by Rissa Brahm
She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. God, I’m such a downer. Guess I need to get as low as possible before having to see my folks.” She half-smiled as she wiped her tears, now officially and undoubtedly the sad kind.
“I don’t know you all that well, Jana, hardly at all, really. But without sounding condescending or anything, just with what I do know—your father’s condition, working as much as you do, then, Jesus, losing your friend like that, and seeing whatever else you’ve seen in the clubs!—you’re probably one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.”
Then he drove on in silence.
Really, it was true. He’d once thought his mother had been the strongest person alive. Yesinia Ruiz had raised twelve kids, managed a husband and had held two jobs, but when she took her own life, he’d felt like the Earth had fallen out of its orbit around the Sun. Because he could no longer trust anything anymore, including the strength of the Sun’s gravitational pull. Many years had passed before he began to believe in people again, in gravity again. And just as soon as he’d begun to trust his footing on this floating rock of a planet, he’d met Michelle.
But here and now, he was in awe of this woman sitting beside him. Jana Park was brave beyond his comprehension. Solidly grounded. A warrior. A warrior princess.
He pulled into the hospital drive as she clutched her purse close to her chest, getting ready to leave the limo and reenter Fort Lee General.
“Thanks for saying that, Antonio. God, I need every bit of courage every time I step into this place.” She gave him an unconvincing smile. “Here’s to another day in paradise, yes?” The somber and surrendered expression drawn on her face hurt his heart.
“I’ll be here when you come out,” he said to her before she shut her door. I’ll be here.
*
She was totally drained after another horrid day with her father. She collapsed into the passenger seat and exhaled.
Antonio placed a bag containing a white box of hot food on her lap. “Best Korean food in North Jersey. I’ve been craving it ever since I dropped you at your house that first night. And even though your folks live upstairs from it, I wasn’t sure if you’ve ever eaten there or had it in a while, since you said you’ve lived in the City for the last few years…but man, it’s the best.”
She couldn’t contain her laughter. Crying, sobbing laughter. The takeout menu inside the bag had the Korean Soul logo she’d created more than a decade ago, and seeing it made her laugh harder still.
“What? Did you grow up on Korean food and now you despise it more than a needle in the eye? Or do you hate the place?”
She shook her head, unable to speak or breathe through her sputtering laughter. “Literally, I grew up on the food and I hate the place. It’s my parents’ place. My folks’ restaurant. And with my mother running the show on her own…well, just tell me, did you already eat?”
“No, I was waiting for you.” He smiled.
Thank God! Food poisoning Antonio by familial proxy would’ve made her feel terrible and would have possibly killed them both on the drive, the limo operator falling dead at the wheel then the limo careening off the highway.
But, wow that was sweet of him, getting dinner and waiting to eat with her. Too sweet, really. Warmth filled her chest.
“That’s nuts. Korean Soul is your family’s place?”
“Yup. My mother is insisting on keeping it running, but I’m praying that no one gets sick and sues them. Then I’d be doing this shit for the rest of my life! I’d kill myself, I swear,” she said and took the boxes of food, opened the door, and moved to get out and throw them away. But when she looked at him to be sure he understood what she was doing, his face was solemn, a hint of what might have been anger tinted his eyes. “It’s okay, we’ll pick something else up on our way…and I’ll pay.”
His eyes pierced hers. “Please, don’t ever joke about killing yourself.” Then he turned to look straight ahead.
Whoa. A thick downpour of intensity drenched the air. “I’m sorry. Just a figure of speech.”
He shook his head and blinked slowly. “Of course. Sorry to get all serious.” He sighed and looked at her. “We can just…stop at a Mexican spot I know. They’re good and fast.”
Jana stared. She’d hit a nerve, or more like a deep wound, and felt horrible about it even though it was, of course, unintentional. She slowly climbed out of the limo to trash the food then came back in a second later. “Antonio, I didn’t mean to—”
“No, my turn to tell you to just ignore me. You’re fine. Really.” He pulled out of the spot and headed out of the parking lot. Her phone rang before either of them could say anything else about it.
