Havana Sunrise

by Kymberly Hunt

  She sighed again. “I wish I could, but I’m afraid I have to work that Saturday.”

  “Let me know when you’ve got vacation time and we’ll make plans.”

  “Yes. I’ll let you know.” She started to get out of the car, but hesitated.

  “Uh, Julian, there’s something else, something important I have to say.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I like you a lot, maybe even love you, but right now we can only be friends.”

  He rolled his eyes, hating the implication of that last word. He knew he wanted more. “Why does it have to be that way?”

  “Because…because we are very different people. You have your priorities and I have mine. I just can’t deal with anything more than friendship right now.”

  Right now? He hung on to the words in his mind. It was the second time she had said that. Did it mean she would be ready at a later date? Ready for what? He knew his feelings for her had gone beyond physical desire. If that was all he had wanted, he would have pulled out a long time ago. Just how involved did he really want her in his life? They definitely did have different priorities, and she would not be able to easily adapt to his world.

  “All right,” he said slowly. If that’s the way it is, I’ll go along with it for now.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Nicole…”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t wait too long. I can’t promise you I’ll always be here.”

  She leaned forward and brushed his lips lightly with her own. “I know,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “No one can promise that.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Nicole was dreaming. She could feel the wind stinging her face and she could taste the salty spray of the sea. The speedboat was skimming the surface of the ocean and suddenly it swung into a sharp curve and went careening madly out of control.

  “Julian!” she cried.

  He turned to face her, but the man at the helm was not Julian. It was Warren.

  “Don’t worry, hon, everything’s under control.” He took his hands off the steering wheel and came toward her.

  “But the boat, you’re not steering it!” she shrieked.

  “I told you it’s okay,” he said nonchalantly.

  She could see cliffs up ahead. They were heading straight for them—at over seventy miles an hour. Desperately she grabbed the wheel.

  “What the hell do you call yourself doing!” Warren yelled, trying to forcibly reclaim control as she struggled to turn the boat away from sure disaster.

  Behind her, she heard laughter, and with the wind screaming in her ears, and Warren’s powerful hands preventing her from turning the wheel, she looked over her shoulder to see Julian calmly sitting in the back seat.

  “Julian, help!”

  “It’s your decision, take control,” he said.

  The cliffs loomed up ahead—solid and lethal. They were going to crash! They were going to die! With every ounce of strength she had left, she yanked the wheel.

  Sunlight streaming through the bedroom window nearly blinded her as she sat bolt upright in bed. Oh no! it’s after eight. I’ve overslept, she thought, trying to will her heart to stop beating so fast. It took a few minutes before she actually remembered that it was Sunday and Trey did not have to go to school.

  Slurp! Shane’s tongue caught her right in the mouth. “Ugh,” she frowned, pushing the fuzzy face with the cone-shaped ears away. Not the least bit deterred by her response, the animal panted heavily and wagged his tail, letting it thud against the dresser. She laughed.

  “You’re such a clown,” she said, hugging the dog. “But I know you have ulterior motives. Ally hasn’t fed you, I’ll bet.”

  Shane collapsed on the floor with a grunting noise and waited for her to get up. In the kitchen, Allyson and Trey were having breakfast. They looked up when she entered.

  “Kind of late for you, isn’t it?” Allyson said.

  “I was having this really weird dream,” she replied, ruffling Trey’s hair in passing.

  “What about?”

  “I don’t know, but it was really awful.”

  “Couldn’t have been that awful if you don’t even remember it.”

  “Believe me, it was awful.”

  “So what’s up with you anyway? We’ve both been so busy coming and going, we’ve hardly talked. How’s Julian?”

  Nicole noticed Trey look up at the mention of that name. She would have to be careful what she said about him around her son.

  “Julian? He’s okay, I guess. You know how it is with him—always traveling.”

  “Did I tell you that Mom called at my shop yesterday? She asked about him,” Allyson said.

  Nicole rolled her eyes. Of course her mother would find Julian a hard man to forget. After his visit she had demanded to know what was really going on. She had gone on to remind them both, because she wasn’t too sure which one of them Julian was seeing, that he was a very handsome man, and that handsome men were the types one should stay away from. She had also reminded them that coming from Cuba, he was probably Catholic, and his culture was very different from their own. She and Allyson had laughed themselves silly over her paranoia.

  “What did Mom say about him?” Nicole asked.

  Allyson shrugged. “Nothing much. She’s just being nosy, that’s all.”

  It had been a week since their parents’ trip to Jamaica. Both had enjoyed it immensely and said they were planning another one next year. They were now back home in Chicago.

  For a brief moment, Nicole felt homesick. The calendar reminded her that it was October. In Chicago it would be accompanied by multi-colored leaves, the scent of wood burning in the fireplace, and the sound of children hurrying to get home from extracurricular activities at school, hurrying before the darkness of shortened days overtook them. None of this would happen in Miami. It was the worst part about living in Florida. She missed the seasons.

  Shane bumped up against her. “Ally, did you feed your dog?”

  “You can feed him. I fed your child.”

  Nicole laughed. “I guess that means I get to walk him too.”

