting the loss of her elastics, she twirled her hair to get a little air on her neck. A door markedGift Shop was right in front of her. Might as well see if they had something while Hugo was occupied so they wouldn’t have to go through the embarrassing argument about free gifts again.

  She pushed on the door. Locked. Just her luck. She felt hot. She leaned her head against the cool glass and twirled her hair up to get some air on her neck.

  “Woo-hoo! We got ourselves a runway model! Lemme snap a pic!”

  Kat straightened and turned. Ramsey was framing her with his fingers.

  “Hi, Ramsey.”

  “Can I do you for something, Miss Kitty-Kat?” Ramsey’s lips formed a shocked O, like he just remembered he wasn’t supposed to call her that.

  It was impossible to get annoyed with a gorgeous goofball. “I’d like to have a look around if you don’t mind.”

  “You got it.” Ramsey sauntered over and pulled the door. A silver “pull” sticker flashed as he opened it.

  “Ehem. Thank you.” Kat prayed he hadn’t seen her pushing.

  Deceptively small from the outside, the shop was in fact quite spacious. Plenty of high-end clothes, shoes, even surfboards, and very little cheap tourist stuff on display.

  No way did this place have a dollar rack. Kat cleared her throat. “So, if I was looking for something to hold my hair. . .”

  “Right here.” Ramsey tapped a glass case filled with many beautiful hair clasps: silky headbands, ‘bohemian’ leather wraps and jeweled hair pins. Kat didn’t need to ask the price to know they were out of her range. And no way could she accept any of them as a gift.

  “Any plain elastics?” She walked over to the toiletry section and saw some little round elastics. And just two dollars. They looked narrow, but maybe. ”What about these?”

  Ramsey’s eyes widened as he burst out laughing. “Sorry, Miss. I don’t think you want those. For your hair anyway. Too slippery.” He wiggled his nose in lascivious fashion.

  Kat squinted at the rack. Condoms. She hustled back to the glass display case.

  Ramsey chewed the insides of his mouth. At least he was trying not to laugh in her face. “Um, what about these?”

  He pulled a tube of elastics out of the glass case. They were fancy: thicker than hers, and more colorful, with gold thread woven in. Flashier than she liked, but they might be within her price range.

  “How much?” she asked.

  Ramsey consulted the plastic tube. “Thirty-six.” He looked up at her and blinked.

  Nothing like sticker shock to clear the alcohol from her veins. Puerto Rico used dollars, so no chance of the price turning out to be in pesos or some other currency that made the amount less outrageous.

  “Let me think about it.” Kat looked around. “That’s a neat surfboard.” She pointed to an old-fashioned-looking wooden board hanging on the wall. “So, do people still use those?”

  Ramsey shook his head. “That one’s not for sale. It belonged to Hugo’s dad.”

  He wore a serious expression. Kat had to ask. “By the way you say that, I guess that means he died?”

  Ramsey nodded. “Surfing. He was amazing. A real rock star.”

  Kat studied the intricate designs drawn on it. They were kind of like Hugo’s tattoos.

  “Damn shame.” His lips twisted into a sly grin. “Speakin’ of shames, Hugo hasn’t gone surfin’ since Gianna—” Ramsey’s eyes went wide again. He tried to cover by doing some silly dance moves.

  “But he went just yesterday.”

  “Keep working your magic, Miss — Miss MagiKat.” He winked.

  Ramsey’s conspiratorial smile became professional. “So, you want those hair things?”

  How to say no without sounding cheap? Darren’s lessons on evaluating quality to price was thoroughly drummed into her. But they weren’tthat expensive, not even half a massage. She pulled out her credit card.

  She had just returned the signed receipt to Ramsey when the doorbell jingled. She turned. Hugo approached, looking at her hopefully. “Did you find something you like?”

  Ramsey tapped the tube. “Got her stuff right here, but I think she really wants this.” He pointed at a delicate jeweled headband.

  “Oh, no.” Kat laughed.

  “Why not?” Hugo was behind the counter. “It would look beautiful in your dark hair.”

  He slid it onto her head before she could protest. A round mirror stood conveniently on the counter. The price tag fluttered in the air conditioning: a hundred and fifty dollars. She pulled it off and returned it to him. “It’s lovely, but I’m not going to a wedding, just looking for something to keep my hair off my neck.”

  Hugo set it on the counter, picked up the plastic tube and frowned. “So, these?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She plucked them from his hand while deftly hiding the receipt in her other. If only Ramsey had done the same.

  “You charged her?” Hugo said. “I told her they were to be free.”

  “Oops.” Ramsey backed away and knocked his head with his knuckles so hard, Kat heard it.

  “It’s fine,” she said. “We all forget sometimes.”

