Uncovering Camila (Wildflowers Book 3) (18 page)
Read Uncovering Camila (Wildflowers Book 3) Online
Authors: Vivian Winslow
L is busier than expected when Camila arrives for her eight to four shift.
“Where did all these people come from?” She asks Felicity.
Felicity doesn’t look up as she pours vodka into a shaker. “Where else would single people go on Thanksgiving when most bars close early?” She begins to shake the cocktail. “I’m so glad Todd scheduled me. I didn’t realize how great the tips would be. Guess everyone feels sorry for those of us who have to work.” She chuckles.
“You can find the upside to anything, huh?”
“Damn straight.” She narrows her eyes at Camila under the bright blue lights over the bar. “You alright?”
Camila nods. “Yeah, just a long family dinner.”
“Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re standing. I couldn’t work after a big meal.”
“I didn’t eat.”
Felicity looks at her quizzically but lets it drop. “Let’s have fun tonight, shall we?” She slides a vodka gimlet toward Camila. “Here’s to all the dysfunctional family dinners everyone’s had to suffer through today.”
Camila smiles and downs her drink as Felicity does the same.
The hours pass quickly as more people filter into L. Camila had forgotten how much fun working Thanksgiving can be. Todd was right. It’s the one holiday of the year when people are so miserable after seeing their families that they want to drink, or they’re so lonely being away from family that they want to drink. Either way, alcohol features prominently over the holidays in New York, and it all begins on Thanksgiving.
“You going anywhere this weekend?” Felicity asks Camila as they share their second drink around midnight.
“Yeah, but my cousin won’t tell me where. You?”
“Todd is taking me to someplace up in Vermont.” She winks at Camila.
“Wow, so you two are getting pretty serious,” Camila comments, dropping her typical workplace distance.
A smile breaks out over Felicity’s face. “Yeah, I think we are. It’s too early to tell, but it’s good. He’s good,” she winks again. “But there’s just something, I don’t know what, but I feel it when we’re together. He’s holding back a bit. Maybe it’s because I work for him . . . .” Felicity shrugs. “I don’t let it get to me since it’s still new, but at some point it will bother me if he keeps up this wall.”
Felicity nods her head to a small table at the far corner of the room. “By the way, I think someone’s trying to get your attention. He keeps looking over here.”
Camila smiles when she sees Justin drinking a Sapphire and tonic she made twenty minutes ago.
“Can you cover me for a few minutes?” She asks Felicity.
“Is that all you need?” Felicity quips.
Camila breezes past a few loud tables, lifted by the energy flowing through the bar. It’s a relief to be somewhere that stands in contrast to the stifling energy of her uncle’s home. At L, everyone comes to forget their issues and, for a short time, pretend they don’t exist. “Hey, what are you doing here?”
“I heard this place serves a mean gin & tonic,” Justin replies.
“Wasn’t it you who said that cocktail bars represent the bourgeois ideals of the 90’s?” She asks.
He raises his eyebrows. “You sure that was me?” He chuckles. “As a matter of fact, I still think that, but I thought this place would be different.”
“Why’s that?” Camila slides her hands in the back pockets of her jeans.
“Because you work here. I figured someone as cool as you wouldn’t work in some pretentious bar.”
“Would you judge me if I did?”
Justin sweeps his hair to the side and shrugs. “I don’t think I’d be able to find fault with you.”
Camila laughs. “You don’t know me well enough for that to be true. Promise you won’t use that line on anyone else.”
He leans forward. “I promise, on one condition though.”
“What’s that?” Camila inches toward him.
“You listen to all my lines and tell me which are good and which are not.”
“I’m probably the last person to offer dating advice.”
“Even if you’re the one I want to date?”
Camila’s heart starts pumping. It’s been a while since she’s met anyone so direct. Eliseo didn’t have to be. He kept showing up at the bar until she finally gave him her number. Even Marshall . . . . Camila’s thoughts hit pause when he comes to mind. He wasn’t direct, but he was honest. Two very different things in her book.
