Of Hustle and Heart (22 page)

He tugs at the bottom of the dress and motions for me to come inside. I do, and he shuts the door behind me, locking it. I take a deep breath, sit on the couch, and kick my shoes to the floor. He stands in the doorway, rubbing his palms together and staring at me intently.

“Can I stay for a while?”

“Yeah, of course.” He clears his throat. “You know you can stay here.” He walks over and picks up one of my shoes. “Andy McQueen,” he says. “Your favorite, huh?”

I shrug again. “I guess. I buy a lot of it.”

“Have you slept yet?”

“I had a nap.”

“I bought sheets for the guestroom. You can sleep in there.” He offers his hand, and I take it. As he pulls me up, I sway a little, and he puts a hand on my stomach to steady me.

“You okay?” he whispers.”

“Long night.”

“Yeah, of course. Prom night.” He stares at me. “Did you have fun? Who took you?”

“His name’s Shannon. He’s amazing.”

As I recall what happened last night, I understand how amazing Shannon is. He really is the only safe person to confide in. Blanca would react terribly if she knew, and Rachel would never stop crying for me. I’m certain he’ll keep my secret, despite how badly he wants to report it to the authorities. I will never tell Tony, because I don’t want him to look at me the way Shannon did. When I mumbled those words to him, he looked at me like I was broken…beyond repair. Like what happened to me is who I am, or something like that. I can’t believe that’s true. I don’t wanna be the girl who was so stupid and clueless that she sat willingly on the lap of a predator. That’s not me. I’m not that. I can’t be.

Tony notices the shift in my mood.

“What’s wrong, chica?” he asks sternly.

I take a deep breath, shaking my head.

“You having problems with the product?” he asks, referring to the pound and a half of bud I have left to sell.

“Nope, no problem. The product sells itself. Easy money, you know.” I clear my throat.

He rubs his chin as his eyes roam the angles of my face. He knows something’s wrong, but he doesn’t push.

“When you’re ready to talk, you’ll come to me, right?” I nod and force a smile. “Right?”

“What’s there to talk about?” I ask.

He stares, his eyes burning holes in me. “Happy birthday,” he finally says.

“Thanks. I had a party. Blanca and Shannon and some kids from school chipped in.” I smile. “It was so cool. You should’ve seen it.”

I tell Tony about the decorations and the cake, the gifts and the fuss. I tell him how good Shannon was to me and about the separate room he booked so I could rest. I search Tony’s eyes for a response but see little there.

“Well, I’m glad they did all that for you.” His hands travel along my hips in search of my hands. When he finds them, he strokes the tips of my fingers. I’m shaking.

“You have a blanket? I need a blanket. It’s cold in here.” I break away and walk toward his master suite.

“Zina, you can’t go in my room right now. Natalia is sleeping.”

“Oh.” I freeze. It was not a good idea to come here. “I’m embarrassed to be here,” I say.

“Shhhh.” He holds his hands up, trying to soothe my nerves.

I shake my head, mad at myself. “What was I thinking? I can’t keep coming here. I didn’t call. You didn’t say I could come.”

“It’s okay.” He wraps his arm around my shoulder, walks me into the guest room, and shuts the door behind us. “Lie down. I’ll get a blanket.” He nuzzles my ear, and I begin to sob. “Hey, stop. C’mon. You’re exhausted and stressed out.” He walks me to the bed and pushes me down. “Wait here. I mean it. Do not leave. I’ll be right back.”

He returns with a blue cashmere throw and a blue, long-sleeve button-down shirt.

“Sleep in this.” He hands me the shirt and lays the blanket on the bed. “Go ahead. I’ll wait.”

I stumble to the closet and tear off my dress. When I come back, Tony is spreading the blanket over the bed.

“I’ll go ahead and go to sleep now.”

My eyes are so heavy, I can’t keep them open. I crawl up to the pillow and curl up in a ball.

“You look like you haven’t slept in days,” he mumbles, spreading the covers over me.

I roll away from him and cling to the edge of the bed. He leans over and kisses me at the corner of my mouth. I open my eyes, and he kisses me again, full on the lips and breathing into my mouth. He strokes the side of my face as he kisses me, lowering himself until I could feel his body against mine. I push away when I feel his tongue on my lips and then in my mouth.

“Oh God, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

His hands are soft and careful with my face. Am I wrong to doubt him?

I force myself to let him touch me. His hands travel to PG areas, never falling below my stomach. Suddenly, he stops and pulls the covers up over my chest. He tells me to go to sleep. He leaves me, exhausted and alone.

