Acapulco Nights (15 page)

Janice’s thin mouth curved into a frown. “Why don’t we go to the cafeteria and get some fried bananas? I’m bummed we didn’t get to spend the day together.”

“All right, but I’m buying.” It was the least I could do for her after lying to her.

“There’s no way I’m gonna turn
that
down.” We left the dormitories and headed toward the cafeteria across the center plaza.

“And tomorrow, let’s go to the movies—just you and me,” I added. I needed to start acting like a friend again.

“Okay!” Janice gave me a hug.

We entered the cafeteria, the lights blindingly bright after our walk in the semi-dusk. Getting in line, Janice had to ask me one last question. Just as I was feeling more like myself than I had in weeks and starting to relax and forget all the people who depended on me to be good old, well-behaved Suzie.

“I ran into Cristina when I was looking for you earlier. She said Mercedes moved out, dropped out of school. What the heck is going on?”

Dropped out of school
?

What had happened since I left her this morning? We certainly weren’t the best of friends, but Mercedes and I could be civil to one another.

“What?”

“Yeah, guess she was real upset or something. She didn’t want any help packing up, didn’t talk to anyone. Weird.”

Weird was right. But at least she wouldn’t be interfering anymore with Joaquin and me. I was relieved to have her gone. No matter what the circumstances were.

Good riddance, Mercedes, wherever you are
.

I stood by the indoor fountain, waiting for Joaquin to arrive. My red heels were pinching my feet. Too many salsa dances, I supposed.

"
Querida
." Joaquin came up behind me. He snaked his arm around my waist, taking possession of me.

"Don't call me that," I said. "Never again." The warmth of his hand burned right through the thin material of my dress, but I let him keep it there. I had to play my part. I wouldn’t let him renege on our deal. I would do what he asked.

"All right," he said coolly.

Through the huge glass doors at the back of the lobby, I could see quite a crowd around the pool. My ears pricked up at the familiar rhythm of the mariachi band. I wished I could be outside again next to James, Janice, and George with the moonlight in my hair and the tropical breezes at my back.

"Here we are." Joaquin led me through the tall double doors of a ballroom right off the lobby. In the ballroom a more exclusive party had gathered. Tables covered in pristine white tablecloths dotted the room. Wait staff in formal wear carried trays of caviar and shrimp.

"What's going on? This isn't the party." He had misled me. I thought we would be sipping cocktails and making small talk out on the patio in a more casual setting.

Joaquin signaled to a slim man in a very expensive suit who stood near a small crowd of people. "Enrique!" He had a huge grin on his face.

Enrique, a slight man sporting a thin moustache, returned the smile and nodded at Joaquin. Then, his gaze riveted onto me. The neat moustache over his upper lip curled up on one side, as if his interest had been piqued by my appearance.

Enrique left a group of people and headed straight for the two of us.

A nervous flutter tickled my stomach. More was going on here than a simple party. My play-acting had a larger purpose than Joaquin had led me to believe.

"
Cómo estás, Joaquin
?" Enrique enthusiastically greeted, clapping Joaquin hard on the back. "
Y quién es la bonita señorita
?
"

Joaquin spoke in English, "This is my wife, Suzette." His hand around my waist burned.

"
Tu esposa
?" Enrique choked out the word.

Joaquin ignored his look of surprise. "This is Enrique Guzmán, our marketing director." He nodded at me, encouraging me to interact.

I stretched out my hand, "How good to meet you,
Señor
Guzmán."

Enrique grasped my hand limply. He didn’t seem to know what to do with me. He continued to stare at me as if he had never seen an American woman before.

Our little group must have attracted some attention because more people approached us, listening in to Enrique's questions.

"Have you been in Acapulco long?" Although his accent was thick, Enrique's English was quite good.

I hesitated, looking up at Joaquin, not sure how to answer.

"We've been married almost twelve years, Enrique," Joaquin laughed off the question.

Enrique reddened.

I wanted so badly to look at my watch to see how much more of this I had to sit through. A tray of hors d’oeuvres came by, and I reached out for something to eat. Anything to get my mind off of the man staring at me. Even in his embarrassment, Enrique never took his eyes off of me.