*
“Sorry, gotta take this. It’s my best friend.” Jana had texted Luly that morning with the bouncing email-saga.
He nodded as she answered Lu’s call––in Spanish of course, wanting to speak as candidly as possible. And she had to take the call. Beside it being hard as hell reaching Luly in the first place, Jana needed to know what Lu may have found out about Nora, the department, her position.
“Lu, tell me everything!”
Luly assured Jana that her position was still being held…for now. Dr. Nora Lance had been transferred, and Dr. Roberts had replaced her with the chief resident from the geropsych unit, a chauvinist asshole named Dr. Grant.
“In two days’ time? Over a weekend? And why didn’t Nora even call me and tell me any of this? Isn’t that strange? And is Grant planning any changes?”
“Not sure about Nora, maybe she’s just swamped. It was literally Friday night that she got the news. And as for ER changes, none yet. Sounds like he’ll be observing for the next few weeks. Tranquilo, Jana. I will keep you posted. It’ll all work out.”
So said Luly. Luly had a strange take on work, probably because she had a family to support. A job was a job, a hospital was a hospital, and money was money. Whatever paid the bills.
But for Jana, the MMU ER was the pinnacle; the level of care was unmatched, and her being a part of that team, well, it was reflective.
“But how are you? You doin’ okay?” Luly asked, exuding a motherly tone, as always.
“Hanging in there. Everything’s as you’d imagine. Well, except for my unexpected guardian angel, the limo driver.”
“Guardian angel, huh? Thought he was a dickhead?”
“Well, I was wrong, maybe heard what I wanted to. But he turns out to be a really good guy. Unlike any man I’ve ever met.”
“Not saying much for you, hun.”
“I know, right? But he’s…well, I guess I could call him a friend. Yeah, a man friend.” Hmm.
“Hey, a friend with a cock might be really helpful for stress relief right now. Is he hot? ’Cause I know a chauffeur makes no money…but if he’s nice to look at….”
“Him not having money is more of a turn-on than anything these days,” she said, thinking of Johnnie and the club and hell, her family and all the god-awful associations she had with money in general. “But yes, he’s attractive.” Who was she kidding? “Actually, he’s really damn hot.” She laughed while Luly catcalled in response.
“Girl, you deserve a little fun. Do your thing, Jana. Please! And hey, I can live vicariously through you. Have a fling for your beloved bestie, for Christ’s sakes! Make it my birthday present.”
“Lu, come on. Deserve it or no, I have no time or energy for a fun fling.” Jana sighed. “Anyway, what I really need is for you to do everything humanly possible to make sure my position is held for me. It looks like I’m gonna be here for at least six weeks. Or possibly more. I can’t handle losing all I’ve worked for, Luly.”
“Don’t worry about that, Jana. You’re an amazing nurse, you can work anywhere….”
“NO. No, I cannot, Luly. You know me and how hard I’ve—we’ve—worked to get into the rotation at MMU. THE Manhattan ER, Lu!”
“For all the raw life you’ve lived, Jana Park, you still think that shit matters? The name of t
he facility? The titles, the—”
“No, Lu, it’s not that! The facility, the doctors, they are the best of the best! That’s what matters.”
“Beyond needing a livelihood, I thought we got into nursing to help people?”
A righteous punch to the gut from her best friend was not what she needed right now. Not after the several hellish days she’d had, with too many hellish weeks to come.
“Oh, Lu…sorry, I gotta go…got to the club and I’m late getting in.” Jana hated conflict, she hated criticism, and she hated that the words Luly lovingly stabbed her with might have rung too true. Jana knew that Luly knew about her escapist coping mechanisms. She couldn’t face this shit right now.
*
She ended the call feeling lousy, so she stared out the windshield as they tore down I-95, about thirty minutes away from the club. No traffic, although she wished there was. She needed more time to cool off.
“So…” Antonio broke the silence. “You think I’m attractive?” Antonio asked, his eyes focused hard on the road ahead.
