Love Cursed

by Julia Derek

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay driving?” I asked him as we stopped at my car.

  “ Querida, you’re the one who’s drunk, not me. All I had were those two beers and some Sangria. Let me drive you home in your car. Unless you prefer me to take you on my bike.”

  “Um, no.” I’d be dead scared on a bike. For sure Dante was one of those guys who drove like a maniac. Desensitized by alcohol or not, I’d scream the entire time if I was behind someone like that. “Let’s just take my car.”

  Soon we were leaving the huge mall in my Honda and driving down North Crescent Heights Boulevard in the direction of my house. It was almost nine o’clock and dark out. I rested my head against my seat’s headrest and gazed out at the city swishing by outside the car window. It was nice of Dante to offer to drive me home. We’d really had a great time at that Mexican place and afterward he’d picked up the entire tab, refusing to let me pay even the tip. He’d told me all kinds of funny stories about what went on at the gym, but each time I asked him what he’d done before he started working at Crunch, he’d instantly changed the subject. Not even after I’d told him with all kinds of details about me and my own life had he budged. I wondered why he kept doing that. Why was he so reluctant to talk about his past with me? Was he hiding some big secret? He must be.

  I was suddenly determined to find out what it could be. And I knew just how I’d wrench it out of him. Well, maybe I wouldn’t succeed, but it was worth a try. I pretended to scratch my cheek as I gazed out the window so Dante wouldn’t see how a big smile spread across my face at the thought of my ingenuity. No one could resist my brownies and I very much doubted Dante would be the first one. After he’d had a couple of those while relaxing on my couch, he’d feel so content he’d tell me anything.

  “You can park the car on the street,” I said as we pulled onto my street.

  Without a word, he parked it and we both stepped out of the vehicle.

  “Hey, if you want to you can crash at my place,” I said, realizing as soon as the words were out of my mouth just how suggestive they must have sounded to Dante’s ears. And I was pretty sure he must have taken them that way, too, judging from the way he was gazing at me, the darkness in his eyes suddenly gleaming with excitement. “Um, not in that way obviously,” I quickly added. “I just meant that you could crash on my couch and then I could take you back to the gym tomorrow. Well, unless your first client is at five in the morning, that is.”

  “My first client is at eight tomorrow since it’s Sunday, but I can take a cab back to the gym.”

  “No, no, I’ll take you tomorrow. That way I can get in some cardio first thing in the morning and be done with it for the day.”

  He smiled at me. “Well, as your trainer, I can’t say that’s a bad idea…”

  “Yeah, especially after all that guacamole and chips you had me eating tonight. I must have gained the pounds I lost right back.” I gave him a stern glance.

  “Oh, you’ll burn it right off on the treadmill tomorrow,” he said and winked at me. “But it was good, wasn’t it? Tell me a place where you’ve ever had such good guacamole, not to mention Sangria. There isn’t one.”

  “Yeah, that’s true,” I said begrudgingly. And it had been I who’d wanted that third glass of Sangria, not Dante trying to make me have it. I knew I’d pay for it tomorrow with a hangover. My brain couldn’t handle much alcohol. But hopefully I’d feel better after having done some cardio. “So you wanna crash at my place then?”

  Dante

  “How can I say no to an offer like that?” I asked and gave Ricki my best smile. The truth of the matter was that I was tired as hell and really didn’t feel like walking around looking for a cab that could take me home. In a city as car-dependent as L.A., it took forever to find a cab unless you were close to a nightclub or a bar, even if you called for one from your house. So crashing on Ricki’s couch sounded like an awesome idea.

  “Okay, come on then,” Ricki said. “I live right there.” She nodded toward a light yellow two-story stucco building right next to us. We walked into the building and Ricki stopped at the first door to our left. She stuck a key into the brown door and opened it.

  We entered a big room with high ceilings and huge plants in the corners.

  “Nice tree,” I said, gazing at the biggest plant, a palm tree in a blue glazed pot.

