Instead of answering the question, he asked, “When will you be back?”
“We’re back on the eighteenth.” She continued, “I’ll bring you a present, like I did at Christmas.”
He smiled. “I like when you bring me Indian things.”
“Nico, let me know that you have everything you need before I go, all right?”
He mumbled OK, but she knew he hadn’t given it any thought. If he needed something, he would call in the middle of a panic attack.
“Nico?” she tried to get his attention.
“What?” He had his head buried in his iPhone, so Luna waited quietly while he finished texting. She thought it was Alexa, but kept that to herself. Finally Nico looked up and asked, “What, Luna?”
She saw his eyes were troubled. “I just want to say that we never lit a candle for your mom on Mother’s Day. I want us to go to church together when I get back.”
He seemed surprised. “I’d like that. We missed Mother’s Day? When was it?”
She chuckled. “Yes, Nico, we did. But it’s OK. In the States it’s in May, but in Argentina Mother’s Day is in October.”
“Really? I had no idea.”
She sighed. “Of course, Nico. Why am I not surprised?” Laughing, she added, “So actually, it really doesn’t matter when we go. It just matters that we go.”
He smiled, and the light in his eyes returned. “Yes, it just matters that we go, together, and light a candle for my mom.”
While Nico opened the wine, Luna picked the Tulum book up off the coffee table. “So, how is it going with opening a studio in Tulum?”
He filled their glasses as he replied, “They love me. All these things I’m doing give me more exposure. It’s all good to show the investors that I’m a brand and have a platform.”
He took a sip of his wine, then went on, “I need you to help me get more celebrity clients.”
“Well, Tyler has gotten you several clients. Heidi Marks is a high-profile client, isn’t she? She’s a top makeup artist.”
He shrugged. “I’ve asked her to bring me celebrities for private sessions. She says she will, but hasn’t brought anyone yet. She just wants to get into my pants. You know that!”
Luna laughed. “I know. I shouldn’t laugh. It’s a big problem being so handsome and sexy…come on, Nico, you promised to show me the video…” She eagerly plopped herself down on the sofa in front of the TV as Nico cued up the video. Luna knew she’d done a good job, and that was why Nico was finally rewarding her with his affection again, but she cringed when she saw Alexa. They watched the entire piece and when it was over, Luna clapped her hands happily like a child. “It’s wonderful, Nico. Everyone says great things about you, and you look gorgeous!”
Smiling at her approval, Nico picked up his guitar and flirtatiously sang Damien Rice’s “The Box”—a song about interior conflict and ambivalence toward fame. Luna had turned him onto the Irish artist, thinking the music would resonate with him. Nico gazed at her longingly as he crooned the words. His buttery accent gave the melody a Spanish flair, and when the notes got high, his voice sounded even sexier, cracking slightly as he passionately emphasized the painfully beautiful lyrics about longing to live wild and free.
He seemed the most happy he’d been since Sofia left. Finishing the song, he peered into her eyes from under his dark lashes, giving her his most winsome smile. “Luna, are you sure he’s Irish?”
“Yes, of course, why?”
“He writes songs like a Latin…triste…I mean, sorrowful.”
Luna gently patted his thigh. His eyes glowed, then he pushed her hand off and scolded, “Stop flirting with me. I’m having a hard time, and you’re asking for trouble.”
She got defensive. “I’m not flirting, Nico. I’m showing my affection for you because I care. I’m just being comforting.”
He leaned in, eyeing her in his lustful way that made her want to kiss him. “Really? Come here, Luna.” He pulled her close, grabbing her T-shirt in the front and looking down her shirt at her cleavage. “Why are you always showing me your tits?”
She huffed, “Nico, I have no idea what you mean. You groped me just now!” She gave him a faux disapproving look, and he couldn’t help grinning impishly, causing them to erupt into bawdy laughter.
“I’m starving. Let’s make dinner. Come.” She took her place on one of the stools while he cooked. Then they toasted each other—amigos para siempre, friends forever.
