I finish off the rest of my sandwich as Eric talks. He’s so open and candid. I’m not getting any fake vibes from him now. He seems... Sweet.
“So you live in Las Vegas, but where did you grow up?”
“Vegas.”
“Really. That must have been... interesting.”
“Not really.” I look away, hoping he’ll change the subject.
“Not very talkative, are you, Jordan?”
“I can be. At least, I am at work.”
“Let me guess. You’re a bartender as well?”
“How did you know?”
“The tip. The best tippers I’ve ever seen are usually other bartenders. How long have you been doing it?”
“About four years. Before that, I worked as a waitress for a long time.”
“What are you, about twenty-five?”
I nod and take another sip of beer that’s getting warmer by the second. “You?”
“Twenty-seven. Are you done?” He motions to my pile of napkins and takes the last sip of his beer.
“Yes. Thank you. That was really good.” I stand up and dust off the back of my pants, adjusting my bag across my shoulders. “So what are you up to, today?”
“Oh, I was going to head over to The Cigar House to pick up a few cigars for a couple of friends who have to work today. It’s only a couple of blocks from here. Then I was going to wander. We could... wander together, if you’d like? Or if there’s something specific you want to see, I can take you. I know this area pretty well.”
He asks sincerely, without any trace of his flirty bartender persona. What the hell? “Sure. Let’s go get your cigars first. Boy, it’s hot. Hey, do you know where I can get one of those hats?” I point to the guy walking past us.
“Oh, a Panama hat, yeah sure. I’ll take you.”
On the cobblestone streets, the colors of the colonial style buildings with their wrought iron balconies draw my eyes upward. So beautiful and vibrant. It feels old, and yet looks new. The sidewalks are narrow, so we walk down the middle of the street. I fish a cigarette out of my pack along with my Zippo, but as soon I try to light up, Eric’s hand comes up to stop me.
“It’s actually illegal to smoke in most areas of Puerto Rico. So unless you want to pay a fine, I’d wait until we get back on the ship.”
“Really. Okay.” We get to The Cigar House and Eric makes his purchase. The place is huge and there’s a bar in back. I’m almost tempted to ask if we can go back for a drink, but I know that’s my cigarette craving talking, not me.
We walk down another block to a hat shop on the same street with a small doorway in an olive green building called Olé Curiosidades. There are handwoven hats everywhere in different sizes and shapes. A wall of ribbons is on the left, and different types of artwork line the walls closest to the ceiling overhead. A distinct odor of wood and glue permeate the air in this cramped space. Pictures and newspaper clippings fill in the gaps, and I’m overwhelmed with the choices. I want simple, fedora style with a black ribbon.
Eric shakes hands with an older gentleman he introduces as Guillermo. “My friend, the lady would like a hat, and I knew you would take care of her.”
“Por supuesto. Hola, niña. What can I get you?”
“Hola, nice to meet you. I’m looking for a hat.”
“Yes, I figured as much. See anything you like?” He chuckles and motions to the rest of the room.
My eyes scan the stacks and land on one with the same shape I saw on the man outside. I pick it up and place it on my head, gazing in the mirror.
“This is the one. Yep. I like this one.” It fits perfectly. I peruse the moccasin-like shoes and find a pair in black as Eric follows the gentleman over to the register. They talk for a moment, as he rings up a man with a similar hat as mine. Fifty-five dollars? Do I really like the hat that much? Yes. I do. I can afford it.
I head over with my pair of shoes, and pull out my wallet.
“That will be forty-five dollars, por favor.”
“I’d like these shoes as well, please.”
“Yes, already included in my price for Eric here.”
“Oh, well, thank you.” I smile at Eric and hand over a fifty dollar bill.
“Thanks for coming in, and I hope you enjoy San Juan.”
“Thank you.”
I stroll out of the store, my new hat in place and Eric following behind me.
“So, where to next?” He looks up and down the street in both directions.
“Let’s go to Casa del Libro. I want to see those letters to Columbus. Plus, it’s getting hot, and I wouldn’t mind staying inside for a bit, if that’s all right.”
“Sure, it’s about a block away.”
We stroll down the blue stained cobblestone street, keeping to the shade. I don’t know if the stones are painted or are naturally blue, but the effect is beautiful. A woman overhead stands on her balcony with a fan, people-watching. She quickly yells something in Spanish to someone inside and disappears.
“How long have you worked on the ship?”
“About two years. I worked another route before this one, down to Mexico. I’m hoping to transfer next year to a European route.”
“Really. You can do that? Transfer to different lines around the world?”
“It’s a big company. You have to wait for an opening. Put your name on a list, get a recommendation from your manager, and you’re good to go. As soon as a spot opens up.”
“Interesting.” What would it be like to travel the world like that on a regular basis? To see different countries and cities, places I’ve never dreamed of going... My stomach flutters. “What did you do before you started working for the cruise line?”
“I went to college and got a degree in business, but ended up working as a bartender in the city. I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do and the money was good.”
“Yeah. Same here. I’m good at it, and it’s hard to walk away from income like that. You kind of get stuck.”
