Inner Diva (16 page)

“Well, hello there.” She placed a hand over
her racing heart.

He laughed and grabbed her hand, pulling her
to his car. “I missed you.”

They spent the evening at the late show in a
dark movie theater, the room so empty they had the entire back
twenty rows of seats to themselves. They shared a warm tub of
popcorn and snuck kisses.

Later, they sat in a diner with coffee and
pie. Monica stuck her fork in the steaming peach filling. “I played
Victoria all night. The entire run through.”

Carlos presented her an upraised palm, and
she tapped it. “Way to go.”

Monica nodded. “Trina’s sick and can’t
talk.”

Carlos swallowed a mouthful of blueberry.
“Opening night’s coming up, right? Will you be in the spotlight? Or
Trina?”

Just the mention of being in the spotlight
caused the grip around her heart again. “Oh, I’m sure she’ll be
fine by opening night. She’ll get loaded up with antibiotics so
she’s fine by then.”

Carlos nodded. “But if she’s not, you’ll do
it, right?”

“She’ll recover. Trina wouldn’t miss her big
chance at opening night.” She wished she were really as certain as
she sounded.

“Yes, but if she isn’t able to go on stage,
you will do it, right?” The way he gazed at her, she’d think he was
vested in the answer.

“Yeah, I guess.”

He punched the air. “Yesss!”

She glared at him, self-conscious at the
outburst. She peeked around, wondering if he’d drawn undue
attention.

“My girl, a leading lady! My diva.” He said
it with a huge sexy grin and she couldn’t help but laugh. Just the
thought of being leading lady caused her heart to take off on its
own erratic
rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat.
Monica stabbed her peach
pie with her fork.

“It’s crazy. I have this dream of being an
actress. I think about it all the time. But I have no idea if I
can. My biggest fear is that I’ll fail up there. It’s a lot of
pressure.”

“You’ll do great.”

She sighed in frustration. “You say that, and
I appreciate the vote of confidence, but seriously, Carlos. If all
the other actors are up there running at optimum performance level,
and I blow it – I can singlehandedly ruin the performance. And I’ll
have let down not only my fellow actors, but all the audience
members.”

She fell silent and looked at him. He stared
at her with a pained expression. “Whoa, baby. Hold on there. You
put that kind of pressure on yourself and you’ll never succeed. You
need to ease up a little.”

She nodded. He was right, of course, but
how?

“I don’t know squat about acting. But I think
you need to just relax and let it flow. You’ve been practicing,
right? You know the lines. You know this part inside and out. Just
let it go.”

She only wished she had the confidence in
herself that he had in her. “Have you ever wanted something so bad
that when you have the chance to get it, you’re scared to
death?”

He studied his coffee cup for a few silent
moments. “No, not exactly.”

“But?” She detected an unspoken thought
wanting to be released.

“But, it’s not like I don’t have regrets.” He
took a gulp of his cooling coffee and stared at a spot behind her
head with such intensity she felt he’d transported back to a memory
long forgotten. When he spoke, his voice was hushed and she had to
lean forward to make sure she didn’t miss his words. “I was wild
when I was younger. I did some things I wasn’t proud of.”

She waited for more, but he’d withdrawn into
a recollection. “Like what?” she prompted. Her whisper strained to
cut through the air that was growing thick between them.

He dropped his head and spoke softly to the
tabletop. “Lots of things. I got a little full of myself. I hung
out with my friends, had a little too much fun.”

Monica rubbed his hand on the tabletop and
snickered to lighten the mood. “Sounds like every other teenage boy
in the country.”

Carlos shook his head. More personal
revelations. The way he reacted after the last one made her realize
it wasn’t easy for him. “I figured I had all the time in the world,
and life was a party. I was wrong.” He lifted his head and looked
at her, his eyes so intent they grabbed hers and kept them from
escaping.

“Was this before your father died?” she
murmured.

He nodded. “From that moment on, my whole
life changed. I had to change with it.”

