Joaquin invited me into his office, and I swept past him. The secretary sniffed as I went by. I was glad Joaquin’s treatment of me annoyed her.
Joaquin had a spacious office filled with leather and mahogany furniture. A beautiful white orchid graced a small table near the window—a feminine touch that seemed out of place in the very masculine room.
Must have been a gift. Maybe from his secretary. Or a female admirer.
I banished that thought from my head. I shouldn’t be bothered by the thought of Joaquin having other women in his life.
He shut the door behind me.
He leaned against the edge of his desk. I could feel his gaze sliding over my figure. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” He buttoned up his shirt and tightened his tie. Back to being the Hotel Manager, it seemed.
“I’m sure you don’t need to ask.” I took a seat in one of the straight-backed leather chairs. “I’m here to discuss our divorce.”
“I already told you, Suzie, I don’t want a divorce.”
“I know, but that’s not acceptable to me. There must be a way for us to work this out.” I crossed my legs carefully, prudishly to show him how my feelings had changed toward him. “There had never been any marriage. And I’m not in love with you anymore. What more do you want from me?”
He continued to lean against his desk, folding his arms across the broad expanse of his chest. “Why should I do this for you,” he lifted an eyebrow, “when you have done so little for me?”
I looked up at him from the comfortable black leather chair. Trying to discern what he wanted me to say. What could he possibly want from me? Money? He seemed to be doing very well for himself. I looked around the room, taking in the award plaques and expensive furnishings.
I noticed several framed photographs that hung on the wall behind his desk.
“Who is that?” I pointed at the largest picture hanging directly behind him, curiosity guiding me—a photo of a girl, about eleven or twelve. She stood in front of a massive bougainvillea that crawled over a garden arch, its bright pink blooms a sea of color. I stood up and moved toward the picture, wanting to get a closer look at the child.
Before he could answer me, I knew who this child was. The wide-set hazel eyes were identical to Joaquin’s.
He stood silent behind me.
I turned. “This is your child?”
"Yes, that is my daughter,” he said without any pride or emotion in his voice.
I couldn’t think. Although it made sense Joaquin would have been involved with other women after I had gone, to be confronted with the evidence left my chest feeling hollow.
He has a daughter.
“Are you so surprised, Suzie?” He moved toward me, buttoning the final button on his shirt cuff. “Did you think I would wait for you forever?”
I was confused. This made no sense. If he moved on with his life after I left, why did we almost end up having sex in my room yesterday? Why was he so angry at me for disappearing? Asking for a divorce should be a relief for us both.
He stepped closer, to within a foot of me. I could feel his body heat. I pulled back.
“No, I never thought that.” I glanced at the other photos looking for someone he had yet to mention, “And her mother?”
“We were old friends. After you left, she had been happy enough to console me.”
For some reason, this thought sickened me. Yes, I went home and never contacted Joaquin. But I had been miserable and heart-broken. I had no one back home I could confide in, not even my own mother. Months passed before I had been able to get over both my father’s death and the loss of Joaquin.
Now, it sounded as if he’d jumped right into a relationship with another woman the minute I stepped foot out of Mexico. I shouldn’t care so much about something that happened so long ago, but I did. It felt betrayed. It made all the worrying and suffering I had gone through over the last decade seem so pointless. I could have asked for a divorce years ago and saved myself so much heartache.
“And you’re still with her now?” I found myself asking. Why should I care? I gave up my rights to care about him twelve years ago.
Twelve years.
I picked up another small, framed photo on his desk of a birthday party. His daughter was smiling, standing in front of a huge birthday cake. Above her head stretched a banner: “Feliz Cumpleaños, Ariana!” Underneath was the date, agosto 29.
I felt Joaquin’s gaze on me.
“So, are you enjoying your stay here?” he asked.
I set the picture back on the desk. “I didn’t come here to have a vacation. I came here for one reason only: to get a divorce.” I backed away from the photos. “Friday, I have an appointment with a lawyer in town. You’re going to be there with me.” I sounded more confident than I felt.
“Am I?” Joaquin took a seat behind his large mahogany desk.
“I’ll be here at nine a.m. sharp, and we can go together.”
His eyes were hard and unyielding, his mouth a grim line. He stared at me for a moment, thinking. Then, his features softened.
I took a step back. I thought he would reach for me, pull me to him again, like that day in the hotel room.
“Maybe there is something I want, too.”
I flinched. “Oh?”
I had been expecting this. Of course he wanted something from me. He wasn't still in love with me. The scene in the hotel room from the other day had been a show. He wanted me here, begging him for a divorce. I had played right into his little trap, hadn't I?
“Yes, and you’ll do it, too, if you want this divorce so badly.”
“What is it?” I was afraid to hear the answer.
“I need you to play wife for one night.” He let that sink in for a moment. Maybe testing to see how I would react. “Tomorrow. At the party.”
“What party?”
“The Welcome Fiesta.”
Where Janice hoped she could show off her new salsa moves. The same night James would be arriving in Acapulco. “I—I don’t know—why would you want me to?”
“No questions,” he snapped. “You want a divorce, yes?”