Once Joaquin made his announcement, the small crowd of people gathered around us went silent. A nervous tinkling of glasses rang out.

"
Dónde estabas
, Joaquin?" a rich, feminine voice called out from behind us.

A slow, wicked smile appeared on Joaquin's face, and he turned us to face the woman who approached.

A familiar cloud of thick, black hair surrounded a face I would have recognized anywhere. She was a little bit heavier, but as beautiful as the day she disappeared from the university.

"Mercedes?" I am sure my face went as pale as a ghost. I turned to look at Joaquin.

A fit of nervous energy ran through my body. Joaquin's hand at my waist clamped more tightly. His malicious smile grew wider.

"I was meeting my wife," Joaquin said, his voice placid and smooth, as if he were talking about taking a trip to the grocery store.

"Your wife?" Mercedes gasped. "What is she doing here?" She looked pointedly at me, her eyes narrowing.

"We are moving to America. I’m leaving you. I'm leaving Acapulco." He let go of my waist and gripped my hand instead.

“Then it
is
true,” she said. “You really did marry her? It wasn’t a lie?” Mercedes looked to me for confirmation.

I nodded.

This was what he needed me for. As an escape. As a way out. But when did he and Mercedes get together? After I left for home?

All those years I worried about Joaquin's state of mind, and he had moved right into another relationship without a thought about me.

“I told you the truth, Mercedes. I’m not a free man. Now you can see for yourself.”

When I had seen Joaquin in the hotel lobby days ago, I thought his expression had been one of hurt and anger. But now I understood he had been hatching his plan even then. I stepped back into his life out of nowhere, and he found a way to take advantage. To hold the divorce over my head, when he probably didn't care one way or the other if I stayed married to him.

The crowd tensed around us, listening closely to the domestic situation unraveling right before their eyes.

"You're leaving Acapulco? Leaving Mexico?" Mercedes’s deep brown eyes lost their spark. "But what about Ariana? You will leave her, too?"

I remembered the girl in the photo in Joaquin’s office with her eyes so like his. Mercedes was Ariana’s mother?

Joaquin let go of my hand. He stepped forward and grabbed Mercedes by the upper arms. His fingers dug deep into her flesh. He whispered, but not so soft that I couldn't hear, "This is over, Mercedes." He thrust her away from him, and she tripped backwards into a table. Stumbling for a moment, she caught herself.

Her eyes penetrated mine. Pure venom flashed in their coffee-hued depths. "His wife," she spat out. Her gorgeous hair radiated from her cruel face in soft waves. “Did you know that he was with me the whole time? When you were making all those stupid plans? He didn’t love you. He never loved you.”

Mercedes words hit me like a sack of bricks. The years I had wasted wondering if I’d made a mistake. Wondering if Joaquin missed me, worried about me. It had never been real. None of it. The shame of it burned me. What a little fool I’d been. What a stupid little nineteen-year-old fool.

“Ah, but I married her, didn’t I, Mercedes? I married
her
.” Joaquin grabbed a glass of champagne off of a waiter’s tray as it passed by.

The crowd parted behind us. Someone made her way through the small gathering of people surrounding us.

“Is it true, Suzie?”

Janice’s face paled and her thin lips trembled. “Are you married to Joaquin? Are you his wife?”

Where did she come from? I thought Janice had gone back to her room with George. How did she find us?

Oh, God. James
.

My blood ran cold as ice in my veins.

She can’t tell James.

“All those years ago—when you stood me up—you were married to him and didn’t tell me?”

I reached out for her, grasping at her arm, her hand, anything I could touch. But she pulled away from me. “No, it wasn’t like that, Janice. I swear to you.”

With a sheen of tears in her eyes, she shook her head and backed away. “You lied to me. You lied to James. You even lied to your own mother. How could you do that, Suzie? What kind of person are you?”

She melted into the crowd. “Wait! Let me explain.” I yelled over the din in the ballroom. “I can explain. Please don’t. Janice, come back!”

To finish my explanation would be useless. She’d headed straight out the door and probably right up to the suite James and I were sharing.

She loved James. She might have been my friend first, but she wouldn’t keep something like this from him. Not after I had betrayed her, too.