CHAPTER 38

ZACARIAS

I
never agreed to stay away. I’m determined to find Zina, to explain that what happened between us wasn’t wrong or ugly. I know she doesn’t get it, and that’s okay. She’ll understand eventually, or the guilt will bury me.

John left me on the patio last night, so put off by me it was impossible for him to look my way. We sat in silence for a long time, passing the whiskey bottle between us until John killed the last drop. When the bottle was done, so was he. He sat the bottle on the ground and went into the apartment. As he passed me, I averted my eyes, embarrassed by what’d happened between us. His wrath was burning like hot coals in the dusky night air. An hour later, I crept into the apartment and settled on the couch, falling into a drunken haze and asleep soon after. I dreamed of Whitney calling me, hysterical and terrified that she was losing the baby.

“I’m bleeding, Zack,” she says. “I can’t get it to stop. I think the baby’s going to die.”

I’m jolted from my stupor, sweating and hung over, as scared as Whitney was in the dream. I text her because I’m not in the mood to hear her voice.

Are you okay? How are you feeling
? I hit Send and notice the night sky’s purple-orange hue. The sun is rising in the eastern sky.

John and I are both in attendance for the noon service at Silver Crest Assembly of God, our mother’s church. She called both of us early in the eight o’clock hour, reminding us that we needed to be at her house by quarter past nine so we could ride together. She demands we be on time for the ten o’clock service. She is agitated to find neither of us in shape to attend the early services—or any other service, for that matter. I don’t say anything to my mother or John about wanting to ride in separate vehicles, but when I get out of the shower and notice that John has left before me, I know he is in the same frame of mind.

I’m on my way to my mother’s; I get a group text from John, my mother and I listed as recipients.

Don’t wait for me. I’ll meet you at the church.

I look into the rearview mirror, trying to gauge the appearance of my face in sunlight. My bruises have faded to minor blemishes compared to the massive knots I’d suffered over a week ago. Only a few scars and a purple ring under my left eye remain. Nothing too alarming. Nothing my mother would be too concerned about.

As the service comes to a close, I bow my head and hold my mother’s hand, asking God to forgive me for all the pain I’ve caused. I pray for the safety of my child and its mother. And for any sort of reconciliation with Zina. On the drive home, I talk openly with myself, hoping God is still listening. I’m not sure whether he heard my prayer in the church or not, but I want him to hear me now.

Once I make it back to the apartment, I return to the balcony, this time with a cup of black tea and two text messages from Whitney.

I’m okay, Zack. You’d know that if you were here with me. The baby and I are where you belong,
the first text read. Then,
You said you’d call me…not text.

I don’t respond. I only need to know the baby is fine.

As the hours drone on, I maintain my place on my apartment’s balcony. The sun ascends higher in the sky until it beams down over me, forcing me out of my tie and gray, long-sleeve button-down shirt. I lay them over the arm of my chair.

“I know one of the cooks from your restaurant,” John says. I look up, the sun glaring in my eyes. He stands in the patio doorway, leaning against the doorframe.

“You do? How?”

He hesitates. The conversation is one he has to consider, the wall between us getting thicker, indestructible, permanent. I realize I should’ve prayed for John’s forgiveness as well. His jaw tenses as he looks past me, staring at the pond that separates our apartment complex from the neighboring subdivision.

“Zack,” he says, clearing his throat, “did you force some woman to have sex with you?” He looks at me. “You did that?”

“It wasn’t like you think,” I mutter. “It wasn’t violent or drunken…”

“And you think its okay to go looking for her?”

“John, I would never…” I realize his angle; he thinks I’d do it again. “I would never…man…I’d never…”

“What, rape a woman twice in one month?”

“It’s not like that.” I stand, forcing him to look me in the eye. “It wasn’t on purpose. It wasn’t.” I shake my head. “She was with me. She wanted to at first. I could see it…she liked what I did.” My voice fades as he moves from the doorway and sits in one of the patio chairs. “John, don’t think of me like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like…like I hurt someone. Like I’m a monster.”

“But you did hurt someone. Bad.” He narrows his eyes. “She said no. I think you said she did.”

I nod. “I didn’t mean to. I just…wanted her so bad.” It’s difficult realizing that what happened between Zina and me was the most horrendous thing I’d ever done. “I couldn’t stop. She tried to push me off. She pulled my hair. She said stop.”

“The dude from your restaurant? He’s my girl’s cousin. They had a barbeque about two weeks ago. I met him at her family’s place.”

“Mmm.” I nod. I appreciate the change of subject and John’s small talk. I stare out past the small pond and the neighboring subdivision, lost in the shitty world I’ve created. One where my brother doesn’t trust or respect me, estranged from the mother of my baby. Knowing the girl I hoped would love me never will. But my relationship with my brother should never be severed. There’s nothing he could do that would ever cause me to turn my back on him. I’m not so sure he can say the same.

