Authors: Robert W. Walker
Cuba Blue (16 page)
Liliana laughed at the characterization, while Qui raised her glass in a toast. The three drank to the colonel’s health. Then another pseudo toast to Peña’s health.
When the glasses were lowered, Qui said, “Thank you for the drinks. Should I call you ‘Jazzy’ or JZ?”
“I answer to either.”
“You two met at the jail?” Liliana teased. “Not in a cellblock, I hope!”
“Nooo,” they chorused in unison, a bit louder than necessary. JZ said, “Actually, this is our first real introduction.”
“All right, Liliana,” began Qui, “now tell me how you two met.”
“Well, Jazzy’s been taking dance lessons here at the hotel,” Liliana paused, “and now he’s rescued you from that letch everyone’s calling
Maui Jim.”
“Colton? The guy who was just here?” Qui asked, her eyes wide. “One more touchy-touchy and I’d’ve put him on the floor!”
“I’d’ve paid to see that,” said JZ, which made Liliana burst into laughter.
Between gasps, Liliana said, “Instead, JZ, our hero, ran him off before he became any more vulgar!”
“Rescuing damsels—part of my resume. Actually, the man was very rude.”
“So now we’re indebted to you, Mr. Zayas,” Qui replied rather formally
.
“No indebtedness, not my intention. I, too, dislike pushy people.”
Liliana reminded him, “Besides, rescuing ladies is part of your job description, right?”
“I’m sure this is a habit with Mr. Zayas,” said Qui, “You American men’re always swooping in to save us poor, weak, defenseless women.”
JZ was disappointed at the taunt, caught off guard, and unsure how to respond to this challenge.
“Sounds romantic to me, JZ, but with Qui here, you can do all the swooping and swooning you want, but when her duty calls, forget about it,” Liliana laughed again, “she’s all business!”
Qui glared at her friend but decided not to chide Liliana for her zeal, settling for a kick under the table.
“So I take it, you don’t like ‘knights in white satin’ stories?” asked JZ, catching Liliana’s lighthearted mood.
Qui frowned. “The time of knights is long gone.”
“I should think my shiny armor at least good enough to have earned me a dinner with you, lieutenant is it?” JZ asked.
Qui’s eyes lit with fire. “A moment ago, I was in no one’s debt—least that’s what I heard.”
“C’mon, join me for dinner; I’ll pay. I’m still a stranger here and eating alone is getting really old.” He flashed his best smile at her. “Besides, I’m one of the last of the good guys.” He looked from one to the other, noting their expressions. Qui’s smile was reserved, polite. A feeling of distance had come between them, and any camaraderie they’d earlier shared had dissipated. He decided this was her leftover antipathy toward the lecherous tourist.
“Dinner? Dinner…” she’d sat musing over the word. “Well as to that, they tell me the baked lobster here is terrific, and that it is best consumed in private, due to the mess you make devouring it.”
He caught the slight twinkle in her eye as she suggested this. She had beautiful dark eyes.
“Qui, how mean of you!” Liliana burst out. “Don’t listen to her, Jazzy. The lobster’s perfectly dreadful. No real Cubanos eat here.”
“Is the food that bad?” asked JZ, easily taking direction from Liliana. “My breakfasts have been OK.”
“Breakfast food is not the same, not like real Cuban food,” countered Liliana. “Trust me, the food here is much too bland. Don’t eat here. Take Qui elsewhere.”
“So where should we eat?” he asked, his eyes meeting Qui’s as he and Liliana plotted dinner.
“Qui, take him to the Professor’s,” encouraged Liliana. “Go. Call and see if they have room.”
“The Professor’s?” he asked.
“It’s a paladares. Haven’t you been to one yet?”
“No. Not sure I’d be welcome, or how you go about it.”
“For extra money, believe me, you’d be welcome. It’s a private home where they serve dinner to tourists,” explained Qui.
“They’re usually excellent, better than the hotels and restaurants.” Liliana added, “This is at the Varela’s, they’re both professors at the university…friends of ours.”
“Offering a few dinners a month to tourists gets them more than their salaries,” Qui added. “They both love to cook, so I don’t understand why they don’t quit their jobs and do this fulltime.”
Liliana checked her watch. “It’s not so late, Qui! Go call! Take Jazzy. He’ll enjoy the food and the company.”
JZ waited for Quiana’s response. From the look on her face, she’d been caught off guard by this exchange between him and the ever-impulsive Liliana. He worried that Qui now felt obligated to go to dinner.
Seeing her discomfort, JZ offered her an easy out. “Look, I really am hungry, but if this is a bad time, I’ll just eat here and avoid the lobster.” He shrugged offhandedly. “Anyway, I’ll soon be ready for sleep.”
