by Anna Cruise
But we rounded the corner and walked through a set of double doors and suddenly, it was like we were in a completely different place. Hundred of faces gazed at us, boys and girls sitting cross-legged on the floor, their hands folded in their laps. They were dressed in uniforms—blue slacks and white polos for the boys, blue and white plaid jumpers for the girls. This room was well-lit, the walls papered with kid-created art work. There were tissue paper flowers tacked to the walls and paper-plate caterpillars, watercolor landscapes and stick-figure family portraits. Lunchroom tables were pushed to the walls, creating the open space the kids sat huddled in. There was a single stool positioned in front of the kids with a neat stack of boxes next to it. The books. And on the other side, a flimsy metal easel with a hand-drawn sign. Even though it was written in Spanish, I knew what it said.
Welcome, Stuart Woodcock.
I watched at Stuart walked past the stool, crouching down in front of the group of kids. I moved to the side, closer to the semi-circle so I could get a better view. He smiled at them and spoke to them and they answered shyly at first, then with more enthusiasm, the grins on their faces outshining the fluorescent lights mounted above us.
After a few minutes, he hopped on to the stool and the room quieted. He waited, smiled, and then began to speak. Once again, he spoke in Spanish and I didn't have a clue what he was saying, but it didn't matter. The kids knew and the looks on their faces, of admiration and rapt attention, told me everything I needed to know.
They loved him.
At some point, Brynn moved closer to me and she leaned close to whisper something in my ear.
“Isn't he fantastic?” she asked.
He definitely knew how to charm people and work a crowd. I thought about Garcia and how easily Stuart had won over our gruff driver. Mrs. Rodriguez and the way she beamed at him and pumped his hand. The kids and their looks of awe and admiration. Brynn and the way she thought every word he spoke was like it'd come from a Nobel Prize Laureate. Whatever the hell that was.
And then I thought of me. How I'd been so sure he was going to be some uninteresting, unattractive yeti-Neanderthal. And how very wrong I'd been.
He was hotter than hot. No doubt about it. Insane in bed, for sure. But he was also funny and sarcastic and gave shit just as good as I did. Not better—no one was better than me—but a fair enough match. And I wasn't used to being matched.
But there was something else about him, too. He was kind. Genuine. I watched as he spoke to the kids, his hands gesturing animatedly, his face lit up. What he did wasn't an act and it wasn't a job. It was one hundred percent who he was.
“Yeah,” I finally said. “Fantastic.”
Stuart looked our way then, caught me looking at him, and smiled. In English, he said, “These two ladies have volunteered their time today. I'm honored that they've joined me and I hope you'll give them a warm welcome.” He said something in Spanish, a repeat, probably, of the words he'd just said, and the kids erupted with applause.
“And now,” he said. “Books. Books for everyone!”
The kids scrambled to their feet and Mrs. Rodriguez rushed to the stool, firing instructions at them. They complied quickly, forming orderly lines, their hands tucked behind their backs, their voices growing hushed.
Stuart motioned to me and Brynn.
“We're going to do three lines,” he told me. “Take a box of books and stand there.” He pointed to his right and then looked at Brynn. “You're over here,” he said, motioning to his left side.
I stooped down and picked up one of the boxes. It was heavier than I thought it was going to be and it slipped a little in my hands. Stuart reached out to steady it, placing his hands under the box. He lifted it up and over my head.
“I can do it,” I protested.
“No,” he said over his shoulder. “You can't.” He set the box down. “Last thing I need is you getting hurt.”
“I can handle a box of books.”
“Yeah but I can't handle a medical claim if you get hurt,” he said. “You aren't a screened volunteer. And neither is she.”
He turned to help Brynn but the former Girl Scout was apparently also a former body builder because she picked up the box like she was handling a box of tissues. I hated her even more.
I peeled back the flaps of my box and peeked inside. There were neat stacks of books, a mix of chapter books and picture books, all brand new, their covers colorful and bright, the smell of ink still fresh on the pages.
