Havana Sunrise

by Kymberly Hunt

  Nicole decided to use the time remaining to work on her résumé. In less than three hours she had to go reclaim Trey. Seated at the desk, she found it extremely hard to concentrate because her mind was not on what year she had graduated from college, what her previous jobs had been, and what her current objective was. She was thinking about her son’s needs and her own desires.

  Trey did not like the new school. It was true he was not acting up or being disruptive, but this new apathy he’d adopted was even more disturbing. He no longer even tried to interact with other children in school or out of it. His whole world consisted of herself, Allyson, and the dog.

  She was furious that he had literally been forced out of public school because the teachers had shown little patience in dealing with his problem. Somehow, she had the feeling that Trey was angry with her for having given in and placing him in a school for the handicapped. At only six, how could he understand how hard she had fought against it? What was she going to do now?

  Sighing, she rubbed her eyes and stared at the potential résumé in front of her. The problem could only be solved one step at a time and this might be the first step. A different, less stressful job, would definitely allow her more time to spend with him.

  There were other problems too. For the last few weeks she had become more and more aware of how much she missed a reassuring male presence, someone to hold her as Warren had, someone to tell her that everything was going to be okay whether or not there was a solution. Having someone to share the good times and the bad times would make a world of difference. As though possessed, her hand opened the desk drawer and came out with the scrap of paper that had Julian’s phone number on it. She fingered the paper, then rolled it up into a ball and laughed. Julian Marquez was not the answer.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The sun had just begun its ascent as Julian completed his two-mile jog. His niece, Amanda, riding piggyback, had her arms tightly looped around his neck. The eight year old had given up trying to match his pace after the first mile. He glanced over his shoulder to see that Jami was far behind, obviously not doing much better. He ran a few more yards.

  “Uncle J, slow down! Jami’s calling you.” Amanda’s breathy little girl voice tickled his ear.

  Julian responded by running faster, causing Amanda to giggle deliriously. She didn’t really like Jami anyway, and it was fun being part of a conspiracy.

  Finally Julian stopped running. He didn’t want to admit that he was exhausted. “Okay, babe,” he said, kneeling down to free Amanda. “You gotta walk now.”

  Jami seized the opportunity to catch up. “Julian, didn’t you hear me?” she gasped, out of breath. “I was yelling for you to stop and you just kept going.”

  “Must’ve been the wind blowing,” Julian said as Amanda stifled a giggle. “Didn’t hear a thing.”

  She placed her hands on her hips and pouted in self-righteous indignation. “What wind? It’s perfectly still out here. In case you forgot, you’ve only been out of the hospital for two weeks and I don’t think you’re supposed to be run…”

  “Stop,” Julian interrupted. “Two weeks is long enough. I feel fine.”

  He knew Jami was more upset that Amanda had followed them on their run than she was worried about his health, because she had expressed no such concern until the child had appeared. She was right that Amanda should have asked her parents’ permission to join them, but the jogging trail was in their own neighborhood and Julian didn’t see it as a big deal. He’d spent all last night with Jami anyway and was determined that this was the last time.

  “Well, sun’s up. Might as well head back,” he concluded, looking at the sky.

  “Can’t we run a little further?” Amanda pleaded.

  “No. You never told your mother you were coming with us, remember? I hope she’s still in bed when you get back.”

  “Damn,” Amanda swore.

  “We’ll have none of that, chica. No cursing until you’re old enough to really sound like a moron.”

  “I’m sorry.” Amanda tugged at his arm. “C’mon, race you back!”

  She took off, feet flying. Julian started to follow her but Jami grabbed his arm.

  “No! Let her go. This is supposed to be our time.”

  “Look, we were together last night. I thought you had a good time.”

  She let go of his arm. “I think we have to talk about us.”

  Julian felt elated. She had finally gotten the hint. Their relationship had ended a month ago as far as he was concerned, but he always preferred to let the woman be the one to officially end it. Things were less complicated that way.