“What kind of question is that?” She turned to him, shocked and laughing a little at the awkward remark. Then she got nervous. Was he teasing her? Yes, he had to be. She’d started to get his sense of humor yesterday during their grocery run. Yeah, he was messing with her. “I mean…uh, yeah, I guess you’re an attractive person. Sure.” Then she waited for the punch line.
“No, no…you said I was ‘damn hot.’ ‘Esta rechulo.’ That’s what you said.”
Her breath got shallow. Cheeks burning. “You…heard? Understood?”
“I understood, yes.” He cracked up. “That you think I’m gooorgeous.”
“Whoa, I didn’t say that!” She got more frazzled.
And he only got more of a kick out of it, waggling his eyebrows at her and smirking.
“You were eavesdropping on my call?”
“Not really. I mean, it was easier to tune you out when you sat in the backseat, but now you’re right next to me. And you have my mp3 player, so I can’t even block you out with that.” He laughed. “But anyway, you think I’m seeeeexy.”
She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest; he was enjoying himself a little too much.
“You’re pouting.”
“You’re Spanish, not Italian?” she said, summarizing her understanding as she felt her cheeks get even hotter. Running through her memory, what else had she said to Luly on the call? Crap! Calls, plural! And on her last call to Lu, she’d called him a prick. Was that all? Oh God, she hoped that was all.
“I’m from Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, on the beautiful Pacific coast, where yes, Spanish is the native language,” he teased.
Of course. How could she have been so stupid to assume he was Italian just because he worked for the Demontes?
“The question, though, is how do you speak Spanish so damn beautifully? You’re Korean. And you speak Korean? God, you’re trilingual, woman!”
She softened with the compliment. Any annoyance over the fact that he’d neglected to tell her that Spanish was his first language all but vanished. Now she just felt like a stupid, ignorant asshole. She sighed. “First off, sorry for calling you a prick….”
“You called me a prick?”
“Yeah, when you made the consultant-stripper comment.”
“I must’ve successfully tuned you out then.” He snickered, subtle dimples on his cheeks showing themselves as he messed with her further.
“Well, I don’t think you’re a prick anymore.”
“I know. You think I’m suuuper fine!”
She punched him in the arm and gave him her death look as her cheeks flared up. Again. “Secondly, if I may continue…”
“Of course, princessa.”
She glared at him, then cleared her throat. “Thank you, sir. So…my maternal grandfather was Colombian. I was really close to him. My father would try to stop him from teaching me Spanish, but it motivated mi abuelo even more.” She smiled, loving the memory of the family dynamic. Her grandfather had been the only source of positive male attention in her life. “Yeah, he wasn’t about to let his daughter’s asshole husband tell him to stop teaching his culture and language to his granddaughter. And, man, he went all out. Taught me the food, music, dance…even some Cumbia moves—”
“Cumbia, huh?” One side of his mouth lifted, a seductive glimmer in his eye to match the inherently-sensual national dance style of Columbia. Sensuality in dance and music never held the same stigma in South America as it did in the States.
“Yeah, Cumbia. And man did it ever help me get a step ahead in the clubs. For sure,” she said with an assuredly proud glint in her eye. Then she immediately shucked the pride off for shame. “God, he’d roll over in his grave…”
“Hey, you danced because you had to, for your family.”
“Yeah.” She nodded, then shook her head and sighed. “Anyway, mi abuelo…” Just the image of her grandfather brought her comfort. “Well, he only spoke Spanish to me. It was like our own secret language; my father and brother hated it.” She smiled. “He really was the greatest. And, oh man, his ceviche! He taught me the old family recipe. The best you could ever dream of!” She closed her eyes as she spoke, imagining that specific, delectable taste on her tongue.
“Whoa, whoa, hey now. My mother makes—made…” he paused, clearing his throat and quickly focused on the road to make a lane change, “made the most kick-ass ceviche. On. The. Planet. And I know her secret recipe,” he said, turning to her, an unmistakable spark in his eyes.