For Justin, being direct is his way of conveying confidence and taking control of a situation and steering it in his favor. It would usually be a turn off, but on a night like tonight, after the family fight and an uneaten Thanksgiving meal and facing a trip to an unknown location, Camila is willing to play the game. By her rules of course.
“Try me,” she says.
Justin sips his drink. “I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”
“Generic and probably the most common line in a love song.”
“So I’m O for two?”
She nods. “Pretty much. Also, using baseball metaphors with dating is also not only cliché but insulting. Dating is not a sport.”
“Says you,” he replies. “Fair enough.” He leans forward again and says, “No matter which direction I go, you always seem to be my destination.”
“Better, but still . . . ,” Camila replies, becoming bored already. Two minutes and now she remembers why she hates dating games. They’re a waste of time.
“I should get back,” she says, turning toward the bar.
Justin grabs her arm and says, “How about, no matter what I do to stop thinking about you, nothing works. So I find myself wondering and waiting for the call that never comes until finally I leave a slice of pumpkin pie sitting on my table to find you.”
Camila smiles. “Honesty suits you. If you’re willing to wait a little longer, I finish at four.”
Justin smiles back and finishes his drink. “In that case, I’ll have another.”
“That drink was awesome,” Justin says to her as he finishes his fourth Sapphire and tonic. “
Camila nods as she wipes down the tables. Hearing an adult male describe something as “awesome” is right up there with pole hogs and manspreading in the subway, highly irritating. Now that she thinks of it, he’d said it when she approached him tonight.
“You know, I was thinking about what you said about those lines that I use. I don’t want you to think that I go around talking to women like that. At least not all the time.” He smiles.
“Oh, only some of the time,” Camila replies wryly. After the day she’s had, she’s quickly losing her sense of humor
and
her patience.
He shrugs. “You know what I mean.”
“Excuse me a moment.” Camila offers him a weak smile and heads back to the bar where Felicity is counting her tips. “This guy . . . ,” she says in a hushed voice.
Felicity turns and raises an eyebrow. “Not quite what you expected, huh?”
Camila shakes her head. “The more words come out of his mouth, the less attractive I find him.”
Felicity chuckles as she neatly stacks the wet bills. “That’s usually the case. You gotta feel sorry for him though.”
“Why?”
“If looks are all he has to go on . . . .” Felicity grimaces. “Imagine when that fades.”
“I was thinking about hanging out a bit tonight, but now, I’m not feeling it or him.” The reason why is something Camila has been trying to ignore since she first spoke to him. The more she considered it, the more she imagined
his
face. A part of her would be inclined to just have sex with Justin in order to better forget
him
, but even she had to admit to herself that it probably will only have the opposite effect.
“I hear you. I can’t hook-up with guys I can’t have a decent conversation with.”
“His line about how he couldn’t get me off his mind should’ve tipped me off.”
Felicity makes a sour face. “Cliché men are the worst. Shows how incapable they are of having any original ideas.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Camila agrees.
“You think you’ll call him when you get back?” Shoshana asks.
Camila shakes her head. “I don’t think either one of us is that interested.”
“I’m sure he’s plenty interested,” Shoshana shoots her a knowing look. “I think you’re the one who’s a bit conflicted. It’s understandable. Of course you can’t help but compare him to Marshall.”
“I wasn’t comparing him to anyone. He just wasn’t . . . .” Camila pauses to find the words. “Very sophisticated.”
“That’s just code for ‘not Marshall.’ It’s only been a couple of weeks. Don’t worry, I’m sure where we’re going you’ll have plenty to choose from. To say the least, the pool of men will be interesting.”
“Are you finally going to tell me where we’re going? I’m assuming it’s somewhere in the States since you told me I didn’t have to bring my passport.”
“You’ll know in a few short hours,” Shoshana says, sipping her chai latte through a straw.