I nodded.
“Then, you will be my wife for one evening. The next day, I will sign whatever papers you want.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“How long do I have to pretend to be your wife?”
“Pretend, Susie? You are my wife, or none of this would be necessary, would it?”
The humiliation was almost too much to bear.
“Near the end of the fiesta,” he explained, “when most of the guests have gone up to their rooms, I want you next to me, as if we are lovers.”
I felt my face turn warm at the thought. “And that’s it?”
“That’s it. I will take care of everything else.”
I was so eager to take this chance I didn’t even care to ask what or who this display would be for. One night, for a few minutes, I could pretend to be in love with Joaquin. Couldn’t I? I could find away to send James away—maybe get Janice to distract him. I would figure it out.
“All right,” I said. “If that is the only way.”
“You understand, it must be believable.”
“Yes,” I said, “I understand.” Maybe he wanted to make another woman jealous? The mother of his son? Someone else? Did it really matter?
I would do anything he wanted to get his signature on those divorce papers. By Friday, my troubles would be over. My worries gone. James and I could go forward with our wedding. I felt free for the first time in years.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“So are you excited?” Janice asked me, spinning across the floor of our suite on her toothpick legs. Muscular toothpicks, but toothpicks nonetheless.
“Yes, I can’t believe he’s actually coming.”
“Oh, what a man in love won’t do for his girl,” said Janice.
James would be here in a few hours, and I felt positively giddy inside. We’d only been apar
t for a few days, but it felt as if I hadn’t seen him in months. Being in a foreign country will do that to you, I guess. Make you feel different. Give you a different perspective on things.
I was out of my element. In a different routine. Eating foreign food and drinking margaritas every night. A far cry from James’s meatloaf and my homemade garlic mashed potatoes.
Today was the first day I really missed our morning trip to Starbucks for our daily shot of caffeine: me, a latte with a shot of hazelnut, him, a tall cup of black coffee, French Roast.
“It’ll be fun with him here at the party tonight. Me and George, you and James. A real double date!” Janice stopped twirling and sat down dizzily on the couch, a huge smile on her face. She ran her hands through her hair and shook her head, making her hair stick out wildly from her head. “This is probably the best vacation I will ever have.”
“You and George are really hitting it off, aren’t you?” I took another bite of my eggs. We were spoiling ourselves with room service.
“Isn’t he wonderful?” She got up from the couch and started practicing her salsa steps again.
“Janice, you need to calm down or you’ll be too tired to move much less dance.” She had flitted about the suite all morning.
We’d decided to turn most of the day into a Pamper Party—brunch in the room, self-manicuring and pedicuring, in-room massages. James would be at the airport at three, George would pick Janice up at five, and we would all meet by the pool for the Welcome Fiesta at seven. So we wanted some time together being girly before we had to get the guys.
Not that Janice was particularly girly, but George brought out her long-hidden feminine side. A side I didn’t even know existed. She wore more make-up than I did at the moment. Maybe a little too much eye shadow and a too-bright lipstick color, but I wasn’t about to point out small things like that to a woman who only just discovered the joys of Maybelline.
“I can’t help it,” she said. “I don’t want to stop moving. I had no idea salsa could be so much fun.” A few more twirls, and then she bumped into a lamp table, knocking it over. “Whoops!”
Her usual gangly awkwardness reappeared. The clock had struck midnight and Cinderella was back in rags.
“Careful.” I got up from the couch, cotton balls between my freshly-painted toes, and waddled over to the table to right it.
“Sorry,” Janice said sheepishly. She sat down next to her half-eaten plate of food. “Guess there’ll be enough time tonight to do some dancing.”
“Exactly.
The phone rang, and I made my way across the room to pick it up. A couple of cotton balls fell out of my toes’ grip, and I swore under my breath. Nothing worse than smearing a freshly painted toe.
“Hello?”
“Hey, honey, it’s me.”
“James!” I sat down on the nearest chair and started tugging the cotton from between my toes, the phone tucked under my chin. “I thought you’d be at the airport waiting in line by now.”
“I am. I wanted to call you one last time before I had to turn off my cell phone.”
My heart swelled at his sweetness. He always did little things like this. Bringing flowers home. Making me potato salad and barbecue chicken, my favorite meal, on a really bad day. Folding my laundry into neat little piles when I had a big project at work to finish and worked lots of extra hours. He did much better laundry than I did.
“I’ll be waiting at the airport for you. Okay?”
“I can hardly wait. I love you, Suze.”
“I love you, too.”
The phone clicked in my ear. James would be shutting his cell phone off now as he waited outside the gate for his plane. I looked at my watch. Eleven o’clock. Just a few more hours, and he would be here with me. The beach, the sun, his hand in mine.
I tried hard not to think about later this evening. When I would have to find some excuse to leave him alone for an hour or so to play wife to Joaquin. It was easier not to think about it. To play it by ear when the time came. I would figure out a way.
“Aw, you guys are too cute.” Janice munched on a croissant.