“No, no, no!” Liliana erupted. “If you are sleepy, the Professor’s food will wake you up, for sure.”
Qui added, “It
is
spicy.”
“I’ve been told everything in Cuba’s spicy,” he replied. Qui shot him a sharp look to which he just smiled.
“It is a bad thing only if you like everything bland—like American dancing and American processed food,” Qui retorted.
“Qui! Be nice to JZ,” Liliana demanded. “He’s new here.”
“Have you ever been to America?” he asked Qui point blank.
“No, I confess, I’ve never been; I’ve been spared that much.”
“Ahhh…then all you know about America and Americans is second hand? Stories told by your parents perhaps?”
“My mother is dead, and my father has no time for storytelling.”
“Then where do you get your notions of America?”
“We get American movies here,” said Liliana. “I love them!”
“Ahhh…American cinema, of course, and I suppose you think we all do drugs and carry guns and live in mansions?”
An audible and annoyed
hummmph
escaped Qui. “Well, sir, you are in a Cuban mansion—the Swiss Embassy—most of the day.”
“Ahhh, the ‘star’ of our show has finally arrived,” said Liliana seeing her dance partner, Antonio, finally make his entrance. “I gotta leave you two and go to work. Qui, call the Varelas. Now!” Liliana danced into Antonio’s arms. The change in the lighting and music signaled the beginning of the night’s entertainment.
JZ smiled at Qui, who returned an exasperated look. “Why won’t you have dinner with me?” he asked, casting aside any earlier pretense of begging off.
Qui pouted. “I have work to do, and you are too forward.”
“I know you can’t be working in that outfit. If you want, we could eat here.” Grinning he added, “We could share the lobster!”
This suggestion only made her shudder. “No lobster here, never!”
“OK, so what harm is there in dining with me? You’ll be safe. I promise I won’t bite, nibble perhaps a little, but no biting.” His eyes shone with humor.
“You might lose something valuable, talking like that. Remember Maui Jim? I was on the verge of decking him when you sent the drinks over.”
“I sensed that. I’m psychic that way. It’s on my resume, too.
You
needn’t fear me.”
“Fear you? That’s just nonsense. Besides, even—”
“You don’t need protection?”
“Will you quit finishing my sentences for me? You’ll have to stop that—”
“Annoying habit, I know. Sorry.”
“You’re doing it even as you apologize.”
“But I am sorry.”
“You ought to be.”
“Besides?” he asked.
“Besides what?”
“Besides—you were about to say
besides something
when I interrupted.”
“Oh…besides…besides, I am not sure a woman who is seeing a man exclusively ought be seen with another man—alone—in a hotel—eating lobster.”
“Oh, I see. I had thought Cuban women more ahhh…”
“Adventurous? Loose, perhaps?”
“Liberated.” He laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Now you’re finishing my sentences. Must be contagious.”
“That’s not funny. At all.” She smiled in spite of herself.
“Look, I’m famished. Let’s just eat, anywhere. Please, my treat.”
He started to stand, but she grabbed his arm, pulling him down. “Wait…have you seen Liliana and Antonio dance? They’re so good together.”
The dance music had started, and as he turned to watch, the two began a slow tango. Languorously slow. Antonio and Liliana moved around and about one another like two birds in flight but of one mind. A study in seduction, arms sliding, lightly touching, eyes full of promise, legs entwining. Qui was right. They expressed the passion and essence of the very word
tango
in a way that compelled JZ’s eyes to watch. He simply could not do otherwise. “I love the tango,” he whispered in Qui’s ear.
“Yes, so do I.”
“It’s like watching an unfolding poem this dance, a poem of movement set to music. It’s like…like fine—”
“—fine sex,” she said, “I know.”
“Wine…I was about to say wine, but frankly, you’re more on target.”
“In life the dance is everything.” Her eyes never leaving the dancing pair, she added, “Life and death and everything in between, it’s all a tango.”
“Like good literature, yes.”
“Yes. What we do with the time between the dates on our tombstones, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah…I think I do.”
She laughed lightly. “Or something like that.”
After a few moments, JZ realized he’d better start talking before his body responded to this incredible display of stylized foreplay on the dance floor, and the surprising turn of words at the table whispered between them. He wondered just how devoted she was to this boyfriend she’d mentioned. All of this colored by the scent of her enticing perfume.
“You’re right, they’re very good,” he commented on the dancers while staring at Qui, who also watched the floorshow in rapt attention, lips slightly parted.
While JZ wanted to touch her cheek and trace her full lips with a finger, instead he reached over and laid a hand on her arm, discovering warm, soft skin.
“Shall we—”
“—dance? No one dances when Antonio is on the floor. Unwritten law.”