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Emma was a little worried. They’d had a lot of wine over dinner. Granted, that was some time ago, but still. But Raul was cool. “We drank a lot over dinner, so I think we should start out slow.”
“Gotcha. I’ll get a server to send you over two Mojito Mocktails. Absolutely delicious, but without the rum. How does that sound?”
“Perfect. Thanks.” Raul gave a huge smile that made Emma’s heart beat faster and made the bartender blink. Somehow, and she had no idea how he did it, twenty bucks were left on the counter. He took her elbow as they walked back to their cabana.
“Smoothly done,” she said admiringly. “Did they teach you how to do things like that in the SEALs?”
“Yeah, we had training in undercover work. This is Undercover Lite, though. Beautiful woman, chic nightclub, fabulous food … it wasn’t always like this in the Navy, believe me.”
Beautiful woman …well, he was undercover, after all. But there’d been a little renegade spurt of pleasure at his words.Down girl,Emma told herself.
They reached the canopy and sat down. As soon as they were settled, a very handsome man appeared and deposited their drinks. If they were as good as they looked, they’d be great. Tall glasses with bright mint in clear liquid.
“There you go,” the server smiled. He had an elaborately cut hair style that probably required weekly cuts with precision tools, and was wearing a brightly colored aloha shirt with blindingly vivid turquoise parrots. “Whose bracelet do I take?”
For a moment, Emma didn’t understand, but Raul did. He held out his wrist without taking his eyes off her. The server had a tiny metallic wand that beeped when waved over Raul’s bracelet. Raul was taking care of the drinks, as well. She sighed.
Something ethereal floated across the room. Silvery, shimmering, with tentacles … “Oh my God!” she laughed. “A medusa!” It traversed the room slowly, evanescent, nearly transparent.
“And look.” Raul turned her face slightly. Something was rippling across the ceiling. She laughed when she realized she was seeing a hologram of a school of silver fish darting here and there. It wasn’t hard to imagine that it was what you would see from the deck of your superyacht anchored in the Bahamas.
Then holograms of a silvery octopus and a shark joined them. By the time they floated across the ceiling, other creatures took their place.
“Drink up.” Raul was holding her mojito mocktail up. She took it and drained it. It was incredibly refreshing. She’d been thirstier than she thought. Being undercover was thirst-making.
“That was refreshing.” He put the glass down on the bamboo table and turned to her. Genial Raul was gone and Dead-serious Raul had taken his place. But only she could see the change. He was good.
Raul leaned in, keeping his voice low. No one could have heard anything from a foot away and there was no one nearby. “I’m going to make the rounds of the first shift baristas. Let’s try it solo, and we can try in tandem on the second shift. Can I leave you alone for a while?”
She smiled at him. “Sure, mom. I’ll be fine. I don’t think anyone will attack me in Heaven. You’re more to the crowd’s taste than I am.”
“Good girl.” Raul rose, cell in hand, and made his way to the long tiki counter. Emma watched his back, more out of pleasure than to keep her partner safe. She wasn’t the only one watching. Watching Raul walk was a delight, no matter your sexuality. Those broad shoulders, lean hips, long legs … yum. And the way he moved was all man. Totally unselfconscious, full of grace and power, the walk of a man who knew where he was going. He got to the counter, leaned on it and beckoned a smiling barista. Maybe word had got round that he was leaving a nice tip, because they engaged in conversation as Raul showed his cell screen. Finally, the barista shook his head and Raul moved on.
Emma sat back. Raul was doing his thing well, better than she could have done. She was a terrible liar, had never learned the knack. As a matter of fact, her entire university and work career rewarded her for discerning reality, analyzing and reporting on it. Lying about anything – trends she was seeing, reassuring people when things were actually going badly – carried terrible consequences in her world, including the possibility of massive losses.
In her private life, too, Emma had never seen the point in lying. And anyway, there was never a real temptation. In the few times she’d been in a relationship, however brief, she never strayed. Never wanted to. So, she never had to lie about what she was doing. Lying to Felicity or Hope or Riley – the very idea was repugnant. Their friendship was based on being open and kind to each other.
Professionally, she got her info basically from bots and never had to coax anything from anyone. She’d make a lousy spy.
Raul, on the other hand … She watched him make his way down the long counter, chatting with the bartenders, seemingly entirely at ease. She thought she could see money exchanging hands discreetly but it was done with great finesse. At one point he seemed to blur. The mocktail was alcohol free so it had to be something else. Clouds of fog. Somewhere a dry ice machine started up, pumping out just enough to blur contours and give everything a mystical look.
Raul was doing his thing. She stopped looking in his direction, sat back and relaxed. It was actually the first real relaxation she’d had in days. Since Toby disappeared, in fact. Not that she’d found Toby, but she had found an ally. Someone who believed she wasn’t wrong to be worried. Someone who was actively helping her find him. So, she could stop the anxiety-scrolling waiting to hear from him and do something.
The vibe of Heaven was changing. More people flowed in, laughing and chatting. Mostly men, some women. All beautiful. The tempo of the music speeded up too. Later there would be house music, presumably, but for now they were covers of popular songs. A few couples were out on the dance floor. The music segued into salsa and more couples drifted out to the dance floor. Some had serious moves.
Servers walked by with really interesting-looking drinks. Some pale and cool looking, some in neon colors that screamed of summer at the beach, some inside fresh pineapples. A few had little retro paper umbrellas. Another server walked by with a tray of four drinks that had layers of colors.
After a lively cycle of upbeat rhythms, the music slowed down.
“Come.” Raul appeared out of nowhere, big hand held out to her. “Let’s dance. We’ll try to fit in.”
Ohyeah. Emma hadn’t danced in … forever. She’d spent a lot of years in Hispanic cultures and loved dancing. Raul would make a wonderful dance partner. He was physical grace personified. Oh man, this was going to be fun.
Not.
Sigh.
Raul turned out to be the only Latin male in the world who couldn’t dance. They ended up in a dull two-step completely out of rhythm with the music. One-two. One-two. Repeat. But after a minute or two she wasn’t noticing his lack of skill as a dancer. Who cared when she was up against the strongest body she’d ever felt?
