Naked In Havana (Naked Series Book 1)

by Colin Falconer

  Everyone in Havana was there; racketeers like “Neno” Pertierra - oh, he was also a member of Congress - and many of Batista’s generals. There was Senator Paco Prío Socarrás, older brother of the prime minister - also wanted by the US Narcotics Bureau, or so Papi told me, for smuggling cocaine and heroin into the United States.

  The entire rogue’s gallery all wore their sashes and tuxedos and uniforms, their women were resplendent in fashion gowns and jewels; they might have been crowning a new king of Cuba. Perhaps, I thought, that was exactly they were here to do. None of us were sure how long Bobbo Salvatore would reign.

  Even Batista himself was there. He made a grand entrance, late, surrounded by his bodyguards. I had never seen him in the flesh before, and I expected a thug, like his chief of police. Instead he lived up to his nickname “El Mulatto Lindo,” the pretty mulatto, a nickname he apparently hated. It had stuck from his early days because of his perfect teeth and perfect hair.

  There was a panoramic view of the Malecón and the harbour from the gardens, and as the sun set, the glow from the hotel lights turned the sea to turquoise. It was every bride’s dream: the perfect setting, the perfect day.

  But the truth was Alberto Macheda could not have afforded this on his own, and Papi certainly couldn’t. I knew now why Angel had never taken me seriously. Papi had told me this was about money and connections and now I could see it for myself. People said I was beautiful, but there was nothing as cheap as beauty in Havana. I could resent Esmeralda Salvatore for taking all this away from me but I realized now that she didn’t steal it; it was never mine to own.

  I saw Consuela and Lourdes looking for me but I stuck tight to Papi. I didn’t want to talk to any of that crowd. If I could just get through this afternoon, I told myself, I wouldn’t have to think about Angel Macheda ever again.

  And it really didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. Let him marry his freckle-faced yankee. There was only face I wanted to see, and I searched the crowd for him. If he was back in Havana I knew he would not miss this.

  If he was still alive.

  I had asked Papi about him, a few weeks ago - as casually as I could - but he said he hadn’t heard news of him in months. If something had happened to him no one would ever know, I supposed.

  Ramon appeared with champagne and took my arm. He smiled at me. Perhaps he thought there was some hope for us. He was a nice boy but...well, he was just that. A boy.

  I wanted Reyes.

  The band struck up the bridal waltz as the bridal party walked in. Angel waved to everyone as if he was the President of the United States walking across the White House lawn. The bride looked pale in my opinion, and the sun had brought out her freckles. “She looks beautiful,” Papi murmured, always willing to be generous, damn him.

  “Is it wrong if I trip her up as she walks past?”

  “Why would you want to do that?” he said. “She did you a favour, cariña.”

  He was right. I could still hear his footsteps as he ran off down the cobblestones, leaving me to the police.

  “Don’t you don’t feel sad today?” someone asked me. It was Angel’s sister, Lourdes, hoping for a tear, hoping for a confidence.

  “I’m very happy for him,” I said.

  Lourdes seemed unimpressed. Well, I didn’t need to convince them, this was a face saving exercise, that was all.

  I watched Esmeralda doing her round of the guests. The dress must have cost a fortune. She looked like a giant meringue. Though I supposed Papi was right, she didn’t look too bad. It’s a wonder what a good hair stylist and a little make-up can do.

  Angel was being congratulated by his friends, they were all slapping him on the back and laughing too loud. His father came over and clapped him on the back as well. He had done the right thing for the Macheda family. Today he became the perfect son with the perfect hair, and soon, the perfect life. He looked over and saw me staring and our eyes locked for a moment.

  He smiled at me. I turned away.

  There was a Cuban jazz band playing on the lawn. Lourdes told me that she had heard Eartha Kitt or even Frank Sinatra might show up later to sing for them. There were long speeches, thanking everyone. Angel and Esmeralda played the part of the perfect couple. I saw him put his arm around Esmeralda’s waist, pull her towards him and kiss her. I looked away. I needed another drink, where was that damned waiter?

  All this smiling and pretending was all too much. “I have to find the bathrooms,” I said and slipped away, lost myself in the crowd.

  I found myself in the lobby, wandering between the show-cases of Italian shoes and Danish ashtrays and Swedish glass. I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror, a tall, dark-haired young woman in a long red dress with diamonds at her throat. Was that really me? That young woman looked so much more poised than I felt. I knew men were staring at me; why was the world full of so many staring men, and why did none of them make me want to stare back?

  What good was it to be beautiful when the only man you had ever really loved turned out to be a coward and a liar?

  I found a quiet corner, hidden by a potted palm, and slid into a leather banquette. I decided to hide here for a while until I could put my mask back on and face Havana society again.

  I put my hands on my knees and hid my face in my hands.

  “That bad?”

  I tried not to let him see how relieved and excited I was to see him again. If he had known, I think he would have been unbearable.

  I held out a hand for a cheroot, and he wordlessly took one from the cigar case and handed it to me. He held the lighter for me. I drew as deep as I could and then started coughing. He handed me a drink of water. But it wasn’t water, it was white rum, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. There were bright flashes in front of my eyes.

