Angel didn't even want to be there and was late arriving. He came with his cousin Diego, who also owed Hector money—only Diego owed him four thousand instead of sixty. They were there to meet with Hector about the job. He hadn't given them any details, just that it was dangerous and that it would clear their debt. The debt was all Angel was worried about. Hector was threatening his family and Angel wouldn't rest until he knew they were safe.
He was pondering what the job might be as he walked up to the table where Hector was playing poker. There were five other people at the table and two looked exactly like his dad and brother. As soon as Angels eye caught those two guys he did a double take. That was his dad and brother.
Angel was staring at them in sincere confusion when Tom glanced his way and gave Angel a wink. Angel felt a wave of dread at the thought of his family getting mixed up with Hector. He knew they must be there on his account, but he was so stunned by seeing them, that he couldn’t put the pieces together. He didn't even think to wonder how they knew where he was or how to find him.
"What are you doing here?" Angel asked, in English, as he walked up to their table.
Tom put his cards face down and looked up at Angel with a smirk. "I guess we're here for you, now aren't we?" (That, and the rest of this conversation happened in Spanish.)
Angel's expression, which was already confused, shifted to stunned. "Why?"
Tom didn't answer his question. Instead, he looked directly at Hector and said, "I'd like to have a talk with you, man to man. I'm happy to say what I need to say in front of everyone, but for your own sake, you should ask everyone to leave."
Hector looked around, considering his options. There were three others at the table, all of whom would fight for him if he needed them to. Tom had received three emails during their little card game, and the information in each of them was enough to not only get Hector put away for life, but also disowned by his friends and family. He was a sick son of a bitch, and Tom didn't feel bad about exposing him at all.
"If you want them to stay, that's fine with me, but they'll have to hear all about the dry-cleaning business."
"Motherfucker!" Hector yelled. He slammed his hands down on the table, startling everyone around them. About eight people drew weapons before Hector raised his hands in surrender, smiled, and told everyone he was sorry for the outburst. He politely asked everyone at the table to leave so he and Tom could have a conversation.
"What are they doing here?" Hector asked, motioning to Rory and Angel, who hadn't moved. Rory sat in his place next to Tom at the table, and Angel stood next to him, still trying to figure out what was going on.
"They're here because I want them here," Tom said.
Tom patted the seat next to him—not the one Rory was sitting in, but the other, empty one. Angel sat in it without hesitation. "These are my sons." Tom watched as Hector laughed at the news. Angel grew up being told that his dad was the dreaded pirate Tom Kelly, and Hector apparently didn't believe this was true. Either that, or he didn't believe that Tom was who he said he was.
"Listen, Hector. Am I correct that Angel owes you money?"
Hector said, "Yes."
And at the same time Angel said, "I don't owe him anything. Manny does."
Hector responded before Tom could. "Manny is dead, and he was with your mother when he borrowed that money from me."
"It's not like he bought my mother a new house. He gambled your money. My mother had nothing to do with it."
"Manny owes me the money, and now that he's dead, it's up to his next of kin to pay."
"My mother isn't his next of kin. They were never even married."
"There's no sense in discussing this any further," Tom said. Hector and Angel shifted their gaze to him. He gave them a cool smile as he pushed the pile of chips toward Hector. "This is about three thousand, and I think my son's got at least ten there." He gestured to Rory's stack that was at least three times as tall as his own. He stared at Hector with an impassive stare. "This will cover the debt you think Angel owes you, and before you say it's not enough, let me assure you that I'm being extremely fair in offering you this. The only reason I'm doing it is because my woman's waiting for me at home, and I'm anxious to get there. If I let my son have his way, we'd give you nothing and have you put behind bars for life, but I'm in a hurry to get outta here."
Hector looked like he was about to say something, but Tom cut in before he could.
"Let me state once again that the option I just gave you is the smartest choice. You will take the chips with a smile, and any debt you think Angel owes you will be forgiven in full. If you so much as hesitate to take this deal, the dry-cleaners is only the beginning of the things I'll begin saying. I have a list of your dirty little secrets a mile long, and ten armed men strategically placed in this room."
Hector glanced around, but not long enough to confirm his story.
"I know personal shit about you, Hector. Don’t make me tell all these nice people the sick things you do with cats." Hector didn’t respond right away. For a few seconds, he just sat there and stared at Tom. Tom, who was pissed and ready to get home to Blake, stood as he pointed angrily to the table. "Keep the fuckin' chips and know that I'm being generous. Angel's debt is accounted for."
"And Diego's," Angel added.
Tom gave him a questioning glance.
"My cousin Diego owes him too."
"Diego borrowed that money himself," Hector protested angrily.
"To feed his family," Angel said. Tom huffed. He was tired of this asshole who thought he was king of the streets down here. He had no patience for this crap. Tom held up a hand and ticked off his fingers one by one as he counted, "Dry cleaning, cats, your neighbor's wife, that family in Isabela…"
"Okay, okay, fuck. Angel and Diego are paid. Now get the fuck out of here."
Angel led the way, and Tom and Rory followed, with a stunned Diego in their wake. Tom and Rory had a hotel for the night, but it was still fairly early, and both of them were anxious to get home.
