Havana Sunrise

by Kymberly Hunt

  “I tink that woman done put a hex on you,” Wade said in Jamaican patois.

  “I tink you may be right. Don’t know what appnin to me, mon,” Julian replied.

  “Don’t know what appnin to you either, but I do know you make a lousy Jamaican.” Wade reached up with one hand and smacked the Marlin cap off Julian’s head.

  Julian laughed, and then stared at the passing traffic. “Tell me, did Yvette play this hard to get when you were going with her?”

  Wade reflected on the courtship of his wife, nearly twenty years earlier. The situations could not be compared. Yvette had come from Jamaica too; they had also had music in common. In fact, they had met in a recording studio when she was doing back-up vocals for another artist.

  “It was nothing like that,” Wade admitted. “Yvette and me always had a lot in common. She trusted me and I trusted her. You and Nicole can’t even share the music. She’s a nurse, a nurse with a kid who’s got a problem. It’s not an easy thing dealing with someone else’s kid.”

  Julian folded his arms behind his head and stretched. “I think what you’re really saying is that you’re too damn old to remember dating Yvette. You only remember her as your wife.”

  It was Wade’s turn to laugh. He did remember it very well, and it made him feel bad for Julian. They were both artists, but his friend was a star and that prevented him from having a normal life.

  “Do yourself a favor and just forget Nicole. What’s wrong with Lydia? She’s Cuban. Your family likes her.”

  Julian flinched. “My family? Are you going crazy too? This is my decision.”

  “I know that,” Wade said, concentrating on the road. “I totally agree with you, but I hope you’re prepared to deal with the consequences.”

  Julian could already foresee the consequences of marrying Lydia Ramos. She was the daughter of Elena’s best friend, Carmen, who had come over with them to America on the same fishing boat. Lydia was a pretty girl, and a nice one, but she was barely twenty-one and so shy that he’d only managed to maintain direct eye contact with her after their second date. He had only dated her because Elena had insisted that she was the one. Lydia was an only child who had gone to a private Catholic school and had not even been allowed to date until she was twenty. As a wife she would do exactly what she was told and he could continue touring and having affairs with other women while she’d quietly pretend nothing was going on. If they had children, neither of them would have an active hand in parenting them, because Elena would hire a nanny to do it, and Lydia would never raise her voice in protest. She would forever be the good little girl who stayed in the background. That was not what he wanted.

  Julian turned the radio up louder. “I probably should have thought about consequences before I sold my first record.”

  “Don’t say that, man. You know you never could live without music.”

  Wade was right. The music had always been his. No one could ever control what he wrote or the passion and emotion he ignited on stage. The music had been his father’s escape from political and emotional turmoil and now it was his legacy. If anyone was controlling him in a negative way, it was only because he was allowing it.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Allyson had gone to the airport to pick up their parents and Nicole was in the kitchen hurrying to finish the preparations for supper. Trey came rushing in with Shane chasing him. They raced around the island countertop, nearly knocking a chair over.

  “Out! No playing in the kitchen,” Nicole shouted in aggravation. They ran out, making such a racket that she didn’t even hear the doorbell ring. Trey heard it and raced back into the kitchen, with Shane barking behind him. He tugged at her arm.

  “Not now, Trey. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

  Trey shrugged and went back out. Shane was still barking, and she wished she could temporarily muzzle him. Why do German shepherds bark so much? She seized a cucumber and began chopping it up to put in the salad.

  “Hey, easy with that thing. No point in getting psychotic,” a familiar voice said.

  Nicole whirled around to see Julian standing there, escorted by a beaming Trey. She was speechless. The man had done it again, another one of his impromptu surprise appearances that always put her at a disadvantage, even in her own home.

  “Julian…” Her hand flew up to brush back a stray lock of hair, leaving a streak of flour on her forehead.

  “Whatever you’re cooking smells really good. You didn’t have to do all this for me,” he said, entering the kitchen soundlessly, like a panther treading on a mossy jungle floor.

  “I didn’t,” she said, trying to recover. “Julian… Why are you here?”

  “I missed you and this guy.” He held a laughing Trey in a headlock.

  Nicole wiped her hands on a towel. “You know, this is a really bad time. My parents are coming from Chicago. Allyson just went to pick them up at the airport. They’ll be here any minute.”

  “That’s cool. Can I meet them?”

  She wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. “What? Meet them? You want to meet my parents?

  “What’s wrong with that? I promise I won’t drool, pick my nose, or do anything else unacceptable.”

  She had to laugh. “I don’t mean that. What I mean is you don’t know my parents…”

  “I know that. That’s why I want to meet them.”

  “Will you please let me finish. My mother is very strict, strict to the point of being insensitive. If you’re here, it will be awkward. How am I supposed to introduce you?”

  Julian shrugged. What about as your boyfriend? he thought, but did not say it. He could see that the timing was bad. “How about if you just introduced me as a friend of the family?”

  Trey clung to Julian. She could almost hear him saying the words. “Please Mommy…Please let him stay.”

