Brain twister, p.5
Amor in the 305, page 5
“Actually, I decided to move here.” I place the black helmet in my hands back onto the shelf.
“You live here now, very nice,” he says, raising an eyebrow and crinkling his forehead.
“I’ve been here about a week, so far. I love it. Now that I live here, I’m buying a scooter. What about you, what are you doing here?” I ask, grabbing another helmet from the shelf in front of me, this one also black but with silver designs on it.
“This is my shop.” He smiles now, a genuine grin reaching his eyes.
“Oh, well, even better then. I’m glad to know I’ll be supporting someone I know.”
He steps closer to me and with the back of his fingers grazes the skin on my upper arm. “You never called me.”
His thick accent warms me from the inside, sending a chill up my spine and the helmet I’m holding drops to the floor, causing a loud thud. “I’m sorry.”
“I got it.” Amaury bends to pick up the helmet and places it back on the shelf, then turns to me. Standing before me his emerald eyes gaze into mine, and he grasps my fingers intertwining them with his, his proximity causing my breath to quicken. “I was thinking about you todos los días since I meet you,” he whispers, bringing my hand up to his lips, dropping kisses along my fingers.
“I—”
“Te extrañe,” he says. “We barely know each other but I missed you, mucho.” His touch burns my skin and lights a fire within.
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about you too,” I murmur. I can’t believe I said that. It’s like I don’t know myself when he’s near me. Thinking and feeling things I shouldn’t, saying things I should keep to myself. His fiery touch mixed with his deep, sultry voice laced with a thick accent has me all worked up, intensifying the tingling between my legs.
“¿Sí? Good, it’s decided then. We can see each other again and go out.”
“Um.” I draw my hand away from his, push my curls away from my face. “We can talk and then see about going out sometime.”
“Está bien. I can be patient.” He rewards me with a crooked smile.
“You choose a helmet?” I shake my head. “For you, me gusta this one—red with a black swirl design.” He grabs a helmet from the bottom shelf and holds it out to me, tracing the design with his left fingers. It’s an open face model covering the ears with a front visor.
I pull the elastic from my hair, letting my curls fall over my back and take the helmet from him, pushing it onto my head. “I like it and it fits good. Just need to figure out what to do with my hair when I ride,” I say, staring at my reflection in the mirror to the right of the helmet shelf.
“You already choose a scooter?”
“Yes. The red Vespa over there,” I say, pointing to where my new ride is on display. I remove the helmet and muss my hair a bit. “Eduardo is doing the paperwork.”
“¡Perfecto! This helmet will match tu nueva motoneta,” he says, grabbing the helmet from my hands. “You decide what you will name her?”
I glance at him, a smile oozing from me. “I thought I was weird for naming my vehicles, but it turns out you do the same thing.”
“Ah, yes. Es muy importante to give your new scooter the perfect name and it must be a woman’s name because the Vespa es clásica. She’s beautiful and has curvas. He drags the fingers of his right hand along my jawline, causing goosebumps to spread across my skin. “Como tú,” he finishes.
I need to get control of myself. Mr. Handsome has barely spoken or touched me and I’m all flustered and out of sorts. I separate myself from him. “I haven’t named her yet, I’ll let you know when I do.”
“Ven. Let’s see if Eduardo is finished.” He tucks the helmet under his left arm and then rests his hand on my waist, leading me toward the desk area.
“Eduardo, te acuerdas the woman la noche en Ball & Chain. This is her, Soledad.”
“Ah, the mystery woman! I was starting to think she was only in your imagination. He’s talked about you every day since that night. Today you have made him a happy man.” Eduardo’s words surprise me. Amaury and I spent less than two hours together, yet he’s thought and talked about me for months.
The ringing of the front door’s alert bell interrupts us and Amaury tells Eduardo, “I finish helping Sol, you help him.” He points to the man that just walked into the showroom.