  “There, that must feel better.”

  Well, not straight away but it did after I could see again. My nose and my eyes were running. He handed me another of his inexhaustible supply of handkerchiefs. “Are you sure? You know what happened to the last one.”

  “I have a hundred at home just like it. I have an aunt in Poughkeepsie sends me a box every Christmas.”

  I took the handkerchief and carefully wiped my mascara, tried to discreetly blow my nose.

  “It’s all right, I don’t want it back,” he said.

  “How long have you been back in Havana?”

  “Not long. A day or two.”

  “Business went well?”

  “Yes, and thank you for asking. Did you miss me?”

  “Not really. I’d almost forgotten who you were.”

  He grinned. “You’ve managed to stay out of trouble then?”

  I felt my cheeks burning. I didn’t want to be reminded about that night. If I could blot it out of my memory forever I would. I decided to change the subject. “I didn’t see you at the wedding.”

  “I didn’t go to the wedding. I just got here ten minutes ago.”

  “If you don’t go to the wedding, why go to the reception?”

  “I come to these things because I have to. I get a lot of business at weddings and funerals.”

  “Like a priest.”

  He let that one pass. “I get tired of it sometimes. Batista is the vainest, most stupid man I’ve ever met. His greatest asset is he’s utterly ruthless, but that doesn’t make him a great dinner companion. The rest of them, all they want to talk about is money, and though I have nothing against it--in fact I’m a great admirer of money--there are times when I’d rather talk about music and women, and those men in there use both like wallpaper. So sometimes a little silence and a good cheroot is all a man needs.”

  “I’m sorry then. Am I interrupting you?”

  “Oh, I don’t mind being interrupted by you, princess. In fact you’re about the only person in Havana I want to talk to right now.”

  “Why me, Señor Garcia?”

  “I don’t know. There’s something about you. You’re reckless, foolish and stubborn but you’ve got a
real fire in you, and that’s something rare.”

  “Reckless, foolish and...”

  “Stubborn.”

  “Stubborn. Is that the way you normally make love to a woman? By insulting her?”

  “I admit, it doesn’t seem like a very good way to go about it. But you are an infuriating woman. If I could quit you I would, but every time I come back to Havana I try to make up ways of seeing you again and I can’t explain why that is.”

  I remembered how he had kissed me that night in the car. Papi was right, Esmeralda had done me a favour. “I missed you,” I said, I didn’t know what made me say it, I might as well have stripped off my clothes and thrown myself at him.

  He grinned. “Good.”

  I heard someone say my name. I peered through the potted palms into the lobby. Papi was at the bar, asking the barman if he’d seen me.

  “I have to go,” I said to Reyes. As I got up he grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards him and kissed me.

  “You’re crazy,” I said and hurried away.

  “Where have you been?” Papi said when he saw me.

  “I just needed some air.”

  “We’re in a garden.”

  “Angel’s friends and his sister are driving me crazy. I just needed to be on my own for a while.” It sounded plausible because it wasn’t a complete lie.

  “Do you want to leave?”

  “No,” I said, “lets” see this through,” and I linked my arm through his and let him escort me back to the garden.

  He was soon hijacked in conversations with some men in white uniforms, and Consuela and Lourdes corralled me, gossiping about something or someone. I smiled and pretended to listen but none of it meant anything anymore. Didn’t any of them see what was happening? We were all living on borrowed time. All their petty vanities would mean nothing soon.

  A couple of young men approached and tried to make conversation with me. I supposed I would never be short of attention. But none of them interested me, they didn’t know how to tango or rescue a girl from the secret police in the middle of the night; they didn’t know the two Magdalenas, or run guns to the rebels - so what did they think they could possibly say that would interest me in the slightest?

  As night fell I stood in the shadows and thought about what Reyes had said. With Angel I thought I had everything figured out; I hadn’t planned to go behind Papi’s back for much longer. Even though I had bought Luis’s silence, I knew I couldn’t keep our affair a secret much longer. I thought I could make him love me, and as soon as he asked me to marry him we would announce ourselves to the world, it would all work out and we would live happily ever after. That was the fairy tale I had in my head. But life isn’t like that.

  I had no idea what to do about Reyes, or if I was going to do anything at all. He was dangerous, unreliable, and I knew my father would not let me accompany a soldier of fortune from the barrio, no matter how well he dressed or spoke now. And girls like me did not have affairs. I was already notorious from that one night at the Tropicana. Papi’s friends already whispered about me behind my back. It was also why I was so popular with these boys here tonight--they all thought I was easy.

  Any man other than my father would have beaten me black and blue and locked me in my bedroom until I was thirty.

  So what was I going to do?

  “Magdalena Fuentes, right?”

  I turned around. A pretty redheaded woman in a meringue held out her hand. “Esmeralda Salvatore.”

  I took her hand, it was cool and soft.

  So this was the skinny bitch; up close she wasn’t that skinny and she didn’t look like a bitch. She was even quite beautiful in her own way. Her skin was like cream; I could see why a boy like Angel might like her. When all you had was coffee, coffee, coffee, day after day, sooner or later you probably wanted a glass of cold milk.

