“N-n- …,” she began.
“No, that’s all right, Mom -- Monica. The caterer is sending help. They’re supposed to cover everything we need.” Barbie lifted a fingernail and detected a flaw in her manicure. She picked at it a moment.
Monica smiled. Well, she got points for attitude. She was ready, gosh darn it. She would’ve said no. Wouldn’t she? A ghost of a smile flickered on Carlos’s lips.
“Hey, but you know what? I do have a favor to ask you, Mon.”
Monica’s smile froze. She had to stay on her toes around these two, or she’d slip into her old patterns of agreeing to anything. They almost had her, those sneaks.
Barbie went on, “I need a babysitter the night of Rick’s political fund-raiser. It’s a black tie affair, and the kids aren’t going. It’s a week from today. You can come over about five.”
It was a simple enough request. One she’d agreed to a hundred times in the past. But tonight, it irritated her. It was just assumed Monica had no plans, or she’d drop whatever she had going on to come to her sister’s beck and call. But not this time.
Monica took a deep breath. She straightened her shoulders and said, “No.”
Both heads jerked in her direction. Four eyebrows popped up, causing two sets of creases between them. “What?”
“I can’t help you that night.”
“Are you busy?” This, from her mother. “Can’t you change your plans?”
Monica shook her head. “No. I can’t. Sorry.”
Barbie stared as though she sported a colorful parakeet perched on her head. “Seriously?”
“Yep, totally serious.”
Carlos finished in the kitchen and joined her. Before he could settle in on the couch with her, she jumped up. “Gotta go.” She wrapped her arm around his. Monica felt an urge to laugh. And that wouldn’t be a good demonstration of her newfound resolve, so instead she gave her dumbfounded mother a kiss, her astounded sister the same and headed toward the door. “It was really fun, guys. See you soon!” They made it out the door before either of them emerged from their trance.
As they drove off, Carlos turned to her and rubbed a knuckle against the soft skin of her cheek. “Good job.” Her heart felt so light she felt she could fly.
Chapter Nine
The week before opening night, Monica arrived at play practice without her script. She would fly solo. She not only knew every stage direction and corresponding set of props, she had the whole play memorized. She could probably understudy any role, but she was definitely prepared to play Victoria. She was only at practice a few minutes before she realized she might have her chance.
Trina arrived on stage tonight remarkably quiet. She wore a black turtleneck sweater and an additional gray scarf wrapped around her neck. She remained ominously silent. Her eyes narrowed when they landed on Monica. They could’ve burned a hole in her if Trina possessed superpowers. Monica shuddered. The best way to deal with Trina was to avoid paranoia.
Monica forced a smile and a wave. Trina rolled her eyes and turned away.
“Trina?”
She spun around to face Monica and glared.
“H – how are you?” Monica was at a loss, because she’d never had to convince Trina to talk before. Quite the opposite.
Trina opened her mouth. She moved her lips and bobbed her head as if to coax the words out. But nothing came. Trina shook her head and pointed at her throat, tears forming in her eyes.
No voice? The leading lady, a week from Opening Night, had no voice. She needed her understudy.
Panic grabbed Monica’s heart. Trina needed her understudy!
“Monica, a word?”
Monica looked up. Director Dave circled by, an amused smile on his face and his finger beckoning her. She left Trina, now with tears rolling down her cheeks. “Dave, have you heard Trina?” she whispered. “She can’t …”
“Talk, I know. You’re on.”
Something squeezed her heart, making it hard to breathe. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
“This is the chance you’ve been waiting for.” He directed his gaze at her, eyebrow raised.
“I never would’ve wished illness on Trina.”
“Of course not.” Dave rested a hand on her shoulder. “But you’re the understudy and this is what understudies are for. Stepping in when the primary actors can’t go on.” He patted. “You know what they say.”
Monica grabbed a deep breath. “The show must go on.”
“That’s right,” he said with a smile. “I want you to do the entire run-through tonight.” At her determined nod, he gave her shoulder a squeeze and moved on.
After practice, she raced home to freshen up. Carlos was picking her up in minutes and she wanted to change clothes and fix her makeup. She heard the doorbell from the bathroom and raced to answer it. Not waiting for an invitation, Carlos charged inside and tugged the door shut behind him. He placed his hungry, warm lips on top of hers, putting a stop to all her thoughts. His tongue made a delicious assault, mixing with hers and causing her knees to go shaky. Her core tingled. When he parted from her, she gasped.
“Well, hello there.” She placed a hand over her racing heart.
He laughed and grabbed her hand, pulling her to his car. “I missed you.”
They spent the evening at the late show in a dark movie theater, the room so empty they had the entire back twenty rows of seats to themselves. They shared a warm tub of popcorn and snuck kisses.
Later, they sat in a diner with coffee and pie. Monica stuck her fork in the steaming peach filling. “I played Victoria all night. The entire run through.”
Carlos presented her an upraised palm, and she tapped it. “Way to go.”
Monica nodded. “Trina’s sick and can’t talk.”
Carlos swallowed a mouthful of blueberry. “Opening night’s coming up, right? Will you be in the spotlight? Or Trina?”
