Concealed - A Hiding From Love Novel #2 (15 page)

The day of the
Quinceañera
arrives and I’m nervous as hell. I’ve never been much for formal events to begin with, and now I’m going to be showing Alexis me at a Hispanic family gathering for the first time.

Ramon said that I need to dress up, so I dig out the only dressy shirt I have – a charcoal button-up – and borrow a dark red tie from Mike. I pair it with black jeans and black boots. I also put a small silver hoop in the earlobe I had pierced years before that’s never closed up. The only jacket I have is my black leather that I wear on the Harley, so on it goes over the top of everything else.

I knock on Alexis’s door fifteen minutes before we need to leave, hoping she’ll be okay with my clothes.

The door swings open and I stand dumbstruck, looking at a fucking fantasy come to life. She’s wearing a red dress with a halter top and a deep v-neck that shows her cleavage. Her long, dark hair is up on top of her head in a messy pile with tendrils falling down along her neck, like a trail leading to paradise. The dress is some sort of clingy fabric that molds to every curve and ends well above her knees. As my eyes scan down her legs, I reach a pair of shiny black patent-leather heels that are sky high. There is also a slender silver chain around one of her ankles, and I think I’ve died and gone to heaven when my eyes fall on it.

“Holy shit,” I gasp. She giggles.

“You like?” she teases as she spins around in the doorway of her apartment.

I swallow. “Um. Yeah, you could say that,” I croak out.

She reaches out and grabs my tie as she pulls me to her. “Wanna come inside and mess up my lipstick, hot stuff?”

“Oh, babe, if you only knew. But honestly, if I go inside that apartment, we’ll never get to the party and Ramon will fire me.”

She sighs in disappointment. “Okay. Let me get my purse. By the way, I had the gift delivered to her parents’ house so it’s all taken care of.”

I nod, mesmerized by the swish of her skirt as she goes inside and bends over to pick up her purse off the coffee table. Damn.

Then and there I decide I’ve been patient enough. Alexis and I are going to seal the deal tonight or I’ll have to turn my Man Card over to Mike.

We start off by attending the Mass where they celebrate the girl’s birthday. The guest of honor is in a great big pink ball gown, and Alexis explains the origins of the dress to me, how girls are supposed to be pure and innocent, and their
Quinceañera
party is like their entry into adulthood – makeup, dating, marriage. The girl also wears a tiara, and that’s to remind us she’ll always be a princess in the eyes of her family and God.

After we leave the church, I ask Alexis about her
Quinceañera
.

“Because my parents are so old school,” she says, “mine was pretty traditional, not as flashy as a lot of these girls in Austin have. I had a Mass and a dinner-dance at our house. And I was actually not allowed to wear makeup and high heels until I turned fifteen, so it was a huge deal for me.”

I laugh. “Well, I’m glad Mom and Pop Garcia were protecting your innocence so well all those years. Wouldn’t want my girl to have been around the block more than me.”

She snorts. “No one’s been around the block more than you.”

She has a point.

When we reach the assembly hall where the dance and party are being held, there is a big line of girls in formal dresses and guys in Mexican cowboy gear lined up outside. “Now that’s her crew, right?” I ask as I park the truck.

Alexis laughs. “Sort of. They’re her
damas
and
chambelanes
. Her best friends, sisters, brothers, cousins.”

“So a lot like the groomsmen and bridesmaids in a wedding?”

“Yeah, same idea. They’re her peers, her community, and in Hispanic families, those kids will be with her when she gets married, when she has her kids, when her parents die. It’s all about the family and the community.”

“Where are the kids who were at your
Quinceañera
?” I ask.

“Well, I had my sisters and some of my cousins, guys and girls – there’s a lot of them – a couple of girlfriends from school who I keep in touch with, then my two brothers, and uh, Marco.” She looks down and becomes very quiet.

I sit for a minute, not sure what to say. “You weren’t dating him then though, right?”

“No. But his parents are my parents’ best friends and he was best friends with one of my cousins.”

My Latino 101 lessons taught me enough in the last few weeks that I now understand better what it means if Marco was one of Alexis’s
Quinceañera
attendants. It pisses me off and makes me sad all at the same time.

“Hey, I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve.”

She smiles at me sadly. “You didn’t know. Let’s go in and eat. I’m sure the food rocks,” she says with false enthusiasm.

Alexis wasn’t kidding when she said the food would rock. I’ve never seen so much food – and booze and loud
Tejano
music. I know I’ll need to drink to keep from losing my mind over the nonstop accordion. Luckily as the sun sets and the younger guests are sent home with their grandmas and grandpas to go to bed, the DJ shows up and the technopop starts. It isn’t my favorite, but it’s an excuse to bump and grind against Alexis, so I’ll take it.

I’m about to drag her sexy ass out on the floor when Ramon comes sauntering by.

“Hey,
guëro.
How’s it going?” he asks, putting an arm around Alexis and giving me a challenging look.