“Then why not tell me now?”
Her cousin smiles at her. “It’s more fun this way.”
Turquoise water and soft, sandy beaches stretch for miles. Camila steps out onto the balcony over-looking South Beach and takes a deep, slow breath, the warm salt air filling her nostrils.
“Told you Miami wouldn’t be that bad,” Shoshana says, scurrying between the two bedrooms to unpack. Despite her low-key lifestyle, if it’s one thing Camila’s cousin is unable to do, it’s pack light.
“I was picturing downtown Miami.” She points toward the beach. “I’m definitely cool with this.” Camila walks the length of the balcony and opens a sliding glass door to the expansive living room. A sectional sofa faces out onto the water while another sitting area, with a loveseat and two leather chairs that appear to be more for decoration and less for sitting, is opposite a sixty-inch flatscreen television.
“Good,” Shoshana calls from the bathroom. “I’m so glad I cancelled Jamaica. This tub is huge.”
“Why did you?” Camila asks.
“Mix-up with the rooms. I wanted us to have separate rooms, in case . . . .”
“We’ve shared a room before. Why are you so bent on having a separate room?”
Shoshana shrugs and walks over to a phone discreetly hidden behind a planter. “Yes, hello. I need six towels sent up to the room, please.”
“Not just bath, hand and face too.” She laughs when Camila gives her a look.
“That will be all, thank you.” When she hangs up, she says, “You know I’m a towel whore. Anyway, the past few months have felt long. So much has happened in a short amount of time. I wanted to make sure we had our own space to retreat to.”
Camila stops exploring the room and looks at her cousin. “Are you going to need to escape me?” She asks, only half-joking.
Shoshana shakes her head. “It’ll probably be the other way around. I booked massages and facials after lunch. Go put on your bikini so we can get some pool time in before then.”
“Maybe we should consider buying a few properties down here,” Camila tells Shoshana casually as she sips her cucumber and lemon infused water.
“Less than eight hours in this city and you’re already thinking about work?” Shoshana slaps her cousin’s arm playfully.
Camila slides her hat back over her head so she can get a better view of the ocean. “It would be nice working down here. It takes getting out of the City to realize it’s a two-mile wide prison.”
“You forget that soon you will be CEO of a company that owns a decent chunk of that prison.”
“True. Then again, maybe we need to figure out a way to ensure we’re living according to our rules so it doesn’t feel like one.”
“What do you have in mind?” Shoshana turns over onto her back and covers her face with a towel.
“Nothing specific at the moment.” Camila says sleepily, the sun and heat relaxing her tired body.
“Why in the hell didn’t you tell me?” Camila barges into Shoshana’s bathroom.
Her cousin sits up in the bathtub, sloshing water onto the heated tile floors. “What are you talking about? I tell you everything.”
“Oh yeah?”
Shoshana nods. Her large eyes appearing more innocent than usual.
Camila flips through a hotel magazine dedicated to Miami life and style and stops when she reaches the Features section. “Wynwood, a once beaten down and tired neighborhood north of downtown, has been experiencing an exciting renaissance for the past couple of years. One of the latest additions to its burgeoning dining scene is Rosa’s, a Cuban-inspired restaurant brought to us by none other than Rosa Cruz, Miami’s very own princess from the reigning family of Cuban and Latin-American cuisine. Along with New York chef, Eliseo Perez, the two have created a unique ensemble of traditional and transcendent dishes from Cuba as well as its immigrant and colonial influences.”
“They’re really not shy about superlatives,” Shoshana comments.
Camila glares at her. “I wasn’t finished. ‘Step into any one of the three intimate dining rooms, or the luxuriously understated cocktail bar, and you’ll be instantly transported to Hemingway’s Havana. One need only dine at Rosa’s to see how Cuban Chef Eliseo Perez has reinvented Cuban cuisine.’” She stops reading.