“What’s the guy’s name?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says, pausing. “Spencer something. You know him?”

I nod. “Spence. Yeah, he’s decent.”

“Hell. I thought the same shit about you.” He laughs begrudgingly.

“Low blow,” I say, looking at him. “Not necessary, John.”

He ignores me and continues. “Spence knows shit about your girl. Not the one you raped. The one you fucked around with and knocked up.”

“Are you fucking with me?” I get the urge to crack him in the face. “I’m not for this bullshit right now. So fucking leave if you came out here to fuck with me.”

He cuts his eyes, warning me. He’ll slap the piss out of me if I try him.

“Boy, you’re a motherfuckin’ rapist. I’ll fuck with you any way I want,” he snaps. “And you’ll sit there and take it. And better not say shit about it. Besides, I’m trying to help.”

I look away as he continues.

“There was a rumor going around Rico’s a couple of months ago,” he says, shoving his hands into his pocket, “about Whitney and some dude you fired or had a fight with.”

“Had a fight with? I don’t know who…wait. Bruno?”

“Yeah, I think that’s him.”

“He quit. I didn’t fire him.” I shake my head, annoyed. “What rumor?”

But John doesn’t have to answer. Shit. I know. I knew. The night in the kitchen at Rico’s back when I wanted my relationship with Whitney to work. There was a reason Bruno had begun to find flaws in his friendship with me, why it never stood a chance. Why he’d bailed on me at work when I needed his help the most. I felt the hangover again as the truth set in. That night I found him and Whitney in the broom closet arguing, and he let me know she was pregnant. John’s right; I can’t be this damn weak over women.

“That kid’s not yours,” he says. “According to Spence, she was fucking around with that guy.”

CHAPTER 39

ZINA

I
lie in bed half-conscious, listening to Natalia on her way out the door. Most importantly, I listen to Tony stall when she tells him she loves him. I hear them kiss for a long time. Amazing how I can hear their lips and tongues maneuvering in each other’s mouths. Gross. She asks him to walk her to her car, but I don’t know if he does or not. Moments later, I hear him walking down the hallway toward the guest room. Toward me. I lie still beneath my covers as he peers in for a few seconds and then shuts the door.

At 11:45 a.m., I wake up alone. The guest bedroom’s door is still closed. I wonder where Antonio went, if he’s left me alone. I fall out of bed and stumble over to the door. Pressing my ear against it, I listen for movement or a woman’s voice. I crack the door and peek out. The silence rattles my nerves. I step into the hallway and make my way toward the dining room. The marble is cold beneath my bare feet, so I tiptoe into the dining area.

Tony’s in the kitchen, pulling dishes from his cupboard. He’s calmer than I’ve seen him, but I’ve never seen him like this in his own home. I’ve never been here
with
him. I realize I don’t really know who he is outside of being Uncle Tony, distant caretaker, and roundabout uncle.

He’s not wearing shoes or a shirt, and his hair is stringy and damp, like he just stepped from the shower. I glance toward the front door and see it’s locked. When Tony senses me standing behind him, he whips around nervously, staring at me.

“I didn’t hear you get up,” he says with a casual smile.

My cheeks flush; I’m flustered.

“Can you put a shirt on?” The smile on his lips fades. His face drops, as if I’ve hurt him, which I don’t want. I try to apologize for being insensitive. “It’s not that your body sucks or anything. It’s just…I don’t know.”

“No, I get it.” He sets the stack of plates down. “It makes you…you’re not comfortable with it.” He fumbles around in the kitchen for a few seconds. Finally he looks at me. “I’ll do that. A shirt. I should know better.”

He hurries past me, mumbling something about his niece, and cuts through the living room to his master suite. Seconds later, he’s standing in the living room wearing a dorky-looking black-and-white soccer shirt. I laugh.

“That shirt is a pretty tight fit.”

“What?” He looks down at himself. “Uh…oh. I’m…I just grabbed what was clean.” With no shoes or socks on, standing on the cold marble, my teeth chatter as I pull my arms inside his shirt sleeves that I’m wearing.

“I don’t care, Unc. It’s your house. Wear what you want, really. Don’t listen to me.”

He gestures to the dining room table, for me to sit, and I do. I smack my lips together because my mouth tastes stale. I ask for a glass of water. He goes to the kitchen and comes back with a bottle of water and a pink-and-purple pastry box. I slouch down, fatigued from the last couple of months.

“What’s in the box?” I ask as he hands me the bottle.

