by Watson, Lisa
“Don’t get me wrong, she was a nut job, too—but she liked wearing men’s clothes. She was wearing a suit when I met her.”
“Good grief,” Justin complained. “Where does your mother get these chicks from?”
“Trust me, I wish I knew. You’d think some of them wouldn’t have issues.”
“Didn’t you say that very same thing about Milán not long ago? You called her crazy, too,” Justin reminded him.
Adrian laughed. “Yes, but crazy in a sexy, hot-blooded Latina kind of way. Not with a straitjacket and Thorazine drips.”
“See, I knew your interest was more than business related.”
Before Justin could say more, Adrian’s mother returned so he told Justin he would call him later and hung up.
Ushering her to the passenger side, he held the door while Norma Jean got in. When he slid behind the wheel, his mother eyed him with curiosity.
“You and Milán were very chummy.”
“Well, we had ample time to talk to each other,” he countered.
“Hmm.”
Adrian secured his seat belt, started the car and then backed up. “What’s the hmm about, Mom?”
“Nothing, sweetheart,” his mother turned her head and peered out the window. “Nothing at all.”
“Don’t start. We just had a few conversations—that’s all.”
“Why are you getting so defensive? I just asked.”
“Maybe because your ‘just asking’ tends to be the green light for you to start meddling,” he pointed out.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Mother, don’t go looking for any patterns here. Milán and I simply discovered we had a few things in common.”
“You mean besides real estate?”
“Yes.”
“Amazing. So, when are you going to see her again?”
Adrian’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “I have no idea. We aren’t dating, you know. If I run into her, great. If not, that’s fine, too.”
“But, I thought you were still interested in her working for you. Did you change your mind?”
“No, I haven’t changed my mind, but I’m not about to pressure her. Look, let’s play it by ear and we’ll see what happens, okay?”
“Of course, darling,” she replied sweetly. “I agree. You should see what happens.”
Adrian turned to his mother. “Mom,” he warned.
“Must you always be so suspicious? I simply meant it’d be great if you and Milán could grow to be friends and possibly coworkers, especially since you have so much in common.”
When he visibly relaxed, Norma Jean smiled and resumed staring out her window. “Looks like you may need my help after all,” she whispered.
“What did you say?” Adrian inquired.
“Oh, nothing, sweetheart,” she said quickly. “Nothing at all.”
Chapter 11
“Remind me to tell you again how much I hate these things,” Milán groused.
Her neighbor, Tiffany Gentry, said, “Will you relax? I told you this was a good idea.”
“My good idea involved a video store rental or Pay-Per-View movie, a batch of chocolate praline turtles and a comfy couch.”
For a reason Milán couldn’t quite put her finger on, she was in a pensive mood. When Tiffany had suggested that she get out of the house, she had resisted. Hoping that she had deterred her friend, she was surprised when seconds after they had hung up there was a knock on her front door. Milán trudged over and opened it, not the least surprised to see Tiffany on the other side. At five feet two inches tall, Milán towered over her neighbor, but what the shorter woman lacked in height she made up for in spunk.
Vivacious and shapely, Tiffany had dark brown skin, dimples and a high-wattage smile. She wore her hair short and spiked in a flattering haircut that never looked the same way twice. Milán had taken an instant liking to her from the moment she’d been juggling two moving boxes and Tiffany had jumped in to keep one from crashing to the ground. They were only two years apart in age and after several conversations, Milán discovered they had a great deal in common. In no time, her neighbor was her sounding board on everything and had filled the void left by her missing sisters. And just like Nyah and Elena, Tiffany never took no for an answer, either.
“Come on, girl. We’re going out,” she’d said pushing past her. “My boss hooked me up today with two tickets to see the Bulls game. I wasn’t going to go, but after seeing you coming in a little while ago, I changed my mind. No more feeling sorry for yourself tonight. We’ve got an hour to make you presentable.” Tiffany stood behind Milán and pushed her toward her bedroom. “No excuses.”
Milán was about to protest, but caught herself. Am I feeling sorry for myself? She wondered if it were just because she’d been in town almost two months and she hadn’t found a job yet, but somehow that didn’t ring true. She admitted to feeling apprehensive about being unemployed, but it felt like more than that. No, money isn’t it, she told herself. Without warning a thought drifted into her head. Piñatas.
As if on cue, her mother and her paternal grandmother drifted into her mind. Milán recalled her father’s mother chuckling about the fact that her young granddaughter had never liked one of the staples of children’s birthday parties: the piñata.
Whenever Nana Dixon commented on it, Pia would say it was because Milán never liked feeling out of control. The first time she was blindfolded and spun around was a disaster. At four years old, Milán did not scream, or cry. She simply removed the blindfold and adamantly announced it was someone else’s turn. Her failure to continue in the childhood game had wreaked havoc with the birthday girl who had refused to speak to Milán after that. From that moment on, her family had called anything that caused real turmoil in Milán’s life a piñata.
Milán wondered what the catalyst was for her manifesting that image. Deciding to ponder it later, she realized that Tiffany was right. It was time for her to get out and have some fun and that’s just what Milán intended to do.
