Iced Romance (12 page)

“Ha, you’d think so. Maybe I’m calling to tell you to stop being a stalker and to leave me alone,” I reply. I close my eyes and feel a weight lift off my chest as I talk. My words are light and airy, as though I haven’t a care in the world. Maybe this will be good for me. Flirting is a form of therapy, right?

David is talking again. “A stalker, hmmm, I see. Well, if that’s the case, I recommend that you call the cops and report me. However, just for the record, I
am
a policeman. So, to save you having to hang up and dial a different number, you could just report your stalker to me.”

“You’re a policeman?” Somehow it fits. His scar, the chiseled jaw and brilliant eyes.

“Detective, actually, but I was a patrolman back in the day.”

“That is so cool.” I’ve always had a thing for men in uniform.

David laughs. “Thanks. I knew kids in elementary school loved policemen, but I hadn’t realized that waitresses did too.”

He’s teasing me, I realize, and the thought warms me even more.

“Yeah, it’s the whole fast car, siren thing. And because every girl in America is in love with those cops on
Rookie Blue
.”

“I get that all the time.” I can picture him as he says it, probably rolling his eyes slightly, a bit of a self-deprecating grin on his face. I’ve only met him twice, but somehow it’s like I know him.

We chat for a few more minutes about work today and how I like Florida. Then, after a tiny pause, David says, “So, about this date.”

My heart begins racing and I sit up, pulling my knees in and resting my chin on them. “Yeah?” I try to sound casual, but my voice squeaks, betraying my excitement.

“I was thinking I’d take you to Gatorland. It’s the perfect place for a Denver-native, and I know you’ll get a kick out of it.”

“Gatorland? That was the first thing I saw in the Kissimmee pamphlet. This is like fate! It’s the reason I moved here!” I am pretty stoked.

“The pamphlet?”

“When I was in the airport on my way here, a man at the information desk gave me a pamphlet on Kissimmee and told me to live here. I saw Gatorland and was convinced.”

I suddenly realize that I’m talking too fast; my voice is too high. And I can’t believe I used the word ‘fate’. I don’t want him to think I’m one of those clingy girls who goes on a first date and then immediately starts planning a wedding. I clear my throat and add, “Although I, of course, had other reasons for moving here too. Gatorland just seemed okay.”

“Ha,” David chuckles. He sounds amused. “Well, Gatorland is more than just okay. I think your original assessment was right, but I’ll let you decide for yourself. When is your next day off?”

I’d checked with Max earlier today, after David first asked me out, so I don’t even hesitate. “Friday I’m not working. And Saturday I’m on the early shift, so I have the evening free.”

“Perfect. See, the good thing about working for the police force is I’m on shift work too. Thursday and Friday are my two days off this week, so let’s go ahead and plan for Friday then.”

He can’t hide the pleasure in his voice either. I give him my phone number and tell him my address and we hang up.

I jump up and run around my apartment, into the bedroom, onto the bed, back into the living room. I need to tell someone! I need to!

I slow down and pace back and forth a minute. Too bad I have no one to tell. I don’t know Leila’s phone number, but at least I can tell her tomorrow at work. Oh, and now that I have a time for my date with David, maybe we can go shopping tomorrow night after work. It’s going to be great.

A long shower later, I am lying in bed, replaying our conversation over and over again in my head. And I don’t even notice until I am on the verge of sleep that for the first time in a while I’m not thinking about Todd at all.

Just David.

Fade to nothing.

1 Unread Message!

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]

Kennedy? Where in the world are U?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?? I got home on Saturday, expecting a party and instead U were gone. What the deuce, where did U go? Then I figured U were probably pouting a bit, but it’s already Wednesday and you’re still MIA. I know UR mad, but U got to realize that I didn’t mean to hurt U babe. S*&% happens and U gotta move on. Plus I am the new MVP for the NHL and U aren’t even here to party. U better get back here soon. Later, T-dawg

“Thank you. I paint them.” The heavy smell of onions fills the room as she continues dicing, her hands moving rapidly with the knife.

“You did that?” I can’t help but be impressed. They’re not on par with Monet or Da Vinci, but they definitely had a lot of time and talent poured into them.

Jesica’s face is a bit flushed as she drops the onions into a pot. “I not very good, but it is, how do you say, my relief? Makes me relax after work.”

I can understand that. “What do you do for work?” I realize that I know very little about Jesica and her son. How does she support herself? Is she a single mom? What happened to Carlos’ dad?

“I am a maid, clean houses in Orlando.” She winks at me. “This is why Carlos never sees me wear big shoes.”

“Wow.” I am momentarily speechless. And here I thought that waitressing was hard. Being a cleaning lady must be even worse.

We continue making small talk while the big pot of Spanish rice bubbles on the stove. It smells delicious, all oniony and spicy. Jesica comes and sits down in the living room with me while Carlos runs in and out of the bedroom, showing me his rock collection, some leaves he’s found, and his favorite X-men toys.

While Carlos dashes around, Jesica tells me more about herself. She was born in Puerto Rico, the middle child of five. Her parents still live there, but when she turned eighteen she wanted to get out. So she packed up and moved to Florida, found a job as a maid, and has been here ever since.