I twist the blue cap from the water bottle and chug. My hair is still pulled into the makeshift corsage ponytail holder. I tug at it until the wristlet gives way. The rhinestones and beads fall into my hand, and my hair falls loosely down my back. Tony sits the pastry box down in front of me and takes the chair next to mine. Tony nods at the box and tells me to open it. I peek into it and gasp as the lid falls close. It’s an ice-cream cake in the shape of a purple designer purse, with a blown-up picture of Blanca and me standing in front of the auditorium stage during our fifth-grade graduation. I remember the picture. Leidys had taken it and had given my mama a copy. I’d tried to steal it out of her room at least twice a year since then, but she’d always noticed it was gone and made me return it. In the pic my arm is wrapped around Bee’s shoulder, the two of us wearing our white caps and gowns. Goofy and ugly, blushing into the camera.

“Wow, this is very cool.”

“You like it? I thought it might embarrass you a little.”

I shake my head. “Best thing ever. I love it. Really.”

My eyes sting. My birthday cake from Tony sends me spiraling. After such an unbearable week, this is something for me to hold on to. This memory of me and Blanca, my sister. I look at him as a tear escapes me. I catch it with my thumb.

“There’s nothing more important than me and Blanca, is there?”

Tony stares at me. “There hasn’t been,” he says. “Ultimately, it’s up to you and Blanca.” He leaves the table and comes back with a knife and two plates. He lifts the cake from the box and hands me the knife.

“Take a picture of it,” I say as he sits the cake on his dark cherrywood table.

“Yeah, sure.” He takes his phone from his pocket and snaps a pic.

“Send it to me. I wanna post it.” He nods as I stare at the cake, trying to figure out how to cut the picture of me and Blanca. “Thank you so much.”

“I got you something else,” he says. Our eyes meet. I lean on the table, palms down.

“Wait, what time is it?” I ask.

“Almost noon. Why?”

“Aww shit, I need to call my mama. I haven’t talked to her since I left last night.” I run to the guest room for my phone. Five missed calls from my ma and three texts, each demanding that I call her. I scroll down the Missed Alerts menu and find that both Andrew and Alex also have texted.

You better call Mama.

You in trouble.

I get off the phone with my mama after telling her about the party my friends had thrown for me after prom. She asks about Shannon and his reaction to it all.

“Mama, Shannon was the best. Like…I’m lucky he was there.” And I was. He was the one who was strong enough to let me feel what I had to feel and capable of seeing me at my worst. I never would’ve made it through the night without him.

I don’t tell her much else. I tell her I am still at the hotel and that I’d be home around two o’clock. I hang up and go to the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth. While I brush and clean the crusty spackle from my eyes, Tony knocks at the bedroom door.

“Come in,” I say. I kill the light in the bathroom and crawl back into bed, hoping for a few more hours of sleep.

“Still tired?” He peeks in before he pushes the door open and walks in, carrying a little baby blue bag. He sets the bag on the bed. “One more.”

“What is it?”

“It’s pretty fuckin’ awesome, is what it is.” He pushes it toward me. “Open it.”

I stare at the bag and push it back. “Did you kiss me before I fell asleep last night?” I need to ask. The memory is foggy, and he hasn’t said anything or acted differently about it. He sits on the bed and leans backward until he’s staring at the wall. I don’t want to push the issue, but as I look at the gift, I realize I don’t want it. I don’t want to be anybody’s charity baby doll. I hop off the bed and head for the closet where I left my prom dress.

“I gotta go. I’ll call a cab,” I yell from the closet. I notice him moving from the bed and peek out from the closet. He closes the guest room door and locks it. “What are you doing?”

“Come back and sit down,” he says.

“Don’t lock that door. Unlock it.”

My hands trembling, I unbutton my shirt as he walks into the closet behind me. I push him out, grab the door handle, and slam it in his face. I stumble backward as he jerks the door open again.

“Come out of the closet,” he says calmly. I stand my ground. “Zina.”

He reaches in from the doorway and grabs my arm, yanking me toward him. I fall against his chest and instinctively try to scurry away, but he lifts me from the ground and carries me to the bed. He stands me in front of it. Looking at me, he pauses for a second before pushing me so hard that I lose my balance and fall backward on the bed. I climb to my knees, trying to catch myself on the springy mattress. He pulls me down and climbs on top of me. His weight crushes me.

“Can you breathe?” he asks.

“Please get off me. Please…I don’t want to.”

He lowers his face until our noses touch. I think he’ll roll off or lift up, but he doesn’t. Instead, he kisses the brim of my nose.

“Listen.” He cradles my head in his arms and shifts his weight to relieve some of the pressure. I’m trapped underneath him. “I’m afraid of you,” he says, his eyes narrowing into sleepy slits.