  Her long slim fingers coiled around a champagne flute. I stared at the rings on her finger and found I didn’t want to rip them off after all.

  “We’ve never met,” Esmeralda said. “But I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Really? What have you heard?”

  “I know my husband was in love with you before we were engaged. Well, that’s what everyone says. He doesn’t tell me that, of course. He always pretends he hardly knew you but I know he’s lying.”

  Where was this leading? I wondered. “I think I chased him more than he chased me.”

  “Oh, we both know that’s not quite true.” Esmeralda offered me a smile that wasn’t chill, but it wasn’t comforting either. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, it’s just that I was...curious about you...and I wanted to finally meet you. You’re very beautiful. I can see why he was so enamoured.”

  “It’s all over now,” I said.

  “Is it?”

  “I can assure you, it very definitely is.”

  A chill smile and a frown of uncertainty: “Do you think...do you think men know how to be faithful?”

  The question took me completely off balance. “I have not known enough men to be sure.”

  “Well I suppose I’ll soon find out. But if it’s any consolation, I sometimes think perhaps...” She hesitated. Because she didn’t want to appear disloyal to Angel, or just that she didn’t want to seem condescending? “I don’t know that he’s quite over you, Magdalena.”

  She gave me a tight smile and moved away to rejoin her other guests. Not such a bitch after all, I thought. I guessed that honour goes to me.

  I went in search of my papi.

  Chapter 29

  “What’s the matter?” a voice said. “You look like someone just shot your dog.”

  I looked around. It was Angel, devastatingly handsome in his white tuxedo. He looked prosperous, relaxed, happy and married.

  “It’s so good to see you again, baby.”

  I couldn’t believe he had the gall to face me. I wanted to spit in his face. “Angel! I didn’t recognize you from the front. I’m more used to seeing your back as you run away.”

  “You’re not still upset about that? It wasn’t my fault. I can’t believe you just sat there. Why didn’t you run? I thought you were right behind me.”

  “You didn’t even stop to look where I was, you fucking coward.”

  The obscenity and the insult would have shamed and angered another man. Angel just shrugged it off. “I thought they must be after me. My father thinks they were looking for some rebels and they arrested us by mistake. I heard you cursed them so they locked you up for the night to cool you off.”

  I wondered who had put that story around. Perhaps it was Angel, or his father. It sounded like a harmless prank the way he told it. “You ran off and left me, Angel.”

  He shrugged his shoulders like he could not believe that I would still be upset about something so insignificant.

  “Can we talk?”

  He took my arm, led me around the side of the hotel into the garden. He pulled me into the shadows under one of the colonnades. The jalousies above our heads creaked in the wind.

  “What do you want, Angel?”

  “You,” he said.

  “Are you out of your mind?”

  “I hear your father’s thinking of moving to Miami.”

  “Maybe,” I said.”

  “Then it’s not over. Right?”

  “I don’t even think about you anymore, Angel. You never even cross my mind.”

  He grabbed me by my shoulders. I tried to shrug him off but he held me tight. “You’re hurting me.”

  “Hear me out, baby.”

  “There’s nothing more to say!”

  “I don’t love her, baby. She doesn’t have your fire or your passion. All I do is lie awake at night and think about you. Today has been a nightmare, I can’t leave without hearing you tell me there’s still a chance.”

  “Angel, this is your wedding day!”

  “Until we get to America. Then who knows?”

  “You want me to be your mistress?”

 
“You know this won’t last, everyone knows it. I had to do it to help my family. Once we’re in America, I’ll find a way out of it and we can be together again.”

  He kissed my neck and lifted up my skirts. It was a moment of triumph for me, I admit it. Finally he wanted me more than I wanted him. “You can’t stop thinking about me either, can you?” he whispered.

  “Don’t, Angel.”

  “Nothing can ever come between us, you know that. I see the way you look at me, I know you still want me. Nothing has to change. I love you, baby.”

  There, he had said it, what I had always wanted to hear him say. But in that same moment I knew that I didn’t feel anything for him anymore.

  He took my face in his hands and kissed me so hard that it hurt. He had me pinned, pressed hard against the colonnade. I looked over his shoulder and saw the glow of a cigar, someone watching us in the darkness. Then whoever it was turned and walked away.

  Angel was fumbling with his belt. “I love you,” he whispered over and over. “I love you, baby.”

  “Stop,” I said.

  But he wouldn’t stop, he was pulling at my panties, trying to put his hand inside. I couldn’t believe this was happening. This was his wedding day! Had I really loved this boy so much once?

  I brought up my knee, hard, and he gasped and collapsed on the ground. He grabbed at his crotch with both hands and rolled onto his side, nursing himself, his knees coiled up to his chest.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Are you all right? I did tell you to stop.”

  Angel couldn’t speak. He lay there for a long time, groaning. I bent down and helped him sit up.

  “What did you...do that for?”

  “I don’t love you, Angel.”

  “What?”

  “Even if I did still love you, you’re married now and I’m old fashioned about these things. But the fact is, I think you’re a coward and a user. It’s over. Do you understand?”

  He stared at me, his eyes dull.

  “Do you understand? I don’t care anymore.”