Chapter Ten
“I feel silly wearing the same outfit,” Erica commented as they took the elevator down to the first floor and the terrace where Sunday brunch awaited. “I know my family will realize we spent the night together.”
Grinning, Nico caressed her bare arm. “And that’s bad how?”
“I suppose you’re right,” she said with a sigh. “They might as well know what a crazy, wanton hija and sobrina they have in the family.”
“You’ll fit right in with my own familia.”
Erica smiled with the thought of meeting his parents at last. “Is that an invitation to the nut house? If you and your twin are any indication, then I should consider myself the only sane person between the two families.”
As the elevator doors opened, Nico threw her a sly wink. “We’ll see.”
They joined Erica’s family at a large, round table. She had to work fast to evade any sly questions, and did so with the expertise of a spy under interrogation. In contrast, Nico simply smiled and answered questions with polite aplomb. Finally, Erica felt herself slip into a more comfortable mood when she allowed her first Mimosa cocktail to take effect.
Before they started for the buffet table, Nico excused himself to use the restroom. Now as her aunt and mother used the opportunity to pump her for more information, Erica kept them at bay by directing the conversation to less volatile topics between her father and uncle. Soon, a familiar voice greeted them, and she was both surprised and delighted to see Maritza on her way over.
“I finished early,” Mari told them as she swept around the table to give everyone a kiss, “and when I called mamá, she said to meet everyone here for brunch. So, here I am!”
Today, the newest member of the Adentro Televisión news team wore an indigo sundress dotted with pink and yellow petals. Of course, Mari looked fabulous with her hair done in gold waves and her makeup perfect. Despite feeling like a dowdy stepchild, Erica couldn’t wait to introduce her sister to Nico, the mystery brother. After all the sisters had shared concerning their love lives, she felt they had much more in common now than just passing romances.
A sudden crash behind them made the Rael family turn heads. A general murmur rose amongst the diners, and several waiters scurried about. From her viewpoint, Erica could see the remnants of a lobster and shrimp salad scattered over the flagstone floor. Finally, the commotion settled back to normal conversations and activity, and she turned her attention back to her group. When a waiter came to her side, Erica gave a small frown and accepted the folded note he handed her. As she read, her expression turned from sublime happiness to a growing anxiety.
Mi tesora, I am so sorry, but an emergency came up and I have to leave. Please accept my apologies and pass them on to your lovely family. I will call you as soon as I can.
Love, Nico
Erica forced a thin smile as she crumbled the note. “Well, it looks like we may as well start eating. Nico offers his sincere apologies, but an emergency came up, and he had to leave.”
Maritza’s brows rose in curiosity. “Nico? Is this a new beau, cariña?”
Patting her sister’s hand, Erica simply offered, “I’ll tell you all about him later.”
Briefly, she wondered what it was about the Sloan brothers to make them take flight right in the middle of a lunch date. And if she and Nico ever decided to enter into a more permanent union, would the groom skip out on her just before the wedding ceremony?
* * *
Early in the week, Erica concentrated on finishing a design project for a lawyer’s office, and then moved on to Gianni Sloan’s decorating job. Despite Sacha’s nosy prodding, she managed to keep mum about her recent romantic activities. A subsequent call to Nico’s cell phone got her the standard electronic request to leave a message.
When she finally broke down and called his twin, Gianni gave her a somewhat cryptic answer. “Oh, Nico. Yeah, he had to leave right away. There was some problem at the gallery. A fire or something. He told me he’d call you soon, Erica. So, when do you think you’ll start on my place?”
Although Nico hadn’t bothered to give her a personal explanation or a quick kiss good-bye, or even a follow-up phone message, he sent her a gift every day. Monday had been a dozen pink roses. Tuesday had been a wrapped basket with luxury spa items. Wednesday brought her a box of decadent fudge and Thursday a sample medley of premium coffees. Each gift came with a short but sublime note: Missing U!
She blushed only once when she became the center of attention at work. Even Craig seemed interested in her new love life, but Erica quickly and quietly deflected their curiosity, especially Tai’s knowing winks and Sacha’s expectant and exaggerated facial expressions.