“Exactly. That’s why I left. I felt stuck. In any case, I’m not the type to join the military, and I didn’t want to work in an office. I needed a steady income, but wanted to travel. When I saw an ad for a cruise line hiring full-time, I immediately called. And the rest, as they say, is history.”
“So you like it?”
“I love it. I may settle somewhere someday, but for now I’m happy. It’s still a job and I work hard, but on my days off, I get to come to places like this. I’ve been all over Puerto Rico.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of schlepping drinks and dealing with assholes?”
Eric stops and turns to face me. “Yes, of course I do. But then I meet someone new.” He winks at me to drive home his point.
“I bet you get a lot of boat babes with that line.”
He rubs the back of his neck and chuckles. “Okay, yes, I used to. I was the bartender making drinks for the coeds going to Cozumel looking to party. You know what? It gets old after a while. Now, I stay away from the passengers as much as possible. In fact, why are you following me again?” He furrows his brow and his charming smile sucks me in.
“You’re following me, remember, Casanova.” I raise an eyebrow in his direction. He bows at the waist and motions me ahead of him and into the museum.
Chapter Four
“Can you believe something that old still exists for us to see in person?” We leave Casa del Libro, a small little museum, and head back out on the streets of San Juan.
“Yep, pretty cool.” He looks down at me. “Are you thirsty? Do you want to get something to drink?”
“Yes, and I’m getting a little hungry again too.”
“Are you up for something a little different?”
“Sure. If it’s as good as that sandwich we had before, then yes.”
“Well, mavi is a specialty here made from tree bark and sugar. It’s a drink with a slightly fermented taste. There’s a street vendor who sells it around the corner by the cup.”
; “Let’s do it. Then, food.”
Eric looks amused. I’m not sure why. He proceeds down the street at a brisk pace. “Too bad you aren’t here overnight. The rainforest is beautiful.”
“Yeah, I thought about going over to El Yunque, but I’d be there the whole day. I wanted to see the city. Get a little taste of the local culture and food. Next time.”
Eric stops suddenly, causing me to stop just short of crashing into his back. He looks left and then right.
“Are you lost?”
“Yes. No. Give me a second.”
I grin up at him as he frowns, searches my eyes, and for a fleeting moment gazes down at my lips. I’m parched and I lick them. What would it be like to kiss him? Danger! Danger! My alarms go off and I break eye contact to look down the street.
His breath hits my cheek as he exhales and then looks up at the sky, searching for something. “Ah, I remember now. It’s this way. Let’s go.”
I follow a couple steps behind, drinking in the sight of his wide-set shoulders in front of me.
A woman, probably in her fifties, ladles out sunset-colored liquid into plastic cups filled with ice. I anticipate something akin to a pineapple passion fruit concoction. I’m wrong. The taste is unexpected. More like a bitter beer with only a little bit of fizz. I’m not sure if I like it or not, but I keep taking sips.
“What do you think?”
I scrunch up my nose and take another sip. “I don’t know.” The smell is almost like fruit gone bad, not appealing. Yet, I can’t stop sipping. “Grows on you.”
“Yes. It does.” Eric guzzles the last of his mavi and chews on a couple pieces of ice as I finish mine.
Hand held out, he takes my empty cup and crumples it with his, tossing them both into the garbage can next to us.
He looks at his watch. “We only have about two hours left until we should head back toward the boat.”
“More food, less talking.” I pat my stomach for emphasis.
“Yes, ma’am.” My stomach flutters as Eric wraps his fingers around my wrist and pulls me down the street.
The blue-stoned street opens up to a plaza with a large statue at the center, surrounded by food carts. The delicious aroma quickly pulls me and my stomach in the direction of some kind of barbeque meat stand.
“These are pinchos. Basically they’re chicken and pork skewers, but really, really good.”
“Yes, please.” Next door is a stand for fried plantains. “Ooo, I want some of those too.” There’s another stand selling some kind of fritters. “Oh, this is going to be too hard.”
Eric taps my shoulder. “Hey. You only live once, right? Let’s get a little of everything you want to try. We can eat a ton between the two of us.”
“Darling, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” I give him a little nudge with my hip and line up for pinchos.
We make a little picnic on the grass, finding a place under the shade of a tree, and Eric takes his button-down off for us to sit on, leaving him in only his undershirt. My, oh my, the man has some nice shoulders.
He hands me a can of Medalla Light, this one a lot colder than the one I had earlier today, and we dig in.
“Oh my Lord, what are these called again?”
He holds up a finger and finishes his mouthful before answering. “Alcapurria.”
“So good.” I take another bite of the fried fritter meaty goodness as Eric takes a sip of his beer.
“What about the tostones? Do you like those? They’re pretty much a staple here. They use plantains in a lot of cooking. The most famous dish is mofongo.”
I swallow a big bite of my savory pastry and respond. “Did we get any of that…mofongo stuff?” I snag a couple of tostones, expecting sweet, given that they’re fried plantains, but they’re salty.
“No. We didn’t get any mofongo because it’s more of a sit-down meal, in my opinion.”
“We are sitting down.”
“You know what I mean.” Eric takes another swig of his beer and rolls his shoulders.
