by Ann Aguirre
“I feel like I need to explain,” he began.
“You really don’t. No promises were broken. It’s just one of those things.”
“Well, you started it,” he muttered. “With your damned spell.”
I lifted a brow at his tone. “I’m aware. I haven’t bitched at you.”
“Maybe it’d be better if you did. Then I wouldn’t feel so guilty.”
“About what? Being with Shan or disappointing me?”
“A little of both.”
I laughed. “Jesse, forget about the latter. You and me, we weren’t meant to be. The spell proved that. I honestly believe that if you’d loved me, you wouldn’t have hooked up with Shan. Some part of you would’ve realized it was wrong—that something was missing.”
He gazed at me somberly with the clear sunlight finding toffee flecks in his dark cocoa eyes. “I hope you’re right about that. You know I worry—”
“About being inconstant, too easily influenced by other people’s emotions,” I supplied. This wasn’t the first time we’d discussed that particular fear. “So let me ask you this. When Shan was missing, there were probably other women who were attracted to you, who gave signals. How did that go?”
“You mean did I cheat?” His mouth drew taut, likely restraining a stream of angry words.
“Not even that. How did you respond to them? Did they have a shot?”
“No way. I love her. Nobody can replace her.” The reply came in a blazing rush, seeming to surprise Jesse with its fervor.
But it made me really glad to hear. “See? We never had that.”
He considered for a moment, pensive rather than regretful, which made for a nice alternative. “I think . . . you just had too many reservations about us. I couldn’t help but sense that. It really wouldn’t have lasted, would it?”
I shook my head. “It looked great on paper, but no.”
“Whereas with Shan, there are none. I never had anybody go after me so all-in from the jump. There’s no doubt in her whatsoever.”
“You’re her lobster,” I said, wondering if he’d get the reference.
“Okay, Phoebe,” he mumbled, but I could tell by his expression that he liked the comparison. “With Shan, she loves and wants me so fiercely, so unconditionally, that it’s like a perfect broadcast that blocks out all other signals. There’s no room for anyone but her. And it’s so . . . restful. So perfect.”
“Her intensity might scare somebody else,” I pointed out. “Somebody who doesn’t need it like you do. Which makes you two a perfect match.”
“So you really don’t mind? Shan is a little worried.”
“I’ve told her repeatedly that it’s fine. Somehow I’ll make it sink in.”
“She tells me you got back with Chance, anyway.” Neutral tone there, carefully nonjudgmental.
“Working on that. But yes. I’m very happy for you two.” I pushed out of my chair and met him in the middle of the patio, where he had been pacing nervously. Reaching up, I hugged him tight around the neck, then whispered into his ear, “If you hurt her, I’ll cut off your balls and make you eat them.”
He didn’t take offense. “I won’t. The whole time she was gone, I was just . . . empty. I hardly ate. Didn’t sleep much. I could only think how hellish it would be if she never came back, if I never saw her again. I lay in bed at night, just wanting to hear her laugh one more time.”
Tears started in my eyes because I could so fully relate to his suffering. That was how I felt about Chance at any given moment. But if Shan could come back from Sheol and make Jesse a happy man, I didn’t see why I couldn’t retrieve my lover from his father’s realm. But first, we had a party to attend—in honor of Booke’s lost birthdays. Hell of a thing to celebrate.
I stepped away from him to find Shan standing in the doorway; and from her expression, she’d heard everything. Her blue eyes simply glowed. “You’re so getting lucky tonight, Saldana.”
Pointing at Jesse, I made a shooing motion toward the house. “Go. I’ll deal with her now.”
“Uh-oh,” she said. “Am I in trouble?”
“Only for thinking I’m not glad you’re happy and in a healthy relationship. My only reservation would be his age, but you’re not a kid, and he’s not a creeper.”
She laughed. “He sure felt like one at first.”