I rolled my eyes at her. James and I were in love and engaged to be married, but we were never one of those couples to talk baby talk or to hang all over each other in public. We held hands, we gave each other quick kisses on the lips, but never full make-out sessions in front of friends and neighbors. So this little window into our love life was a tad uncomfortable for me.
I changed the subject, “Aren’t you going kayaking with George in an hour or so?”
“Yep. George and his friends will be here at one.” She took a swig of water out of her water bottle. “That’s okay with you, right? I feel bad leaving you alone in the room.”
George came to Acapulco with a couple of buddies from his white water rafting group, and they wanted to meet the mysterious Janice. She agreed yesterday to a group kayaking excursion. I, of course, had been more than willing to pass on the opportunity to publicly humiliate myself in a foreign country. Plus, I wanted to give Janice more time alone with George.
“It’s fine, Janice, really. Vacations for me mean a lot of lazing around, eating, and reading. I’ve got the first two down.” I scooped up another bite of eggs to prove it. “And now all I need is a couple of hours to make a dent in one of the books I brought along with me.” I held up the thick paperback on the couch next to me to emphasize the point.
“If you’re sure—”
“I’m sure.”
“And there’s nothing I can say to convince you to come along?”
“Nothing.” I took a sip of coffee. “But I want you to promise me that you’ll give me all the details on George’s friends. I’m so curious.”
“I am, too.” Janice tore off another chunk of her croissant. Only that woman could eat two croissants slathered in butter and not worry about where the calories were going. “They’ve been in this rafting club for years. Since they got out of college, I think.”
“Is that when George started his company?” George owned and operated the second largest rafting tour company in West Virginia, Adventure Rafting Tours, I think it was called.
“Yeah. He and Nick—that’s one of the guys he’s here with.”
“Nervous?”
“A little.”
“Well, don’t be. You look fantastic.” Janice could clean up and be quite beautiful when she wanted to. She finally seemed comfortable in her own skin. Her face glowed, even with the too-dark eye shadow and wrong shade of lip gloss. She had dressed her lean body more feminine than usual with a pair of hip-hugging shorts and a strappy top with a row of sequins across the neckline. I actually felt frumpy next to her. A first.
“Oh, Suze.” She blushed. She still hadn’t learned how to take a compliment.
“You’re welcome.” I looked at my watch. “He should be here any minute.”
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, someone politely rapped on our door. I jumped up, wanting to give Janice a moment to collect herself.
“George!” He was the kind of guy who made you want to smile the minute you see him and give him a hug. A sweet, honest man who probably never said a bad word about anyone. “Come on in.”
“Thanks,” George ambled his way into our suite. He caught sight of Janice and let out a low whistle. “Hey, Gorgeous.”
Janice blushed from her toes to her ears. “Hi.”
I tried to bow out gracefully. “Well, I need to go take a shower. I’ll leave you two guys alone.” I edged toward the bedroom door.
I don’t think they even heard me. I witnessed a close embrace, a passionate kiss, and then I ducked inside the bedroom, shutting the door behind me.
I sat on the bed for a moment. Seeing Janice and George together, I thought of James. He would be waiting for me at the airport in a few hours. I didn’t deserve such a great guy. James had never been anything but honest, supportive, and loving since we started dating.
I wish I could say the same.
*
“Flight 265 from San Antonio now arriving at Gate 26,” the crackly voice over the loudspeaker announced, repeating the same message in Spanish. James’s flight. He would be here in front of me in a few minutes.
I had left the hotel with my head spinning, ready to put my plan into motion. Well, it wasn’t much of a plan. I had never been very good about those kinds of things. I liked to think more on my feet, make spontaneous decisions. My marriage to Joaquin was evidence of that.
The party started at seven. Joaquin and I had agreed to meet around eleven. He promised it wouldn’t take more than an hour to play my little role. An hour. I had to find a reason to be gone an hour.
I stood near the gate marked “Venidas/Arrivals.” A flood of people rushed past me.
“Suzie? Hey, over here.”
I had been so caught up in my own thoughts, I didn’t even notice James had gotten off the plane. He appeared taller and thinner than I remembered. But his eyes were the same cool forest green. A field of calm amid the chaos.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” I reached out to give him a quick hug and a kiss, glad to have his familiar warmth next to me again. “I was kinda zoned out there. How was your flight?”
“Something wrong?” He swung an arm across my shoulders and pulled me close.
I looked at him, even on vacation James dressed as if he were going to work: khaki pants, short-sleeved golf shirt tucked in neatly, loafers. The only way you could tell he was a tourist was the pair of sunglasses propped up on top of his head and the set of golf clubs he dragged behind him.
“Golf clubs?” I didn’t recall us having a discussion about the fine golf courses of Acapulco.
“I thought maybe you’d want to do some girl stuff with Janice.”
“And that you could find a few hours to practice your swing?”
“Obviously, you didn’t realize, but Playa Del Mexico has an excellent nine hole course,” he said, smiling. “Right on the beach.”
“I see. Been doing your research, huh?” I poked him in the ribs with my elbow.
“You take your vacation your way, and I’ll take mine my way.” He gave my shoulder a squeeze.
Acapulco Nights Page 10