  “He likes walking with you.”

  After feeding the dog, she attached his leash and led him outside. Trey eagerly accompanied them. He was eager because she had not suggested going to church. If she hadn’t overslept, that was exactly where they would be going. Trey needed to be around people, even if they, in their ignorance, tended to treat him as though he didn’t exist.

  The bright sunlight filtering through the palm trees annoyed her terribly. Did the sun really have to be that luminous? Couldn’t the stupid trees show some respect for autumn by at least altering their color?

  Her thoughts drifted back to Julian and his plan to take Trey to the ice show. Trey had been excited when she told him about it, but had shown some trepidation when he realized that she wouldn’t be going. He had quickly recovered, though, and indicated that he still wanted to go, regardless. She had offered him no encouragement, had left the decision entirely up to him.

  As Shane sniffed the ground, and Trey ran a few yards ahead, elements of the nightmarish dream returned to her. What was the dream saying? Was she really supposed to take control? If so, control of what? Maybe she had never been in control of anything, at least in her marriage, because she had left everything up to Warren.

  She was just plain not ready for a physical relationship with Julian or anyone. For a long time she’d tried to forget the fact that sex with Warren had always been a wifely duty, not an act of love. He’d always been the one to initiate everything—the one who was literally always on top, doing what he wanted while she just accepted and went through the motions. No wonder he’d so often accused her of being frigid.

  Somehow she had managed to put up with it because he had been so great in other aspects—a great father, great provider and strong decision-maker. He had also been the only man she’d ever dated. Now here she was, feeling things fo
r Julian that she had never felt for her husband. What kind of woman was she?

  There were other issues that were barring her from Julian too. She did not believe in casual physical relationships between people, relationships without commitment. If she gave Julian what she thought he wanted, he’d reject her if she was as terrible as Warren had claimed, and if she kept pushing him away, the results would be the same. How on earth did I get into this dilemma? she wondered. Why couldn’t Julian have met Allyson first? Her sister shared none of her hang-ups.

  * * *

  That same morning, Julian was fighting the urge to bodily remove Elena from his apartment. She was violating his space and, as usual, treating him like a slightly retarded child.

  “You know you have to be in Mexico tomorrow,” she reminded him, waving an envelope containing plane tickets in front of his face.

  “I’m not senile yet.” He snatched the envelope.

  “No need to be nasty. You have a way of forgetting things. Maybe I should keep those tickets until you get ready to go. That way you won’t lose them.”

  “I’m not going to lose them.”

  It was still early, and one of few days that he had nothing planned. All he wanted to do was go back to bed and listen to the morning chatter on TV—instead, he had to contend with her.

  “Oh, Luis asked me to deliver these.” She dropped a folder down on the end table.

  “What’s that?”

  “The proofs for your new album cover. I already selected the one they should use, but Luis wants you to look at them too.”

  “How thoughtful of both of you.” Julian sat down on the couch and opened the folder. The photographs spilled out. His own face stared back at him, big eyes, pale skin and a pathetic expression.

  “That’s the one we picked,” Elena said. “You have this vulnerable thing going. The fans should like it.”

  He rifled through the other photos. All of them looked better than the one she had picked. He plopped them back on the table without making any comment. Elena usually selected what went on the CD covers, because he had never considered himself to be a good judge of his own appearance. He suddenly wondered which one Nicole would pick if he asked her.

  “Make sure you don’t lose those tickets,” Elena said, finally moving toward the door. “Oh, one more thing. You better start working out, because you’re getting kind of fat.”

  “Maybe you should change your glasses,” Julian retorted, holding the door open so she could exit. He knew for a fact that he’d recently lost four pounds.

  Once she was gone he felt too wired to return to bed. Pacing around, he ended up in the foyer. Sure enough, another stack of mail greeted him. Wearily he shuffled through it and unceremoniously dumped it in the trash.

  It still made him feel guilty doing that. After all, the letters were from fans, and they were the ones who bought his records. He recalled how in the early stages of his career, he’d tried to answer each one personally. It had been impossible. Now members of his staff were paid to go through the stuff and send out autographed pictures. The mail was supposed to be going to a post office box and not to his house. It was a little disconcerting to realize how many strangers knew where he lived.

  One piece of mail missed the trash and landed on the floor. It was a purple envelope. Julian laughed. Of all the letters, that one really belonged in the trash. He picked it up and it joined the rest.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Nicole reached for the telephone, then hesitated. “What’s wrong with you? Go on, call him,” she muttered to herself. Julian had told her that he would be back from Mexico on Thursday, and she was in the habit of always calling friends who went away, to make sure they got back safely. He is a friend, isn’t he? she thought.

  Without even having to look it up, she dialed the number and waited for the answering machine so she could leave a message. It continued to ring. Nicole started to hang up, but than a strained, barely audible voice answered.

  “Hello,” she said uncertainly. “I…I’m sorry. I must have the wrong number.”

  “Nicole, is that you?”

  “Julian? You sound weird. Did I wake you up?” It suddenly dawned on her that it was only eight o’clock in the morning. She had just gotten back from dropping Trey off at school, and it didn’t seem early to her, but a lot of people liked to sleep late.

