by Dara Girard
“You’ll have to wait for Sunday.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. You win. Besides, I’m beat. I’m ready to go home, so you can walk me to my car.”
“You’re a thrill a minute.”
Hannah laughed as she grabbed her things. She waved at Bonnie’s shocked expression as she left with him. She knew she’d have a lot to answer for later. They flirted on the way to the parking garage, and most of Hannah’s apprehension of saying yes had disappeared. She was about to agree to going to a movie when she saw a familiar figure disappear around the corner. He moved fast, but not fast enough for her not to recognize him: he was Martha’s man. The one who had told her to get in the limo. He was watching her, and she knew that her decision not to represent Amal the way they expected was a good choice. Now she had to make it look convincing. She had to put her plan into action without giving Amal any warning. Hopefully he would either catch on or forgive her.
Hannah spun to Amal and said in a loud voice. “Didn’t I tell you to stop following me?”
Amal stopped. “What?”
“I’m not going to represent you. I’m not going to be your lawyer.”
“There’s no need to shout when I’m standing only two feet away from you. And I know that, but I thought—”
“You thought wrong,” she rudely cut in, marching to her car. “Go find somebody else to take your case. It’s not going to be me.”
Amal lightly touched her sleeve. “But you said—”
Hannah yanked her arm away as if he had an infectious disease. “You don’t need to tell me what I said. I know what I said. Now I need you to listen. I’m not going to be taken in by your charms, and besides, this case is a loser, so stop wasting my time.” She opened her car door. “Excuse me.”
She was about to get into the driver’s seat, but she made the mistake of looking at him first. He appeared devastated and for a moment she almost relented and told him it was just an act, but when she caught a glimpse of Martha’s man peeking his head around the corner, she knew it was for Amal’s own good. She’d hoped to have ignited Amal’s temper, that he’d narrow his eyes and call her filthy names. But instead he just stood there as if she’d stabbed him. So she turned away and got into her car and closed the door. She turned on the ignition and then drove out of the lot. In her rearview mirror she saw the familiar figure jump into his own car and drive away.
Hannah wanted to do the same but couldn’t. She made a U-turn and returned to the parking garage, hoping she could catch up with Amal before he was out of sight. But she didn’t have to worry. He hadn’t moved. He was standing in the same spot where she’d left him. She drove up to him and lowered the window on the passenger’s side.
“Get in the car,” she said.
He didn’t move.
“Amal. I said get in the car.”
“What just happened?”
“Get in the car and I’ll tell you.”
He folded his arms.
“Please. This is important.”
Amal got in and slammed the car door closed.
“I’m sorry. I saw an opportunity and I had to take it.”
“What opportunity?”
“I just saw Martha’s assistant spying on us, and I wanted to give him a juicy story to tell her.”
“I think you succeeded.”
“You have a right to be angry, but...”
“But what?” he snapped. “You could have given me a warning. A signal or something.”
“It was impulsive. I thought you’d just get angry with me and...”
“I was too stunned to be angry.”
“But you’re angry now.”
Amal glared out the window.
“Do you want to shout at me?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you get mad at me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Because of the plate,” he said in a voice too low for her to hear.
“What?”
He turned to her. “I’d just come back from a local fair with my dad. We’d had one of those great father-and-son days people like to talk about, and to my shock he asked me to help him clean the prized plates he’d received from winning fishing tournaments. I was never allowed to touch them, so this was a big honor for me. I helped him for over an hour, but then as I was replacing one...” His voice faded away.
“You dropped it?”
Amal closed his eyes and nodded. “In an instant that day was ruined because of me. My dad went from happy to furious in one second, and it was my fault. I was always ruining things for him.” What he didn’t share was the sight of his father’s face—the revulsion and the words that followed. “You’re an imbecile like your mother. I give you something simple to do and you screw it up. You’re always screwing things up. I wish I’d never asked you to help me. I should have known better, so maybe some of your idiocy is my fault. Now clean it up.”
“I’m sure that wasn’t true,” Hannah said, lightly touching his hand.
“It was.” Amal sighed, trying to push the pain of the memory away, but it lingered.
“Well, if he told you that, then he’s a bastard.”
Amal turned to her, shocked. “No, no, it wasn’t like that. My father was well respected. Everyone loved him. Only I could make him angry. And I—”
“You were a kid. Accidents happen. He should have just given you a lesson about being more careful and left it at that. He had no right to make you feel guilty.”
Amal shook his head. “No, you don’t understand...”
“No, you don’t. You’re never the reason for someone else’s fury—especially when you’re a kid. The rage was already there and you were just the unfortunate target. Maybe someone cut him off while driving or gave him the finger or maybe he had a bad day at work or something. But his anger at you was extreme and not your fault at all. And if he made you think it was your fault, he lied to you.”