“But he got over it . . . and everything is fine between the two of you. I care about him as a friend, that’s all. I’m not harboring any hidden longings. An idiot could see that you’re right together. Hopefully I don’t fit that criteria.”
She nudged me. “No way. All right, consider me absolved of the heinous crime of boyfriend stealing, ’kay?”
“Deal. Now let’s help Eva finish up the appetizers before she kills Chuch.”
As expected, I found Señor Ortiz in the kitchen, picking at the pretty plates his wife was creating. I chased him out to the garage. Not being a fool, Jesse soon followed, leaving us to finish the preparations. It was companionable, working with two other women. Though I wasn’t much of a cook, I was good at chopping. In our new relationship, barely begun, Chance had done most of the actual food making. I served best as sous chef.
And you will again, I promised myself.
While she put together an enchilada casserole, Eva teased Shannon about her relationship with Jesse, but for the first time, Shan didn’t react with guilt. She flipped Eva double birds before she went back to sautéing onions. “Whatever, I’m happy.”
“I hear you’re thinking of moving in together,” Eva pried.
“Not for a while,” Shan answered. “I signed a lease with Maria, and I won’t leave her hanging like her last roomie did.”
“I’m sure she appreciates that.”
Thinking hard, I remembered reading some emails on Shan’s laptop. Maria must be Shan’s roommate, another of Chuch’s cousins. After the forget spell, I’d had no choice but to vanish, giving Jess and Shan a chance to remember naturally to avoid further harm. So that meant Shan had been a regular part of Chuch and Eva’s life for months, so they knew people that were only names to me.
I listened as they chatted, contemplating my options. Who could I turn to for help with Chance? Twila was out, as I had nothing valuable to offer her, and I wasn’t willing to present an open-ended bargain as Booke had done. So I put the matter aside for the time being; it wasn’t like giving up. I was still focused on the problem, but it wouldn’t be solved before the barbecue.
At three, Eva pronounced the house ready and the food sufficient for the guests she’d invited. With a sigh of relief, I escaped to the guest room to shower. Once I was clean, I poked through my backpack. What I’d bought in London didn’t provide much choice, but as I stood in my T-shirt, Eva came in with an armful of clothes. She laid them on the bed with a smile.
“My stuff should work for you. I figured you might want to dress up.”
“Thanks. That should cheer me up a little.” It was the first time I’d referred to the emotional devastation I carried, hung around my neck like prison chains.
She hugged me. “Don’t give up, chiquita. We’re all here for you.”
“That’s the only thing keeping me going.”
Party Hearty
In the end, I wore my own jeans, paired with a silver sparkly top that belonged to Eva. I left my hair down and put on minimal makeup, as I didn’t feel like celebrating, but for Booke, I’d put on a good show. I came out of the guest room in time to act as hostess alongside Eva, who was run ragged between the food and a clingy Cami. My goddaughter liked people, but not in these quantities. I wished I could take her to her room and hide, but nobody was letting that happen. Various aunts and cousins whisked her away, handing her off like a beloved parcel, until all the attention cheered Cami up.
Which freed me to mingle. Awesome.
The musicians were setting up out back, a four-piece roughneck crew who looked like they laid pavement for a living, but after they started tuning their instrument
s, I changed my mind. Amazing how fast Chuch and Eva had put this together, never imagining it would be a congratulations party and not a farewell. Rich melody poured out of the guitar, sultry and danceable. Apparently others had the same idea, as couples formed up on the patio and spilled over into the yard, Shan and Jesse among them. I was glad to see they didn’t seem self-conscious around me anymore; that was one loose end tied off.
Booke was dancing with one of Chuch’s cousins, the thin and bedazzled Dolores, who had participated in a séance with us a while back. We had been seeking answers from Jesse’s deceased ex, but she didn’t respond well to the fact that he brought a diaphragm as the focus object . . . that belonged to some other woman. That didn’t end well. After the garbage disposal exploded all over the kitchen, I was a little startled to see her, but she seemed to be having a good time with Booke, laughing at his jokes. For my part, I was glad to see him manage a spirited Texas two-step.