  “I think we should stop seeing each other,” she hesitated, “at least for a while.”

  Nice touch, Julian thought. Break it to me gently. “And last night wasn’t fantastic?”

  “It was good. It always is, but that’s all. A relationship should be more than just…,” she fumbled for the right word, “physical.”

  He forced himself to look disturbed. “I understand. I suppose you’re right. We should stop seeing each other.” He abruptly motioned to Amanda who had gotten quite a distance ahead.

  Jami flinched, realizing that he had agreed with her too quickly. She wanted to discuss it in more depth, but before she could even open her mouth, he had raced off in pursuit of his bratty niece. Whatever they’d had was definitely over.

  Back at the estate, Julian watched as Jami’s Porsche pulled out of the driveway. He’d managed to sneak Amanda back in with no one the wiser. Elena would have been appalled had she known. She didn’t approve of her child hanging out with her infamous uncle and his whores, as she liked to label every girl he’d ever dated, except the ones she’d selected.

  Standing on the verandah, he peeled his damp T-shirt off and tossed it onto one of the deck chairs. For a brief moment he felt bad about breaking up with Jami. Despite his exaggerated reputation, he really didn’t enjoy using people. Then he recalled how young and flirty she was. There would be many empty passions in her life before she was ready to settle down.

  It felt good knowing that his doctor had declared him physically fit again, but he was disturbed that the nurse named Nicole had never called. There was only one more opportunity to either connect with her or forget it. He had given her free tickets to his concert for the third row—well within his sight. If she showed up, it would indicate that there was at least some interest on her part. He would take it from there.

  * * *

  They had arrived early, but the huge arena was rapidly filling up. Nicole could feel the crowd’s eager enthusiasm as Allyson led the way to their seats, third row from the front of the stage. It was a good spot, although a little bit too close. She found herself on the end with Lynette and Donna sandwiched in between.

  The three were chattering incessantly about some obnoxious customer at their shop, while Nicole remained relatively silent. She was friendly with them but they were definitely a part of Allyson’s clique.

  “Looks like we’re the only ones not speaking Spanish here,” Donna said, sitting on the edge of her seat, twirling an extended braid around her finger. “What do you think? He’s gonna sing and speak Spanish the whole show?”

  “Probably,” Allyson said. “Won’t bother me none.”

  “Yeah,” Lynette agreed. “That man could sing in tongues and you’d understand. Don’t worry, Donna, you’ll love the show.”

  Nicole settled back in the chair, crossing her legs. She wore an olive-green blouse with ivory-colored, khaki slacks. Her hair was meticulously french-braided and pulled back, with a whisper of a bang framing her face. She had checked and double-checked her appearance before arriving, as though it was somehow extremely important that she look good even though dressed casually.

  As the show was about to start, stage lights dimmed, then came to life in a flash as the object of the crowd’s passion strolled out to thunderous applause and a booming drum roll. He quickly launched into a salsa-tinged dance number that wa
s currently number one on the Latin charts. The mostly female fans went wild, screaming and whistling, rendering homage to a celebrated icon.

  Nicole’s eyes were riveted on Julian, who wore a white rib-knit shirt, so tight it seemed sprayed on, along with white pants that set off his raven-black hair and mocha skin. There was no denying he had a great voice, which seemed to be naturally tenor, but capable of many ranges and nuances. She was having a hard time coming to grips with the fact that this was the same man she’d attended in the hospital.

  Her attention drifted back to her companions. Allyson, Donna, and Lynette were virtually gyrating in the aisles. Nicole looked at them in amazement and resisted the urge to laugh. It was kind of embarrassing, or maybe she was the one being foolish for sitting stiffly in her seat.

  Julian ended the opener and spoke in Spanish to the audience. Women screamed louder. The lights dimmed and his next number was a less frenetic, jazzy piece that everyone except Nicole was familiar with.

