“Dinner was delicious, Mr. Martinez. Thank you,” she told my dad.
“Call me Enrique, please. We’ve known each other much too long to be so formal.” He reached for her empty plate to clear the table. “Are you ready for my chocolate flan?”
“Absolutely.” She grinned. “But only if you let me help with the dishes.”
“Sí. I’d like that.”
We worked together cleaning up. My dad washed. Karen dried, and I put things away since I knew where they went.
“Much more humble when he’s at home, no?”
“He’s never been stuck up,” Karen said, and I could tell she believed it. It made me happy to hear her voice it. Her opinion mattered. It was a challenge not to let all the rock star stuff go to your head when you were in the middle of it. She’d seen the craziness up close. I think she knew. But I think she also knew that me being a performer wasn’t all of who I was. A son. A surfer. A friend. A lover. In fact, she knew me better than anyone.
The doorbell ringing startled me. I jostled the plate I had been putting away.
“You expecting anyone, Pop?”
He took the stopper out the drain and dried his hands, seeming to avoid my eyes as he brushed by me on the way to get the door. My hackles rose. I closed the cabinet and stood in the doorframe of the kitchen, Karen behind me as he opened the door to the apartment to admit her.
My mother.
The puta.
Chapter Forty-Seven
* * *
Karen
I had never been introduced to Ramon’s mother. I don’t think he planned for me to ever meet her. His dad had apparently invited her without telling him, and it was obvious from the moment she entered the apartment accompanied by Gonzolo and his daughter that her youngest son despised her. Beautiful on the outside, a head of glossy curls like his cascading to her waist, she had to be at least mid-fifties, but she barely looked thirty with her cafe au lait skin, dark exotic eyes and sensual lips. A knockout. The feminine version of him. But that was where any resemblance ended.
“Mamacita,” Ramon said in disrespect as she went straight to his father and attached herself to his side. “You’re looking…well.”
“You too, mijo.” Her gaze swept to me. Her eyes narrowed. “You never bring your women home. Why this one?” She looked down her nose at me. “Because she is a guera, I think.” She spit the slang for white girl at me.
“Karen is a friend.” Enrique frowned. “I told you she would be here. We are Latino and she is not, but that is not the sum of who we are as people. Let’s not draw lines between us over the color of our skin. Karen never has. You promised you would try not to antagonize Ramon this time.”
“I apologize,” she said to Ramon, ignoring me. Her tone rang blatantly insincere, but I don’t think his father noticed with her hand on his chest and her ample breasts pressed into his arm.
“Nice to meet you, Karen. Enrique speaks very highly of you.” Another dismissive glance, leaving little doubt that she didn’t share his opinion.
“Likewise,” I returned politely without any additional words. We all stood uncomfortably in the small living room for a long moment of tense silence. Gonzolo’s daughter finally broke it.
“Hi, I’m Luna.” The pretty eleven-year-old glanced over at me, her chocolate eyes reminding me of Ramon.
“I’m sorry. Forgive me for failing so poorly at the introductions,” Gonzolo apologized.
“It’s ok, Papi.” She looked over at her grandmother as if that explained everything. I got the idea everyone made allowances for Ramon’s mother for Enrique’s sake.
“Hi, Luna. Your uncle has told me a lot about you over the years. Your photos are only half as beautiful as you are in real life. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Gracias. Thank you for the compliment.” She blushed, and her gaze dropped to her sandaled feet.
“So who wants some chocolate flan?” Enrique asked.
“Me,” I said enthusiastically.
“Sit down everyone. I’ll get some plates.”
“I’ll help, Pop.” Ramon followed his father into the kitchen. I overheard a couple of angry whispers as the rest of us took seats around the table.
Ramon reemerged from the kitchen a moment later, his expression taut and his frame tense as he took the seat beside me. It didn’t take long for the next bolt of lightning to strike.
“So how well do you and my youngest son know each other?” his mother asked me.
“None of your business, Mamá,” Ramon replied tersely.
“Son,” Enrique cautioned.
“Pop, I don’t want her here when I’m around. I’ve told you.”
“Won’t you make this small exception for me?”
“Sí.” Ramon nodded, his reluctant dark curls falling over his creased brow. I wanted to offer him my support. I would have reached for his hand under the table, but we had our rules and at the moment I hated them almost as much as he seemed to hate her.
Fortified by the excellent flan and strong coffee, I dared to restart the conversation.
“So how has school gone this year, Luna?”
“It’s ok. I’m looking forward to the summer. I like your dress,” she told me.
“Thank you. It’s a Roxy from a couple of years ago. It’s a second, a garment that couldn’t be put up for sale because it has a small flaw. I have a couple of boxes of them at my parents’ house. I was planning to give them away. Would you like to come over some time and go through them with me to see if there are any you would like to have?”
Luna nodded and started to say something, but her grandmother interrupted her.
You think because she is Mexican,” she glared at me, “that she needs your charity? Luna doesn’t need your leftovers. Gonzolo makes plenty of money. So do I.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.” I stiffened defensively.
“It’s ok.” Gonzolo’s jaw was tense. “No one took it that way except for her.”