On Friday, Erica waited for the workmen to arrive at Gianni’s place. Following her design plan, the crew would combine the two smaller bathrooms into one large area with the addition of a large tub and a new vanity with brass fixtures and a mint-green marble top. Her own curiosity had tempted Erica to snoop through the Latin lover boy’s dresser in the bedroom. Perhaps, she could learn more about the Sloan family from any mementos Gianni possessed. Yet when her personal ethics soon took over, she delved into her project instead. At least for the next two weeks Erica planned to be extremely busy with fabrics, paint and furnishings.
According to Maritza, Gianni had finally called her and apologized for his recent absenteeism. In fact, he had moved in with Mari temporarily while her sister redid his condo. If nothing else, at least Erica had a few good nights of uninterrupted sleep, though her dreams often involved Nico and a fantastic, surreal night together in each other’s arms.
As each day passed, she wondered why Nico didn’t at least give her a quick call to say everything was all right at his end of the world. She didn’t want to appear too eager so Erica refused to follow up with her own calls and leave messages. Let him think and wonder why. After all, didn’t absence make the heart grow fonder? Yet, for Erica, the absence of the artist, this man of her dreams and desires, only made her heart sag heavily with the pain of separation.
So, I’ll dig deeper into work...
Erica felt satisfied as the condo project continued on schedule. Besides Nico’s art, she included several smaller paintings by her father. Since his retirement from head maître d’ of the restaurant, Santos Rael had taken up painting once more, his art a bright blend of Latino life and city scenes. Erica especially loved the one of the bodega, the little neighborhood store with its striped awning, and the outside bins of bananas, coconuts, oranges and melons. The plump Indian woman, too, with her long, blue-black hair and basket of fruit on her head, made a complimentary accent to the sandstone fabric walls. For the corners and niches, she combined antique white and wintergreen splashes of paint, and dressed the windows with burlap drapes.
Starting with natural wicker furniture, Erica added pillows with a green frond design, microfiber camel cushions, and a glass coffee table with a rattan base. At a Mexican import shop, she found a wonderful, rough-hewn plank dining set and matching sideboard, the color of driftwood. With the addition of brass candlesticks and folk art ceramic bowls, the dining room came together as an inviting, relaxed space to eat. Mexican mosaic tiles in rich colors graced the kitchen counters, and the cabinets sported natural wood and brass handles.
Erica’s recent discoveries at an antiques shop included a knotty pine bed frame and carved headboard, but she decided to wait and furnish the bedroom for last. After all, since the master suite remained Gianni’s focal point as a cozy bower of carnal delights, she may as well take her time to make a suitable and interesting placement of furniture and incidentals. Not that it mattered much to the kinds of “guests” the man entertained in there. At least Erica could guarantee a pillow top, no-springs mattress to play on, all the comfort without the squeaks.
* * *
Saturday evening found her restless and out of sorts. Rosina’s prodding of the maid who cleaned Gianni’s place twice a month proved disappointing. The little
maid, Felipa, had no knowledge of a twin Sloan brother, nor had he mentioned any other family members. All Felipa could provide was that the Great Latin Lover possessed several pairs of satin thongs, one black, one red, and one a leopard print, as well as a variety of textured and colorful condoms.
Resigned to a quiet evening, Erica was just about to run a bath when the strains of mariachi music drifted to her bedroom window. Running over and opening the sash, she peered out and spied a quartet of musicians, all with guitars and dressed in flashy ranchero outfits and large sombreros.
“Eriqueta, Eriqueta,” they sang in their rich and strong contralto voices, “tu siempre será mi amor. De aquí al mar, en mis brazos y en mi corazón siempre. Eriqueta, es mi un amor verdadero.”
Erica, you will always be my love... She felt her face flush and her heart speed up with amazement and giddy happiness. She listened to three more songs before the group finished. A smattering of applause drifted from condo residents who had opened their windows to enjoy the impromptu concert as well. Telling the quartet to wait there, Erica quickly went downstairs and out to the courtyard to thank them personally and give each musician a five dollar tip.