  “Thanks,” Ricki said and I could tell that she wasn’t sure if I’d been truthful or sarcastic. I had meant it. I loved huge plants. It reminded me of my grandma’s garden, which was one of the few good memories from my childhood. I spotted a big off-white couch between two of the plants and I couldn’t wait until I got to crash on it. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a bed at the other side of the room. It must be my brain fucking with me, because that just couldn’t be Ricki’s bed, the place where she’d sleep tonight—only yards away from where I’d sleep. I turned my head in the direction of the bed, and sure enough, there it was.

  “Is that your bed?” I asked her.

  “Yes,” she said. “Unfortunately, this is only a studio. Is that a problem?”

  “Um, no. As long as it’s not a problem for you.”

  “It’s not. I have a couple of room dividers that I put in the middle of the room whenever I have guests staying over. This way you’ll get your privacy and I’ll get mine.”

  “Oh. Okay. That makes sense.” I smiled. I should have known Ricki was the type of girl who had it all figured out.

  “But you’re not so tired you want to go to bed yet¸ right?” Ricki asked and her expression told me there was only one possible answer to that question—a resounding no. So I said, “No.”

  She smiled big. “Well, why don’t you make yourself comfortable on my couch then? I’m gonna bring you a surprise.”

  A surprise? The way she was looking at me, it must be a good one. Before I could ask anything else, she had disappeared into her kitchen.

  I walked over and plunked down on her couch. Leaning back, I closed my eyes. I wasn’t sure how long I stayed in that position; all I knew was that I must have fallen asleep. What woke me up was the most delicious smell. As I opened my eyes, I saw Ricki standing over me with a plate of brownies right beneath my nose.

  “Did you just bake those?” I asked her, rubbing my eyes. The little cat nap had done wonders because I was no longer feeling as exhausted.

  “Uh-huh,” she said and sat beside me on the couch.

  “How long did I sleep?”

  “Not sure. Maybe twenty minutes?”

  I stared at her. “You baked those brownies in twenty minutes?”

  She nodded. “I do them in the microwave. It’s super easy. Have one. They’re delish…” She wiggled her eyebrows at me and smiled.

  I laughed and took one. If they tasted half as good as they smelled, she was right they were delish. I had a bite and the warm chocolate cake literally melted on my tongue. I chewed what remained of it slowly, letting my taste buds enjoy themselves. “Mmmm,” I said and swallowed finally. “That must have been the best brownie I’ve ever tasted. What’s your secret?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve always been really good at making brownies.”

  “I’ll say.” I devoured the brownie and reached for another one. “Can I?”

  “Of course! Have as many as you want.”

  I had another one, which I had soon devoured. I grabbed one of the paper napkins on the table and wiped my mouth. Then I put my hands behind my neck and leaned back, feeling great.

  “That was a really nice surprise,” I said and smiled at Ricki. “And not what I expected.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “And what did you expect? That I’d come out naked and seduce you?”

  Her hand flew up to cover her berry mouth, as though she totally hadn’t meant to say that.

  “Um, no,” I said. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, to be honest.”

  She gazed at her lap. “Sorry. That was rude of me. I don’t k
now why I said that.”

  I patted her knee. “That’s okay, querida. It must be the Sangria talking.”

  Her eyes returned to me and she nodded emphatically. “Yes, that’s right. It was the Sangria talking.” She contemplated me for a moment. “How are you feeling?”

  I laughed. “I’m supposed to be asking you that, not the other way around. I’m good, thanks for asking. What about you? Still feeling drunk?”

  She pushed her lips out, looking like she was considering this. “Yes, I guess I am. But I feel good. Do you want something to drink?”

  “Some water would be good.”

