Stealing Phin (15 page)

Without thinking about it any further, I started gathering my things.

“What are you doing?” Dez asked.

“I’m going up to the room,” I said resolutely, “and I’m going to get ready to go dancing.”

“Really?” Dez sat up in her chair, pleasantly surprised. “Hot damn! That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

Dez and I turned heads as we strode down the main boardwalk in Tamarindo. We had dressed to the nines in four-inch heels and slinky mini-dresses. I let Dez do my hair and make-up for me. She punched my features up with her skilled hand and the multi-colored palettes she never left home without. There was nothing like getting all dolled up, garnering a few admiring stares and whistles, and reveling in your youth to remind yourself that you were full of potential, that anything was possible, especially when nothing seemed to be going your way.

Sure enough, I looked like a million bucks. I had more than enough make-up, sequins, and glitter on to hide the ugly state that my insides were in
.

Despite being downtrodden by the afternoon’s events, I was going to put all my effort into feeling good again. Even if just for a few hours.

A whistle sounded from somewhere up ahead on the sidewalk. Estevan and Carlito emerged from behind a group of teenagers milling in front of a surf shop. The boys looked sexy and hip in their tight jeans and pec-hugging t-shirts.

“Gracias a Dios por esta hermosa mujer,” Estevan said when he saw Dez.

“I don’t know what that means, but by the look on your face, I’ll take it as a compliment,” Dez purred. They began to kiss, ignoring the cheers and hoots from the teenagers nearby.

“Every time I see you,” Carlito said to me, “you are more and more beautiful, cariño.” He lifted my hand and kissed it.

“We passed by a really neat bar a block down,” Dez said when she and Estevan came up for air. “Someone told us they make the best piña coladas. Why don’t we go there and get a couple drinks in us before we hit the club?”

“You must be talking about Monkey Bar,” Estevan said enthusiastically. “They make the best drinks in Tamarindo. We will take you there.”

“But these ladies want to go dancing,” Carlito protested. “We should not keep them from experiencing one of our best discos for over-priced piña coladas.” He suddenly seemed unreasonably agitated.

“It’s just one drink,” I said. “It won’t take long.”

Carlito looked at his watch. His lips drew into a taught line.

“Qué prisa, amigo?” Estevan asked.

“We can get piña coladas inside the disco. Very good ones,” Carlito insisted. “If we leave now, then the line will be too long when we get back.”

“Okay, okay, don’t get your boxers in a bunch, amigo,” Dez gave him an annoyed look. “Let’s just go inside then. These heels are already killing my feet anyway.”

Visibly relieved, Carlito’s face relaxed, and his mood did an about-face. “I’m sorry, mis amigas. I am just eager to show you how we like to party!” He bounded to the front of the line and shook hands with the bouncer. Then, he waved at us to join him.

“Carlito is known around here,” Estevan said. “This is his favorite club, and the workers know him well.”

“Well, then maybe he can use his party-boy connections to get us some free drinks,” Dez said, still slightly annoyed at Carlito.

“Don’t worry, mi princesa,” Estevan kissed her pouting lips. “Whatever you want, Estevan will get for you.”

“You two look so cute together. Let me take a picture of you.” I dug around my purse for my phone.

As I snapped a picture of them using the camera on my phone, another text message popped up. It was from Douglas again.

Phin,
I
love
you.
Please
respond.
This
is
killing
me.

A hurricane of emotions churned my waters the moment I read it. Finally, for the first time since I’d caught Douglas cheating on me, he expressed remorse.

When I broke up with him and he got angry instead of sad, defensive instead of contrite, I’d wondered whether he actually cared about me at all. If he’d said these words to me sooner, it would have made all the difference. They would have meant so much more.

But things had changed for me. Things were more…complicated. I thought of Byron and the note I left in that empty room of his, and a thousand strings tugged on my heart. My hands began to shake.

“Are you okay, amiga?” Estevan asked.

Dez saw the look on my face and grabbed my hand so she could look at my phone screen. After reading the message, her lips pressed together. “Let’s get you inside, Phinny. We’ll deal with this later. You need a drink.”

The Aqua Disco was unlike any dance club I’d been to. There, the music pumped out so loud there was little to no opportunity for conversation. The beat was continuous as the DJ rolled seamlessly from one song to the next. The people moved to the steady beat in synchronized fashion, making it feel as though the club had a pulse. I often felt lulled into a trance at those clubs.

By contrast, the Aqua Disco was awakening to the senses. The music, a mix of reggae and house, was lively, as was the conversation. Bodies moved not in one pulse but independently to the beat. Scantily clad Costa Rican women shook, gyrated, and swiveled their hips in ways I didn’t know hips could move. The men didn’t just hang off to the side leering at them either. They were dancing enthusiastically with the women, responding to their hip shaking with pelvic thrusts of their own.

“These people can really move!” I said admiringly. The atmosphere of the club was intoxicating and alluring. I wanted to be a part of this place and to have fun.

Suddenly, I felt pissed about Douglas’s text. A part of me began to resent him for ruining my trip. I’d been waiting for days to hear back from him. The more I thought about the anguish he’d put me thought with his radio silence, the angrier I got. I was the one he’d hurt. The one who’d been betrayed. Sure, he may have been hurt when I dumped him, but he had no one to blame for that except himself and his indiscretions. For the first time since we broke up, I felt less hurt and more angry. Almost as angry as Dez was on my behalf. He had taken his good old time thinking over his response to my calls, so maybe I should do the same. Maybe he needed to sit there and feel sorry for what he’d done for just a little bit longer. Tonight wasn’t going to be about Douglas. Tonight was going to be about me.