  And then it happened. Their eyes met. He smiled. The smile was directed at her alone. Nicole felt the blood rush to her head and she self-consciously tried to avert the gaze by looking at Allyson. Her sister was completely oblivious, which was a relief. Maybe her eyes were playing tricks on her and she’d just imagined the whole thing. Yes, that had to be it. There was no reason why he would single her out in a vast auditorium filled with thousands of adoring fans.

  As Julian moved cat-like across the stage, stalking, he turned to face his band and gave a wink that was just short of lewd.

  “Hit it, Wade,” he said.

  The bass player to his left, a handsome man with long dreds, winked back and thumbed the opening chords. It was a booming, sensual sound, accompanied by drums and soon an acoustic guitar. Julian moved with the music, seizing the microphone. The audience screamed its approval.

  “‘You’re the love of my life,’ ” he sang in a low-pitched sexy growl, his dark eyes riveted on Nicole.

  “He’s looking this way!” Lynette shrieked.

  He couldn’t be. Nicole tried to deny the obvious, but his eyes remained fixed on her, while he moved in a sinfully seductive manner and sang words in English that left little to the imagination. Mercifully, the song ended before she melted into the floor.

  “You all were right,” Donna gushed. “He really is to die for.”

  “And he can dance too,” Allyson said. All three of them laughed, but Nicole was in another world. Allyson leaned over and poked her. “Did you see that, Nicole? He was looking right here in this row.”

  “It could have just appeared that way,” Nicole said lamely. “I’m sure he was really looking at the whole audience.”

  “Get out of here! He was looking at us,” she insisted.

  “Hope he does it again,” Lynette chimed in. I want to see those gorgeous eyes.”

  Julian had reverted to Spanish again, introducing his band and the four back-up singers.

  “That bass player is awful cute too,” Donna whispered.

  “That’s Wade Simmons. He did studio work with Bob Marley,” Allyson said.

  “Marley’s dead. Guess that means he’s pretty old,” she replied, sounding vaguely disappointed.

  The next song was another dance number, loud and colorful with confetti flying, strobe lights and choreographed dancers. Despite all this, Julian remained the focus with his magnificent voice, magnificent even when he abused it.

  About midway through the show, he emerged wearing all black—a V-neck shirt and leather pants, which caused Nicole to flinch. She detested men in leather, even if the wearer was a celebrity and had the body of a male model.

  Julian announced that he needed a girl from the audience, and many eager candidates volunteered, screaming and waving their arms in an attempt to get his attention. He teased them mercilessly, scanning the crowd for the right one. His eyes met Nicole’s again. She recoiled in horror. Oh God, no way am I going up there, she thought, petrified.

  When he selected a tall, big-breasted blond in a hot pink halter top, Nicole breathed a sigh of relief, yet felt strangely annoyed at the same time. As Julian serenaded Ms. Voluptuous with a ridiculously seductive song, the girl practically entwined herself around him, her hands wandering over his body, coming to rest on his backside.

  “That had to have been rehearsed,” Allyson said.

  Nicole laughed out loud and the others looked at her. “Well, it’s so tacky it’s funny,” she said, irritated that she had even bothered to explain herself.

  After that foray, Julian took a break and relinquished the spotlight to a shrill-voiced diva, who could hit notes high enough to rupture eardrums.

  When Julian returned, his costume was quite a contrast to earlier. He was now attired in a traditional tux, complete with black bow tie. The band had grown significantly, and the songs that followed enthralled her, classic love songs, sung in the style of Johnny Mathis or Nat King Cole. His voice transformed into a very smooth falsetto that seemed effortless and completely natural.

  After two songs, and after he managed to lose the jacket and bow tie, the lights dimmed into an eerie shade of blue, and Julian faced the audience with his white shirt halfway unbuttoned. Someone in the shadows handed him a plain, old-fashioned guitar with a shoulder strap, and the audience became so quiet that a cough or sneeze would have sounded like thunder.