“I would love to see what you have,” Luna said, sounding more mature than her age. “And I’d like to ask you some questions about when you used to work for Roxy if you have time. I like fashion, too. Accessories especially. I made this headband.” She reached up to touch the flower with the contrasting ribbon that held back her long hair.
“It’s beautiful. Did you do that with a glue gun?”
“No, some of the girls in my school do it that way, but the glue is sticky and it pulls your hair. I do it all by braiding the ribbon.”
“Very creative. And really pretty. If you did some of those to match some of the clothing we have at the surf shop we could sell them there. They would probably be popular, Luna.”
“Lu,” she corrected. “It’s Lu for my friends.”
“Don’t waste your time making friends with one of your uncle’s chicas. He’s like a bee. Once he’s had a taste of their nectar, he’s on to the next flower.”
I felt the blood rush from my face. The barb stung more than it should have. All the careful touches, all the gentle kisses Ramon had given me today felt tainted. I remembered the woman at the bar. The words from that girl at the OB hotel all those years ago. Suddenly feeling ill, I pushed my plate away.
“You’re one to talk.” Ramon bit out the words.
“Cállate, Ramon,” Enrique said. “Por favor.”
“Do you not see how she is, Pop? Nada beneath her skin but poison and lies. Look at her phone if you don’t believe me. She’s glanced at it a dozen times since she sat down at the table. She’s just stringing you along till the next rich guy comes along and starts buying her shit. Take what you want from her, but don’t bring her to our family dinners.”
“She is your mamá.”
“That whore is no mother of mine.” Ramon pushed back his chair. “Come, Karen,” he snapped like a whip. “It’s time to go.” He had only spoken to me in that tone once, at the OB hotel when he’d dismissed me. But I wouldn’t reject him in front of his family.
I wouldn’t reject him in front of anyone. Especially not in front of that woman. I gave him my hand. He shot me a grateful look, his fingers tightening around mine.
Chapter Forty-Eight
* * *
Ramon
“Stop apologizing for her. It’s ok,” Karen assured me, but I had a hard time believing that my fucked-up mother’s arrival hadn’t affected her. How was Karen ever going to see me the way I wanted her to after that? I gunned the engine, slamming the vehicle into reverse. The tires spun in the gravel before gaining traction. “Are you sure you’re ok to drive?” Karen gave me an uncertain look.
“I’m fine,” I bit out through my clenched jaw, struggling mightily to rein in the anger. My mother always got to me. Sometimes I lasted longer than tonight, but we always ended up at the same damn place every time we were together.
“Do you…” Karen trailed off, her hand inching closer to mine. I could tell she wanted to touch me, to try to soothe me. I wanted her to, now more than ever. Banning her from initiating touch only made me crave it more. But not right now. Not while I was this edgy.
I flipped on the blinker.
“Where are you going? My house is that way.” She pointed in the opposite direction.
“I’m not taking you to your house. I’m taking you to mine. Your stuff’s in the back. I thought we had agreed.” Her words fanned my anger. Had Karen changed her mind after meeting my mother?
“But I didn’t think you would want me to. You don’t seem to be…what I mean is…”
“That I’m not in the mood to fuck you?” I asked crudely.
“Maybe that’s not a good idea tonight.”
“Did I not agree to this stupid plan of yours?”
“Yes…”
“No back and forth.”
“I know, but…”
“But what? You starting to worry about my gene pool. No wonder you said right up front that you wanted to take care of it alone.”
“Not an it. A baby. A child. Our child,” she whispered. “I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t want one that was half you.”
Her words didn’t register the way they should have. I was too blinded by anger and the growing fear that she would never be mine. “Don’t kid yourself,” I told her as I hit the remote for the gate and turned into the driveway. “Not gonna be a long ass line of guys signing up to make a baby with you and walk away. It’s either me or a sperm bank.” I pulled through the gate, parked the car and glanced over at her. She didn’t look at me. Her hands clenched into fists on her lap, she was staring straight ahead into the darkness.
“You’re being an asshole. I’m going home.” She popped open her door. Luckily the gate closed before she could escape that way. I caught her in front of it and spun her around.
“I’m so sorry, chica.”
“Don’t touch me.” She shrugged from my grasp. “And don’t call me that. Or mamacita. It’s disrespectful. You’re thinking I’m like her when you call me those words. I’m nothing like her.”
“You’re like her in that I’m not good enough for you to take seriously.” My dad, my brother, none of us were ever good enough to keep my mother from walking away from us over and over and over again. “You came to me at the OB Hotel,” I reminded her, my tone as hateful as my mother’s as I sliced her to ribbons instead of protecting her like I had always been so careful to do. “You would’ve gotten on your knees if I would’ve taken you up on your offer. You would’ve broken your vows if I hadn’t sent you away. Ditto with that kiss at your apartment before Patch walked in on us.”
Her entire body folded inward on itself. Her chin dropped. Her shoulders slumped. “I know,” she rasped. “You’re right. I would have. Thanks for reminding me. I wondered when you would say those words to me. Good to have them out, isn’t it? The ugliest truths. That’s what the therapist says. If I had been a better wife, instead of leaning on you through all the long separations, I would have given him an ultimatum sooner. That’s what I told Simone in the hospital after I lost my baby.” A pained sound escaped her throat. “Yet even then I was looking for you. Wanting you. Wishing for you.”