I felt a hand slip into mine. Carlito’s lips touched my ear as he said, “I will teach you how we dance in Costa Rica, cariño.” He led me to the middle of the dance floor. He placed his hands on my hips and pushed gently on one side then the other, in time to the music. With his expert guidance, it didn’t take long before I got the hang of it. Carlito pulled my hips closer to his, which he moved in circles as we ground on each other.

I raised my hands into the air, tipped my head back, and closed my eyes. I felt his hands slide up and down my sides. I could feel his arousal as our bodies moved in time to the music. I felt sexy. I felt desirable. In a word, the Aqua Disco was uplifting.

No guilt tainted the moment this time, as my anger toward Douglas flared up to extinguish any sense of guilt. I realized just how big a hit my ego had taken during those long months Douglas showed no interest in me physically. It was time to bandage up my bruised ego, and take my sense of self-worth back into my own hands.

“You move well, cariño,” Carlito said with a smile. “I knew you were a dancer.”

I laughed, remembering the last dancing feat of mine he’d witnessed. It felt so good to laugh. We’d just gotten here, and already, I didn’t want the night to end.

A few songs later, my skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat. But I was having such a good time, I didn’t want to stop. Carlito, on the other hand, seemed a bit preoccupied. He glanced as his watch for the third time since we’d started dancing. His eyes quickly scanned the room again.

“Are you looking for someone?” I asked.

For a split second, he had the look of someone who’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Just as quickly as it appeared, the look was gone, replaced by a big smile.

“I am just checking on Estevan and Dez,” he said. “I can’t see them, can you?”

I turned my head and looked around the room. It was dim, but not so dark that you couldn’t see. I caught a glimpse of the couple doing the Costa Rican version of
Dirty
Dancing
in the far corner of the club.

“They’re over there.” I pointed in their direction.

When I turned around, Carlito was no longer at my side. He was several feet away, weaving his way through the crowd toward the bar.

“Hey, where are you going?” I yelled over the music.

Carlito turned around briefly, made a sign that he was going to get a drink, then gave me the thumbs up.

“Get me one, too?” I shouted, but I wasn’t sure he heard me.

Weird,
I thought. But then again, we had made a big deal about getting piña coladas before entering the club. Carlito was probably just making good on his word that the drinks here were quality.

I danced happily on my own through the next two songs. When the third song started, I craned my neck to scan the bar area for Carlito. I knew the lines at the bar were usually long at places like these, so I didn’t start to wonder if I’d been ditched until the fourth song ended. Where the hell did Carlito go? I decided to check out the bar.

As I fought my way through the crowd, which seemed to have tripled since we’d first arrived, I didn’t make much headway when I felt a hand touch my elbow.

“Geez, what took so long?” I said as I turned around. But instead of Carlito, a thicker, darker man stood behind me. He looked well over thirty and had the build of someone who lifted weights seriously. In his hands he held two glasses half-filled with a clear liquid. He handed me one of them.

“A drink sent by messenger to the beautiful American from Carlito,” the man said in a husky voice.

“Where is he?” I wasn’t sure if I should take the drink, so I simply held it as we spoke.

“He had to leave.” He smiled apologetically. “He wanted me to tell you he is sorry, but he had to meet someone. It was an emergency.”

“Is everything all right? Did someone get hurt?”

The man laughed. “Knowing Carlito, it is probably another beautiful girl he must attend to. He has many such emergencies.”

“And how do you know Carlito?”

“He is my cousin. I am Marco.” He bowed as he introduced himself.

“Your accent is a little different.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You are very observant. I live in Argentina and am only here for a brief visit with friends and family.”

His eyes fixed on me a little too intensely for my comfort. I grew uneasy and looked to the corner of the club for Dez, but she and Estevan must have moved to another section.

Another guy walked up to Marco. He was several inches shorter and thinner. He also wore a camera with a large flash bulb around his neck. When Marco saw him, they clasped hands and greeted each other warmly.

Marco turned to me. “This is another one of my cousins, Pablo.” He said something in Spanish to Pablo and mentioned Carlito’s name.

Pablo shook my hand and smiled at me. “Marco tells me our cousin has done a very impolite thing.”

I relaxed a little. Maybe I was being a little paranoid. The guy really was just politely covering for his young and fickle cousin. I returned his smile, even though my night suddenly went from fantastic to bleak as I realized I’d either have to fly solo or else play the third wheel, both of which were awkward. “Yeah, well I guess he had better things to do than entertain this American girl.”
Damn
you,
Carlito.
I’m
no
longer
sorry
I
ruined
one
of
your
shirts
with
my
Guaro
vomit.

“He is a donkey’s ass,” said Pablo, “and I will tell him that when I see him later. You should stick with Marco. He is a much better dancer than Carlito anyway.” With that, he left to get a drink from the bar.

I sniffed at the drink the Argentinian gave me. “This isn’t Guaro, is it?”

Marco laughed. “So, you’ve been bitten by the Guaro monster, eh? Most people don’t go back after the first bite, so I understand your fear. No, this is a special Argentinian rum. Try it. You will like it. Not as strong as the Guaro.” He held his glass up to me, then swallowed his drink.

Suddenly appreciative that Marco had obviously bought me a drink to make up for his cousin’s faux pas, I raised my glass and took a sip.

My face twisted into a knot. “Ugh,” I shuddered.