  “It would still be awkward,” she said, wishing he didn’t look so appealing in his faded denim shirt and jeans, a shirt that was unbuttoned just enough to expose a very slight dusting of hair on his chest. She swallowed hard.

  “No problem,” Julian said. “Maybe I’ll get to meet them some other time.”

  “Yes, maybe.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want some help in the kitchen?”

  Help? From him? Good Lord, please get this man out of my house before I do or say something I’ll regret, she thought.

  “No, thank you. I don’t need any help.”

  “I’ll leave only if you promise to call me sometime this week.”

  “My parents are going to be here all week. Oh all right, I’ll try to call.”

  “Sorry, amigo,” he said to Trey. “I’ll make it up to you another day. How about a basketball game, our Miami Heat. You like basketball?”

  Trey nodded in excitement.

  “If Mom says yes, I’ll take you one night.”

  Nicole turned down the fire under the vegetables and glanced up just in time for Julian to kiss her lightly on the cheek. He then disappeared as abruptly as he’d arrived.

  Her face felt flushed. It was more than a little disconcerting, the way he kept casually invading her life, demanding attention, insisting that she respond. And she was responding. But how much of that response was simply because he was famous? If he was just like any other man, would it still be that way?

  * * *

  Julian spent the next three days in England with other famous artists, participating in a benefit concert with proceeds going to the orphaned children in war-torn countries. Doing benefits was one of the highlights of his career. He enjoyed being able to give back to the world. The image of the selfish, materialistic star had never set well with him. Despising that image had also led him to secretly donate a great deal of money to other causes as well—most of them involving children. The opportunities to reach out to others also kept him from dwelling on his own problems.

  It would be so great to be able to return home after touring, after traveling around the world, to have someone besides fans to
sincerely welcome him back. Someone who would listen to him and share his passions. Someone who would caress him with warm arms and understanding eyes when he woke up nights agonizing over the fact that he could hear his father’s voice but could not remember his face. Someone who would understand and never belittle the more sensitive side he tried to conceal from the world.

  But as the plane touched down in Miami, the only embrace he received came from the press and the paparazzi, who were milling around, trying to get pictures and statements from him and the others. Julian managed to evade most of them.

  In a few more hours, he would be told by Luis, Elena, or his publicist, what his next mission was supposed to be. He hoped there would be a call on his answering machine from Nicole, but it didn’t seem likely.

  * * *

  Despite constant complaints about the heat, Nicole knew her parents were enjoying their visit to Miami, especially the time they spent with their grandson. In the last four days they had been all over the place, zoos, museums and beaches. They were now on their last evening before taking the cruise to Jamaica.

  “Miami really is like Cuba before the revolution,” James Whitfield said, glancing at the television.

  “Yes,” Nicole agreed. “Remember when we were in the Little Havana section? Almost no one spoke English.”

  “I don’t think that’s quite right,” Eleanor said, fanning herself, even though the air conditioning was on. “When people immigrate to another country, I believe they should learn to speak the language of that country.”

  Nicole observed with amusement that Allyson rolled her eyes. They were all gathered in the living room after supper. The television was tuned to CNN, but no one was really paying much attention to it. Trey was on the floor, rolling a newly acquired Matchbox car around.

  “The Miami Cubans have really built this place up. When I was down here in the seventies this place was falling apart,” James said, reflecting. “It’s a shame none of that progress has touched the African American community here.”

  I knew he was going to bring that up, Nicole thought. “It is a shame, Dad, but not all of us live in bad areas. There is a good, solid middle-class too.”

  “Yes,” Allyson agreed. “There is diversity in our neighborhood. Everyone gets along with everyone here. I don’t hear a lot of complaining about social issues from the people who come to my shop.”

  “What kind of people come to your shop?” Eleanor asked.

  “What do you mean, what kind of people? They’re regular people, Mom—black, Hispanic…”

  “Are they Christian people?”

  Allyson groaned, and Nicole laughed. The two of them were always pushing each other’s buttons. Eleanor had never forgiven her oldest daughter for leaving Chicago and starting a business so far away from her influence. She could not understand how she could have given birth to a child so unlike herself. She was also constantly worrying that Nicole would be influenced by what she called Allyson’s worldliness. Her fears were totally unjustified.

  “Oh, by the way, I brought this here with me ’cause I thought you would like to see it,” Eleanor said, rising and going towards the bedroom. She returned with a small red-covered photo album, and resettled herself on the couch, patting at her short, silver-frosted curls. Nicole knew that the album contained pictures of herself and Allyson when they were little.

  Stirred by curiosity, Trey rose from his play and came to have a look. Shane, who was banished to the sun deck because Eleanor didn’t like dogs, started to bark. The doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it,” Allyson said. “Probably Lynette.”

  Trey pointed to a picture of a little girl with long pigtails, playing on a swing.

  “That’s your mother when she was about your age,” Eleanor said to her amused grandson.

  Nicole leaned forward to see. The picture had been taken in their backyard, and it brought back memories.

  “Mom, Dad, this is Julian. He’s a friend of…ours,” Allyson announced, returning to the room.

  The now familiar feeling of anticipation and dread swept over Nicole as she looked up to see Julian standing beside her sister. Her father turned away from the news and her mother looked up. Trey abandoned the photo album and ran to him.