“I’ve already finished the forms, she just needs to review and sign them,” Eduardo says, then strides toward the gentleman perusing the scooters.
“You know how to ride this, or do you need lessons?” Amaury asks.
“I’m pretty sure I know how. I haven’t ridden one in years but I’m sure it’s like riding a bike,” I respond, pulling a curl around my fingers. Nerves pool in my belly because what if I don’t remember how to. Thankfully, my apartment is only a few blocks away so I should be okay.
The forms seem to be in order, and I sign them, pay for the helmet and scooter.
Amaury went to get a new helmet in the back. When he returns, he says, “Vamos, I bring it outside for you and get you ready to go, sí?”
Outside Amaury parked my new red beauty in the shade along the sidewalk.
“Entonces Sol, when I can see you?” he asks, stepping into me and caressing my jawline.
I lift my eyes to his. “I don’t know. My cell phone number is on the forms inside. Call or text me and we can figure something out.” I’m not ready to commit to anything just yet.
“Okay. Hacemos las cosas a tu manera,” he says, reluctantly agreeing to do things at my pace. “I want you to be ready pa’ lo que viene,” he proclaims and presses his thumb to my lips, tracing them from left to right. I’m grateful he isn’t pushing more. I’m into him but I’m nervous. A new relationship wouldn’t be the worst thing, but regardless of what we do, I need to take it slow. I don’t even know if I’m ready for a relationship again.
CHAPTER SIX
Amaury
I watch Soledad ride off on her new Vespa, my heart thrumming in my chest from spending the last thirty minutes with her. When we met and she didn’t give me her number, I was sure it would be the last time I ever saw her. Es nuestro destino that she walked into my shop today. I’ve always been a big believer in destiny, and today’s events show it’s a good thing. When I can no longer see her or the Vespa, I turn on my heel and head back inside.
“Bro, tremendo cañón, you in love!” exclaims Eduardo as soon as I walk through the door.
“I know, she so beautiful! I no stop thinking about her since we met.”
“In all the years I know you, I never see you act así with a woman,” Eduardo says from where he’s standing behind the desk.
Eduardo and I have been friends since we were young kids in Cuba. I’m a year older than him but we grew up on the same block, went to the same school, and had the same circle of friends. He didn’t know I was leaving Cuba because it’s one of those things you don’t talk about, but he had the same plans as me and left about a week after I did. I’m glad he’s here—him and several other friends from my childhood—since my brothers, sisters, and parents are still in Cuba and have no plans of leaving the island. Starting a new life as an adult in Miami was hard, especially by myself, but with friends like Eduardo, who is like a brother to me, it makes it much easier.
After being in Miami for a few years, I opened 305 Scoots with Eduardo. We were both mechanics back in Cuba so together we restore and fix old scooters. We decided to add rentals and sales to our shop here in Miami Beach. With it being a tourist destination all year round, it was an ideal business. Our first few years it went much better than expected and we decided to open a second location on Washington Avenue between Fifth and Sixth Streets. Although both locations are busy, the Washington Avenue location gets a lot busier with rentals since it’s more central to the touristy area of South Beach.
“When I met her, something happened inside of me. When we danced the first night, our attraction was … no se, inexplicable,” I recount, remembering the night I danced with Sol under the stars at Ball & Chain. I can’t find the right words to explain what she makes me feel.
“Pero, she’s no cubana. ¿De dónde es?” he asks, inquiring about Sol’s origins.
“Es Gringa with Latino parents.”
Sol wasn’t a good dancer and stepped on my feet a few times, but she let me lead and carry us through the beat of the music. Her hands were on fire and she smelled like cinnamon. When I kissed her my body ignited from within, like fireworks. Then she went home never to be heard from again.
“So, when you seeing her again?” Eduardo asks, interrupting my memories.
I shrug. “She told me to call or text her so hopefully soon,” I respond, searching for her paperwork so I can find and save her number to my phone.