After dinner, they sat on the sofa while he played guitar and sang loudly. Luna laughed in delight and sang along on each chorus, having learned most of his repertoire by heart. She looked at the man-child in front of her. He was so complicated; arrogant and demanding at times, yet at other times insecure and sweet. She felt so connected to him. He was part of her, like a tattoo. And all she knew was she would never let him go.
Putting down the guitar, Nico opened a small box on the table and pulled out a half-smoked joint. “Would you like some, Luna?”
“I haven’t smoked a joint in years!” she declared. “Will I be able to drive?”
“I think so. Just smoke a little. Besides, you can always sleep here with me if you want.”
She smirked, “Very funny, Nico. That would go over really well with Tyler!” She took one hit and held it in. Soon the room was hot and she felt very high. She exclaimed, “Wow, they sure do make it stronger these days.”
Leaning back into the corner of the sofa, she stretched out her legs so her feet pressed into the side of his thigh. God, she thought, he has such great thighs.
He turned and studied her face, then drawled in a honeyed tone, “Luna, you’re so beautiful. Come over here.”
She dared not move, and even held her breath. “Just play another song, Nico.”
After maintaining their seductive eye contact for a few beats longer, he shrugged and messed around with some chords, singing “Bella Luna…bella Luna!” boisterously and off key, making them both collapse into fits of giggles.
Abruptly, Luna sat up and put her shoes on, but when she stood, her legs wobbled. Nonetheless, she said, “I’d better go.”
He eyed her seductively. “Are you sure? You can sleep here…”
Mustering all her self-control, she shook her head and quickly made her way to the front door, leaving without kissing him good-bye. She didn’t dare get that close, fearing what might happen if she did.
Sitting on the plane, Luna texted Nico again. He hadn’t responded to any of her messages, and she’d been trying for days. They had begun a tradition of texting each other whenever either was on a plane. The unwritten message was a prayer for safety. Nico would never admit his fear of flying, and Luna had given him a little warrior totem they’d nicknamed the traveling man. Nico kept it on his dresser, always taking the totem with him when he traveled, for good luck.
Though her vacation had been needed and she always had a great time in Santa Fe, Luna was eager to get home—and to see Nico. She thought things between them were good now, so when he didn’t even reply to her traditional “wheels up” from the plane, she was crushed. She’d been back for days, and still his phone went straight to voice mail. When he finally answered, she found him in a bad mood. “I tried calling you from Santa Fe. I’ve been worried. Where were you?” she asked.
Nico grumbled, “I was away.”
“Well…where were you?” she pressed.
“Why do you need to know that?”
“Because I worry about you, Nico! So of course I need to know.”
He mumbled, “Deià.”
Incredulous, she replied, “Deià? I thought you would’ve gone to see your grandmother. Why Deià?”
“Don’t ask, Luna. You have no idea what a dragon that woman is. I hate her!”
Luna let out an exasperated breath, “Oh, I see. Alexa. So are you still doing the event at The Rails?”
Nico groused, “I guess…”
Somehow, Nico had convinced Alexa to stage a promotional event in honor of the do
cumentary Amaru of the Andes, in combination with the opening of a studio in Tulum, Mexico. Luna knew from Nico that as of yet, there was no signed contract for a studio. But he was boasting that it would open at the end of October, and Luna wondered if he had actually convinced himself or was just saying that to generate buzz.
“Then why are you upset? It’s one of the biggest galleries in the world. The whole event is to promote you!”
Nico snapped, “Luna, are you being coy with me? You know exactly! Don’t make me say it. She acts like she’s my girlfriend in public. It’s fucking embarrassing. How am I going to invite my friends and clients when she does that?”
Not wanting to say I told you so, Luna sighed. “Nico, just tell her it doesn’t look good. Won’t she understand?”
He sulked. “No, Luna, she doesn’t understand.” After a pause, he added, “No, I misspoke—she doesn’t care!”
“Well then, you’ll just have to make it really clear and stand firm.”
He barked, “Luna, you’re such an idiot. Sometimes I just want to kill you.”
Losing patience, she raised her voice, “Why? What’s wrong with that suggestion, Nico?”
“Let me see, where should I begin?”