  She went back into the kitchen and soon returned with two water bottles. She handed me one and sat next to me again, leaning against the couch back. I chugged half of my water and leaned back, too. Neither of us said anything for a while. It didn’t feel necessary and it was nice to just sit there, staring at the black TV before us. But the air suddenly became full of tension, and I could sense that she was gearing up to ask me some of the questions she’d asked me earlier in the evening. And I didn’t want to answer them, so what was I doing here in her house? I had known she’d bring them up again, hadn’t I? She was that kind of a girl, sweet but inquisitive as hell. So why had I agreed to stay the night, even enter her house? Maybe deep down I wanted to tell her what I’d been and why I’d become it. Maybe I was hoping—suspecting—she’d be more understanding than what I was giving her credit for. Maybe I was just making up excuses not to tell her my story. There was no other explanation than those. Well, except for the one that confirmed I must be a stupid son of a bitch. Jose was the only one who knew what my life had been like when I became a gang member. I hadn’t even told Lara.

  My stomach twisted at the thought of her. All she’d known of my life with the gang was what she’d seen the night she died.

  I felt a hand on my arm. “Are you okay?”

  I sucked in a breath and the pain in my chest evaporated. Would it ever get better? I made myself nod. “I’m fine.”

  “Don’t tell me my brownies are making you sick… I swear, there’s no pot in them!”

  I laughed at her distraught face and pinched her cheek. “I didn’t think so.” To prove to her just how much I loved her brownies, I had another one. Sticking most of it into my mouth, I pointed at my face and said, “Hee?”

  She peered at me. “Are you trying to say ‘see?’”

  I nodded and swallowed. “Your brownies are the best.”

  “Okay, I’m not worried that you don’t like them any longer. So are you gonna tell me what you did before you started at Crunch?”

  I knew it… “What does it matter?”

  “Is it some kind of a secret?”

  “No.”

  “Then tell me!” She was practically bouncing on the couch.

  I shook my head. “You’re one nosy chick. Did anyone ever tell you that before?”

  She grinned at me, like I’d just given her the biggest compliment. “Plenty of people. So are you gonna tell me then?”

  As much as I would like to tell her, I couldn’t shake the notion that it was a bad idea. What if I was completely wrong about her and she wouldn’t understand at all? There was no way of knowing for sure. And if I told her one thing, it would lead to another and before long, she’d know not only all about my years in the gang, but about the trial in which I’d been forced to plead guilty to a burglary I hadn’t even been part of. What if she thought I was one big liar who was really guilty as hell? What if she complained to management, or much worse, to corporate?

  I suddenly knew what to do to make her stop asking all those questions. She was much too proper a girl to agree to the devilish proposition that had popped into my head…

  Ricki

  I stared at Dante, not sure I’d heard him right at first. “What did you say?” I asked.

  A mischievous grin curled his lips. “I said I’ll give you one significant detail about my life before Crunch if you give me a kiss.”

  So I did hear him right the first time then… “Um, no, I don’t think so,” I said, not sure whether I should be shocked or flattered by his unexpected proposition. I decided it was best to seem neutral about it.

  He shrugged and finished his water bottle. “Smart girl. I can’t blame you. I am after all your trainer and kissing me would most likely compromise our relationship.”

  I clenched my teeth. Damn, I guess my brownies hadn’t worked their magic on him, turning him into putty in my hands like I’d hoped. I couldn’t disagree with what he’d just said—kissing him would definitely compromise our relationship. Not only that, there was no way I’d kiss him in exchange for information about his life. I mean, come on! I wasn’t so interested in knowing I’d turn myself into a friggin’ prostitute. Well, prostitute might not be the right term for what I’d be… Wouldn’t I actually be the john in that scenario? Because I was the one looking to buy something that he was selling. Except, I’d be paying for it with part of my body, which is what a prostitute typically sells. So then, what did it make me? I exhaled and bit my lip. Maybe I was overthinking this… Was it really that big a deal? I mean, it was just a kiss after all, right? I scrunched up my face as I tried to determine if it was in fact okay for me to give him a kiss in exchange for some info.

  Dante looked at me and started to laugh.

  I frowned back at him. “What’s so funny?”

  “You. You look like you’re trying to solve a very tough riddle. How’s it going?”

  I looked at his lips then. They were very nice, medium full with a cute bow shape to the top lip. They seemed soft and quite kissable, I had to admit. What the heck, I thought suddenly. It’s just a kiss. I’d kissed many guys. A kiss doesn’t mean anything, I told myself. Especially not the kind I was planning to give him…

  “Fine,” I said and crossed my arms over my chest.

