by Mara White
“There she is,” Tiago said, offering her a sweet and genuine smile. Salana smiled back as he crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. Where all of the confidence came from, she’d never know, but Tiago could swagger his way through a throng of powerful men who made more money than he’d ever seen in his life, yet still exude cool and pack more testosterone-fueled masculinity than all of them put together.
“Hey baby, I was looking for you,” he said softly. He cupped her face and leaned down to kiss Salana’s lips.
“Who’s this?” Eric asked, already too close to her space.
“Santiago, meet Eric,” she said unenthusiastically.
“The Eric?” Santiago already had the ridicule written all over his face. He said her ex-boyfriend’s name as if it were a private joke between the two of them, which, all things considered it really was. Santiago knew about Eric’s aversion to cunnilingus and had helped her pawn the engagement ring, probably an asshole thing to do in retrospect, but they’d had fun donating the paper bag full of cash to the Fresh Air Fund. Santiago gripped Eric’s hand like it was a twig he could snap off if he wanted to. Santiago towered over Eric in height and width, in musculature and of course, in ink. Eric looked perturbed for a moment and then smiled cunningly. He drank in Santiago’s braids, his marked body, stared at his black and white Adidas incredulously. Tiago had changed his shoes before they got out of the car. Sneakers were part of his identity, he wasn’t an oxfords kind of guy. Eric shook his head and raised a curious eyebrow at Salana.
“Her boyfriend,” Tiago said. He wouldn’t let go of Eric’s hand.
“That was fast,” Eric said, still looking at Salana and not Santiago.
“We’ve known each other for years and we had a run-in,” Salana said quickly. She was already waving Eric away. “Here, I put you next to me.” She pulled out the chair for Tiago and quickly sat in hers. More partygoers filed in and drifted among the tables, searching for their names on the place cards. Salana’s silver and white dress with the layers of tulle gathered in her lap like a tutu and she smoothed it down. The fabric made noise when she walked and even now sitting it was too loud.
“Nervous?” Santiago asked her. He squeezed her distracted hand and grinned at her fiddling with her dress. “Maybe I messed up the layers?” he offered. Salana blushed.
“You’re the one who’s allowed to be nervous and I’m supposed to walk you through this,” she said. How could he look so calm when she had heartburn just from imagining all the awkward exchanges? What could he tell them he did? There wasn’t anything he could say about his life that would go over as casual conversation with this group.
The incessant din of fork tine against crystal punctured her anxious bubble.
“Let’s make a toast,” her father said, standing at the head of their long table. “To my beautiful wife and daughter, to the friends and family gathered here tonight, let us drink to health and happiness, the adventures ahead of us in the year to come. Happy holidays! Cheers, everyone!”
Salana downed the glass of Champagne in one sip. Santiago placed a heavy hand on her thigh. He’d raised his beer, but only wet his lips. Tiago didn’t seem to be in the mood for drinking tonight.
“Well, I for one cannot wait to hear how you two met,” Eric said, glass still poised as if to make a toast of his own. Salana hoped that Eric hadn’t brought another ring to act out a fake proposal in front of everyone. Her ex sat down right across from them, ignoring the seating arrangement.
“He saved my life,” Salana said.
TIAGO
“At the horse farm,” Tiago countered at the exact same time. Tiago looked at Salana’s profile, her desperate expression, the way he could feel her thigh muscle gripped under his touch. He hoped that she could make it through the stress of the night; he wasn’t so worried about himself. He grabbed the back of her neck and squeezed, since Salana always responded beautifully to his touch. Tiago let the back of his fingers whisper down her spine. The full expanse of her naked back was exposed to him. He couldn’t wait to unwrap her later when they got home. “Easy, Salt,” he said softly. “Don’t play into their trap.” He knew assholes like Eric, pricks who thought their money made them demigods and their presence was a gift to whoever they surrounded themselves with.
“Ouch, should probably get your stories straight.” Eric couldn’t look more pleased.
Salana flinched, but Tiago seemed unaffected. He squeezed her thigh again and leaned in to brush his lips against the shell of her ear.
“I can still taste you, Salana.” She shuddered as gooseflesh spread across her exposed skin. It seemed like the whole room was watching them instead of minding their business.
It was second nature for Salana to seek approval—to want to be liked. Tiago on the other hand had never given a thought to what anyone thought of him, because he already knew. His whole life people had taken one look at him and branded him bad. Even if he was given the chance to prove them wrong, they’d still fault him for crimes he didn’t commit or expect the very worst.
“Funny, she never mentioned you the whole time we were together,” Eric said, raising his drink to his lips. “What was that, Salana? Four years we were dating?” They had the attention of everyone in the great dining room. Santiago’s presence at their soirée needed an explanation. If Salana could have Dr. Eric Spencer, why in the world would she entertain this gangster? Was he a famous sports star they’d never heard of, or some kind of rapper? The Livingstons’ annual Christmas party attendees were horrified for her parents. All the private schools and lessons, the endless socializing, not to mention the clubs and boards they stood on to help find her a good husband. The room was so silent you could hear the crackle of the pillar candles as they burned through the tension.