A few minutes later, Ramon came up to me, sans Caridad. “Wanna dance?”
The band was just striking up a new tune. “What happened to—”
“Eh, she didn’t pass the family test. Chuch told his mom that she refused to help out, and Tia Elena burned up the phone lines. An hour later, I had my mother on the phone, yelling at me.”
“Not worth the grief?” I wondered aloud.
“Hey, I’d only been out with her four times. I’d have to be nuts to piss off my entire family unless I was crazy in love.”
“Then, sure,” I said. “I’ll dance, as long as there’s not a vicious witch of an ex waiting to hex me over it.”
“Nah.” He wheeled me into the grass, as all the patio space was taken. “I’m pretty irresistible and all, but it takes more than four dates to work the Ortiz magic.”
“You mean that in the figurative sense, right?”
Ramon laughed. “Si, I didn’t get the gift, but my sister did. She throws some mean bones.”
“How does that work?” Though I wasn’t sure, I had the impression Jesse Saldana’s mother didn’t know about his father’s ability to grow gigantic vegetables or her son’s empathy.
Chuch’s cousin raised a brow at me. “You don’t know?”
“I didn’t have a gifted support network growing up, so I missed a lot of things, including the forum where you outsource work, and the ins and outs of—”
“I understand.” He cut me off politely, which I appreciated. Rambling explanations while trying to follow his enthusiastic turns hadn’t been easy. “If you marry into a gifted family, it’s pretty much common knowledge. If you marry a normal, then you keep it quiet, even from your spouse.”
“So Jesse’s mother doesn’t come from a gifted background,” I guessed.
“Probably not. My family, on the other hand, tends to seek mates in the life, so to speak. So even those of us born without any abilities still know the score.”
“That makes sense. Thanks for the tip.” It also explained why Chuch and Eva remained unfazed by the strangeness that I routinely sprang on them.
Based on what I knew of Jesse’s romantic past, he was trying not to follow in his father’s footsteps. He must’ve seen how hard it was to keep a crucial secret, so he started looking at gifted girls when he was ready to settle down. I hadn’t been the one, but maybe Shannon was; given how crazy she was about him, I hoped so.
“You look thoughtful,” Ramon said.
“Is that bad?”
“You’re supposed to be having fun.”
“I’ll do better.” With some effort, I got into the party spirit. “I’ve been meaning to thank you.”
“For what?”
“Hooking me up with the trailer . . . and the Chevelle. I still need to repay you for losing it.”
He shrugged. “It was a lemon anyway. Chuch told me about your problem keeping cars.”
“He makes it sound worse than it is,” I protested.
“Really?” Ramon cocked a skeptical brow, and I fell quiet.
After him, I danced with a number of other cousins. Most of them had wives who didn’t mind parting with them for five minutes, and I put a good face on for the occasion. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Chuch’s primos, just that they were the wrong men. An hour into the dancing, I begged off and went to look for something to eat.
Eva’s food was a big hit; I loaded up my plate more than once. Since I’d helped make everything on the buffet table, I felt justified in savoring it. There were homemade chips and fresh salsa, guacamole and empanadas, plus more American standards, like deviled eggs and a cheese and fruit plate. There were multiple salads other women had brought in—my favorite was one with marshmallows, mandarin oranges, and plenty of whipped cream. It looked more like a dessert to me but I didn’t argue its placement in the food pyramid.
Once it got dark, Chuch fired up the barbecue, and Ramon kindled the strands of twinkle lights, which gave the yard a festive air. Booke came up beside me, as I was having seconds on the fruit and whipped cream salad. He had been dancing nonstop, enjoying his newfound vitality. His moves were a little old-fashioned, but the ladies seemed to find him charming.
“Having fun?” I asked.
“It’s fantastic. American women are astonishingly susceptible to the accent,” he told me. “If I’d known that in 1947, I’d have done a number of things differently.”