  Hugo held out his hand. “Your credit card, please.”

  “What? Why?”

  “It will make the cancellation easier.”

  How was it possible that the credit made her feel worse than spending forty bucks in the first place? “You don’t—”

  “I insist.”

  Kat dragged her credit card out once again. Handing it over, she glan
ced toward the surfboard on the wall.

  Hugo half-turned, then stopped. He flicked his eyes toward Ramsey who got busy fluffing a silk scarf on its display ring. Hugo swiped the card firmly through the machine. “Would you like a bag for that?”

  “No thank you.” Kat seized the tube and made a beeline out of the shop.

  * * * *

  Ramsey began, “Hey man. I didn’t—”

  “Don’t.” Hugo held up a hand.

  If Ramsey was going to reel out a string of excuses, Hugo might find it impossible not to say things he would later regret, such as,How would you like it if I told the guests about your criminal record?

  Hugo concentrated on replacing the jeweled hair band on the arched display; it refused to cooperate.

  “I was just gonna say, I didn’t know the hair thingies were supposed to be free.” Ramsey retied a white silk scarf on the stand. It was now more crooked, of course.

  Hugo reminded himself of the many ways he owed Ramsey’s father as he fought with the headband to sit straight. Finally, he said, “Right. My mistake.” Then he clamped his lips tight again and headed for the door.

  By the way Katherine had glanced at his father’s surfboard, he knew Ramsey had been blabbing again. If he had told her about his dad, okay, not something he wanted to dredge up, but no big deal. But if he’d mentioned Gianna . . .

  Simple tasks like lining up glasses in the dishwasher and wiping down the counter released the tension from his shoulders. Rinsing out the blender, however, reminded him of his latest mistake with Katherine. Water flowed over the rim of the blender. He let it run.

  Hard to stay mad at Ramsey for gossiping when he was doing it himself. He shook his head at himself for blabbing so much to her. The water was getting hot. He shut it off.

  Blending up a new drink based on a guest’s suggestion was no big deal. But he should have tasted it on his own, and then served it when there was a crowd around, not at some private session where he got a beautiful lady tipsy. How could he have been so reckless?

  With her rosy cheeks and innocent laugh, she was like an angel. He shut his eyes to block out the image.

  It didn’t work.

  He rested his head against the cool tile wall.

  12

  Back in her room, Kat flung the expensive elastics on the nightstand and herself onto the bed. Hugo didn’t normally surf? The man was part fish. To think she had somehow inspired him. A current ran through her, one part desire, one part electricity. She attributed the lust to alcohol. It wouldn’t be smart to get tangled up with him romantically, but the idea that she might have played some small part in his healing felt good.

  Kat opened her eyes. Must’ve passed out again. Drinking in the middle of the day was always a bad idea. She got up and stretched. She could go for a bite of something. Embarrassing to want to eat at the Early Bird Hour, but maybe there’d be more of that delicious salsa.

  The hair bands caught her eye. She needed to use one just to justify, but none of them really matched her dress. She went with the white, only to discover the elastic was loose with two twists, but didn’t quite make it to three. She couldn’t be bothered to try the others. Sliding the elastic on her wrist, she went on a snack hunt.

  The dining area was empty.

  “Hello? Anybody home?”

  There were noises coming from the kitchen. “Hugo? Anyone?”

  A petite, almost perfectly round woman bustled out from the back, holding her hands aloft. The knuckles looked swollen. “He’s unloading the truck. Can I help you?”

  Her thick black hair was pulled tight in a neat bun at the nape of her neck. It was a strong hint as to her identity, but the gap teeth confirmed it: Hugo’s mother. The rumble in Kat’s stomach changed to more of a nervous flutter. Strange. The woman didn’t seem threatening.

  “Um, no. No trouble. Just, I was going to ask if I could get a bite to eat. It seems like all I do these days is eat, but I think the delicious food has something to do with it.”

  “I’m making a fresh batch of salsa right now.” She waved her slick fingers. “If you will please just wait a few moments, I will set up a tray for you.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to do anything special. In fact, I can serve myself.”

  Kat had intended to be mindful of her arthritis. But the woman’s wide eyes clearly communicated the thought that Kat was overstepping her bounds. Why was everything so complicated?

  “Certainly.” The woman held out a diplomatic hand.

  Kat made her way slowly behind the bar. “Thank you. My name is Katherine, by the way.”

  The woman’s nod said she knew already. “I’m Talia, Hugo’s mother.”

  Kat plastered on a smile for the woman who still made her son’s meals, but then softened it to a more genuine one. If Carver asked her to make his lunch, she would. “How nice to meet you.”