“How do I know what to give to who?” I asked.
Stuart was already walking back to his stool. “You'll figure it out.”
How the hell was I supposed to figure it out? I avoided books like the plague. There was no way I'd know what book to give to each kid.
Stuart must have noticed the expression on my face because he smiled and said, “It doesn't matter, Annika. They'll love whatever you give them.”
And he was right. The first kid in my line stepped up to me, a shy smile on his face. His thick dark hair was buzzed short, his brown eyes bright and friendly.
“Hello,” he said in tentative English.
“You speak English?” I asked, surprised.
He nodded.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Och—eight,” he corrected.
I looked in the box and pulled out a thin chapter book. It was one of those easy readers, with cartoon animals as characters. A lion and a turtle as friends which in real life would never work.
I held it out to him. “Would you like this one?”
His smile stretched wide and he nodded his head vigorously. He took it from me and clutched it to his chest, wide-eyed. He looked like I'd just handed him a winning Mega Millions ticket.
“Thank you,” he said, bowing just a little before he turned and left.
A little girl was next. Her hair was long and thin, her brown skin mottled.
“What's your name?” I asked her.
She spoke but her voice was soft and I couldn't hear her. “What?”
“Juanita,” she repeated. She smiled and I noticed graying teeth.
“How old are you?”
“Seven.”
I reached for another thin chapter book and pressed it into her hands. Her fingers trembled as they closed around the cover. She didn't hug it the way the first boy had done; instead, she held it like it was a piece of china, ready to break at any moment. She cradled it carefully as she smiled, said thank you and returned to the end of the line.
It didn't take long to work through the line of kids. I handed out books to boys and girls, kindergarteners and eighth graders and every age in between. The box of books was almost empty when the last kid trickled through and I was glad she was one of the younger ones. All I had left were picture books.
Mrs. Rodriguez gathered the kids in a semi circle and Stuart stood in front of them, kneeling down next to a girl from my line, putting his arm around her shoulder. Garcia produced a camera and snapped a couple of pictures. Apparently, he was also serving as the local media coverage Stuart had referred to.
“Come here,” Stuart said, waving to me and Brynn. “We need you in here, too.”
Brynn hurried over, positioning herself behind Stuart, crouching down and smiling. I claimed the other side and Stuart pulled on my arm, bringing me to my knees. I practically fell on top of him.
“What the hell?” I whispered, frowning. My sandal was barely hanging on to my left foot.
“I know how much you like this position,” he whispered, a wicked grin on his face.
“What?”
“Being on your knees. In front of me.”
It was crass and inappropriate and it told me everything I needed to know. He wasn't angry anymore about the time mix-up. He'd forgiven me. Quickly and easily, water under the bridge. Brynn shot us a puzzled look and Stuart and I doubled over with laughter and the camera flashed right then, capturing the moment.
TWENTY ONE
“That was ama
zing,” Brynn said dreamily.
We were in the car, Garcia navigating the streets from the foothills back toward the coast. Stuart was in the passenger seat next to him and Brynn and I occupied the back of the dark sedan.
“The looks on the kids' faces,” she continued. I glanced over at her and her eyes were closed, a satisfied expression on her face. She looked like she'd just had sex. “I mean...wow.”
“Yeah,” I commented. “Orgasmic.”
Her eyes flew open and she stared at me. I just smirked and stretched my legs out as far as I could. I'd kicked off my sandals and my purse was tucked next to my feet. I craned my neck so I could look out the front window of the car and saw we were back in the main part of town, small restaurants and businesses lining both sides of the street. There wasn't a singe hotel in sight and my hopes soared a little. We'd forgotten to talk about accommodations for the night and I was hoping the fact that Garcia was headed for the coast meant that we'd be staying in one of the resorts by the water. Again, they weren't fancy, but I wasn't looking for anything more than a step up from the school and shanties we'd seen in the foothills. Well, maybe I was looking for a little more than that. A pool and room service would be nice. And a bar. And maybe an adjoining room with Stuart.