I’m home and feel restless. I’ve put some groceries away, got my mail, watered my plants, and took a shower. Despite that, it feels like I still have unfinished business. Seeing Sol was unexpected yet the best thing that’s happened all week. Her light brown eyes shone, and the lipstick she was wearing accentuated her full lips. I wanted to kiss her but had to restrain myself. There’s something holding her back, keeping her from opening up to me. The night we met she didn’t talk much and was quick to leave. Today as we talked about scooters and helmets, I could see her eyes wanted to tell me more. Whatever she was thinking or feeling, she kept to herself. I’ll have to work on making her feel more comfortable around me. Get her to talk more.
Do I call her now or should I wait? Will she think I’m too pushy if I do? If I don’t, will she think I’m not into her? I haven’t dated in a while and don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore. Is there even a right and wrong?
Fuck it, I’m calling her. If I don’t, I’m going to drive myself crazy. I grab my phone and pull up her name, hit send before I change my mind.
She answers on the second ring. “Hello.”
“Hola, Sol. Es Amaury,” I say, trying to keep my tone even to not sound too eager.
“Hi. I knew I’d hear from you tonight.”
“Y eso?”
“You’re not the type of guy to wait, when you want something, or in this case someone, you don’t leave anything to chance.” Her tone is playful and light, yet she’s spot on. She has me pegged and we’ve spent a total of three hours together. Am I that transparent?
“What I can say? Me gustas, since the first night I met you. You got away last time and I no letting it happen again.” Now that she opened the door to how I feel about her, I’m not letting the opportunity pass me by. She’s silent at my confession, her breath even but loud in my ear.
Sol finally breaks the silence. “So, what do you have in mind?”
“Hay un restaurante argentino en North Beach. Dinner?” I know her mom is from Argentina, which is why I suggest dinner at an Argentine place.
“I’d like that. But, if it’s okay with you, let’s meet up later in the week,” she says. Waiting isn’t what I hoped for but she said yes, so I won’t push my luck. I’m in for a long week waiting to see her again. “I’m still settling in, unpacking, and getting used to a new work schedule.”
“Está bien. Any day en particular?” I ask, hoping she says Tuesday and not Friday.
“Let’s do Thursday. Not sure what work will be like at my new job and if it’s anything like the last place I worked, it’ll be hectic.”
Four days will feel like four weeks, but I haven’t been this excited about anything in a long time.
“Perfecto,” I say. “¿Qué haces ahora?” I ask, curious as to what she’s doing.
“I’m getting my stuff ready for work. Tomorrow is my first day at my job and I want to leave everything ready for the morning.”
“Where you will be working?”
“I’m an interpreter and translator. I’ll be working for a company named Miami Language Solutions. The office is in Brickell.”
“Wow. Que cool. ¿Para español?”
“Yes, Spanish and Italian,” she responds. I remember being at the courthouse a few years back and saw the interpreters working. It’s difficult to listen and interpret simultaneously. I’m impressed.
“¡Impresionante!” I exclaim. “That’s a great job.”
“Thank you.”
“I let you get back to what you are doing then. I wish Thursday to come soon.”
“Me too. And Amaury?”
“¿Sí?”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you por qué?”
“For knowing I wanted you to call without me actually saying it.” My heart thunders at her confession.
“Good night, muñeca,” I say, with a smile spread across my face.
“Buenas noches.”
Hoy el tiempo no pasa. I spent the entire day looking at my watch and the minutes seemed like hours. Now outside the restaurant, I feel anxious and excited about seeing Sol. When I texted her yesterday, she asked if we could meet at the restaurant. I’m guessing it’s her way of keeping her privacy until she feels safe with me. Understandable and smart.
I’m leaning against the wall, searching the area for Sol to make an appearance. A few minutes pass and I see her emerge from between two parked cars in the public lot across the street. I watch as she strolls to the corner and presses the button to wait for the light. She’s such a rule follower. I would’ve crossed without waiting for the light. As she waits for the walk light, she’s fidgeting, twirling her hair with her fingers. She hasn’t noticed me watching her.