"Why did you come here?" Angel asked, once they were outside.
"Because Charlotte told me your stupid ass was gonna do some kind of job for that prick, who happens to be a gang lord." Tom kept walking toward his car, but he glanced at Angel.
"I didn't have a choice," Angel said. "What was I supposed to do? He was threatening my mom and brothers."
"You definitely don't do a job for someone like that, Angel."
"What other choice did I have?"
"You could have come to me." Tom stopped and looked right at Angel. "I'm your dad—your family. I would have helped you."
"What he means by that is that he would have had his people take care of that shite with Hector over the phone instead of coming all the way down here," Rory said.
"I didn't ask you guys to come," Angel said, defensively.
Rory smiled. "I'm just messin' with ye brother. But seriously, tell us about yer problems next time. Because chances are, we're gonna find out about them anyway."
"You don’t have to worry about my problems anymore because I'm not coming back to Miami. I was doing the same stuff there that I was doing here. I really appreciate everything you've done for me, and have no regrets. I love you guys, I'll miss you, and I'm really glad I got to know you, but I'm staying in Puerto Rico. Things will be better down here now that Hector's off my back."
Tom glanced around regretfully, hoping Angel would reconsider. "I think you should give it some thought. Maybe at least sleep on it. I had my heart set on investing in your gym, and I think that girl who works at Blake's shop had her heart set on you coming home too."
"Who are you talking about?" Angel asked.
Tom knew Charlotte's name, but played dumb for his own entertainment.
Angel's expression was priceless. He was obviously desperate for news of Charlotte.
"You know, the girl with the haircut and the tattoos."
"Charlotte, but what did you say about her?"
> "Oh, that she had her heart set on you coming home."
"Why do you say that? Did she say something to you?"
"Yeah, but you don't need to hear it if you already have plans to stay here. It would just make your decision harder."
"What'd she say?" When Tom didn't respond right away, Angel looked at Rory and repeated the question. "What'd she say?"
Rory shrugged, and Angel looked back at Tom with an impatient stare that made Tom grin. "She might have given me a letter to give to you," he said.
Angel's face broke into a huge smile, and he made a sudden tackling movement toward Tom, who laughed and grabbed Angel's head like he was about to give him a noogie.
"I don't have it on me," Tom said. "I didn't think you'd need it the second we saw you."
"Where is it?"
"It's in my bag, which is at the hotel where we won't be staying."
"It's right here," Rory said, pressing a button to pop the trunk. He looked at Tom. "I figured we'd be in and out, and I wanna see Megan worse than ye want to see Blake."
Angel didn’t care why the bags were in the trunk, he was just glad they were back there. He waited impatiently for Tom to hand him the letter, but decided not to open it in front of everyone. Angel tucked the letter under his arm. "Regardless of what this letter says, or what I decide to do, I have some things to take care of with my mom."
"Are you saying you might come back to Miami, but it won't be tonight?" Tom asked.
"It definitely won't be tonight," Angel said, thinking of everything he'd have to take care of.
"Well, I love you son, and I hope you decide to come back," Tom said.
"Yeah, ye'll have to come back for Da's wedding."
Angel cocked his head at Tom, who smiled. "I might have asked Blake to marry me yesterday."
Angel congratulated his dad and told him how much he liked Blake and how highly Charlotte spoke of her. They spoke for another minute before Tom reminded everyone he was anxious to get back to Miami.
Angel and Diego gave Tom and Rory heartfelt thanks before they left to go to Angel's mom's. He couldn’t wait to tell her about the debt. He was almost as excited about that as he was about the letter. The drive to her house would take about fifteen minutes, and Angel couldn't wait to crack it open.
He gave Diego the keys. "Please don't say a word to me while you're driving. Just be quiet and let me read this letter."
Chapter 18
I knew Angel was okay. I knew he was okay and that he'd gotten my letter, but that was about all the information I had. Tom and Rory left Thursday morning, and were gone less than twenty-four hours. I knew this because Blake, God love her, was kind enough to send me a text saying Tom and Rory were done in Puer—well, I'll just let you read the text for yourself.
Blake: "Hey kiddo. I just heard from Tom. He says they straightened things out with Angel, and all is well. He and Rory are headed back tonight, but he's not sure what Angel will decide. He made sure Angel got your letter. I'll let you know if I hear anything else."
I sent a text back thanking her for letting me know. I slept easier knowing he was okay, but was still really anxious and worried about what he'd decide. I was sick with regret, and hoped my letter would be enough to draw him back. If not, I'd just have to go there and get him myself.
By the next afternoon, I was chomping at the bit to hear from Blake. I figured I hadn't heard from her because there was nothing to report. But dang, I wanted the scoop on how they helped Angel, and I was sure Blake had heard something by now (if she'd been with Tom, which I could only assume she had). I hated to seem desperate for details, but quite frankly, I was.