  He introduced the song in a barely audible Spanish whisper. He said something about mi padre, which Nicole understood to be in reference to his father, and then he stroked the first mesmerizing flamenco chords on the guitar. She knew it was a love song, but there was a tragic element to it. His face, bathed in the blue light, was haunting, as was his impassioned voice. There were a few echoes from two female back-up singers under a pale yellow spotlight and the subtle refrains of a saxophone. Julian closed his eyes.

  Nicole looked away. Tears had started welling up in her eyes and she was fighting to control them. It was useless. The anguish resonated in his voice and Julian and the stage swam in her watery, distorted vision. The walls were caving in, and the morbid eulogy of “Taps” was being played at Warren’s funeral. A folded flag was being handed to her…the snow was falling…lingering guilt over things said and not said. She stood up abruptly.

  “Nicole,” Allyson began.

  “I’m going to the ladies’ room,” she said, trying to sound normal.

  She remained there, locked in the stall for what seemed an eternity, with the sound of the crowd in the background. Stop it! she commanded herself, stabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. If she didn’t come out soon, Allyson would come looking for her, and it would ruin the show for them.

  Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the stall and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her skin looked pale and her eyes wide and hollow; despite her actual age she looked like a demented teenager. Carefully, she patted cold water over her face and quickly reapplied some lip-gloss.

  When Nicole returned, Julian had just finished his last encore. Donna and Lynette glanced at her questioningly, but taking Allyson’s cue, said nothing about her departure…yet. She knew that status would change the minute she got home and Allyson lit into her.

  They left during the applause to avoid getting the full impact of the departing crowd. The trio chattered non-stop during the entire ride back, mostly about the concert, all giving raves to Julian. Nicole was impressed too, but somewhat subdued after the flashback episode.

  Once the others had departed, and Nicole and Allyson were alone in the kitchen, lingering over coffee, the questions started. “You missed a whole half hour of the show. What was that all about?” Allyson asked.

  Nicole stirred at her coffee mechanically. “It just got really hot in there and…”

  “You’re too young for hot flashes. It was that song, wasn’t it?”

  There was no point in lying to her, Allyson already knew. Nicole sighed, “Yes, it was weird. All of a sudden it just gave me a flashback. I started thinking about Warren and t
he funeral.”

  “Well, it was a really moody piece, but other than that, what did you think?”

  “Think?” Nicole looked confused.

  “About the show. I was blown away. He’s even more talented than I thought.”

  “He is,” Nicole admitted. “And it didn’t even matter that he sang in Spanish.”

  “Not everything was in Spanish,” Allyson reminded her. “What about that one song he did in English, the one where he was looking right at you.”

  “Do you really think he was looking at me?”

  “It was pretty darn obvious. I mean, it was the only song in English and he was doing it for you. I didn’t mention it before, ’cause I didn’t want Lynette and Donna in on it.”

  Nicole stood up and put her cup in the sink. “Okay, suppose that’s so. It doesn’t mean anything. I’m just the nurse he remembered from the hospital.”

  “Sis, you are completely hopeless,” Allyson declared, shaking her head.

  “So what would you do? Go in hot pursuit of him, camp out at his mansion?”

  “Good, I’m glad you asked. I would call him,” Allyson said.

  “Call him?”

  “Don’t give me that blank look, Nic. I was cleaning out the desk drawer the other day and I found his number.”

  Nicole was speechless. How could she have been so careless as to leave that number in the open? Why hadn’t she thrown it away?

  “You should call him. The phone number is still there.”

  Nicole found her voice. “Listen, if I had wanted to call him I would have. I’m not interested in being used by some…some celebrity. I’m still not quite sure I’m over Warren. I probably never will be.”

  “You won’t let yourself get over it!” Allyson shouted. “He’s been dead for three years and you haven’t even dated since you moved down here. All you do is work, work, work and take care of Trey. What kind of life is that?”