“And? He’s a chef in a Miami restaurant. You knew that.” Shoshana pools the bubbles together with her arms.
“You’re being evasive.”
“No I’m not,” her cousin replies quickly.
“Then why won’t you look at me?”
Shoshana raises her gaze but can’t hold it.
“I knew it. He’s dating Rosa Cruz.” Camila holds up the page in the magazine. “Have you seen this picture? The way he’s looking at her they might as well be fucking.”
“I thought you were over him,” Shoshana says getting to her feet. She holds out a hand, and Camila hands her a towel.
“I
am
over him. But this . . . this is such a slap in the face. I could see it in his eyes when she walked into the apartment that morning. He was different with me after that. He told me that I was crazy. You told me that I was being paranoid.”
“No I didn’t.”
Camila raises an eyebrow.
“Okay, I said you were probably being paranoid but that you needed to listen to your instincts.”
“How long have you known?”
Shoshana wraps a towel sheet around her torso and another one around her head. “There were some photos and gossip going around last month.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Her cousin regards Camila in the reflection of the mirror. “You were with Marshall. I hadn’t seen you that happy in years. It seemed pointless to drudge up hurt feelings.”
Camila stares at the photo for another beat and then throws the magazine out the door.
“I think you need to understand why you’re so angry. Is it at Eliseo or at yourself?”
Camila sighs. She knows the answer to that. Deep down she’s happy that Eliseo has been able to make a life for himself, something he’d struggled to do in New York. But it had to be with that Cuban princess, the one who waltzed into Eliseo’s apartment at seven in the morning and caused his face to light up in a way she’d never seen before. That’s why she’s angry. She’s angry with herself for ignoring her intuition, for choosing him when he clearly wasn’t choosing her. She’d deceived herself into believing he was enough, and he’d done the same.
“I have a horrible asshole radar don’t I?” Camila concedes.
“If you do, it’s because you turned it off yourself. I think it’s important you forgive yourself for that first, and then forgive him for taking advantage of it.” Shoshana begins applying primer to her face.
“Why do I need to forgive him?” Camila folds her arms in front of her chest.
Shoshana turns around to face her cousin. “Because if you don’t you’ll carry that bitterness into the next relationship and so on. Did you ever consider that it influenced how you treated Marshall?”
“Why are you bringing him up?” Camila asks defensively.
Shoshana digs through her make-up bag for her favorite eyeshadow palette and doesn’t answer. Finally, with the brush poised at her right eyelid, she says, “Because unresolved issues from one relationship always spill over into the next. He told you he loved you, and you threw him out of your apartment. I love you, C.C., but that was pretty cold.”
“What did you expect me to do? Run into his arms and pretend it was alright to hurt me?”
Shoshana closes her other eye and says, “Of course not, but you have to admit you probably would’ve been more receptive and understanding toward Marshall if you’d dealt with Eliseo. All this need to punish Marshall was really you reacting to how Eliseo treated you. Maybe while you’re down here . . . .”
“Is this the real reason we’re in Miami? So I can confront Eliseo? Was there really a room mix-up in Jamaica?”
“If I say no, you’ll forgive me, won’t you?” Shoshana blows her a kiss. “Besides, you don’t have to see him to get closure. That stuff only happens in movies anyway. Real life is messy. People get hurt, and they learn to forgive and move on.” She leans away from the mirror to check her make-up.
Camila scoffs. “I love how you’re such an authority on relationships. When was your last one again?”
Her cousin smiles slyly. “What makes you think I’m not dating anyone?”
“And you haven’t bothered to tell me?” Camila is incredulous. “You are seriously pushing my limits here.”
“I was waiting to get to the three-month mark. I really like him so I don’t want to jinx it.”
“But you said you tell me everything.”
“With one very small exception I do.” Shoshana pulls a nude lipstick out of her bag and tosses it to Camila. “Wear this tonight. It’ll go well with that peach dress.”
“What peach dress?”
“The one hanging in your closet.”
