“I don’t see how it’s a funny question,” he said rather seriously.
“Well, for one, I’m not tall enough,” I rattled off, ticking my fingers. “For two, I’m clumsy as hell. For three, I don’t have the confidence.”
“And for four?”
For four? Well, for four there was no way they’d hire a gimpy, scarred model for anything except the before and after effects of battery acid usage gone wrong, and they’d have to Photoshop the before picture.
“I walk with a slight limp,” I admitted. “It gets worse when I’m not paying attention.”
“I’d say I haven’t noticed,” he said sincerely.
“Well, I’ve been paying attention.”
“Isn’t that tiring? To hide it? To pretend?”
I sucked on my lip and stared at the industrial buildings zipping past. “Yes, it is.”
“Then how about you don’t pretend with me? You’re going to need all the energy you can get.”
I raised my brow and looked back at him. “Is that so?”
He grinned, a stunning smile that lifted his whole face. “You will find out very soon.”
Though he just warned me not to hide anything from him, I turned my head and hid the stupid schoolgirl look on my face. Besides, I was hiding so much already.
We drove past dilapidated buildings and ravished oceanfront, and Javier explained the effects of Hurricane Katrina. I’d watched the whole thing on the news two years earlier, but Javier had been here, riding the whole thing out.
“Was your place damaged?” I asked, almost saying house but then catching myself. To him, I had no reason to suspect he lived in a house.
He shook his head. “I was staying in an apartment at the time; there was just some water damage on the first floor. Many homes were absolutely wrecked, which in time ended up being a good thing. For me, anyway. I bought a seaside home late last year; it was damaged but it was cheap, and I spent a lot of time fixing it up.”
“And that’s in Ocean Springs?”
“I love the town so much more than Biloxi and Gulfport. Blegh. So impersonal. But in Ocean Springs, people know your name.”
“And that’s a good thing?” I asked, totally surprised. I would have thought laying low was rule number one for those involved in illegal activities. At least, that’s what I’d been taught.
His wide mouth twitched with amusement. “Yes, that’s a good thing. In Mexico, where I’m from, La Cruz, everyone knows your name. Everyone is there to help you, to support you. It’s one big family. You get that here in the south, sometimes, but in Ocean Springs it’s just so small and community oriented.”
“It’s kind of a rich place, isn’t it? That’s at least what I gathered.”
“It is and it isn’t. But I feel at home, and to feel you’re at home when you’re so far away from home, that’s very important.”
“So you’re from La Cruz, huh?”
He shot me a sideways glance. “Do you know where that is, girl who has never left Arizona?”
I smiled. “No, actually I don’t. It just has a nice ring to it.”
“Eden White has a nice ring to it too.”
I fidgeted in my seat. “Sounds like home?”
“Yes. It does.” There was a hint of melancholy in his inflection and a hush gripped us in the car until the town of Ocean Springs was upon us.
While he brought the car down the main street I said to him, “Where are we going? Are you taking me out for coffee?”
He laughed. “That would be boring, don’t you think? No, I’m taking you to my house.”
I gulped down the knot in my throat. I knew it was only about four in the afternoon now, but thank God I had brought the condoms.
Soon we pulled up to the very place I had been watching all those weeks before. The whiteboard outside, curved stained-glass windows, and huge porch. I used to sit up the street in the truck and watch him, wondering what his name was, if he had friends, what he did when he wasn’t with Travis. I was lucky I had done most of my staking out at night, otherwise he would have grown pretty suspicious of my truck. How silly to have your cover blown just because of a car.
Now, finally, I was going to get the tour inside. Of course I had to act like I’d never seen the place before.
“This is lovely,” I said, staring up at the house, my hand shielding the late sun from my eyes. “And the beach is all yours?”
“Mas o menos,” he said. He held out his hand for me and I took it with glee. “Come, I’ll give you the grand tour.”
We had parked in the spots that were underneath half the house, the back end on stilts. Javier explained to me that all the support beams had collapsed from the hurricane and the house was slanted. They basically had to raise the thing back up. We ignored the door in the garage area and he took me to where wooden steps led up to the porch up top. Around us, white beach sand was blowing across the driveway and a breeze was rustling the palm fronds and twisted live oak trees. Everything here was glowing in the sunshine, the humidity being swept away.
The porch had a beautiful view of the beach—windswept grass, soft sand, and a driftwood lined path that led from the house to the ocean. But that wasn’t the only thing that took my breath away. There was a table on the porch, set up with an ice bucket and wine glasses.
Javier watched me carefully and smiled with satisfaction. “I thought we could have drinks here and enjoy the view before it gets too dark.” He clapped his hands together. “Just a minute. Here, sit down.”
He pulled out a wrought iron chair and then disappeared into the house. I took a seat, fingering the fine texture of the tablecloth. It amazed me that a guy of his age had such good taste. Perhaps growing up in Mexico made you appreciate the finer things in life. Perhaps drug money helped too.
When he came back, I’d already poured myself a glass of Sauvignon Blanc, the exquisite taste swirling around my tongue. He placed a tray on the table consisting of prosciutto-wrapped figs in balsamic dressing, prawns and an aioli-type dip, plus perfectly crisp mini taquitos and fresh verde salsa.
He sat across from me and poured himself a glass.
“Did you make all this?” I asked.
He smiled politely. “Yes, I did. So if you don’t like it, I’ll be horribly offended. I didn’t know if you were a vegetarian or not, so the taquitos are filled only with vegetables.”