“Santiago has been a really important person in my life for a long time. I didn’t always bring him around because of my parent’s disapproval. But I’m done with the judgment and the—”
“Salt, you don’t gotta tell him shit,” Tiago said, grabbing her shoulder. They had an audience of fifty hanging on every word.
“Salt? You call Salana Livingston, Salt?” Eric said.
“It’s her street name,” Tiago shot back with a jerk of his chin.
“Charming, is that where you two hang out?” Eric countered with a sneer.
“Surprised you haven’t heard it; she’s had it for a minute now. Gave it to her back when we were kids.”
SALANA
Salana couldn’t help herself and she burst out laughing. Maybe it was the Champagne or the look of insolence on Dr. Spencer’s face. Maybe it was the fact that the most dangerous-looking man in the room was the most lionhearted, loyal, and tender man she’d ever met. He had more integrity in his little finger than Eric had in his whole parental-approved body, his padded bank account, and perfectly scripted future for that matter. She picked up her fork and clanged it against the holly berry centerpiece, popped up from her chair in her layers of tulle and taffeta like a jack-in-the-box.
“Anyone who wants to can call me Salt. Or not,” she said, eyeing her father, whose sharp blue eyes were shooting poison darts in her direction. Her mother was obviously holding her breath, hoping for a heart attack over the alternative. “It is, like Santiago mentioned, my street name. But it’s optional. Merry Christmas, everyone, and a special shout out to Mom and Dad, thanks for throwing the party. Cheers!” she said, holding her flute out to Santiago. He knocked it with his beer bottle and shot her his killer smile.
One of Salana’s now-favorite memories with Tiago was when they’d donated the thirty grand in cash from the engagement ring to the Fresh Air Fund the morning after they’d pawned it. There had been sleepy sex in the morning, then a diner breakfast complete with ketchup and hot sauce. Santiago told her again over coffee how those programs made a huge impact on his life. Salana hoped those kids had presents to open this Christmas and a warm place to sleep. She was either pretty drunk or insanely brave to be able to make a t
oast; she also realized in the surrealism of having Santiago in her home, that her entire relationship with Eric had been a charade. She was hopelessly in love with Tiago. Maybe she’d always been.
Chapter 18
Tiago
When Salana arrived home from the ER, she was often exhausted, too tired to run or make anything to eat. She’d given Tiago a key and he was usually home when she arrived. He was never watching TV or lying around. He’d always cleaned, prepared food, picked up her laundry or made the bed that she’d leaped out of on her a way to a four AM call.
“I made Mondongo cause it’s raining. Called Ma over the phone and she told me all the ingredients. Put your feet up and I’ll rub ‘em.”
“Did you get any applications?” she asked him. It wasn’t nagging. They’d agreed together that they couldn’t both be drug dealers, as Santiago had put it. The tough part was trying to get him a regular job without any experience. They’d tried once to make a résumé and Salana realized they were jumping the gun.
“Did you ever get any kind of certification, ever? For anything?” Santiago didn’t act dismayed or ashamed.
“Let’s see, Salt. I got a New York driver’s license, I did CPR for a lifeguard job I never got like ten years ago. I took the city test for the Department of Sanitation and I think I flunked or they lost the results ‘cause they never contacted me. I got the pussy-eating award for my district.” She’d hit him over the head with the pamphlet she was reading.
“Show me your applications,” she said. She’d stripped down to her boy shorts and bra, hopped onto the couch and started snooping through his papers. The radiators were on hell level because of the frigid January weather. They wore next to nothing inside to compensate for the eighty-degree apartment. He always did the applications in pencil so Salana could go over any corrections. She erased discreetly, but her heart couldn’t help but sink when he’d made an obvious mistake. He was at such a staggering disadvantage from the kids she’d grown up with that it almost took her breath away. How could someone like Santiago ever be expected to succeed when the odds were stacked against him so heavily? He didn’t stand a chance in hell without a strong advocate to guide him like she was desperately trying to do. Even then, odds were slim that he’d ever be able to make a living wage without graduating from high school. The intervention needed to come then, and instead she’d used Santiago to help her and then not given him a second glance.
“Aw shit, this is off the hook, better than my ma’s,” he said, licking his finger.
“Maybe you could become a chef?” she said from the couch.
“I like cooking for you, not a restaurant full of people. Besides, they wouldn’t start me out in the kitchen. I’d be a busboy or a dishwasher.” He set a steaming bowl of soup down in front of her.
“Wait, you’re applying at the hospital?” The idea made Salana feel a little panicked.
“I don’t have to. Just grabbed an application for orderly after I dropped you off this morning. They said there were some openings. I get it if you don’t want me to.”
“No, you should, it’s a good idea. I just wasn’t expecting it.”
“’Cause you’re not out to your coworkers or because of your ex, the pussy-phobe orthopedist?”
“Forget I said it.” She erased misspelled words in between slurps of soup. Tiago filled them out in pen over her corrections. The belief in making this work took constant optimism on her part. Maybe some people would call it fostering a delusional fantasy, but when it was just the two of them at home, they were made for one another. Maybe the right thing to do was have Salana be the breadwinner and Tiago the full-time homemaker and abandon any expectations of him having a career. But Salana knew that wouldn’t work. Tiago was too macho and way too social to ever find his purpose in folding laundry and baking.