“I imagine,” I said drily.
He laughed, then his clever face fell into somber lines. “I don’t know that I deserve a second chance, but I intend to make the most of this one.”
“Where are you going first?”
He thought about that. “Shanghai, I think. I’ve always fancied a tour of the Orient. For a while, I thought our dreams were the closest I’d ever come to seeing the real world again.”
Yeah, about the dreams . . . “If you ever need me, don’t hesitate to contact me that way. But maybe . . .” I didn’t know how to put it.
It’s time to impose some boundaries . . . I don’t think you should be in my head anymore when I’m helplessly, impossibly in love with somebody else.
Fortunately, Booke was every bit as smart as he looked. “I understand. Emergencies only. I won’t wander into your dreams on a whim. I’ve other things to do now anyway.”
“You’ll be busy seducing susceptible American women,” I teased.
He colored, but didn’t deny the allegation. After all, he had been celibate a long time. Which was when it occurred to me . . .
“Um . . . okay, so I know you had Internet access—” Oh, God, why was I broaching this subject and not Chuch . . . ? Don’t be a wuss. He’s your friend. Yet my tongue cleaved to the roof of my mouth, and for the life of me, I couldn’t get the safe sex lecture off the ground.
Booke interrupted my fumbling. “I’ve seen my share of pornography over the years, and I’m familiar, at least in the abstract, with the perils of modern courtship.”
By which I guessed he meant STDs and the like. I just nodded and mumbled, “That’s good. Wear a jimmy hat.”
He eyed me oddly. “Jimmy hat. Must Google that later.” Before he could say more, Dolores waved at him from across the yard, her face alight.
She had a prominent nose and receding chin, but nice eyes. And her style drew attention anyway, as she was draped with a load of flowing scarves and bangles, plus twelve rings on ten fingers, along with three ankle bracelets, one of which had bells on it, and a glimmering toe ring that complemented a pretty French pedicure.
Booke responded to her hail with a lifted hand, indicating he was almost through. “I expect this will be a lively overnight visit.”
Oh, man. He was going home with her later? Go, Dolores. For her sake, I hoped Booke remembered what to do with his equipment, but that wasn’t my problem. Inwardly masking my impatience, as I longed to apply myself to Chance’s return, I joined a group of wives who were chatting at the edge of the patio, children playing—or napping—at their feet, Eva among them. I listened to their jokes and stories, feeling more
alone than I did in bed in the dark. Something about being surrounded by happy people made grief worse.
Still, the party was a success. Though it had started early, people kept arriving late, until the Ortiz house and yard was overflowing. The music got louder and more boisterous, until I thought it was a good thing they didn’t have close neighbors. I knew from personal experience that these shindigs could run until three in the morning. At least we don’t have a full mariachi band.
“You look tired,” Jesse said, plopping down in a chair beside me.
He had been dancing with Shannon all night, so tender and sweet that it made me glad to see them together, even if things were a mess for me. I wasn’t such a selfish person that I couldn’t stand for others to be happy, even when I wasn’t. But apparently he didn’t feel like he needed to be tactful anymore either. No woman wanted to hear she looked like a train wreck, even at her worst.
“That’s not the right word,” I answered.
“What is?”
Part of me wasn’t sure if I was ready to confide in him as I had during the early days of our uncertain relationship. Once, it had been really easy to talk to him, but so much had changed. Everything, in fact. Before, I had been a roiling ball of doubt, unsure of what I wanted. Not anymore. But if I didn’t try, there would always be this awkwardness between us, and Jesse might always wonder if, no matter my claims otherwise, I harbored a smidgeon of resentment toward him.
“I’m just . . . tired of waiting. I’m glad for Booke, but for me, this party is something I have to endure before I apply myself to getting Chance back.”
From his expression, I could see I’d shocked him. “Corine . . . from what Shan said, he died. People don’t come back from that. He’s gone, sugar. I’m sorry, but he is, and you have to—”