“It's a good feeling, isn't it?” Stuart asked, looking back at us. He had his sunglasses on, his visor adjusted above his brow, a grin settled on his face.
Brynn's head bobbed up and down. “Yes. I could do this all the time!”
His smile widened. “You should check the website when we get back. I'm not involved in all of the day to day stuff anymore but we usually have openings. Some are volunteer but there are some paid internships, too.”
Brynn practically squealed. “Oh my gosh. Yes, of course! I don't need to be paid. I mean, I'll just go wherever you need me.”
“Just like that?” I asked.
She looked at me in confusion. “What do you mean?”
I snorted. “Don't you have a life?”
The smile disappeared from her face. “What?”
“Friends? A boyfriend?” I rolled my eyes. “A job? School? You know...a life?”
“Of course I have a life,” she sniffed, tugging on her ponytail. “But this is something I want to do.”
“Do you always get what you want?” I asked. “Who's going to pay for it? I mean, if it turns out your only choice is to volunteer. Daddy got your back?”
She bristled.
“Annika,” Stuart was smiling but his tone was disapproving.
“I'm just asking,” I said. I lifted my sunglasses and set them on top of my head. “I mean, does anyone deal in reality here?”
“I deal in reality every single day,” he said slowly. “It's why I do what I do.”
“That's not what I mean,” I said. I looked at the girl sitting next to me, the girl who had been silenced by my frank questions. “What I mean is, how do you just decide to upend your entire life? For no pay, no nothing?”
“I'd get something out of it,” she said. “Something worth more than money.”
I could hear the judgment in her voice and it pissed me off. She didn't know a thing about me.
“You think money is all that matters to me?” I asked. “You don't know shit about me.”
“Uh...” Stuart said. “Maybe we should...”
Brynn cut him off. “I know enough,” she said, looking down her nose at me. “I know what kind of person you are. And I know that people in glass houses shouldn't cast stones.”
I rolled my eyes. “Gee, that's original.”
“Why are you so mean?” she asked.
“I'm not.”
“Yes, you are,” she said, nodding. “You want to know what I think?”
“No.”
“I think you're mean,” she said, ignoring me, “because you're unhappy. So you just try to make other people unhappy, too. Well, guess what? It's not going to work on me. You can take your unhappiness somewhere else.”
She was full of shit but her words still stung.
“You are delusional,” I told her. “The only thing I'm unhappy about right now is the fact that I was served dog tacos for lunch.”
“You did not,” Stuart said, fighting back a smile.
“You're delusional, too,” I told him. I flexed my feet, stretching them out. I'd squatted on the floor for over an hour, handing out books, and my arches were killing me. “There's no way that wasn't dog meat. I'm surprised you guys kept them down. Although I guess it is still early.”
“Maria wouldn't serve dog tacos,” he said. “Not to us, not to anyone.”
Garcia made a grunting noise and I couldn't tell if he was confirming or denying Stuart's statement.
I made a face. We'd stayed for lunch after the impromptu photo session. A local reporter finally showed up and he interviewed Stuart and had us recreate a couple of pictures of handing out the books to kids. After he left, we helped haul the tables back into position and Maria extended an invitation to stay for a late lunch. I'd looked at the eager faces of the kids and knew there was no way we would be able to say no. We each sat with a different group of students, taking our turn going up to the counter tucked away in the back of the room. Women wearing stained aprons and hair nets handed us paper boats with two meager corn tacos and a paper cup half-full of pale pink liquid.
I'd brought my lunch back to the table and watched as the kids surrounding me tore into their food, wolfing it down like they hadn't eaten in hours. I picked up one of the tacos, studying it. The tortilla was stuffed with seasoned meat. Nothing else.
“What is this?” I asked a little girl sitting next to me, hoping she understood English.
She looked at me like I'd asked her if the sky was blue. “A taco.”