He was getting nasty and sarcastic and she wasn’t getting anywhere, so she backed down. “I’m sorry, Nico.”
He sounded defeated, “She won’t hire a caterer, and she won’t pay for me to print T-shirts to hand out. You know, the goody bag.”
“Is that something she’s supposed to do?”
Nico again snapped, “Of course! She knows I can’t afford that. She should help me. She’s the one producing the event!”
“If she’s putting on the event for you, then yes, she should handle all of that. But did you ask her?”
“Yes, I asked her. And she said I should pay for that myself.”
“Can you ask Mario to help you with the food and your dad for the wine. And I’ll see who I know who can screen print the shirts for you.”
Relieved, Nico replied, “Yes, Mario’s going to help out. I suppose I could ask my dad. See what you can do about the shirts.”
“Wait, don’t hang up yet,” Luna added. “I brought you something from Santa Fe that I think you’ll love.”
“Great, thank you. I’d better go, I have a lot of work and a client on the way.”
Luna said quietly, “OK. Don’t forget, we’re going to the church tomorrow. It’s Sunday…remember?”
She heard him sigh.
“I’ll call you in the morning…”
“OK, bye.” He hung up too quickly.
That fucking Alexa…she fretted.
19
“Good morning, Starshine,” she chirped, using a favorite endearment.
He answered sleepily, “Luna, what?”
“It’s a beautiful day and we’re going to church. I also have a gift for you.” She mentioned the gift as an enticement.
His husky voice was sexy. “Can we go to the Spanish church we always go to?”
Luna shook her head. Just like a little kid, she thought. “Yes, of course, Nico. It’s Sunday, so we should try to get there between services.”
He sounded more awake. “I’ll pick you up in an hour on the bike.”
Luna agreed, even though she was petrified. After telling Tyler she was going to church with Nico, leaving out the part about the motorcycle, she put on thigh-hugging print bells, an indigo embroidered prairie top, her favorite suede fringed jacket and her well-worn Rag & Bone black ankle boots.
She had bought him a hand-beaded arrow trimmed with colorful feathers from a gift shop that carried handmade American Indian shields and weaponry. The arrow was more decorative than would actually have been used to kill a buffalo, but it was just symbolic, anyway. Wrapping it carefully in craft paper, she tied it up with raffia.
She’d selected the card very deliberately—a native woman dancing the shawl dance in front of a mountain. Inside, she carefully wrote: Let loose the arrow…let thy aim be the good of all and then carry on thy task in life. This was a message spoken by Lord Krishna to his disciples in the Bhagavad Gita. The quote begins:
Great is the human who free from attachment and with the soul in serene harmony, works on the path of karma yoga, the path of consecrated action. Let thy actions then be pure, free from the bonds of clinging desire.
Nico loved it when she wrote him poetry and sent him inspirational quotations. She put the arrow in her vintage Ralph Lauren cross body bag, angling the point to the side.
When she got downstairs, Nico was already out front standing next to the bike. He teased, “What took you so long? You women are slow!”
Seeing him made her heart tumble. He looked like a modern day Latino James Dean in his dad’s beat-up old motorcycle jacket. Greeting her with the double-cheek kiss she’d long ago become accustomed to, he gently pushed her hair back off her shoulders, letting his hand linger on her back. “Bella, why do you wear hoop earrings when you know you have to wear a helmet?”
She nodded and carefully removed the earrings, putting them into the zippered compartment of her handbag.
“And what is this dangerous stick you have in there?”
“Um, that’s your gift. We’ll do that later,” she scolded. “I’ll be careful, just drive slowly please. You know I’m terrified of this machine!”
Nico carefully secured the helmet on her head, buckling it under her chin. Straddling the bike, he signaled for her to do the same as the engine roared to life. Reluctantly, she climbed on behind him. When he revved the engine, Luna squeezed him tightly, pressing her body against his back and yelling for him to go slowly. Hearing his muffled laugh, she realized he’d done it purposely to toy with her. Weaving around the traffic, she tried to lean into the turns. Nico tapped her thigh at a stop light, telling her to sit back and relax, she was too tense. When they pulled up outside Nuestra Señora Reina de Los Angeles—Our Lady Queen of Angels—in the Plaza of the historic Olvera Street neighborhood, Luna leaped off the bike before he turned off the engine. Nico had to quickly catch his balance before the bike toppled over. Taking off his helmet, he shook his head at her. “Luna, you have to get over your fear.”
