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“He’s right here. Hang on.”
As he waited, Javier imagined his brother’s ranch-style home in Guymon. Jorge probably sat at the round kitchen table, his first beer of the evening in hand while Ava prepared supper. The kids would be either gathered around the television watching the Cartoon Network or out in the large backyard.
“Hola,” Jorge said. “What’s up, bro?”
Javier drew a long breath and held it for a moment. Despite what he’d become, he hated lying to his brother. Mami raised them with honesty, but Javier could and did break that habit on a regular basis. With his brother, though, he often struggled.
“I’m thinking about heading west for a little while and coming to see you.”
“Sure, no problem. My house is your house, you know that.”
He did and suffered a pang of guilt because he never reciprocated. Not that Jorge would bring his family to the Big Apple but if he ever did, Javier didn’t have space for extras, nor could he explain his upscale studio.
“I do but I thought I might rent a vacation place or something. I’m bringing a…”
Javier trailed off as he tried to find a word to describe Cecily. “Hostage” wouldn’t work but he also didn’t want Jorge to get a notion he’d found a soulmate or even worse, a wife.
“A what?” Jorge laughed.
“A friend,” Javier stated. “Cecily.”
“Driving or flying?”
Although he hadn’t decided until now, he said, “Driving.”
“That’ll take a few days. We’re here every day. I’m working four ten-hour days a week at the pork plant but I’m a supervisor now. I’ve got some vacation time I can take, maybe. How’s life as a security guard going?”
“It goes.”
“You ought to get out of that city, man. It’s a rat race.”
A rare and odd thought flitted through Javier’s mind. He could leave the city behind in a New York minute and for the first time he realized he wouldn’t miss it. “More than you’ll ever know, Jorge.”
They chatted for a few more minutes, then hung up with Javier’s promise to be there by Saturday. Compared to telling Cecily the plan, that had been simple.
The clothing delighted her, and she changed immediately into jeans and a blouse. Cecily stroked the fabrics in a way that made Javier wish she would run her hands over his skin in the same way. The thought made him hard again.
“Thank you. I like having clothing. You have good taste and I appreciate it.” She held a garment up to her cheek. For the moment, she wasn’t snarking at him and Javier liked it. Goddamn, what a woman she could be, how charming, when she wanted.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “I ruined your dress anyway.”
“You didn’t have to replace it, especially not with a pile of clothing, but I’m glad you did. I’ll be the best-dressed prisoner in the world. Thank you, Javier. You’re the nicest captor I’ve ever had.”
She often had to add that slight barb, but he dismissed it.
With tender steaks cooked to a perfect medium with sautéed mushrooms, baked potatoes with butter and sour cream, and a garden salad Javier threw together, he and Cecily dined like royalty. She ate with appetite and didn’t complain. Since she didn’t mention her stomach, Javier assumed all was well with it for now. He savored a cigarillo after the meal, then poured them each a glass of sangria.
“Salud!” Javier lifted his glass and touched it to hers. “Was your steak burned?”
He hadn’t forgotten her earlier remark.
Cecily smiled. “No, it was perfect. Thank you for the good meal, Javier.”
Her tone was mild so maybe she meant it.
Her gratitude made him feel like an asshole because the person he’d become wasn’t nice.
“De nada,” he replied, then plunged into the necessary information. “We’ll leave early in the morning so you’d better pack tonight. There’s a suitcase for you, one for me, and the toiletries bag we’ll share.”
