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I wasn't sure what ‘guapo’ meant, but I could guess by her sly smile. I shook my head. "No, it's not like that. We work together." Repeat the idea often enough and maybe you'll believe it someday, I thought.
Her expression fell. "Oh. Too bad. He has nice voice and nice...how you say? Politeness? Walking you inside?"
"Manners
. Yes, sometimes he is very nice. Other times, he's got a sharp tongue."
She looked at me questioningly. "He no have good mouth?"
I laughed. "No, it's an expression that means he isn't afraid to say what he thinks even if it's not very nice."
"Oh!" Her eyes twinkled. “All the more reason you go out with him. We women like a man with a little bite, eh? Shows they are passionate!"
I shrugged, not sure how to answer. I was sure she knew better than me. With her silky black hair and flawless olive complexion, Serafina could probably have her pick of men if she chose to.
Serafina left for the store. I curled up in a chair and watched the silly antics of the cartoon, choosing not to switch channels in case the change of noise woke the sick child. Miguel was still asleep when she came back about forty minutes later.
After assuring her I hadn't minded coming over, I headed back to my apartment. I was surprised to find an envelope taped to my door. I hadn't noticed it when I'd left to go across the hall, but then, I'd been in a hurry and had pulled the door shut behind me without any thought. Entering the apartment, I slid my finger under the flap and pulled out a sheet of paper folded in thirds. As soon as I recognized the handwriting, I let the paper slip through my fingers as I ran to the living room window to scan for any sign of someone familiar. Nothing.
I scanned the letter from my sister, Charly, again. Had she been to my apartment, or had she sent someone? Regardless, the knowledge that she knew where I lived unnerved me, as if a specter of memories and not-so-buried feelings were haunting me.
I turned from the window, stubbing my toe on something. I looked down and noticed the laundry basket in my path, the sheet of paper I'd dropped earlier resting on top.
How appropriate. Allowing Charly back in my life would be like allowing dirty laundry to be left lying around.
I'd spent the past six years of my life without her, and I’d convinced myself I was better off that way. She hadn't bothered to show up for my hearing nor had I had any contact with her until the day I was released. So what could she possibly be up to now? At the same time, she was the person I’d looked up to when I was little, who in her own way, had been there for me. Despite an oftentimes selfish personality, at least she was there, which was more than I could say for our father who chose drinking over his girls.
I reached into the drawer where I'd dumped her first unopened letter. Too many other things had happened that day and dealing with my older sister was not something I’d been ready for. After staring at the envelope for several minutes and debating what I should do, I dropped it alongside the other one in the clothes basket. It was time to either fish or cut bait, as Gammy would say, and I was tired of waiting on the sidelines to see what happened.
Scooping up everything else I needed, I left for the two-block walk to the closest laundromat before I talked myself out of my decision. I needed to learn what was in these letters. However, call it superstitious or call it silly, I didn't want to defile my new home with whatever she had written. Taking it out with the dirty laundry seemed appropriate.
14
Holt
The bar crowd around me cheered as the quarterback ran the ball across the end zone himself. James and I lifted our glasses toward the television screen closest to us in salute. This time, when James invited me to meet him for a drink to celebrate another end of a work week, I didn't decline. I had my eyes on the game, but my heart wasn't really into caring who won or lost. I simply needed to find some way to eliminate Madelyn from my thoughts, and hoped a drink with a friend did the trick. If not, maybe a bar bunny at the end of the night would work.
It shouldn't be such a struggle, but ever since we'd established a truce, I found her on my mind more and more. And after the accidental boob botch, as I’d labeled that particular incident, I was thinking about her in ways and in places that friends shouldn't.
Like how she fit my hand perfectly.
Like how I noticed her respond to my touch. How I responded to her accidental touches.
Like how when I took a shower and grabbed hold of my morning erection, it was a vision of her hair framing her face as she made that deep, throaty sound while she pulled my bone-hard cock deep into her mouth that helped me get off quickly. I stifled a groan, willing the image out of my mind.
"Must be a quite an interesting picture running through your head over there." James was grinning at me, a knowing look in his eye. "Something you want to tell me, or should I go ahead and light up a cigarette for you?"
I grimaced and flipped him a middle finger. I took a long sip of beer, slamming the glass down a bit harder than necessary on the polished wood. "Nothing to tell."
He watched my actions and gave me a sideways grin. "If you say so."
I could say it all I wanted, but it wasn’t changing the fact I couldn’t get her out of my mind.
A burst of laughter from a corner table drew my attention. A group of young women were holding shot glasses up in a toast. They were all laughing and cheering before they drew their hands back and downed their shots. One girl, in particular, was a little louder than the rest. She had long, blonde hair that she had pulled to the side in some kind of fancy ponytail style, probably to show off her long, graceful neck. I couldn't identify the color of her eyes in the distance, but they were made up to pull off a sultry look. Her white blouse was sheer enough to reveal her black bra. I never quite understood why women liked to show off their underwear while their clothes were still on. Well, I did, but it was a bit too much like free advertising. Didn’t mean I wouldn’t mind a sample, though, if it helped me get my mind off someone else. She looked up and happened to catch me staring at her. After a few seconds, a knowing smile curved her lips, and she winked at me.
"She's pretty." James tipped his glass in the direction of the woman.
I shrugged. She was attractive - if you liked bold and brassy. Shy and with a bit of sass was growing on me.