His words caused a stirring in her chest. She
could only imagine what an impact that tragic event had on Carlos
and his remaining family members. Would she recover as well if a
family emergency struck her?

“I had this macho complex.” Carlos continued,
pushing his coffee cup aside. “I had to prove I was tough, that I
could take whatever was thrown at me. I wanted people to treat me
with respect.”

She shuddered at the scoffing in his voice.
It didn’t seem a bad thing to want – respect from his friends.

“So I fought.”

She cleared her throat. “You fought?” She
could barely push it out over a whisper, but she needed
clarification.

“Anyone I could. Anyone who challenged me – I
needed to prove I was tough and could take care of myself.” He
leaned back in the booth, increasing the distance between them. “It
was stupid, I know that now. It was dangerous and could’ve put my
family in danger, too. But all I knew at the time was that I had to
prove myself. I couldn’t let anyone get the best of me.”

She stared deep into his eyes. This man who
had captured her heart was unlike anyone she’d encountered in her
lifetime. His goals, his challenges, his needs. What he was saying
terrified her. He had a violent side she’d known nothing about. And
violence was about as far from her safe, suburban life as anything
she could imagine. She shuddered, thinking of the certain cuts and
bruises he’d endured – and delivered to others. Why did he do it?
Wasn’t there another way to achieve the acceptance he sought as a
young man?

He’d said before he was out of his league
with her. Now she knew exactly how he felt.

“There’s more to you than your fists, Carlos.
There always has been.” She leaned forward in her seat. “You’re
great with engines. You’re very mechanical. You care about your
family.”

His voice lowered, but a tinge of anger
rested beneath its surface. “That’s now. Not then. I got here
eventually, but you don’t know what I was like then.”

She nodded. Everyone takes a journey to form
them into the adult they were today. Even herself. A year ago, she
wouldn’t have been sitting here with a man like Carlos, listening
to his frightening story – she’d probably be at Barbie’s house
babysitting, while her sister and her husband were out on the town
at some lavish fundraiser. Yet, here she was.

“You were angry. Anyone would be after what
happened to your father and brother. This was how you dealt with
it.”

“My mother deserved better from me. She went
through the worst catastrophe in her life, and instead of making it
better for her, I made it worse. I was immature.”

“I understand.” She sat staring into his
eyes. It took courage for him to open up and tell her about his
savage past, knowing she wouldn’t approve of it. Yet he had
revealed a part of himself to her, trusting she wouldn’t reject
him, but see a piece of his past that helped get him to where he
was now.

“Fighting was an outlet for me. It fed a need
for excitement. Gave me shots of adrenaline. I took my share of
beatings, but for the most part, I came out ahead more times than
not.”

She shook her head. She didn’t want to hear
it. It wasn’t a part of who he was today. She’d been with him
enough to know this was a part of his past he’d left behind. She
wasn’t a part of that segment of his life, nor would she ever be.
Violence had no place in her life, and that was how she wanted it
to stay.

Somehow they’d started down this
uncomfortable line of conversation and she had no business being
there. She pushed her plate away and picked up her purse. “Are you
ready to go?”

“Not yet. I want to be done with this. I want
you to know …”

“Look, Carlos, we’ve all done things we’re
not proud of in our youth. But this doesn’t apply to you now, does
it?”

He stared at her, eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you have regular street fights now? Is
that what you’re trying to tell me?”

“No. That part of my life is done. I haven’t
fought in years.”

“Okay. Then it doesn’t apply to us. It has no
place in our relationship, right?”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m trying
to be open and honest with you,
carina
. You told me you were
big on that.”

“Yes, but …” She couldn’t explain it. Her
discomfort with this topic overpowered her need to learn more about
him, about his past. She was falling in love with the man he was
today. The man that sat before her. The responsible family man who
loved his sister and helped his mother, and worked hard. The man he
was when he was with her. Sitting before her was not a violent thug
who roamed the streets searching for opponents. Looking at him, she
couldn’t come to terms that the boy he described grew into the man
before her.

She just didn’t want to hear it.

“Are you ready to go?” she asked again,
hoping the answer was yes.