Just the mention of being in the spotlight caused the grip around her heart again. “Oh, I’m sure she’ll be fine by opening night. She’ll get loaded up with antibiotics so she’s fine by then.”
Carlos nodded. “But if she’s not, you’ll do it, right?”
“She’ll recover. Trina wouldn’t miss her big chance at opening night.” She wished she were really as certain as she sounded.
“Yes, but if she isn’t able to go on stage, you will do it, right?” The way he gazed at her, she’d think he was vested in the answer.
“Yeah, I guess.”
He punched the air. “Yesss!”
She glared at him, self-conscious at the outburst. She peeked around, wondering if he’d drawn undue attention.
“My girl, a leading lady! My diva.” He said it with a huge sexy grin and she couldn’t help but laugh. Just the thought of being leading lady caused her heart to take off on its own erratic rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat. Monica stabbed her peach pie with her fork.
“It’s crazy. I have this dream of being an actress. I think about it all the time. But I have no idea if I can. My biggest fear is that I’ll fail up there. It’s a lot of pressure.”
“You’ll do great.”
She sighed in frustration. “You say that, and I appreciate the vote of confidence, but seriously, Carlos. If all the other actors are up there running at optimum performance level, and I blow it – I can singlehandedly ruin the performance. And I’ll have let down not only my fellow actors, but all the audience members.”
She fell silent and looked at him. He stared at her with a pained expression. “Whoa, baby. Hold on there. You put that kind of pressure on yourself and you’ll never succeed. You need to ease up a little.”
She nodded. He was right, of course, but how?
“I don’t know squat about acting. But I think you need to just relax and let it flow. You’ve been practicing, right? You know the lines. You know this part inside and out. Just let it go.”
She only wished she had the confidence in herself that he had in her. “Have you ever wanted
something so bad that when you have the chance to get it, you’re scared to death?”
He studied his coffee cup for a few silent moments. “No, not exactly.”
“But?” She detected an unspoken thought wanting to be released.
“But, it’s not like I don’t have regrets.” He took a gulp of his cooling coffee and stared at a spot behind her head with such intensity she felt he’d transported back to a memory long forgotten. When he spoke, his voice was hushed and she had to lean forward to make sure she didn’t miss his words. “I was wild when I was younger. I did some things I wasn’t proud of.”
She waited for more, but he’d withdrawn into a recollection. “Like what?” she prompted. Her whisper strained to cut through the air that was growing thick between them.
He dropped his head and spoke softly to the tabletop. “Lots of things. I got a little full of myself. I hung out with my friends, had a little too much fun.”
Monica rubbed his hand on the tabletop and snickered to lighten the mood. “Sounds like every other teenage boy in the country.”
Carlos shook his head. More personal revelations. The way he reacted after the last one made her realize it wasn’t easy for him. “I figured I had all the time in the world, and life was a party. I was wrong.” He lifted his head and looked at her, his eyes so intent they grabbed hers and kept them from escaping.
“Was this before your father died?” she murmured.
He nodded. “From that moment on, my whole life changed. I had to change with it.”
His words caused a stirring in her chest. She could only imagine what an impact that tragic event had on Carlos and his remaining family members. Would she recover as well if a family emergency struck her?
“I had this macho complex.” Carlos continued, pushing his coffee cup aside. “I had to prove I was tough, that I could take whatever was thrown at me. I wanted people to treat me with respect.”
She shuddered at the scoffing in his voice. It didn’t seem a bad thing to want – respect from his friends.
“So I fought.”
She cleared her throat. “You fought?” She could barely push it out over a whisper, but she needed clarification.
“Anyone I could. Anyone who challenged me – I needed to prove I was tough and could take care of myself.” He leaned back in the booth, increasing the distance between them. “It was stupid, I know that now. It was dangerous and could’ve put my family in danger, too. But all I knew at the time was that I had to prove myself. I couldn’t let anyone get the best of me.”
She stared deep into his eyes. This man who had captured her heart was unlike anyone she’d encountered in her lifetime. His goals, his challenges, his needs. What he was saying terrified her. He had a violent side she’d known nothing about. And violence was about as far from her safe, suburban life as anything she could imagine. She shuddered, thinking of the certain cuts and bruises he’d endured – and delivered to others. Why did he do it? Wasn’t there another way to achieve the acceptance he sought as a young man?
He’d said before he was out of his league with her. Now she knew exactly how he felt.
“There’s more to you than your fists, Carlos. There always has been.” She leaned forward in her seat. “You’re great with engines. You’re very mechanical. You care about your family.”
His voice lowered, but a tinge of anger rested beneath its surface. “That’s now. Not then. I got here eventually, but you don’t know what I was like then.”
She nodded. Everyone takes a journey to form them into the adult they were today. Even herself. A year ago, she wouldn’t have been sitting here with a man like Carlos, listening to his frightening story – she’d probably be at Barbie’s house babysitting, while her sister and her husband were out on the town at some lavish fundraiser. Yet, here she was.
“You were angry. Anyone would be after what happened to your father and brother. This was how you dealt with it.”