The morning mass had just ended, so the pews were empty, making it feel like their private sanctuary. After they had crossed themselves with holy water from the marble font by the door, Nico went first to the votive candles. Lighting one, he knelt and bowed his head, reciting softly in Spanish. Sliding into a pew, they knelt together in silent prayer. Nico’s head was lowered, his black hair falling into his eyes, shielding them from Luna’s gaze. Sitting back in the pew in the cool darkness, Nico bemoaned, “You’re the only person I trust. Even though you hurt me with Sofia, you’re the only one in my life.”
Luna held his hand in silence. Then he began to speak from a place deep inside; thoughts he held in reserve until they were here, in what he called “our church.”
“I hate her. And I don’t trust her. You know she’s an addict—oxycodone.” Luna knew he meant Alexa. “She won’t let me date. We stayed at Richard Branson’s hotel in Deià, and all these supermodels were there! We were all partying. Then they invited me to a party, so I left with them. I didn’t tell Alexa because I knew if I said anything, she wouldn’t let me go. When I got back in the morning, she was a raging bitch. But I’m not her boyfriend! What does she expect? I’m half her age! She makes me miserable, and I’m alone. I want a girlfriend to share my life, but she’ll never let me do that. She wants to have a baby with me! Imagine—these are the things she says to me!”
Luna offered, “Nico, if she has a crush on you, that’s her problem. If you give the impression that more of you is available for a price, then that’s you prostituting yourself.”
He asserted, “It’s not like that, Luna! Why do you assume I’m fucking her?”
She cautioned him, “Because, Nico, I keep telling you, it doesn’t matter whether you are or you aren’t if everyone thinks you are. So
you may as well fuck her and get what you want out of it!”
He glared at her incredulously. “I can’t believe you’re saying that, Luna! Is that what you really think I should do?”
She coolly insisted, “No, Nico! I would walk away from her. But since you won’t, you have to do her bidding instead.”
He sat silently for a minute. “I’ve done my part and invested a lot of time in her—she owes me. I can’t keep doing what I’m doing every day. I should be like Deepak Chopra and Dr. Oz, with a platform that reaches millions. What am I going to do, Luna?”
She tried to reason with him. “Nico, walk away. Cut your losses.”
“What are you, crazy? I can’t do that, she owes me!”
She insisted. “You enrolled her in your life and career, and what she wants in return is what you’re not willing to give. What do you expect when you travel with her? Mexico…Deià…”
He argued, “I do what I have to. Even then, you see, she sabotages and embarrasses me in front of people I should be impressing!”
“Look, Nico, you’re a talented healer—charming and sexy. Those are wonderful assets, but they’re only part of who you are. Somehow, you mix those traits up with how you value yourself. They become part of the equation, part of the payment. It’s like you think you won’t get love unless you use sex.”
He pouted. “So you’re saying this is all my fault?”
“You’re her healer and teacher, and that shouldn’t get mixed up with being her boyfriend.”
“I agree with that. But she wants more. I keep telling her that we’re just friends and she’s my agent, a business partner. Yet she seems to sabotage things instead. Investors want the Centers booked solid, but they won’t be unless I’m famous, so I need more publicity. Alexa is getting Vanity Fair to publish an article about how she sees a shaman for healing. But watch, this article is going to be all about her. You just wait and see.”
Luna pondered his predicament. “What about Erin? Can’t she help?”
“Yeah, Erin helps. When it suits her. She says I need a bigger platform first. It’s always this issue, a bigger platform. She got me the Armani and Gold Fountain campaigns, but they’re just glorified modeling jobs. The documentary is, you know, intellectual—no big mass appeal. I need something that makes me explode.”
The Sleeping Serpent: Page 29