  “No. You didn’t wake me,” he said.

  “Well, I just called to make sure you got back safely. I was expecting to leave a message.”

  “But luck wasn’t with you,” he interrupted, his voice still sounding odd. “Instead, you got me live and in person.”

  She shook her head. There was definitely something wrong with him, but shouldn’t she expect that kind of behavior from a celebrity? Maybe he was drunk. A wave of anger and disappointment swept over her. And this is the irresponsible person who is going to take my son out Saturday? We’ll see about that, she thought.

  “I’m glad you’re back,” Nicole said, crisply. “I’m going to let you recover…”

  “No! Don’t hang up yet. I know what you’re thinking. I’m not drunk. I sound like this because I was sick all last night. I think I’m about over it now.”

  “Sick?” Nicole repeated, feeling ashamed of herself for immediately jumping to negative conclusions about him. “Julian, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing much. Just a case of food poisoning or something.” He described some of the unpleasant symptoms.

  The nurse side of her took over. She wanted to see him and make sure he was going to be okay. After that episode in the hospital, she had reached the conclusion that he was the type of man who would not take his own health seriously.

  “Are you alone?” she asked, wondering if some woman might be there with him.

  “Yeah. Actually I’m glad you called. Kind of reminded me to get my act together…got to be in the studio by noon.”

  “Don’t you dare go anywhere. I’m coming over. I think I might have the perfect cure for you.” She let the words escape quickly so she wouldn’t have time to think the offer out and take it back.

  “I’m sure not gonna argue with you,” Julian said. “But I want you to know, it’s not like I’m dying or anything.”

  “Now I’m really worried. I’ll be over in about thirty minutes.”

  “Take the causeway,” Julian said. “It’s the private road off…”

  “I know. It’s the only way I could get there without a speedboat.”

  “Good. I’ll have Carlos unlock the gate for you.”

  “Carlos?”

  “He’s the security guard.”

  After she hung up, she sat there for a few minutes wondering what she had gotten herself into. What if he was just faking, and wanted her alone at his place? What if he—never mind about what he might do. The question was whether she could keep her hands off him much longer.

  * * *

  “Do I always have to be sick in order to get your attention?” Julian asked.

  “You’re kind of cute when you’re vulnerable,” Nicole responded, staring at the puffy white clouds in the sky.

  “I’m usually never sick, but this year has been bad.”

  “It’s probably because your resistance is low after that bout with pneumonia. It wasn’t that long ago,” she reminded him.

  Nicole had been there for a while and it was nearing noon. She had arrived with a care package consisting of two bottles of ginger ale and green tea, some of which she had actually cajoled him into consuming, since he hadn’t been able to eat or drink anything for almost twelve hours.

  He had granted her permission to roam around his place at will while he slept for two hours on the living room couch. She’d spent most of the time strolling in the garden, until she’d had a near collision with the fear-inspiring maid, Gretchen. After that she’d gone off to peruse books in the well-stocked library, discovering that they were mostly American and Latin history texts, historical autobiographies, the writings of Jose
Marti and literature by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. While selecting an anthology of Latin poetry, she noted the glaring absence of Langston Hughes and James Baldwin.

  Julian was now wide-awake, and feeling a lot better. He had joined her out on the terrace, pleased that she had chosen to stay. He studied her, observing that her hair, pulled back as usual, looked lighter in the sun’s rays. Her natural unspoiled beauty never ceased to amaze him. Even the mannish white oxford shirt and jeans she wore could not obscure the feminine curves and nuances of her lean, slender form.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Nicole asked, disconcerted as she glanced up from her book.

  “Because even the clouds and the ocean can’t compete with your kind of beauty,” he said, aware of sounding corny, but meaning every word.

  Nicole blushed. He was definitely feeling better, and it was probably time for her to make her exit. Instead she put the book down and glanced at the man sitting near her. His coloring was no longer as gray as the tight T-shirt he wore, and his eyes had their devilish intensity back.

  “Flattery,” she said, rising, “will get you another cup of green tea.”

  He laughed. “I wasn’t flattering you. I was telling the truth, but if you’re going to punish me with more of that damn tea, I’ll remember not to do it again.”

  “Don’t curse at my tea,” she declared, hands on her hips. “It seems to have worked wonders. You even managed to keep it down.”

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “You’re right. Suddenly the thought of food isn’t making me sick anymore. Maybe I…”

  “Sorry,” she interrupted, “no food for you today, unless you have a taste for Jell-O. I made some while you were asleep.

  “Made some?” he repeated, amazed by her revelation. “I do have a cook. You didn’t have to do that.”

  Nicole smiled. “It wasn’t a problem. I make it a lot since Trey is crazy about the stuff.” She didn’t tell him that it had also been a pleasure working in that beautiful kitchen.

  She found herself inadvertently studying his long out-stretched legs encased in blue denim, and then her attention drifted to his feet, which were sockless in deck shoes. This was one of the few men who would probably still look attractive in shorts and sandals, she thought, then tried to take her mind and eyes off his body.