“No, you’re not.”

“I am,” he says. He kisses me on the forehead and sits up on top of me, pulling me up to face him.

“Don’t ever do that again,” I blurt out as I slap him across the side of his face. He doesn’t flinch; his head barely moves from the impact. He looks at me, his poise and desire holding solid. I push him. He backs away, allowing me to get away. I walk to the closet, bothered and ready to leave for real. I shut the closet door while I unbutton my makeshift nightgown, shaking, trying to contain myself. I’m moving too slow to be afraid. I’d checked out of reality as soon as I’d gotten out of the bed.

I look out from the closet and see Tony sitting on the bed, staring in my direction. When he sees me peek out, he holds out a little gift box and gestures for me to come. I don’t. I step back into the closet and sit down in the middle of the floor. I muffle my sobs as I reach out to pull the closet door shut. But as I do, he steps inside and sits down in front of me. I scoot back, making room as he folds his legs. I wipe my face with the sleeve of my shirt as I stare at the blue gift box in his hand.

“Why are you crying?” I shrug. “You don’t know?” I shrug again. “Did I scare you?” I shake my head. “Are you telling me the truth?” He pauses, his eyebrows raised. “Be honest. Did I scare you?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

I don’t answer.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Please forgive me. Okay?”

I nod.

“Listen, I’m not sure how to be around you anymore. I’m confused,” he says.

“About what?”

“I feel things that I shouldn’t.”

“Whaddya mean?” I wipe my nose with the back of my hand.

“I’ve been frustrated with you—the way you’ve been acting out, the stuff you took, the things you’ve demanded.” I look away. “That’s why I put you on the bed the way I did. But I never want to scare you off, ever.”

“I haven’t asked you for anything in a while. I’m over the stuff with Corey and Bryan. I forgot to tell you. Alex and Andrew are better.” It’s still hard to talk about Corey and Bryan.

“Good.” He sets the gift box beside him. “There are parts of me you’ve never seen, because I handle you and Blanca with kid gloves.”

“You can take the kid gloves off. I don’t need ’em anymore.” I look at him calmly, glad we can talk openly about stuff.

“Really?”

He gazes at me for what seems like forever. Then he grabs my face and kisses me full on the mouth. He hoists me up from the closet floor. I wrap my legs around him and latch on like a small child clinging to her parent.

“No, wait.” I pull my mouth away from his. He looks at me and lowers me to the floor immediately. “I’m no good at this. It’s wrong,” I say. He looks at me as if he broke me and holds his hands out as if he’s scared to touch me. “Isn’t it wrong?” I ask, my eyes teary.

“Is what wrong?”

“You know.” I sniff to hold back tears. “Sex. It’s wrong sometimes, right?”

“Well, yeah. With the wrong person.” He frowns, confused.

“I’m no good at this. It’s always wrong.”

“It’s not wrong,” he says, standing in the middle of the room as it spins around me. “Zina, you’re with me. It’s not wrong with me. Nothing is ever wrong when you’re with me. Do you believe that?”

“I did.”

“No, you
do
. I’m the one who protects you. I’d never hurt you.” He steps toward me but keeps his distance. “Nothing will happen if you say no. I’ll leave right now. It’s your decision. I’ll always respect what you want. You know that.”

He’s right. I go to him and wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my face into his chest, wetting it with my tears.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you want me to do, Zina?” he whispers.

“Help me. Make it stop.”

“Make what stop?”

I kiss him. He takes my hand and walks me over to the bed, laying me down and unbuttoning my shirt. He kisses me on my neck as he pulls down my strapless bra, freeing one of my breasts, touching me gently. Then he covers me again with my shirt.

“I want this,” I say.

He snatches my bra down over my stomach and tugs at my panties until they’re no longer in the way. Staring at me, he takes off his belt and then his pants. Tony hovers over me, disrobing, staring at me, ready to pounce. He gazes at my body as if it’s a feast spread out on the dinner table. I sit up, catching my breath, waiting for him to continue. He touches me, massaging the hidden parts of me before slowly sliding himself inside me. I gasp as he fills me and arch my back as my body concedes to his.

A flood of turbulent vibrations takes me, rendering me vulnerable and incoherent to anything besides what is happening inside me. My body convulses as tiny tremors vibrate through my legs and insides. For a second, I can’t breathe. As I gasp for air, Tony bites down on one of my nipples. I grab his head and push it away. It’s embarrassing, but it makes him grin. So this is what it’s like when you don’t have to fight back. When this love thing happens. When you want it too. When it’s safe. When it’s right. Crazy.