*
An hour later, Tiffany turned sideways in her chair. “Are you listening to me?” she complained.
Startled, Milán shifted in her seat. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I said you seem bored. We’re out and about, communing with nature and meeting new people. You should lighten up and let yourself enjoy the evening. Which, by the way, is much better than sitting home hugging a fluffy pillow and watching television.”
Milán raised an eyebrow. “In whose opinion?”
“I’m just saying. You wanted to expand your horizons and that’s what we’re doing.”
“By coming to see a basketball game?”
Tiffany was incredulous. “We’re at the United Center watching the Chicago Bulls play the Miami Heat, aren’t we? I thought you’d love seeing your home team. Besides, it’s a great place to meet new guys, right? Take a look around.” She nudged her. “This place is overflowing with them.”
“I’m just not into basketball.”
“Okay, but did you see the one that just walked by? It’s a profusion of gorgeous men—in all flavors. I told you we’d hit the jackpot! All the testosterone in here is making my head spin,” Tiffany cried with excitement.
Feeling a bit pinned in, Milán stood up. “I’m going to get some snacks.”
Her friend nodded distractedly. “Want me to come with you?”
“No, thanks, I’m good.” Milán excused herself past several people. After making it to the concession stand, she heaved a sigh of relief. The noise level was more bearable here than in her seat. Not that she didn’t appreciate Tiffany’s gesture, she really did. In truth, things were a bit dull as of late. She also missed her family terribly. That combined with not having found a job yet had surely made her apprehensive. That would explain the piñata, right? she asked herself.
Snap out of it, her inner voice chided. You’ll find something that fits you perfectly. With some difficulty, Mil�
�n concentrated on the menu. Seconds later, a voice interrupted her in-depth contemplation.
“Do you always have this much trouble making up your mind?”
It was the third person that had complained about her taking so long to order. It annoyed her more than being indecisive did. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Milán didn’t bother to turn around. “Look, sir, if it’s such an inconvenience, go in front of me.”
“If you insist,” he replied stepping around. After a second he turned to face her.
Her eyes widened in shock. “Adrian. What are you doing here? Are you following me?”
He grinned. “Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s been weeks since we’ve crossed paths. Hardly what I’d call a stalking.”
“True,” she countered with a laugh. “But don’t you find it a huge coincidence that we’re both at a major event like this—at the same time?”
Adrian shrugged. “Chalk it up to fate.”
“I guess I’ll have to.” She watched him order his food. She used the time to figure out what she wanted. When it was her turn, she ordered a soda and popcorn.
He snickered when the man handed Milán her order. “All that time and that’s all you got?”
“I’m not all that hungry, plus my friend would think I’m weird taking this long and coming back empty-handed.”
“I’m sure he would,” Adrian said, amicably.
“He is a she,” she clarified. “Tiffany lives in my building.”
“So where are you sitting?”
Adrian laughed when she told him where they were. “Thank goodness for monitors, or you’d never see the game.”
“Very funny. Not like I’m watching it that much, anyway.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
Because I’m sitting here trying to figure out what my problem is. “Uh, I’m just not that into sports.”
Adrian turned left and then right. His expression held humor. “I see. Well, since you’re in the middle of a sporting event that you don’t care about, why not join a few buddies and me for dinner after the game? Tiffany is welcome, too, of course.”
Milán was hesitant. “I don’t know. I’ll have to ask her.”
“Great. Do you have your cell phone?”
When she nodded, Adrian gave her his number so they could meet up. After finalizing the plans, they both returned to their seats. Milán relayed Adrian’s invitation to Tiffany and was hardly surprised that she had excitedly agreed.
“Absolutely,” Tiffany had said when Milán returned and told her the news. “One of his friends might be single.”
The general consensus was Italian, so they had picked Francesca’s on Taylor in Little Italy. It was close to the United Center and a well-known Chicago gem. While they waited for their table, Milán took the opportunity to study her surroundings. The interior was casual, but she found it very classy. The rich woods paired with the colorful fixtures, black-and-white pictures and muted lighting gave Francesca’s a relaxed atmosphere.
Luckily for Milán, she loved Italian and had no trouble ordering. After everyone ordered, the group started chatting.
During dinner, Adrian recapped the highlights from the game with his buddies. Pretty soon Tiffany jumped into the fray. Suddenly, Adrian turned and faced Milán.
“So basketball isn’t your forte, right?”
“Not really,” she admitted while munching on her seafood linguine.
“You see, that’s odd. I would have pegged you for an avid fan,” he replied before taking a bite of his pizza.
She stared at him. “Why?”
“I thought you would have enjoyed all the action.”
“My father loves basketball so I’ve watched quite a few games in my time. I just never developed a passion for it.”
“Now that definitely seems like something you have an abundance of—or was that temper?”
Color rose to her cheeks. “¿Qué le dijiste? What did you say?” she corrected.
“Just kidding,” he held up his hands in front of him before dissolving into laughter. “You should’ve seen your face.”
Realizing that he was only trying to bait her, Milán relaxed and continued her meal. “You’re talking to me about tempers?” she countered. “At least I didn’t purposefully stand my date up to teach my mommy a lesson.”