“Look, you don’t know my father—”
“No,” Hannah shot back. “But I know you. And I expected you to fight for yourself, to get angry at me. To tell me how you felt. But you crumbled. You looked at me as if I’d betrayed you.”
“It was just that, for a moment, when you were shouting at me, it took me back there to that day. I couldn’t get angry, because I just wanted to know what I’d done wrong so that I could make it right again.”
Hannah sighed, exasperated, and started the car. “That’s just the point. You didn’t do anything wrong. Not today or back then. So you broke a plate. That didn’t mean you were a bad son.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I promise I’ll never switch on you like that again.”
He forced a smile. “Thanks.” He glanced around. “Where are we going?”
“I thought I’d treat you to some ice cream.”
“I don’t want ice cream.”
“Then what do you want?”
He sent her a significant glance. “That’s a dangerous question to ask a man.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I can’t give you that right now.”
“You could pull over to the side and we could try.”
“And be charged with indecent exposure.”
“I’ve never been caught.”
“Another time.”
“You promise?”
“Let’s change the subject.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and then hit it as an idea came to her. “Oh, I know what you’ll like.”
“What?”
She winked. “Trust me.”
Chapter 8
Hannah took him paddleboating at Mountain View State Park.
Amal was surprised at firs
t but then got the hang of things. He’d never done anything like that before. They spent time casually paddling around the lake.
“I didn’t expect you to think about this. And I certainly didn’t think I would enjoy myself. This was a good idea. What made you think of it?”
“I don’t know. I just saw people paddling and I’ve never taken the time to do it, so I thought it’d be something fun to try.”
“So, you’re having your first time with me?”
“I’m not going to answer that.”
Amal smiled. “You just did.” He stopped paddling and reached for her hand.
Hannah moved it away. “What are you doing?”
“Enjoying myself. Come on, give me your hand.”
“We’re supposed to be paddling.”
“We’re in a lake, going around in a huge circle. We’re essentially going to end up right where we started, so what’s the rush? Relax and enjoy yourself.” He reached over and took her hand.
Hannah was silent a moment and then said, “I think the Walkers...”
Amal shook his head. “No talk of work.”
“I’m really sorry about—”
He shook his head again. “I don’t want to talk about that, either.”
“Then what do you want to talk about?”
“Nothing.” He patted her hand and then closed his eyes and tilted his face toward the sun.
Hannah watched him, wondering what he was thinking and envying his calm. They had a lot to do and think about.
Amal gently squeezed her hand. “Stop thinking so much.”
“How do you do it?”
He looked at her. “Do what?”
“Just sit there.”
“Easy. When I’m at work, I work. When I’m away, I play. Nothing else matters. I learned it a while back when I used to run track. Running made me forget my troubles at home. You should try it.”
“Running?”
“No, forgetting your troubles. Don’t think about the Walkers or your family. Just enjoy this moment.”
Hannah failed at first. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking about what she had to do, but soon she let her mind wander. She looked around the pond and focused on a squirrel taking a drink before disappearing under a bush. Then her attention went to an older man and a young girl tossing a ball. Yes, this was nice. It had its own special magic. She and Amal sat in the boat holding hands and enjoying the day until the early-evening sun touched the water with a golden ray of light.
After returning the paddleboat they had started to walk toward the car when Amal abruptly stopped.
“What’s that?” he asked.
Hannah turned to him, surprised. “What’s what?”
He sniffed the air. “Don’t you smell that?”
Hannah did the same and noticed the scent of grilled chicken and Latin spices. “Yes, someone’s grilling.”
“Mmm... Doesn’t it smell good?”
“Yes.” Hannah looked around and then found the source and pointed to a large crowd over to the side. “Looks like they’re having a party.”
He walked toward them. “Let’s join them.”
She grabbed his arm. “But we don’t know them.”
“They don’t need to know that,” Amal said and then tucked her arm through his.
Hannah pulled away. “I’m not crashing somebody’s party.”
“Fine, then I will.”
Hannah followed him, frantic to find a reason to stop him. “It’s too risky. You’re a businessman. What if you’re caught? What about your reputation?”
“Who’s going to report me? No one’ll recognize me.”
“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but they’re all Latino,” Hannah said. “You’ll stand out.”
“There are black Latinos.”
“I know, but...” She seized his arm again. “You’ll fit in, but I won’t. You’re able to charm anyone.”
“If you act the part, you are the part. Watch me.”
