Taming Romeo (5 page)

What the eff? All that sweating was worth only fifty dollars? Before I can comment, Clicky sweeps me into his arms and kisses me. Oh, wonderful. Not. I’m sure my mother, father, two sisters and a brother are watching with extreme disapproval.

I’m ripped back by a strong grip. Romeo throws a fist and Clicky is on the floor holding his jaw. The crowd gasps in horror and shock, some holding cell phone cameras while others point and gawk.

“She’s mine.” Romeo grunts like a twenty-first century caveman and leads me away, pushing and cutting through the crowd.

He straddles his bike. “Get on.”

Can we use words instead of fists? And more than two words at a time?

“Where?” I can’t spare words either. I shove the helmet over my head and mount in back of him.

“Vegan Palace.”

“Hold it a second.” I yank Romeo’s shoulder as soon as we arrive in the Vegan Palace parking lot and remove our helmets.

“What?” He tilts his head at the green carved wooden doors. “You wanted vegan.”

“I’m not going in there all hot and pissed off.” I unzip my onerous leather jacket and fan the damp camisole underneath.

“Then, don’t be pissed.” His eyes crinkle with lustful delight. “Wow, you’ve really filled in.”

That was really inappropriate. Clue to Romeo. Never comment on a woman’s body as being filled in.

I huff and wipe the sweat off my nose. “I’m not sure what’s going on. We’re practically strangers and we’re fighting like we mean something. You didn’t have to punch that guy.”

“You didn’t have to kiss him.”

“I didn’t kiss him. He kind of surprised me,” I mumble even though no explanation is needed. “And please, spare the caveman act.”

I step off the bike and walk away from him.

“This isn’t an act.” He grabs my arm and pulls me close. “I want to make it work this time.”

“Huh?” My stomach chooses this moment to growl. Make what work? Is he talking about a hot torrid affair or something more emotional?

Romeo tips my chin and lays a kiss on my compliant lips. “We can talk all evening, but right now, let’s get some cattle grub.”

“Doesn’t sound so healthy when you put it that way.” I follow Romeo into the Garden of Vegetarian Delight. Yes, there’s a cheesy sign with a laughing goddess pointing the way. Water fountains trickle amongst statues of frogs, fairies, and dolphins. The hostess asks if we want patio seating. Romeo looks at me and I readily agree.

It isn’t until I’m finally seated across the table, a small, intimate table lit with a single candlelight, that the nerves hit me, literally flooring me. The past few days seem unreal, like a movie on fast forward. Event, drama, action, yelling, drama, cut!

I’m actually on a date with Romeo, the boy who buried himself in my heart the first day of kindergarten when he gave me a yellow dandelion. Romeo, who wiped me with a napkin in second grade when I threw up on the bus. Romeo, who pledged his love to me in sixth grade by giving me his holographic Charizard Pokemon card. But once we hit junior high school, we went underground, as if we knew our parents would disapprove, and we’d sneak kisses behind the bungalows, cut class to smoke, and ride down to the beach on his motorbike.

My hands shake, growing clammy. My throat tightens and my heart skips many beats. I sip ice water while cold sweat breaks out on my forehead. It’s the first time since running into him at my parent’s restaurant that I’m getting a really good look at him. And he’s movie star handsome, because dunce that I am, he
is
a movie star. Okay, a low budget drama star, but still, this guy acts for a living.

Mr. Big Movie Star reaches over and rubs my hands. “They’re cold. Are you okay?”

“Doing fine.” I have difficulty swallowing, even though his hands are warm and comforting. “I can’t believe you’re here. I keep thinking this is a dream and I’m going to wake up.”

“I’m not the one going anywhere. Why did you leave?”

Uh oh. He wants to go there and we haven’t even ordered. Heat flushes my face and I take another sip of water to bide my time. I make eye contact with the waitress and hold it until she takes out her order book and steps toward us.

“Hi, I’m Sherease, your server. Would you like cocktails or an appetizer, or are you ready to order?”

Sherease looks flustered because Romeo ignores her. His gaze is focused on me, and she knows I signaled her over to interrupt an intense moment. It’s what waitresses do. We’re attuned to our customers and pay attention to their body language. Otherwise, how do we appear at just the right moment with a drink refill or to bring over the dessert tray?