“Muchas gracias, señorita,” the senior member stated, “complimentos de Señor Adriano Sloan.” With that, the quartet turned to leave.
Erica had no idea how she returned to her apartment, for she walked on air the whole time, her head in the proverbial clouds. That crazy, impetuous, glorious man! Taking up her cell phone at last, she hit the speed dial for Nico’s number.
He answered on the third ring. “Hola, guapita! How was your song fest?”
“You are loco,” she laughed, “crazy and wonderful at the same time! Where did you find your musicians?”
“In the yellow pages, under ‘have romantic ballads to sing to pretty women, will travel.’”
“Well, it did the trick. I’m still in shock.”
“Well, I aim to please. Now will you be able to recover enough to get a good night’s rest?”
“I’ll try, although without you next to me, the nights are endless.”
“I promise to come back to Miami soon.”
Erica couldn’t quite ferret out his mood from his tone, but she hoped she detected a slight lilt of longing, his need to be with her as palatable as her own. For a split second, she toyed with the idea of hopping the next flight to New York, and then on to Bridgeport, a totally spontaneous and capricious endeavor.
“Is everything all right with the gallery?”
“All is well for now, but I’m tied up with a couple of contracts and a photo exhibit. You do forgive me for my sudden departure, I hope?”
“You’re forgiven, but don’t make your disappearing act a habit, or I’ll think it’s a genetic defect inherited by both brothers.”
“Not to worry. I won’t forget you that easily.”
They spoke for a minute more before Nico crooned his own little romantic ballad. “Buenos noches, Eriqueta, con los suenos dulces de mi y de tu.”
“You do know,” she finally said when she could catch her breath once more, “I plan to make that our song.”
“It just came to me,” Nico countered with a laugh.
“It was fabulous nonetheless.”
“Okay then, I’ll keep working on the lyrics. Next time we meet, I may have the operetta down pat.”
“I can’t wait.”
When they finally disconnected, Erica stared at her cell phone. Now, why hadn’t she recorded the mariachi serenade for posterity? Of course, if Nico kept up with his romantic efforts, she would have many more opportunities to capture their memories together.
* * *
It must be love! It has to be love!
Every time Erica found herself in love, or at least in deep like, she became ravenous. Last night, she had downed a quart of mango ice cream without even thinking. The last time that happened, she had been in a six-week relationship with a guy named Brent. Unfortunately, the minute Brent knew his ex-girlfriend wanted to come back, he dumped Erica like last week’s leftovers, leaving her with nothing more than a gaping wound in her heart and five extra pounds. The heart healed quickly, but those pesky extra pounds took another month to shed.
In a rare, spurious move, Erica decided to visit Maritza Sunday afternoon without announcing her arrival. Since her divorce, Mari had chucked the house she shared with Ricardo and moved into an apartment near Miami Beach. It was actually more of a bungalow, within a series of stucco cottages, all painted flamingo pink with terra cotta roofs and Spanish grillwork.
Why not take a leisurely drive? Besides, her Hyundai Elantra could use a good wash job to restore its deep green luster, and the car wash Erica preferred rested between her condo and her sister’s new place. Besides, she needed to consult with her client concerning several changes before she went ahead with them on Monday morning, and since Gianni was staying with Mari temporarily...
Noting her sister’s Nissan Sonata in her appointed slot, Erica made her way through the small courtyard with its blooming flower beds, and went to knock on the door to #E. After two knocks, the door slowly opened to reveal a man she had never seen before. Buff and tan, the man gave her a sultry perusal with blue eyes while he ran a hand through his spiked blond hair.
Dressed in only a pair of tight cut-offs, the guy seemed to flex every naked muscle as he spoke. “Hey, there. Can I help you?”
Erica stepped back to check the door again. Unless Mari moved, the gold lettering proclaimed #E. “Ah, I’m looking for Maritza Rivera. Do I have the wrong place?”