  “Fine?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “You mean you’ll kiss me in exchange for some information about my life?”

  I nodded. “I will. But with no tongue.” I gave him a triumphant look—he wasn’t the only one who knew how to outmaneuver his opponent. In my opinion, a kiss without tongue was tantamount to giving my mom a kiss.

  He gave me a nod acknowledging the curveball I’d thrown him, and then his cute lips turned into a full-blown grin. “You’ve got yourself a deal, querida.”

  He looked at me with those dark eyes and I saw that something behind them had ignited. Before I could ask if I was supposed to kiss him or he me, he cupped my head and leaned in to press his lips to mine. I was glad he was holding me because I was literally close to fainting from the fireworks of emotion that suddenly exploded inside me. His lips were just as soft as I’d imagined, and it was all I could do not to open my mouth so he could explore it with his tongue. I could sense that he wanted to. Flashes of heat multiplied in the pit of my stomach, and tendrils of electricity shot up the insides of my thighs. I wanted nothing more than for him to force his way into my mouth with his tongue in that moment, but he didn’t, just kept his lips against mine, torturing me. As he slowly loosened his grip around my head, pulling his lips away, I wanted to moan, “No,” but I controlled myself. My heart pounding so hard I feared I might have a heart attack, I struggled to regain my composure. The last thing I wanted to do was to faint in front of him, as if his kiss had affected me that much. Discreetly, I braced myself against the couch back.

  “Okay, now your turn,” he said, looking not at all as affected as I was. Which really annoyed me. I must find him a lot hotter than he found me. He obviously knew what an effect he had on women and enjoyed toying with them. What an idiot, I huffed inwardly, not sure whether I was actually referring more to myself than to him for inviting him in to my house.

  I took a deep breath that almost succeeded in getting my heart rate back to normal and thought about what I most wanted to know about him. “Where did you grow up and how come you ended up in L.A?”

  He raised a brow. “That
’s two questions.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Just tell me where you grew up. I guess I can figure out how you ended up in L.A. based on that answer.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that. I grew up in foster homes throughout the state of Texas.”

  “Foster homes? Plural?” I stared at him. “You’re telling me you were in different ones?”

  He inhaled as he took me in. “I’ll let that one slide since I guess we didn’t establish just how detailed my answer should be in exchange for a kiss.” He smirked. “A kiss without tongue—which is more like a peck, if you ask me… After my mother died, I spent the next eight years in four different foster homes. So, yeah, plural.”

  I gasped. “Oh, my God! I’m so sorry. Why so many different ones?”

  He shook his finger at me. “I think you’re overstepping our agreement. If you wanna know the answer to that question, I’m gonna need another kiss first. And it has to be one with tongue this time.” He raised his chin and gazed at me beneath hooded lids.

  I sighed, not feeling as bad about his request as I was pretending. At all. The opposite, actually. Which was the first red flag I should have taken heed of. “Fine.”

  He tilted his head slightly, as if surprised. “Are you sure you wanna go down that route, Ricki? I know I can handle it, but can you?”

  I glared at him with outrage. “I know I can handle it, but can you?” Who does he think he is? I composed myself and met his gaze confidently. “Definitely,” I said calmly.

  Strange things were happening to my stomach long before his hand had found its way behind my neck again and he leaned in to kiss me. The same explosions went off inside me as our lips met, only to intensify when he parted my mouth with his tongue and found mine, caressing it with such skill I became lightheaded with excitement. I couldn’t help but close my eyes and enjoy the taste of him, the feel of him. As he pulled away, a moan of disappointment came out of me before I could stop it. My cheeks heated with embarrassment and I chastised myself by calling myself all kinds of horrible names in my mind. To make matters worse, Dante seemed determined to stay an inch away from my lips with his. And his hand was still cupped around the back of my head. Oh, God, if he doesn’t remove himself from me soon, I’ll throw my arms around his neck and pull him back down again. Having him hover with his mouth over mine like that was more than I could handle.