“Ha,” he shot back. “Spoken like someone that hasn’t been fixed up nearly enough by my mommy.”
Their playful banter continued for some time before drifting back into the group conversation. A few minutes later, Milán’s cell phone chimed.
She retrieved it from her pocket. “Excuse me,” she said, getting up to answer it.
When she returned, she dropped it into her purse and sat down.
“That wouldn’t by any chance be my mother confirming a hot date, would it?” Adrian joked.
“No, that was actually the hot date confirming for tomorrow,” Milán told him. “Though how hot it will be remains to be seen.”
That got Adrian’s attention. He leaned in. “So who is this mystery man?”
“His name is Maxwell, and he’s an accountant.”
Adrian listened aptly while Milán described her potential date. When she’d finished, he casually leaned back in his chair. “Hmm.”
“What does that mean?”
He shook his head while surveying her above his wineglass. “It won’t last.”
“And how would you know?” Milán scoffed. “I haven’t even met him yet, and you probably won’t at all, so what makes you the expert?”
Adrian tilted his stemware to and fro, the wine rolled along with his movements. When he spoke, his voice was calm, and filled with assurance. “I haven’t gotten this far without listening to women’s needs.”
Milán was aghast. “I suppose all the women you’ve gone out with asked to be dumped, or stood up?”
“You hardly know me well enough to make such a broad statement,” he shot back.
“Fair enough.” She stared at him as intently as if she were trying to figure out where the piece in a puzzle went. “So what do you like to do in your spare time?”
“You mean besides chase after women?” he replied in a curt tone.
Milán wasn’t deterred by his remark. She simply waited for him to answer.
He sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “When I can, I volunteer for Habitat for Humanity and the company endorses the Chicago Coalition for the Homeless and several other charities.”
“I’m impressed, Adrian. I think it’s great that you’re involved with the community—that you’re willing to pay it forward.”
He took a bite of his food. “Evidently. You were all ready to paint me with a broad brush, but our initial meeting is not usually how I operate.”
“I’m seeing that.” Milán was about to say more, but Adrian’s eyes wandered past her, followed a young man across the room. Puzzled, she asked, “What are you doing?”
“You know, I think he might be your type,” he told her.
She shifted in her seat so she could get a better look. She scoffed at his selection. “¡Tu estás loco de la cabeza!”
“No estoy loco. No se apresure en despedirlo,” Adrian said, seriously. “él tiene algunas cosas a lo su favor. Un traje semi-caro.” He looked again. “Off-the-rack, I’d wager, but it’ll suffice. El es alto y guapo—”
Milán snorted. “¿Estamos viendo el mismo hombre? Because I really doubt it.”
“Está bien, olvídate de lo alto,” he laughed. “¿Tal vez él tiene una gran conversación?”
Suddenly, her mouth dropped open and she stared at Adrian in surprise. The color drained from her face. “Wait a minute. ¿Habla español? ¿Todo este tiempo has reconocído cada palabra que he dicho y no dijistes nada?”
Adrian looked surprised, too. He hadn’t realized they’d been switching back and forth between English and Spanish any more than she had. He looked slightly uncomfortable.
“Sí, con fluidez.”
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“Why didn’t you tell me that the day we met? You let me go on and on and you didn’t even stop me,” she whispered in an accusing tone. “¿Cómo pudiste?” Milán said standing up.
Everyone at the table turned toward them. Adrian took her by the hand and gently tugged until she sat back down.
“I’m sorry,” he said seriously. “At first I didn’t tell you because I was angry at you coming in and cursing me out, but—” he continued when she started to speak. “I realize you were completely warranted in your anger. I was wrong and made a huge mistake. Afterward, I wasn’t sure if we’d ever cross paths again. I know it was childish and I apologize.” He squeezed her hand. “Perdóname.”
Milán stared at him for several seconds. Adrian’s gaze never left hers.
“Si alguna vez me mientes una vez más…I’ll clobber you.”
“I won’t lie to you again,” he assured her. “Now do you forgive me?”
“Fine,” she said. “But I’m still mad at you.”
“Fair enough. Now, let’s get back to our discussion.” He tilted his head toward the man again. “He’s perfect, right?”
She looked the man over and then turned back to Adrian. “I doubt it,” she replied confidently. “He looked down as he walked by instead of straight ahead or around the room. A clear indication he’s not sure of himself. Either that or he doesn’t like to meet life head on,” she noted. “Definitely not my type.”
“Are you sure?” he pressed. “Maybe he’s a diamond in the rough?”
“No, thanks. I’m a woman that likes my diamonds right out in the open where I can see them.”
Adrian smirked at that. “Fair enough. Wait, I’ve got him. Over there to your right. The well-tanned man in the blue shirt.”
“You mean the one with the laptop?”
“That’s the one.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s stroking his laptop like it’s a woman. Definitely a bad sign. His lady would be competing with his computer.”
Adrian’s expression turned mischievous. “And if that were you? How would you like to be stroked?”
A slow smile crept onto her face. “That would depend.”