“I’d like a cocktail, a blue mai tai. Romeo?”

“I’m ready to order.” Romeo plops the unread menu on the table. “What do you recommend?”

I kick his shin and he shoots me a scowl. He can be rude when he doesn’t get his way. Being the only child is no excuse.

“Is this your first time at Vegan Palace?” Sherease puts on a kindergarten teacher voice guaranteed to annoy him further.

“Definitely. I only came because of her.” He hooks his thumb my direction.

I shoot him a closed-mouthed smile.

“What are some of your favorite foods?” The waitress bends over him so close her boobs are practically in his face. She flips through the menu. “Let’s see, we have Italian, Mexican, Indian, and Asian entrees.”

“I like roast pig.”

“You just had that the other night.” I tap his shin again. “And it’s not vegetarian.”

“Oh, goodie,” Sherease squeals. “You must try our vegan pulled pork.”

“Seriously?” Romeo’s eyes widen and he stares at where Sherease is pointing. “That looks like the real thing. What’s in it?”

“Secret ingredient. How about this? I’ll tell you after you taste it. I’m sure you’ll love it.” She drags out the word ‘love’ and winks.

I order a Thai peanut curry over noodles and we settle on artichoke spinach dip for appetizer.

As soon as Sherease saunters off, Romeo says, “Are you going to tell me or what?”

“Keep this up, bucko, and this is one nightmare I’ll be glad to wake from. Can we just have a nice dinner and get reacquainted?”

“And then you’ll tell me?”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Romeo can be single-minded, pigheaded, and has a hard time backing off. But I owe him an explanation. I practically left him at the altar.

“Yes, we’ll have a long talk after dinner. Can you wait?”

“Okay, but you’re mine tonight. No running off.” He tucks in a napkin and when Sherease returns with my mai tai, he orders a beer. Much better.

Dinner arrives and it’s better than I thought. Romeo is impressed with the “pulled pork” and when Sherease tells him it’s jackfruit, he practically falls off his chair. “I’ve been eating fruit? Evie, can you get the recipe? Maybe you can add it to your menu.”

“Oh, you have a restaurant too?” Sherease asks, handing us the dessert card. “Where?”

“Barrio XO. It’s Filipino and I swear, we have meat in every dish, even our vegetable dishes.”

“For example?” Her eyebrow quirks.

“
Kangkong
leaves sautéed with minced pork and crispy tofu, or bitter melon with scrambled eggs and shrimp paste.”

“Ouch.” Sherease winces. She recommends Figs in Cashew ‘Cream’ as the dessert. “No eggs or milk products, I promise.”

Through dinner, Romeo and I talked about our lives the past five years, safe topics. I filled him in on my studies and how I had difficulty in anatomy class because of the corpse I had to dissect. He talked about the fun he had going to USC, Playboy magazine’s top-ranked party school. I was hearing everything for the first time, because after I ditched him at the prom, I cut off all contact, email, phone, text, and moved to Boston. The few times Choco mentioned Romeo, I threatened to cut her off too, so she wisely decided to strike his name from her vocabulary.

Sherease returns with the dessert, and I know my time of reckoning is around the corner. While Romeo sips on black coffee, I suck on the figs, sensual, crunchy, sweet and dripping with flavor.

“I love watching you eat that.” Romeo seems mesmerized by me as I roll the wrinkly globular fig in the velvety cashew cream and lick it.

“Try one.” I dip a fig into the cream and break it open.

He moves toward me, and I place a piece in his mouth. His lips linger a moment on my fingers, and he takes my hand and holds it to his jaw. I can tell he’s becoming aroused. His eyes lose their hard edge, and he tugs his lip ring with his tongue and chews slowly.

My mind clouds with lustful thoughts of spreading cashew cream all over his body and…

“Shall we take the rest of them to go?” His voice is raspy and he’s giving me that let’s-go-to-bed stare.

I can tell he no longer wants to ruin the mood with talk about our breakup. “Let me freshen up and I’ll meet you outside.”