My arms, still reaching out, froze. Panic trapped me there in that crowded, stuffy ballroom. Strangers pressed all around me, watching me as if I were a circus sideshow. I had entered the room on Joaquin’s arm, and now I would leave alone and humiliated. I had no one here who cared about me.

Mercedes, her face a mask of anguish and rage, slapped Joaquin hard across the face. “You don’t deserve to be a father,
pendejo
.”

Joaquin didn’t react to the slap or the insult. His beautiful hazel eyes hardened. “
Vete
,” he barked, hands clenched at his sides. “It’s over. I never wanted you. Never.”

Mercedes turned away from him, graceful even in her humiliation. I had been frozen by my fears, and yet she managed to exit with her head held high, her face radiant and beautiful. To her, the last twelve years no longer existed. They were erased in an instant.

I envied her—the ease with which she walked away from the man who caused her so much pain.

I gave one last look at Joaquin. I saw now what I had never seen before—the cruelty hidden behind the sparkling eyes and sensuous mouth.

I thought about James up in his room, sleeping, believing I slept next to him. I needed to talk to him, tell him why I had lied, tell him I was sorry. Before it was too late.

James’s single dimple flashed in my head, and I knew how much I needed to see him smiling at me again, his crooked, sweet smile. Meant just for me. How wrong I had been to make him wait for me all those years. How painful patience must have been for him. Yet he had endured it all for me.

For me.

My feet became lighter. I pushed through the crowd toward the open ballroom door. The heat of people pressing together bore down on me. I needed to be free. I needed to get away.

I exited into the lobby and didn’t look back.

*

I ran into George on my way to the elevators. He flagged me down, concern etched deep on his face.

“Have you seen Janice? She headed for the restrooms ten minutes ago, and I haven’t seen her since.”

My thoughts were solely on getting into that elevator and seeing James. I mumbled, “I have to go,” and pressed the button on the wall to call the elevator.

George grabbed my shoulder, “Do you know where she is? Is she all right?” They had been drinking, it was late, and they were in a foreign country. I could understand his concern, but my mind focused on getting to James, on explaining myself to him.

The elevator doors slid open. I slipped inside, pressing the button for our floor. The doors closed, but George held them back with his hand.

“Is she all right?”

“She’s fine. She’s okay. She’ll be back down in a minute, I’m sure,” I snapped at him for no good reason. Anger at my own mistakes consumed me.

George stared hard at me and then shook his head. His hand slid off the door.

The elevator doors closed, and I slumped against the wall. I blinked my eyes to stop the tears from falling. I had no time to feel sorry for myself. I started this, and now I needed to own up to it. No more lies. No more secrets.

The doors opened on the fourteenth floor. I stepped into the pristine hallway. I welcomed the silence.

I wondered if Janice would be there when I got to our room. I knew it would be too late to tell him the truth myself. My feet refused to move any faster.

Up ahead, the door to our suite opened.

My heart skipped a beat. A flush of heat came over me. I had to keep moving forward. I couldn’t stop now. I couldn’t run away anymore.

A swath of bright blue appeared, and then the familiar, slim figure of Janice.

I was too late. The truth was out. The lies had caught up with me.

She closed the door and turned toward me.

I knew she saw me in the long, quiet hallway, but she looked past me.

As she came nearer, I could see her tear-stained face, her lips thin and tight. I stopped and watched her pass. The hem of her cerulean dress swirled around her straight legs, a mist of blue. I couldn’t stay silent. I had to know.

“What did you tell him, Janice?” My voice sounded hoarse, ragged.

She said nothing as she passed me.

I raised my voice a notch, “What did you tell him?” My limbs shook.

Her footsteps faded away behind me. She gave no answer.

My feet carried me to the door. My mind became a fog of grief and longing. I wished I could go back years ago. The night when James changed my flat tire. When he smiled at me for the first time and revealed that dimple in his thin, dear face. I wanted to hold that day in my hand, like a precious stone, and keep it safe.

I smiled through the tears. I reached for that image in my mind and held onto it for strength. James loved me. He did. He truly did. And love was supposed to conquer all things.