“Yes, I like everything. At first, I thought the tostones were a little bland, but now I can’t stop eating them.” I pop another in my mouth to make my point. “I guess I’ll try the mofongo next time.”
Eric frowns as I take a sip of beer. “You keep saying next time, but we aren’t going to dock here again on this trip. You know that, right?”
“Yes. But I also know that I’ll come back to Puerto Rico. There’s too much to see and do, not to come back.” I finish the last bite of my meat fritter, and survey the food we still have left.
Eric quiets, staring at his skewer. I pick up the last pincho and start biting off deliciously grilled pieces of chicken.
“Do you have—” The sound of drums right behind us interrupts Eric and almost makes me drop my chicken.
Three different drummers tap out a hypnotizing rhythm, and the man in the middle starts to sing. At the sound of his voice I turn back toward Eric and smile. He grins, and nods in the direction of the musicians. “Bomba.”
We both stand at the same time and gather our trash, placing it in the can a few feet away. I fold the rest of the fried plantains up in a napkin and place them in my bag. We take our beers around to the other side of the grass to watch and listen.
The call and answer of the drums and the man’s voice causes me to sway as I stand there listening. A crowd gathers, and I’m completely captivated.
“We’re going to have to start heading back soon.” Eric’s voice in my ear gives rise to a shudder that runs through me. Maybe it’s the heat and the beer, although I’ve only had two. Or maybe it’s this music, almost spiritual, yet extremely sensual. Whatever it is, the sound of his masculine voice in my ear makes my stomach flip.
I look up at him as the drummers continue their intoxicating rhythm. He stands so close to me, his shirt slung over one shoulder. His focus is on the musicians, but when he takes a sip of his beer, he catches me staring, and his hand lowers to his side.
Our gazes lock for exactly sixteen seconds, the drum beats keeping count. Sixteen seconds of blood pumping through my veins. Sixteen seconds of his gaze scrutinizing mine and then shifting down to my lips. Sixteen seconds of wondering what his chest would feel like against my bare breasts.
“It’s getting late, Jordan.” It’s only a murmur, and there’s no way I should’ve heard him, so I must be reading his lips. He has nice lips.
He breaks eye contact and looks out over my head. We’re surrounded by people. He wraps his fingers around my forearm and gently tugs me behind him and through the crowd. My other hand easily finds his back, and I use it as a guide to follow him out.
As we make our way down the crowded street, Eric pulls his cell out of his pocket to read a text. “Shit. We need to hurry.”
I quicken my pace to keep up with him. “Why? We still have an hour before we have to be on board.”
“Actually, I need to be back and ready for work in forty-five minutes. My boss wants me to fill in at Allure tonight, and I still need to get back, shower, and change. Come on.” Eric holds out his hand, and we push through the crowd.
Each plaza has some sort of music playing, making the crowds of people hard to maneuver. We narrowly avoid our deaths when a taxi almost runs us down. A yelp escapes me, and Eric saves us by coming to a last-minute stop before crossing the street. Keeping me close, he’s basically dragging me through the streets of San Juan. His long strides actually require me to jog in order to keep up.
We pass a local bar playing reggaeton, and I lament our rush. “I wish I could have stayed a couple of days here. I would’ve loved to go dancing.”
Eric looks back at me and smiles, even as he keeps racing forward. “Next time, right?”
I’m able to take two breaths before he breaks eye contact to watch where he’s going, and in that moment, my stomach flips again. He juggles his box of cigars, almost dropping them. I hold my hand out and then stuff the small box into my courier bag. I tie the
plastic bag I have my shoes in to the strap. “Right.”
Hand-in-hand, we jog toward the water. My palm starts to sweat, but I keep a firm grip on him so we don’t get separated.
Finally, the pier comes into view and I slow to a walk. “Go ahead. I’m going to take my time from here. I can see the ship, and I still have thirty minutes left. You go get ready for work.”
“Okay. Yeah. Sorry.” Eric finally releases my hand, wiping his on the back of his pants while I do the same. We exchange a smile and he pats the top of my hat. “All right. I’ll see you later.” He takes a few steps and then turns back toward me and winks. “If you’re up to it, stop by Allure tonight for a drink, on me.”
“We’ll see.”
He smiles, turns, and jogs down to the pier while I decide if I have enough room in my stomach for one last snack before I get back on the ship.
Chapter Five
Back on the ship, I head to my room to look for Kim. I find a note saying she’s having dinner with her friends if I want to come join them. I’m still full from all my Puerto Rican treats, so instead I opt for my bathing suit and a swim.
The pool is as empty as I’ve ever seen it. Only a few parents, watching their kids in the water. It’s about six in the evening, so everyone must be at dinner.
The ship is still in port, so the wind is minimal as I scoot out of my shorts and step into the pool. The water is warm and I dive to the bottom. Back at the surface, I float on my back and gaze up at the blue sky and white puffy clouds above me. My arms fan out around me and I sigh, content. No worries, no responsibilities. No rushing home. My time is finally mine now. Guilt tightens my chest and a tear forms in the corner of my eye. I dive back under the water to wash it away. I couldn’t stop it, no matter how hard I tried. Nothing I did was ever enough.
Sea Breeze Page 2