I looked at it again.The meat was dark and might have been beef. Or pork. Or canine. I immediately thought of the dog we'd seen outside of the school. “I know. What kind?”
The girl shrugged and took another bite of her taco.
I held it up closer and sniffed.
“Do I even wanna know what you're doing?” Stuart's voice startled me. He stood behind me, holding his boat and paper cup in his hands.
I dropped the taco back into the paper boat. “Eating,” I said.
“So you eat with your nose?”
I glared at him, a response forming, but he turned and headed to a different table filled with waiting kids. And I was stuck with food that smelled good but didn't look like anything I'd want to put in my body. I'd ended up handing my paper boat off to the girl sitting next to me, who devoured them hungrily.
Stuart changed the subject. “So, I take it you're ready to work again tomorrow?”
I looked up at him but he was staring at Brynn, directing the question to her.
She nodded her head, her ponytail bouncing on her shoulder. “Absolutely.”
He smiled. “Good. We've got the rest of the afternoon and evening free. Figure we could get settled, maybe go for a swim. Unless you ladies have other ideas.”
I wouldn't have minded drowning Brynn in the pool and then disappearing with Stuart for the rest of the night. But I was pretty sure that wouldn't sit well with the humanitarian side of him.
“Swim?” I asked. “That sounds...nice.”
It did. I wanted nothing more than to wash the filth and grime off of me. If I could do it slinking around a pool in the miniscule black bikini I'd packed? Even better.
“Any chance they serve drinks?”
Stuart looked at me. “Who?”
“Poolside. Drinks. Like, a bar?”
Brynn giggled and they exchanged smiles.
“What?”
Stuart lifted his visor, adjusting it one more time. “There is no pool, Annika.”
I frowned. “But you just said we'd be swimming. At the hotel.”
“Hotel?” He raised an eyebrow. “You really don't listen when I talk, do you?”
“What?”
Brynn giggled again.
>
A smile tugged at his lips. “There's no pool where we're staying, sweetheart. And no hotel, either.”
TWENTY TWO
I watched in disbelief as Garcia hauled a large canvas bag from the trunk of the sedan.
“We're sleeping in tents?”
“No,” Stuart said, grabbing the bag from Garcia and slinging it over his shoulder.
“No?” I put my hands on my hips and stared at the vast expanse of empty beach in front of us. The sand stretched for miles, cliffs and ledges jutting out from the rocky coast. “Well, I sure as hell don't see a hotel around here.”
He nodded at the bag he was carrying. “This is where we're staying.”
I glared at him. “Huh. Now who's not listening?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I just asked if we're sleeping in a tent.”
He grinned. “No. You said tents. Plural.” He lifted the bag off his shoulder and held it out toward me. “We only have one.”
“I'm not sleeping in that thing,” I said, folding my arms across my chest.
Stuart shrugged. “Okay.” He glanced up at the cloudless sky. “Don't think we have rain in the forecast so you should be good. For sleeping on the beach.”
Brynn slammed the passenger door shut and re-gripped her bag. She turned toward the ocean, her gaze sweeping across the sand. “This is perfect,” she said. “I haven't been camping in forever!”
Stilettos. Why hadn't I worn stilettos?
I considered my options. Camping on a beach had not been in my plans. I wasn't a camper. My idea of roughing it consisted of a room without room service or free internet. So holing up in a canvas tent on a deserted beach in the middle of a foreign country was not my idea of fun, even if it might include spending the night with a totally hot guy I'd already had amazing sex with.
I could leave. Figure out a way to let Garcia know that I needed a place to stay. I had credit cards. I could totally spring for a room at one of the beach hotels we'd driven past. I stole a glance at Brynn. She'd pulled a travel size bottle of sunscreen out of her backpack and was rubbing it on her nose. She'd worn hiking boots with her khaki shorts and white t-shirt and, with her water bottle clipped to her shorts and her hair all sporty in her goddamn ponytail, she looked like a model for REI. Yeah, I thought. There was no way in hell I was leaving her alone with Stuart.