“Oh, no, this is it.” Mr. Hunky Torso opened the door wider. “Come on in. I’ll tell her you’re here. Oh, I don’t know who you are, do I?”
“I’m her sister, Erica.” She took a step forward, but before she made it to the foyer, Mari came to the door, clad in a short, silk robe. Today, her normally coiffed hair splayed about her head in mischievous spurts. As soon as she spotted her sister, Mari scooted past her blond guest and took Erica by the arm and led them back to the courtyard.
“It’s not what you think,” she started as she gave Erica a guilty look. “Okay, actually it is. His name is Travis, and he works at the station as a gaffer, whatever that is. Anyway, we—”
“Wait a minute!” Erica pulled her arm away from Maritza’s grasp. Her sister’s long nails had been digging into her flesh with excruciating precision. “I actually came by to see Gianni. Wasn’t he staying here with you?”
Mari’s eyes narrowed. “Oh no, Gianni and I were over with days ago! He’s gone his way, and I’ve gone mine... all the way to Travis.”
Erica creased her brows in a frown. “Did Gianni say where he was going while I decorate his place?”
“I think he said he was going to stay with his parents.” Mari placed a slender finger to her lips. “Well, you can call him and find out, can’t you?”
Pulling her straw bag around her hip, Erica dug for her phone. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry to have bothered you.”
“No problem.” Her sister’s gaze traveled to Travis, still at the door. She burst into an adoring smile. “I’d invite you in for a soda or something, but we’re kind of in the middle of something.”
“Say no more!” Erica gave her sister a quick kiss. “Talk to you later, amante.”
Flipping her sunglasses back on her nose, Erica went straight to her car. Well, well, well! Things certainly ran fast and deep in network news! For a moment, she allowed a small gloat of satisfaction as she hoped beyond hope that Mari had done the dumping and not Gianni. Speaking of el diablo... She punched in her client’s number but received his ridiculous message.
As she eased into her car seat, Erica thought back to what Nico and Gianni had said about their parents, and then remembered their names, Bradford and Francesca Sloan. Dialing up the Greater Miami directory, she decided there couldn’t be too many Bradford Sloans who resided in Coral Gables. When the name and address came up, she made a split decision. Why not? A beautiful
Sunday afternoon called for a drive, one in the approximate direction of 1416 Fontenelle Avenue, Coral Gables.
Erica found the residence easy enough through her GPS. The Sloans lived in a ranch style house of meringue stucco and Spanish ironwork. As luck would have it, Gianni’s dark Jag sat in the driveway. Flipping down the mirror on her visor, she did a quick repair job on her lipstick and took in a deep breath. After all, she wanted to meet Nico’s parents, didn’t she? Now seemed the right time.
Before she rang the bell, Erica ran a nervous hand down the front of her short denim skirt, and then straightened the spaghetti straps on her jersey top. Aquí nada va—Here goes nothing! She didn’t have to wait long after she rang the door bell. The man himself, Gianni Sloan, answered her summons and stood in the doorway, barefoot and wearing only a pair of olive sweat pants. His attractive face tightened with surprise at seeing Erica on the flagstone porch. He quickly walked outside to join her, shutting the door behind him.
“Why, Erica, what a surprise! I had no idea!”
“Of course you didn’t. I just made up my mind to stop by,” she answered as she gave him a quick going over.
The diamond in his ear winked back at her. As Erica noticed the crown tattoo, her gaze traveled lower to register the silver ID bracelet and the star mole peeping just above the waistband of his sweats. Could it be possible? Could twins have exactly the same markings in the same places, wear the same jewelry, even when they profess no affinity for one another?
“Well, what can I do for you?” His eyes narrowed as he focused on her face.
She felt momentarily stymied. “I...I...I came to show you some changes in the plans, and to see if they meet with your approval.”
“Oh, all right.” He seemed to visibly relax. “I’d invite you in, but the house is a mess. The maid’s day off, and the folks are at the club playing a couple rounds of golf. Let me throw something on and I’ll take you to this great little place that makes terrific agua frescas.”
Miami Spice Page 9