“What happened to Carlos’ father?” I ask. I’ve been curious, but hoped she’d bring it up so I wouldn’t have to pry. Jesica stands abruptly and my stomach drops. Did I just offend her? Darn it all, I shouldn’t have asked something so personal!

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to pry,” I begin, but Jesica shushes me. “The rice is finish,” she states, twinkling a smile at me. Her hips swing a little as she steps back into the kitchen and returns a moment later with the pot. She places it in the center of a small, metal table, and beckons for me to join her. Carlos dashes past me and slides into his chair with his chin barely showing over the top of the table.

I sit and Jesica dishes up our plates. The rice is steaming hot, with bits of vegetables and tomatoes mixed throughout. I blow on a spoonful and take a bite. “This is delicious!”

“It very simple, nothing fancy,” Jesica says, almost as if she is embarrassed by the humble fare. She waves off any more compliments and then says, looking at her son, “You ask about my husband. I marry him when I was nineteen. He was from Mexico, very good looking. I thought we’d be together forever, you know. But, as soon as Carlos is born, my husband not able to take it. He want the single life, not want to look after family, so he left. Last I hear, he is back in Mexico City, probably married again by now.”

She sighs and takes a bite of her own rice. Her face, always so happy the few times I’ve seen her around, looks melancholy. I’ve never been the greatest at relationship talk, never had the slumber parties where we giggle about boys, but I need to say something. I reach out and pat her hand. “You really loved him, didn’t you?”

Jesica takes one last bite and then pushes her plate back a few inches. “I loved him so much it hurts to think about his face. But it hurts to not think about his face too. I hate him. I miss him. I wish he was dead. I want him back.” She lifts the side of her mouth in a half smile. “You must think I crazy!”

Suddenly I realize I am blinking back tears. Jesica’s heartbreak is so similar to my own. I try not to cry and in the end, I emit a low moan mixed with a giggle. “I don’t think you’re crazy. I feel the exact same way about someone right now.”

And with that, I have a very ready audience. I begin to talk, at first hesitant to mention too many details. Won’t Jesica get awkward with me if she knows I used to date a millionaire? But as my story tumbles out, Jesica just listens.

“And that’s why I’m here. If there was a big enough hole to crawl into and disappear forever, I’d take it, but since there isn’t, I figured if I moved to a brand new place, laid low for a while until the scandal died down, and started again, I’d be able to keep my sanity.”

“So Todd not know where you are?” Jesica stands and picks up her plate. I rise as well and carry my dishes into the kitchen and place them beside the sink.

“No, he emailed me this afternoon, but I didn’t respond. I’m not going to either. He thinks he can cheat and get away with it, but he can’t.” My fists clench as I say those last few words and I shake my head in an attempt to calm down.

“Men who cheat are pond scum. In Spanish we call them
cabrones.
” Jesica turns the water on and fills the sink with hot, soapy liquid.

I repeat the word to myself. I like it.

“Speaking of emails, do you know who in this building has the open wifi connection? I’ve been connecting to it for free for the past week, but I feel a little guilty for, you know, borrowing it.”

Jesica laughs. “I think it is man upstairs. He is a security guard at an office in Orlando, and I not know his name. But I use his wifi too. I don’t think he mind, and I can’t afford my own, so don’t worry about it.”

I nod, still getting used to this new world that I’m living in.

Forty-five minutes later I am exhausted and ready to head to bed, but at the same time I don’t want to leave this tiny apartment. It feels so nice to vent, chat, and not hide anything about myself.

Jesica yawns, covering her face with a hand, and I take that as my cue to go. I stand up from the couch. “Thank you so much for dinner,” I tell her for the second time. “I really appreciated it.”

“This is what friends are for,” Jesica smiles. She walks to the door with me. “You working tomorrow?”

“Yes. I’m off on Friday, though, and, I forgot to tell you, I have a date! He’s taking me to Gatorland!” I’ve wanted to talk about it all night.

“You have a date already?” Jesica’s voice is shocked. “You just got out of relationship. Who is the new guy?”

“I met him at work. His name is David, and he’s a policeman.” I feel my face turning a little red at the slightly accusing edge in her words. “Am I moving too fast? Maybe I should give myself a break. I mean, you’re right, I just broke up with Todd and—”

Jesica cuts me off. “And you have every right to go on a date. Sorry if I seemed surprised. You should do it. Have fun! And don’t look back.”

I smile. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. We say goodnight, and I walk back into my own apartment, mulling over the evening.

Before I climb into bed, I open my laptop and check my email. There’s another one from Todd. Wow, the second one today.

I open it and read the short paragraph quickly.

Kennedy? Still waiting for you to get back here. What the crap is wrong with you? I know I messed up a little with a few people, but you’re not perfect either, right? When are you coming home? Emily Poole has been calling every few minutes. No one knows where you are. I mean, sure you’re giving me some pretty great publicity, which is AWESOME, but this is getting old. Babe? Come home. Later, T-dawg
PS Have you seen my Ovechkin jersey?

I smile spitefully when I read the last line. Todd will see his beloved jersey himself in a day or two, as soon as the mail gets to him.

I delete the email and when I collapse into bed a few minutes later, I fall instantly asleep. Dark. Dreamless. Happy.