  “I just happened to be passing by so I thought I’d drop this off,” Julian said, his eyes fixed on Nicole. He handed Trey a small Star Wars figurine. “He must’ve left it in my car.”

  Trey eagerly accepted it and showed it to Nicole. She flinched. Her son had never even indicated the toy had been missed. “That was very nice of you, Julian,” she said tightly. “Thank you.” Now please go, she thought.

  Allyson glanced up at Julian. “We’re just kind of hanging out here tonight. Why don’t you stay for coffee…a drink…whatever?”

  Nicole glared at her sister.

  “Yes, that would be nice,” Eleanor said, inspecting Julian as if he were some rare exotic breed. “I’d like to get to know some of my daughters’ friends.”

  “You have two very beautiful daughters,” Julian said. “I can see where they get their looks from.”

  Her mother actually blushed, Nicole observed. The Marquez charm was getting to her too. It wasn’t even so much in the words he’d chosen, but the way he looked when he said them.

  “I only hope that my two daughters have inherited more than beauty,” Eleanor replied, having recovered.

  “They definitely have.” Julian looked directly at Nicole, who averted her eyes from him. “I’m not a parent, but I’m sure it’s every parent’s goal to raise children who are intelligent and have principles. I’d say you both succeeded.”

  “Umm, well, I hope so.”

  “Oh, Mom, please,” Allyson interrupted. “I’m sure Julian doesn’t want to hear about how we were raised.”

  “Sit down and stay a while, Julian,” James said. “My wife and I will be leaving on a cruise to Jamaica in the morning. We’re not going out anywhere tonight.”

  Julian’s eyes sparkled. “Which ship are you going on?”

  “I think it’s called Rhapsody, Eleanor, is that the one?”

  “Yes, something like that.”

  “You’re going to enjoy it,” Julian said. “I played on a cruise ship once. It was fun, but being a passenger is better.”

  “Played?” James quizzed. “What business are you in?”

  “I’m a musician. I used to be part of a Latin jazz band.”

  “No kidding? What do you play?”

  “Well, I sing mostly, but I started out playing guitar, then drums.”

  “Are you successful at this?”

  Julian shrugged. “I do all right.”

  Nicole could not believe it. She was not surprised that her father didn’t know who Julian was because, musically, he was still in the Dizzy Gillespie, Count Basie era, but she couldn’t figure out why Julian didn’t just admit to being internationally famous and wealthy.

  “Is that so?” James was interested now. “When I was young, a very long time ago, I used to play drums. Never actually did anything with music though.”

  “I was wild about anything percussion. Kind of dreamed I’d be the next Tito Puente,” Julian said.

  “You’re into rock now though, I would assume,” James said, clearing his throat.

  “Actually it’s more like Latin pop.”

  James laughed. “I know. You young people have to go where the profit is.”

  “Dad, could you excuse us for a minute,” Nicole said. It was time to get to the point. “Julian, would you come with me to the kitchen?”

  He knew she was going to try to get rid of him now. He excused himself and followed her. She glared at him accusingly.

  “Didn’t I tell you this was a bad time? I told you my parents would be here all week.”

  Julian rubbed the side of his face. “I was in Europe. I kind of forgot.” He held up his hand. “No, that’s a lie. The truth is, I missed you and I kept seeing your face. I had to come.”


  It made no sense that he should feel that way. She had absolutely nothing to offer him, but still he kept coming back. If it really was just a game he was playing, what was he getting out of it? She knew that her own resistance was about to break down, and that she was the one most likely to get hurt, but the romantic side of her was captivated and mesmerized by him. She surrendered.

  “I…I missed you too. It’s okay.”

  “Your parents don’t seem that upset,” he commented, leaning against the refrigerator.

  “I said it’s okay.” She watched his white collarless shirt part slightly as he leaned. It exposed a thin gold chain around his neck, from which some sort of emblem dangled. What was it? She moved a little closer, and could see that it was a tiny gold dolphin.

  “My father gave that to me when I was small,” Julian said, aware of her attention. “He used to wear it…said it would protect me out at sea.”

  “I guess it worked,” she said softly “You came here from the sea.”

  “He should have kept it. He was the one who needed protection.” There was a controlled tightness to his voice.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing. I don’t really believe in that sort of thing. Do you?”

  “No, I don’t, but other people’s beliefs are fascinating.”

  And you are even more fascinating. She reached up impulsively and traced her finger lightly across the velvet of his eyebrow. Julian caught her hand and brought it to his lips, planting a whispery kiss on it. She trembled as he lowered her hand so that it was resting on his chest, over his heart.

  “Nicole, is there any beer in there?” her father called from the living room.

  Her sanity returned. At any minute one of her parents could come walking in. Reluctantly she stepped back.

  “Yes. I’ll bring you one,” she called, and then turned back to Julian. “What are you having? Coffee? Tea? Or my father’s favorite, beer?”

  “I’d like your father’s favorite daughter.”

  She smiled. “Now, now. I think you’re going to have to settle for the beer.”