“My mother deserved better from me. She went through the worst catastrophe in her life, and instead of making it better for her, I made it worse. I was immature.”
“I understand.” She sat staring into his eyes. It took courage for him to open up and tell her about his savage past, knowing she wouldn’t approve of it. Yet he had revealed a part of himself to her, trusting she wouldn’t reject him, but see a piece of his past that helped get him to where he was now.
“Fighting was an outlet for me. It fed a need for excitement. Gave me shots of adrenaline. I took my share of beatings, but for the most part, I came out ahead more times than not.”
She shook her head. She didn’t want to hear it. It wasn’t a part of who he was today. She’d been with him enough to know this was a part of his past he’d left behind. She wasn’t a part of that segment of his life, nor would she ever be. Violence had no place in her life, and that was how she wanted it to stay.
Somehow they’d started down this uncomfortable line of conversation and she had no business being there. She pushed her plate away and picked up her purse. “Are you ready to go?”
“Not yet. I want to be done with this. I want you to know …”
“Look, Carlos, we’ve all done things we’re not proud of in our youth. But this doesn’t apply to you now, does it?”
He stared at her, eyebrows furrowed.
“Do you have regular street fights now? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
“No. That part of my life is done. I haven’t fought in years.”
“Okay. Then it doesn’t apply to us. It has no place in our relationship, right?”
He let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m trying to be open and honest with you, carina. You told me you were big on that.”
“Yes, but …” She couldn’t explain it. Her discomfort with this topic overpowered her need to learn more about him, about his past. She was falling in love with the man he was today. The man that sat before her. The responsible family man who loved his sister and helped his mother, and worked hard. The man he was when he was with her. Sitting before her was not a violent thug who roamed the streets searching for opponents. Looking at him, she couldn’t come to terms that the boy he described grew into the man before her.
She just didn’t want to hear it.
“Are you ready to go?” she asked again, hoping the answer was yes.
He gazed at her another moment, then he shrugged. “I guess.”
They walked to his car in silence. He opened the door for her and waited while she buckled in. He walked around the car to his door slowly, head down. As they drove, Monica’s mind whirred, trying to come up with ideas to move them past the aftereffects of their uncomfortable conversation.
Carlos pulled into her driveway and walked her to her front door.
“Would you like to come in?” It was late but she didn’t want to end the evening on a tense note.
“Yes.”
She glanced at his face and took in the determined expression in his eyes. Unwittingly, a shiver escaped down her spine.
Once inside, Carlos took off his worn leather jacket and threw it on a chair. Monica began to unzip her own jacket when she noticed that he wasn’t stopping there. His next movements stopped her in her tracks. He unbuttoned his denim shirt, his eyes connected with hers, intense in their scrutiny. Without a word he reached the bottom button and shrugged the shirt off his shoulders and tossed it on top of his jacket.
Monica blinked. Had he come here to make love to her? If so, was she ready for this step? “Carlos, …” His name stopped on her lips when she saw him grip the bottom hem of the sky blue tee he wore underneath. With a single powerful movement, he pulled it over his head and added it to the growing pile of his clothing on the chair.
She gulped. The emotions that always surged inside her at the sight of Carlos dressed, were minimized when faced with this new vision of Carlos standing before her with a bare torso. She held in a groan at the glorious sight of his chiseled chest, peppered with dark hair and we
ll-toned muscles.
She took a step toward him. Her hands itched to run over his tanned skin, to feel the crevices and swells of his well-honed physique. She hadn’t reached him yet when he turned his back on her, and pointed in the direction of his right shoulder blade.
“Look.”
She stopped in her tracks. Oh, she was looking, all right. She had just begun her looking and could barely get her fill. Now that he had revealed the masterpiece that was his unclothed body, she didn’t want to stop until she’d looked and caressed to her heart’s content.
“Do you see that?”
She shook her head to clear it of lustful thoughts. “What?”
He turned to look at her. “Monica, I’m trying to show you something.”
She moved closer to him and he once again turned to show her his back. A black tattoo of two block letters, L.D. adorned his right shoulder blade.
“Have you ever seen that tattoo before?”
She shook her head. “No. Whose initials are they?” Inside her head began a litany, Don’t let it be a past love.
“Take a good look.”
Monica took a step closer and touched trembling fingers to the inked design. The design was simple – just the letters L and D in an open block font, about two inches high.
As she studied the mark, he turned toward her. “That tattoo marks me as a member of … an organization. A brotherhood.”
Monica nodded. It sounded a lot like the fraternities at a university. But she knew Carlos hadn’t gone to college and she was quite sure he wasn’t talking about a Greek brotherhood.
“This group pursued me because of my fighting skills. They wanted me because I’d proven myself with my fists.”
Monica shuddered because the truth came crashing down on her. “Carlos, this isn’t …. Are you saying, this is the tattoo of a street gang?”
Even as she asked the question, she knew with all her heart it was true. It was the only answer. Her heart pounded with trepidation. She turned away and covered her eyes with her hands. A sob escaped her. Carlos bounded to her side and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his warmth.
Inner Diva Page 12