I had nothing to do until my 9PM shift at Maison Blanc that night, and I spent the whole afternoon sewing as a way to distract myself from thinking about not hearing from Blake. But seriously, I knew Tom gave her all the details by now and couldn't figure out why I hadn't heard from her. I broke down and sent her a text at 7PM, just before I started getting ready for work. I wanted to write, "OMG, tell me everything you know!! I'm dying!!" but what I actually wrote was:
Me: "Hey, just wondering if you heard anything about Angel." She was usually pretty good about texting me back, so I hoped I'd hear back quickly. I got to work almost two hours later, and hadn't heard a thing from Blake. It wasn't unheard of for her to space out on answering a text…heck we're all guilty of that, but this one happened to be important to me, and I had a hard time waiting to hear what she knew.
It would be 1AM when I got off, so I'd have to wait till morning, but I decided that the first thing I'd do when I got up in the morning was go by Tom's. I'd take matters into my own hands and ask the man for details myself. I felt a little better once I made that decision, and found it easier to get Angel off my mind so I could work.
I got to Maison Blanc at 8:30 so I could pick up my costume and get my hair touched up before I went onto the floor. There were about 20 of us in the dressing room getting ready for the shift change, and we all scrambled about in a sea of hairspray, accessories, makeup, and glitter.
I loved the costumes, and had a special fondness for the one I was wearing tonight. It looked like something you'd see in Moulin Rouge. It definitely had a burlesque feel to it, but it covered all my parts, and I thought it was really beautiful. The costumes were custom and carefully made, and I learned a lot about sewing just from inspecting them. It was all black with a corset top and full, but very short mini skirt that was constructed of satin ruffles.
I put on a headband that had a mini-top hat connected to it, and one of the assistants helped me adjust my hair and pin everything in place. I was tattooed, and the outfit was black, so I softened the look with a natural makeup application, complete with pale pink lip-gloss. I strapped the box around my shoulders and looked in the mirror, thinking I looked like a force to be reckoned with in this outfit, but felt more like an insecure child wondering what would happen with Angel.
I stood up straight and smiled at my reflection in the mirror, the whole time thinking, "Fake it till you make it, fake it till you make it."
I was thankful for Maison Blanc and the chaos it provided. It was much needed, and by the time I was two hours into my shift, I'd already smiled a few genuine smiles due to super sweet compliments from the customers. It shouldn't have surprised me that the guys complimented me since the whole point of the place was that they were there to look at us girls—but a compliment was a compliment, and I appreciated them either way.
It was especially busy, even for a Friday night. The place was full, and several times throughout the night, I tricked myself into thinking I saw Angel. I think I just wanted to see him so badly, that every tall, dark, guy who I caught a glimpse of resembled Angel at first. I was so on edge about it, that I had butterflies in my stomach at least twice when I saw someone from behind who I thought might be him. The sensation escalated until I approached him and realized it wasn't Angel at all.
By the time this happened twice, I knew I was a little too excited about the whole thing. I had one of the bartenders pour me a little sip of whiskey, and stooped to pick something up so I could toss it back without being noticed. I didn't feel guilty because it was just a tiny little sip and I never drank on the job. It was enough to calm my nerves slightly, which was all I was looking for. From then on, I would purposefully try not to assume every dark headed hunk in the room was Angel.
I was walking toward the front of the house to refill on a few of my supplies. There was a slow, soulful song playing, while Trish, one of our best dancers did her thing on the main stage. There were girls on the small stages, but they were posed perfectly still, looking more like statues while Trish danced.
Not everyone was watching her, though. I walked down the crowded passageways between tables to the familiar sound of crowd murmur, which was pretty much never silenced in this place.
I absentmindedly heard the word hammerhead, and passed it off as someone remarking on my ink, which happened regularly. I continued maneu
vering through the crowd in the direction of the supply closet, but stopped sharply when someone grabbed my thigh. It was fine for someone to nudge me or touch me to try to get my attention, but this hand was wrapped around my thigh in a completely inappropriate manner.
I glared down at my own leg trying to make sense of the hand that had just come around it like a vice-grip. It was so packed in there that I couldn't see who the hand belonged to at first. I peered around the person who was standing in the way to see the guy who had me by the leg. I pinned him with a stare when I realized I didn't know him from shinola, and he shouldn't be touching me like he was.
"Is there something I can help you with, sir?" I asked, impatiently.
He gave me a huge grin that I wanted to slap right off his face. He was a cute enough guy, but he was looking at me like he knew me, and was amused that I was flustered. I wasn't in the mood.
"Is there something I can do for you?" I repeated.
"Are you Charlotte?" he asked, still smiling.
"Yeah. Why?"
"I'm Diego. My cousin's here to see you."
"Who's your cousin?"
"There he is now," Diego said. He glanced over my left shoulder when he said it, and my insides started fizzing, and sparking, and swirling, and filling with butterflies, and whatever else you can think of.
I knew, even as I turned, that Angel was standing behind me. I could smell him. As a result of all the madness I just listed going on inside my body, tears sprang to my eyes. I knew I was going to bust out crying and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I barely glanced up at Angel's face (just long enough to make sure it was him) before I started shrugging out of my contraption.
"Can you please hold this for a second? I'll be right back." I tried to manage a smile as I shoved the box into Angel's hands.
He took it from me since it was either that or let it fall to the ground. He tried to make eye contact with me before I ran off, but I avoided it.
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