He gazed at her another moment, then he
shrugged. “I guess.”

They walked to his car in silence. He opened
the door for her and waited while she buckled in. He walked around
the car to his door slowly, head down. As they drove, Monica’s mind
whirred, trying to come up with ideas to move them past the
aftereffects of their uncomfortable conversation.

Carlos pulled into her driveway and walked
her to her front door.

“Would you like to come in?” It was late but
she didn’t want to end the evening on a tense note.

“Yes.”

She glanced at his face and took in the
determined expression in his eyes. Unwittingly, a shiver escaped
down her spine.

Once inside, Carlos took off his worn leather
jacket and threw it on a chair. Monica began to unzip her own
jacket when she noticed that he wasn’t stopping there. His next
movements stopped her in her tracks. He unbuttoned his denim shirt,
his eyes connected with hers, intense in their scrutiny. Without a
word he reached the bottom button and shrugged the shirt off his
shoulders and tossed it on top of his jacket.

Monica blinked. Had he come here to make love
to her? If so, was she ready for this step? “Carlos, …” His name
stopped on her lips when she saw him grip the bottom hem of the sky
blue tee he wore underneath. With a single powerful movement, he
pulled it over his head and added it to the growing pile of his
clothing on the chair.

She gulped. The emotions that always surged
inside her at the sight of Carlos dressed, were minimized when
faced with this new vision of Carlos standing before her with a
bare torso. She held in a groan at the glorious sight of his
chiseled chest, peppered with dark hair and well-toned muscles.

She took a step toward him. Her hands itched
to run over his tanned skin, to feel the crevices and swells of his
well-honed physique. She hadn’t reached him yet when he turned his
back on her, and pointed in the direction of his right shoulder
blade.

“Look.”

She stopped in her tracks. Oh, she was
looking, all right. She had just begun her looking and could barely
get her fill. Now that he had revealed the masterpiece that was his
unclothed body, she didn’t want to stop until she’d looked and
caressed to her heart’s content.

“Do you see that?”

She shook her head to clear it of lustful
thoughts. “What?”

He turned to look at her. “Monica, I’m trying
to show you something.”

She moved closer to him and he once again
turned to show her his back. A black tattoo of two block letters,
L.D. adorned his right shoulder blade.

“Have you ever seen that tattoo before?”

She shook her head. “No. Whose initials are
they?” Inside her head began a litany,
Don’t let it be a past
love.

“Take a good look.”

Monica took a step closer and touched
trembling fingers to the inked design. The design was simple – just
the letters L and D in an open block font, about two inches
high.

As she studied the mark, he turned toward
her. “That tattoo marks me as a member of … an organization. A
brotherhood.”

Monica nodded. It sounded a lot like the
fraternities at a university. But she knew Carlos hadn’t gone to
college and she was quite sure he wasn’t talking about a Greek
brotherhood.

“This group pursued me because of my fighting
skills. They wanted me because I’d proven myself with my
fists.”

Monica shuddered because the truth came
crashing down on her. “Carlos, this isn’t …. Are you saying, this
is the tattoo of a street gang?”

Even as she asked the question, she knew with
all her heart it was true. It was the only answer. Her heart
pounded with trepidation. She turned away and covered her eyes with
her hands. A sob escaped her. Carlos bounded to her side and
wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his warmth.

“Shhh, shhh,
carina
. It’s okay. Let me
explain.”

She shook the sudden emotion off and looked
up into his beautiful face. He loosened his grip around her, still
holding her in a loose circle against his chest. “They wanted me to
join them. I thought I wanted it too. I saw it as my acceptance –
the place where I was appreciated. I went through all the rituals.
They offered me a spot in the gang. The last step was the
tattoo.”

Monica shuddered, thinking of the pain he’d
endured.

“But I came to my senses. The next few days I
realized, I didn’t want that kind of life. I couldn’t put my mother
and baby sister in danger, and I didn’t want my life to take that
turn. If I’d stayed in the gang, my way would be paved – crime,
arrests, jail.”