“Good, bro. You wanna unhand my girl?”

“Hmmm. I don’t know. I think I kind of like her.” Alexis laughs and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

“Yeah? I wonder what Tina will think about that?” I look at him hard.

He takes his arm off of Alexis and holds his hands out to the sides. “
Odalay
, bro. Bring out the big guns – I give.” He winks at Alexis then throws an arm around me. “So, beautiful, how’s it hanging around with this white boy, eh?”

Alexis looks thoughtful before she smiles. “Pretty good so far,” she answers.

Ramon looks at me then smacks me on the back of the head. “Yeah,” he says, “if I was going to let a girl of mine date a
gringo,
he’d be the one. Just don’t ask him to work on your car. He’s a terrible mechanic.” At that point, we devolve into good old-fashioned smack-talk until Alexis pulls me off to the dance floor.

As we settle into a slow dance to a Spanish song, she runs her hand up and down my neck, sifting her fingers through the short hair on the nape of my neck. If I were a dog, my hind leg would be thumping the floor. It feels that good.

“He really likes you,” she says softly.

“Who? Ramon?”

“Yeah. I can tell he really respects you. That’s not an easy thing to gain from someone like him.”

“What do you mean someone like him?” I ask, curious.

“He’s a
patrón
, you know? A leader. He’s the head of his family, the owner of his business, the president of his car club. He’s the guy everyone looks up to. I bet all those family events you’ve been going to were at his house, huh?”

“Yeah. You know, I wondered about that – I mean, when his little cousins have a birthday, it’s at his house even though they’re not his kids. I guess I figured his house must be the biggest or something.”

“It probably is, but it’s also because he’s the head of the family. He’s the guy everyone goes to if they need help or advice. That’s why I say that if he respects you like he does it means a lot.”

“You know what I respect, babe?”

“What’s that?”

“Your request for me to be patient.”

She looks at me, and I can tell she’s suspicious about where I’m heading with this.

“But I wanted you to know…” I lean down and plant a few kisses along her jaw and just under her ear where I know she loves it. “Whenever you’re ready for me to quit being so patient, I’m really good at the impatient thing too.”

I run my hand along the bare skin of her upper back and press her a little closer to me.

She looks up at me, her big brown eyes sparkling in the lights of the dance floor.

“You know what I think?” She lifts up a little on her toes and flicks the tip of her tongue over the earlobe I have the earring in. I moan quietly. “I think patience is overrated.”

I pull back to see her face. “Oh yeah?” I feel my groin tighten.

“Oh yeah.”

Alexis

Más vale tarde que nunca.

Better late than never.

I
F
there were a land speed record to be held for navigating the streets of Austin, Texas, on a Saturday night after a
Quinceañera
, Gabe would hold it. Once I give him the green light, he has us out of that party so fast I barely have time to grab my purse as I run past it, pulled at warp speed by my incredibly horny date.

He picks me up, tosses me in the front seat of the truck, straps my seatbelt on like I’m a little kid, hops in on his side, tells me keep my hands to myself, and drives like a man possessed. He is so tense on the way home that I’m afraid he’s going to stroke out.

When we pull up to the apartment, he doesn’t look at me. He just says, “Go on up. I’ll be there in a minute.”

I nod, not sure what’s going on with him. I go to my apartment, confused and wondering if somehow I’ve done something wrong. Inside, I walk to my bedroom and stand in front of the dresser, taking my jewelry off. I’m reaching down to slip off one of my shoes when Gabe’s voice comes from behind me, low and hoarse.

“Leave the shoes.”

I stand and turn around slowly. His tie is gone, the first few buttons of his shirt undone and the shirttails untucked. He looks at me darkly, a paper in one hand.

I swallow, my whole body tingling with warning.

He holds out the paper. “I won’t lie to you, Alexis. It was a busy two years. I drowned my sorrows in surfing and fucking, and I wish I hadn’t, but I can’t change it now. What I can do is give you this. It was done right before I left Hawaii, and I swear to you on my honor there hasn’t been anyone since.”

I reach out to take the paper, my hand shaking. After I have it, he sinks down on the edge of my bed, bent over with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

At the top of the paper, it reads,
State of Hawaii Department of Public Health.
The test results below show that Gabe Thompson is HIV negative as well as being free of numerous other diseases, some of which I’ve barely even heard of. Once I’ve read through the whole list, I carefully set it down on the dresser next to me. I step forward and kneel in front of him. He looks at me sadly, his chin on his fists.

I run my hand through his soft hair. “Did you use condoms?” I ask quietly.

“Always,” he whispers.

“It’s not your fault,” I feel the sting pushing against my eyes. “It’s mine. I drove you to it. Please don’t blame yourself.”

“Baby, no.” He reaches out and takes my shoulders, bringing me against him, where he hugs me. “I chose to handle my hurt that way. I didn’t have to. It’s just… It’s the only thing I knew and it was easy. Easier than doing something useful with myself. I’m so sorry for disrespecting my love for you.”