She smiled and lifted a brow at him, her competitive nature surfacing. “We’ll just see about that. We’ll have a cook-off sometime.” But as quickly as the words formed, so did the realization that it would never happen. She’d be too busy working, paying down her folks’ snowballing debts, then God willing, she’d be back at her ER in Manhattan. So, ever being side-by-side in a kitchen with Antonio was just not likely.
And that made her feel a little sad. She enjoyed his company. He made her smile, let her breathe. Yeah, the thought sucked. With that downer in mind, she was ready to be back in her zone. “Hey, um, before we get there, I’m just gonna….” She held up her—his—earbuds and music player.
“Please, go ahead,” he said. “Do your thing. I’ll be sitting here, you know, driving. Me, smokin’ hot modelesque man, driving along.” He kept his eyes straight ahead as he said it, but didn’t hide his perma-grin.
She pursed her lips at him, then allowed her mouth to curl into a coy smile. But then she looked away. Because she couldn’t deny that of all the blushing embarrassment in her cheeks, there was an equal amount of heat flooding her core.
Eyes straight ahead, Jana. She had no choice but to keep her damn eyes on the road.
CHAPTER 25
He’d been driving her to Johnnie’s studio each night since last Saturday. And he hated it. He hated thinking about Johnnie visiting her, dropping in late at night. Antonio had brought one too many girls there for that bastard over the years. Johnnie had been ‘out of town’ before, but just to leave the club on slower nights so the prick could screw around with hordes of whores at that very Demonte fuck pad.
Damn him. She was nothing like his cheap sluts. She was anything but. Watching Johnnie speak to Jana made him ill. And the thought of him touching her….
But why was it burning him so damn bad? She was a client, an acquaintance. Bordering on a friend. Albeit an attractive friend. Who spoke three languages, including Spanish. God, such beautiful Spanish. Intelligent, funny, endlessly hard-working, and giving. Jesus, for her family, she seemed to only give.
And tremendously strong. Jana Park was a woman who knew how to handle her shit. It didn’t seem like she’d needed a man’s help in past. So why did he think she needed his help now? In his experience, women like her took offense to a man overstepping. Besides, she’d probably dealt with far worse than Johnnie Demonte.
No. Not necessarily the case at all.
Most pric
ks were obvious, true colors flashing like neon signs. Johnnie Demonte was different. Manipulative. But Antonio had to consider, Jana being as smart as he thought she was, that she knew this of Johnnie. Maybe, crazy as it might be, she wanted to be with someone like Johnnie. Maybe she was playing him? Yeah. Getting even with all fuckers like him by proxy.
He groaned, sick to his stomach. It almost didn’t matter the reason for her being with him, or rather potentially being with him. If she was with him, she was too damn good, too pure, to be so. That slimy bastard.
He wished he could know so it would stop eating at him. But who the hell was he kidding? If the answer was ‘yes,’ that she was letting Johnnie—he couldn’t even finish the thought—the confirmation that they were together would be too much torture.
Because what could he do if Johnnie Demonte was using her, manipulating her, playing the shining knight of her goddamn dreams? When in reality he was a sadistic, womanizing pimp. An Ivy League asshole with a BA for his puny fucking cock.
But it wasn’t any of his business. None. Jana was a grown woman; a strong, independent, extraordinary woman who deserved the world––no, the universe. Not Johnnie-fucking-Demonte. Least of all Johnnie Demonte.
CHAPTER 26
It was Thursday. She’d see Johnnie tomorrow night, and he’d want to see what progress she’d made. And she felt good about the changes and training at the club; she was even a little excited.
But really, she knew she was just tricking her own mind. This wasn’t her life, her profession, her choice.
In actuality, the days had trudged by, and Jana felt like she was on a rusty old merry-go-round, the super hazardous hand-push kind on playgrounds from way back. Jana was stuck on one. Frozen, scared, and holding on for dear life in the center of the round steel disk. She was dizzy and only getting dizzier. The metaphoric “playground kids,” the people in her current day-to-day, kept on pushing it around and around relentlessly. Harder and harder they’d push, faster and faster she spun; just out of control, out of her mind.