Amal slipped out of her grasp before she could stop him. He walked up to the crowd and smiled and then grabbed a plate and started filling it. Hannah felt her heart leap into her throat when she saw a couple talking and staring at him. The man was large and muscular with a long ponytail and tattoo on his arm. The woman also had a tattoo, though she looked less fierce. Hannah swallowed hard, wondering if she should run over and warn Amal, but it was too late. The big man walked over to him and started talking. Amal nodded and then spoke, and the man hugged him. Then the woman came over and hugged him, too, and then became animated. What lie had he told for them to welcome him so warmly? Hannah edged closer just to hear what story he was telling.
Amal gestured her over, but Hannah shook her head. There was no way she was going to do something that bold. She watched, stunned, when he started to dance with one of the older women. His ease with the group showed another example of how different they were. She wasn’t surprised when soon his dance partners were two young women. He was definitely in his realm, not hers. She turned and headed for her car. She wouldn’t force him to stop his fun. He could call a taxi home.
“Wait!”
She turned and saw a girl of about nine running up to her. She grabbed Hannah’s hand. “Come on.”
“I don’t—”
“It’s okay. Uncle Amal said that you were shy and I had to look after you for him.”
“Uncle Amal?”
“Yes, and he said you’re Auntie Hannah.” She led her to the picnic table loaded with food and grabbed a paper plate. “Here you go.”
Hannah took the plate and started to fill it, wondering what story he’d told them about her. Perhaps he’d told the girl she was his sister, though they looked nothing alike. She glanced at Amal dancing with the two ladies. No one would dare assume that he and she were a couple, she thought sourly.
The girl caught Hannah’s look and smiled. “Uncle Amal loves to party.”
“Especially with pretty women.”
“The prettier the better,” the girl said, as if repeating an often-uttered phrase.
“Maybe he’ll meet his bride that way.”
She giggled. “No way. Uncle Amal doesn’t like marriage.”
“Oh, he told you that?”
“Everybody knows that.”
“Everybody?”
“Yes.”
Before Hannah could ask any more questions, the tattooed couple Hannah had seen before came over and greeted her. “We’re so happy you could join us,” the man said.
“Thank you,” Hannah stammered, again amazed by their warmth. What story had he spun for them to believe that they belonged here?
“So are you and Amal...?” The woman let her words fade away so that Hannah could fill in the blanks.
“Sort of,” she said, not sure of what story he may have given them.
“I have you to thank for bringing him here.”
Hannah sat at one of the tables and started eating and then saw Bonnie. She blinked to make sure. Bonnie was here? Bonnie’s eyes widened when she saw Hannah. She rushed over to her.
“What are you doing here?” they said in unison.
“You first,” Hannah said.
“I’m here with Hector. His cousin hosts this family gathering every year, and it’s been ages since Amal’s come. How did you manage it?”
She hadn’t. Amal had played a trick on her. He hadn’t crashed a stranger’s party. “Excuse me.”
Hannah went to the dance floor and politely cut in. When Amal pulled her into a dancer’s embrace, she said, “You snake.”
He smiled.
“You tricked me.”
His smile grew.
“You knew this was Hector’s family and made me think they
were strangers.”
“I wanted to see what you would do.”
“You have a devious mind.”
“It made the night more interesting, right?”
The musician playing a guitar sported a conservative haircut and hippie mustache. He stopped playing for a moment and talked to the crowd as he switched instruments.
“We probably should get going,” Hannah said, glancing at her watch.
“What’s the rush?” Amal said, taking her hand. “It won’t take long to listen for a little while.”
They walked up to the musician, who’d been singing a mixture of salsa, calypso, jazz and Afro-Latin. He looked at the crowd.
“Hey, I could use a little help with my next number,” he said. “Anybody interested?”
Amal held up his hand and pointed to Hannah. “She is.”
Hannah turned to him, stunned. “What?”
The musician smiled. “Just what I was looking for, a pretty lady by my side.”
Hannah waved her hands and shook her head. “But I don’t—”
“Just pick up that tambourine and follow my lead.”
“Yes, follow his lead,” Amal said and then shoved her forward.
Hannah glared at him while the others in the crowd encouraged her to join the musician. Reluctantly, she picked up the tambourine. At first she felt awkward but then she got into the rhythm of things, adding her own flair and moves. Soon she was singing along, and the crowd was, too. She got people cheering for another song, and that attracted an even larger crowd. After nearly half an hour, Hannah took her bow and left the makeshift stage.
“You should come back,” the musician said. “I could use a lady like you to spice up things.”
“No,” Hannah said with a shaky laugh, surprised she’d become so bold. “This was a onetime event.”
Amal rested his arm on her shoulder in a possessive gesture. “And she was only on loan.”
The musician nodded. “I hear you, brother.”
Amal lead her away.
“What do you mean ‘on loan’?” Hannah demanded.
“I didn’t want him getting any ideas, and fortunately he understood me. That’s all that matters.”
Hannah shook her head in disbelief. “Men. I’ll never fully understand you.”