“We could do amateur porn?”
“Nope.” She slid off the couch to sit on the floor and eat off the coffee table. “The soup’s good.”
“Rob a bank?”
“Nuh-uh,” she said through a hot spoonful.
“Make a rap video?”
“Please. I love you, but I’ve heard you sing in the shower.”
“Don’t gotta be all mean and salty. Scratch-offs? Wait, pro cardshark?” Tiago tipped up his bowl and drank the rest of the broth.
“I don’t want you to work at the hospital. I think it would be too stressful. For me. I don’t care about Eric’s stress level.”
“Done and done. I could probably get a job at a deli,” he said. Tiago jumped up and grabbed two beers from the fridge. “Or drive a taxi, like every other straight motherfucker from the block.”
“Too dangerous.”
“Says the lady who wants to go work in refugee camps in war zones.”
“Let’s just fill out the applications and keep going about it that way.
Chapter 19
Tiago
The subject of her leaving was a sore one for Tiago. He loved her too much to let go, but he also knew that refusal to let her go was the same reason she ditched Eric. And it wasn’t so much that he was worried about their relationship not surviving. He was worried about her goddamned life in a place where he couldn’t protect her and where likely they wouldn’t value it like he did.
On some level he was certain that the love they shared could survive the time and distance. It sure as hell did before, so why wouldn’t they expect smooth sailing a second time around? He honestly couldn’t imagine ever having a connection with another person that was equal or close to the one that flowed like magic between them, keeping him so constantly high on life, he barely smoked weed anymore.
But the day the letter from Doctors Without Borders arrived in the mailbox, his heart sank to the pit of his stomach. He even considered destroying it. But that would be a fucked-up thing to do and he loved Salt with all his heart. He wanted her to follow her passion, but he’d be lying not to admit that he was scared shitless of losing her.
He put his cold beer bottle to the back of her neck. The drips of condensation slipped down the indentation of her spine.
“I want to fuck you with all the windows open in the bedroom.” Salana batted his hand away. “After we finish our assignment, of course, Doc.”
He slid down behind her and pulled her back into his chest. Tiago cupped one breast in his palm and stroked over her nipple, back and forth, with the rough edge of his thumb. He bit the back of her neck and could tell she was about to accept his invitation just from the hitch he could hear in her breathing and the tension with which she held her muscles.
“Windows open, huh?” she asked, setting down her pencil.
“However you want it.” He ran his lips over her clavicle and watched her stomach muscles tighten. He set his beer down on the coffee table and used his cold fingertips to touch her, sticking a finger into her navel.
“Do you think we have too much sex?” she asked him, suddenly twisting around to look him in the eye.
“No such thing,” he told her as he grabbed her chin. He kissed her slowly, drawing her tongue into his mouth.
When he fucked her, the high soared into euphoria. He lived his whole life not knowing things could be this good, that there were other ways to intoxicate your mind and make your body fly besides drugs.
Tiago carried her into the bedroom and slowly opened all the windows while she lay on the bed watching.
“I got you a present, girl,” he said as he yanked his T-shirt off from behind his neck.
“For me?” Salana asked him. She was pink-cheeked and glassy-eyed. So eager and so sweet. He didn’t have a fucking diamond ring for her, but he did get her a little treat.
“’Member when you said you shouldn’t smoke because it’s bad for you and I asked you—” He leaned over and opened her bedside drawer.
“If I wanted to try topicals or edibles?”
“Eso,” he said. Tiago pulled out a little jar about the size of a Vicks VapoRub one, but made out of glass. The
re was a cloudy white solid salve inside.
“Oh my God! What do we do, eat it or rub it on?” she asked, tucking her shoulder-length hair behind her ears.
“Both,” Tiago said. He unscrewed the jar and used his pointer and middle fingers to swipe out a dollop. He placed it in the middle of her chest and it immediately began to melt and run down the plumb line of her body and pool in her navel. Tiago leaned in and tongued it out of her belly button. He rubbed the trail into her skin, massaging her breasts and subsequently sucking it off of her nipples.
“Why does it melt like that?” Salana asked in wonder.
“Coconut oil,” Tiago said. He licked another portion off his fingers and planked over Salt. He lowered down slowly and kissed her, letting the rapidly melting mass go into her mouth. He kissed her hard, tonguing her deeply, their mouths slippery with oil. He raised a muscled arm above her head to reach the bedside table for more.
SALANA
His next dollop went between her legs and it felt cold at first but then warmed rapidly as it melted and spread. Salana felt an ache to be penetrated so she lined her body up with his, but Tiago seemed bent on taking his time. With the slip of the oil his fingers fucked her with his hand until she was arching and moaning, trying so hard to get off that Tiago punished her by removing it and concentrating on her mouth again. Salana wasn’t sure if she could feel the effects of the drug, was simply high off pheromones, or high off of love and her extremely skilled lover who brought her body to the edge time and time again, until she was delirious and desperate.