Sol is tall, not much shorter than me, and I’m six feet four. She’s curvy with hips and an ass that drive me crazy, and legs for days. I hope I get the chance to wrap those legs around me. Behave Amaury, I can’t be having a hard-on on my first date. She’s already reserved, no need to give her a reason to run.
As she approaches me, her hand raises, waving. “Hi. Have you been waiting long?”
I shake my head. “No, just got here,” I respond, and lean in to place a kiss on her cheeks. Her olive skin is warm and soft, the cinnamon scent invading my senses.
“Good. I hate making people wait.”
“You could park your scooter here,” I say, pointing to the motorcycle parking off to our right.
“I drove. I’m not comfortable enough to ride at night.”
“Soon you will be a pro.” I reach for her hand, but she wraps both hands around her purse straps.
We turn and walk to the entrance and the hostess seats us at a table by the window.
“Why’d you choose this place for dinner?” she asks me.
“I remember you said your mom es de Argentina.”
“Funny, growing up we’d go to Argentina for two months in December to spend the summer with my mother’s family in Mar del Plata. We’d always eat at the Manolo restaurant. I loved having meals there. When you suggested this place, I was surprised because I didn’t know there was a Manolo’s here and it brought back some good memories.”
“Acerté,” I say, and she graces me with a smile that reaches her eyes. A lucky guess on my part that she’d been to one of these in Argentina.
“Have you eaten here before?” she asks.
“Only the churros and the coffee. Not dinner,” I respond, dropping my eyes to the menu. “There’s a lot to choose from, no se what I want. You?”
“From what I remember there’s a lot of similar menu items. I think I’m gonna get the Milanesa Full. It’s what I used to get in Mar del Plata, and something que mi mamá made for dinner a lot.” I peruse the menu in search of what she said she’s ordering and find it. Breaded chicken or steak topped with two fried eggs and a side. Not something I would choose but sounds interesting.
“Funny, nosotros los cubanos call a milanesa—” I bring my eyes down and point at the menu “—a bistec empanizado. A breaded steak.”
“That’s one of the things I love about languages. We all speak Spanish, yet each country has different ways of identifying or saying things. Sometimes even within the same country there are varying dialects. I loved studying and learning about the linguistics of language.” As she’s talking about her studies, her lips curl up and her golden-brown eyes are bright.
“Why you decide to study that?”
“I grew up speaking Spanish with my mother. When I started kindergarten, I had to learn English and was the only kid who spoke Spanish. Then in junior high we had to take a language and I chose to study Italian because I already knew Spanish. Besides, that’s where my grandfather is from, and it was either Italian or French. I learned quickly and studied all through high school. Also, I used to translate for my mother all the time. She speaks English but needed help to understand letters or if she was having a conversation with a doctor or lawyer. By the time I got to college, I loved languages and it was just part of my life, so I decided to major in linguistics and Italian, with a minor in Spanish.” She shrugs as if studying languages is something easy.
“Increíble! Many people need translators to help. You will do good here in Miami with that job.”
“I hope so because so far I really like living in Miami.”
“So, which do you like more, speaking in English or hablando en español?”
“They both come naturally to me. I guess it depends on who I’m with. I mean, English is what I’m most used to but sometimes I think in Spanish too,” she says, lifting her shoulder in uncertainty. “What about you, which do you prefer?”
“Bueno, it’s easier to speak Spanish but English is better so I can practice. When I’m with someone who speaks both, I try to speak English. If I no speak it, I forget it and here in Miami it’s easy to only speak Spanish.”
“Makes sense. So, English it is, or at least for the most part because let’s be honest, Spanglish is gonna happen.” She chuckles.
The waiter arrives to take our order. “I’ll take the churrasco, well done,” I tell him when Sol finishes ordering.
“Well done?” Sol interrupts me, scrunches her face, and drops the menu on the table.