I clicked my tongue. “You don’t have to pretend that it’s not my fault. I heard you talking to Simone. I was there in the hallway.” My throat got tight as I remembered. “That’s why I left without seeing you. That’s why I didn’t talk to you at the funeral or afterward. I knew being there would only make things worse for you.”
“You misunderstood. I’m sorry you thought I blamed you. I don’t. You might have been a symptom, but you were never the cause. If I had loved him better and loved you less he might still be here today.”
My eyes widened. “You didn’t love me.”
“Oh, but I did. Dominic suspected. He called me out on it that night after we kissed. He told me to stop throwing myself at you. That I was making you uncomfortable. Taking advantage of our friendship.” She snorted. “And here I am years later and I’m doing it all over again. I’m sorry. So sorry.” She gestured toward the gate. “Open it. I’m going home. Please don’t try to stop me.”
Tears fell from her eyes, tears I put there. She could’ve kicked me in the gut and it would’ve hurt less. I touched her cheek, swiping away the evidence of what an asshole I’d been. But this asshole now had a sliver of hope blazing bright in the center of his warped heart. If she loved me once, I told myself, I could make her love me again.
Chapter Forty-Nine
* * *
Karen
“Come inside, mi cielo,” he said gently, his eyes reflective. “Don’t go yet. Let me get you something cold to drink. When you’re finished with it and you’ve heard what I need to say to you, if you still want to leave, I’ll take you myself.”
“What does that mean?” I asked as he let us in. “Mi cielo.” I followed him up the stairs, unable to resist those soft Spanish words he’d only spoken to me during the most intimate moments.
“My heaven.”
“But why would you call me that?”
He raised a brow. “Because that’s the way I feel when I’m inside of you.”
He offered that earth-shattering revelation in his usual matter of fact manner but his admission meant everything to at me. He casually turned, opened the fridge and pulled out a jug of lemonade, setting it on the bar.
“If sex with me is so heavenly, why would you say,” I mimicked his voice, “Not gonna be a long ass line of guys signing up to make a baby with you?”
“I didn’t mean that guys wouldn’t line up to have you.” He took down two glasses from the cabinet and filled them, giving me a heavy look as he passed one to me. “I meant that once they had you, they wouldn’t walk away.”
“You walked away from me plenty.”
“I did what I had to do.” Pain sliced through his gaze. “We both loved him, Karen. He was my best friend. Still, if I had known the depths of your feelings for me…I don’t know for sure what I would have done. But I do know that you aren’t to blame for his death. You’re not the one who signed up for all those tours. He had his brothers to watch his back. Who had yours when he left you here alone?” My eyes flared in response to his words and the ferocity behind them. “I think we both have beaten ourselves up enough about the past. I’m hoping that we can finally put it all behind us and move forward. Right now. One step at a time. Together. See where the path leads us. Would you do that with me?”
I stared into his warm, familiar eyes. Did he know he was offering me the second chance I had always wanted? I picked up the glass he had poured for me. I lifted it up in the air. “A toast. To moving forward.” I brought the rim to my lips and gulped the refreshing liquid down; every last drop like it was hope.
“Do you still want to go?” he asked me when I set the glass down.
I shook my head. “Would you like me to stay?”
“I want you to stay as long as you’d like.” His expression glowed with blatant affection that I had only seen glimpses of before. He op
ened his arms. I walked into the embrace and for the first time in a long, long time everything felt right.
“Should we go out on the deck and listen to the waves?”
“That would be nice.” I leaned back to peer up at him. “But there’s something else I’d like to do even more.”
“What’s that?”
“Touch you.”
His lips curved slowly. “Yes, that would be better.”
My heart did a full flip. I released his waist. I would come back to it later. I reached for his handsome face first, framing his cheeks and pondered the dense stubble that already covered them. “I’m glad you shaved the beard.”
“You mentioned that before. What have you against it anyway?”
I held his face and feasted on his dark chocolate gaze, fully realizing the true warmth and depth of him I had once overlooked. “Because it covered your mouth. I’ve always been fascinated by it.” I traced his lips, pressing my thumb into each corner. “The way it curves, like you’re slightly amused by the rest of us.”
“Amusement is not what I’m feeling right at the moment. And there’s nothing slight about it. Feel for yourself.”
“Not yet.” I shook my head. I placed my hands on his chest over his heart. I could feel the steady but rapid thump of its rhythm. I lifted to my toes, pressed a kiss to his firm lips, closing my eyes and taking a moment to reacquaint myself with their satiny texture and salty taste, wild like the ocean that I loved but could never tame. My eyes opened to find his hooded gaze on me.
“You are so beautiful.” He covered my hands on his chest, pressing them harder to himself, separating them moving them across the defined contours while he watched my face for my reaction. “I crave your touch, mi cielo. Badly. But you are moving too slowly. Mind if I help out?”
(Complete Rock Stars, Surf and Second Chances #1-5) Page 52