  She looked down at the work surface that was covered with chopped vegetables, herbs and fruit. The smell alone made her swoon. “He told me you make the mango salsa. It’s one of my favorites, although the soup was delicious too. And I love the plantains. Oh, well, I love just about everything about this place!”

  Talia’s smile was pinched. “Yes, Hugo loves this place, too. He would never leave it.”

  “Of course not.” Kat looked around in hopes he might return soon.

  “Here is the salsa.” Talia passed the bowl, along with a basket of chips. “Hugo wanted me to try baking the chips this time. You will be my guinea pig.”

  Kat’s stomach did a little flip. Baked chips. Hugo had requested them for her. “They look great.”

  After eating her fill, she said, “Thank you. They’re delicious, and that was just what I needed. Can I do anything to help? Chop? Stir?”

  Talia considered, then used her chin to point at a large spoon. “I’m working on a sauce for the fish tonight. You can stir while I mash. Be careful not to get burned.” She ground the pestle firmly into the mortar.

  Kat stirred. “It’s so nice the way you help Hugo out. I’m sure he appreciates it very much.”

  Talia’s look was approving. “He does. He’s a very good boy and always listens to hismamá. For example, I told him I did not trust thatcaprichiosa girl Gianna, and I was right.” She paused and added a few more seeds to the bowl. “But, no matter. He’ll find another nice island girl. We have no shortage of them.”

  “Ah.” Kat’s hand stirred automatically.

  Talia couldn’t have made herself clearer than if she’d ground the pestle into Kat’s head. But why did she think Kat had designs on him?

  “I have a son,” Kat heard herself say. “He brought home a girl once. She was from Staten Island, but I didn’t hold it against her.”

  A stack of orange crates held aloft by glistening, muscular arms entered through the back door. The clatter as Hugo set them down reverberated around the room.

  “Miss Katherine.” His eyes did a rapid back-and-forth between her and his mother.

  “Hi.” Kat waved a sticky hand. “I got hungry again. Your mom was nice enough to let me back here to nibble.”

  “Miss Katherine was most insistent on being helpful. Oh, look at the time.” Talia washed her hands. “My telenovela will be starting any minute. Take care,Papí.”

  Talia tilted her cheek for Hugo to kiss, which he did without embarrassment. Now Kat was jealous. Not in a romantic way, but as a mother of a son who wasn’t yet secure enough to do that.

  “Thank you,Mamá.”

  “Katherine, I’m very glad we met.”Because now I know the face of the enemy remained unsaid, but couldn’t have been clearer.

  “Likewise.”

  Talia bustled out, and it seemed like she took all the air with her. For a long moment, neither Kat nor Hugo moved, then Hugo’s eyes flicked to her wrist with the elastic.

  Somehow, that tiny eye movement unlocked Kat’s muscles. She flipped her hair a few times as she walked back out to the dining room. “They’re great, just, I’m not
hot right now.”

  Hugo picked up the basket of plantain chips and salsa and followed.

  Kat sat at the bar and picked out a chip. “Your mother is very. . . helpful.”

  Hugo exhaled. “She is. But she can be a little territorial with her kitchen.”

  Amongst other things. “My mother passed earlier this summer.”

  “You said. I’m sorry.”

  Oh no. She really was forgetting everything. She bit the chip. The “crunch” sounded exceptionally loud.

  “Forgive me," Hugo said. "I did not mean to sound callous.”

  “You didn’t. She was suffering.” She picked up another chip. “I’m sorry about your father.”

  Hugo stiffened slightly, then pulled the towel from its place at his waist and wiped the counter. “It was a long time ago, but thank you.”

  “I just say it because, I’m old. I mean, grown up. So it’s normal for my mother to pass. You were so young. That must have been awful.”

  Hugo’s circles became slow and deliberate. “Did Ramsey tell you about Gianna too?”

  Kat froze. Technically, Ramsey hadn’ttoldher anything. He had only said her name. And Talia had called Gianna something which might have meantcapricious, but also might meant something else entirely. Kat shook her head.

  Hugo turned red under his tan.

  Kat rushed to fill the embarrassed space. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to be here. My ex never wanted to go anywhere, so we didn’t. I don’t know why I married him. Yes I do. I wanted security, and I got it. Trouble is, a person needs love too.” She clamped her bottom lip between her teeth. “Ehem. Tell me, did your mother sneak some truth serum into these chips?”

  Hugo’s lips twitched as his eyes slid to the direction his mother had gone.

  Kat nibbled a chip, but her stomach was twisted too tight to accept anything.

  Still Hugo didn’t speak. The silence grew awkward. To fill it, she said, “My mother passed in June, I got divorced in July and then my only child left for college in August. I’m trying my derndest not to turn into a crazy cat lady with all these big changes.”

  It worked. Hugo laughed. “I do not see any sign of that.”