The thought of going out the back door of the restaurant and calling my sister teases me the entire time I reapply my makeup and tidy up my hair. Romeo is pure danger. My rational medical student self tells me I’m too emotionally fragile to jump into bed with him. I’m on the rebound. I’m still unsure of my future. I can’t afford to make more mistakes.

My teenage self smears lip gloss and checks out my profile in the full length mirror. I do look sexy in the motorcycle outfit, my legs longer because of the thin pants and biker chick boots. I zip the form fitting jacket and turn around, admiring myself from all angles. Oh, yeah. Teeny bopper me is excited to see the scene we shot at the library today. In fact, she’s asking why I hadn’t tweeted about it yet.

The little vixen, me, struts out of the ladies’ room sure she’s giving every man from eighteen to eighty a hard-on. She winks at the maître d’ who nods and opens the door for her, then poses at the entrance, her hair waving in the breeze.

The motorbike purrs and idles before me. Romeo hands me my helmet. “Get on.”

“Yes, Caveman.” Maybe it’s the mai tai talking, but I almost ask if he’s taking me to his cave.

We ride off in a whirlwind. He takes the curves fast, leaning into them and I’m stuck to him, as if we’re one body. I’ve always loved riding with him, trusted him completely. The road becomes curvier and we’re climbing higher. The lights of the city below alternatively flash and hide behind trees and houses as we take the turns fast. The houses look really expensive, and I wonder whether Tita Elena has moved here or if Romeo is renting something with class.

When Romeo takes the final turn, I realize we’re not heading to his cave. Part of me is relieved, the adult medical student me.

A large cross looms above us, surrounded by a parking lot and a set of steps leading to its base. Mt. Soledad Veterans Memorial, a peaceful place with a fascinating three-hundred-sixty degree view of San Diego, and site of continuous legal battles between supporters and opponents of the cross.

Romeo cuts the engine. I hop off first while he holds the bike steady. The night sky is clear, and unlike most days I’ve been up here, the wind is calm. Even though there are a few other cars around and people taking pictures, the area feels private, probably because of the reverent silence surrounding the cross.

We remove our helmets. He locks his to the bike, but I have to hold mine since he doesn’t have an extra lock. We climb the steps up to the base, which is protected by a metal fence.

Romeo holds me around the waist and whispers, “When you’re up here, you must tell the truth.”

“What makes you think I’d ever lie to you?”

“You don’t lie. You just evade.” He kisses my forehead.

Even though the view below us is breathtaking, the stream of red and white taillights and headlights flowing toward the flickering city beyond, I only have eyes for the man holding me. A man I no longer deserve. Five years ago, I ditched him. I left without saying ‘goodbye.’

“What do you want to know?”

“Why you went away.”

“If I tell you, would it change anything?”

“Yes and no. I respected your wishes not to come after you. Did you ever wish I hadn’t?”

The breeze picks up, whipping my hair around my face. “If I tell you my heart, promise it won’t change anything.”

“It won’t change the past, and it won’t change how I feel about you.” He pushes my hair back and caresses my cheek. “Answer the question.”

“I missed you every day for the first year.” I choke out my answer. “But I wanted to be a doctor more, and if we had eloped, I would never have gone as far as I had.”

“Why did it have to be one or the other?” His voice quavers.

Heaviness presses over my shoulders and drags my heart to the floor. “Now I have neither. I’m a failure.”

“You’re not a failure.” He lifts my chin. “Thanks for telling me the truth. I would never have stopped you from becoming a doctor.”

“But you wouldn’t have moved to Boston. You said I could transfer to USC or UCLA. I would have had to give up Harvard.”

He lets go of me, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s nice knowing Harvard outranked me. You know I wasn’t smart enough to go there, or to MIT.”

I didn’t tell him the whole truth. It wasn’t just Harvard, but a Harvard guy I met at Visitas, the weekend in April Harvard offers to admitted undergrads. Eric Shen was one of the tour guides. Handsome, charming, and very intellectual. Eric challenged me to aim higher, to aspire to greatness, and showed me his fun-loving, quirky humor. He escorted me to the sample classes, took me to the dining halls, and invited me to a private party at his parents’ mansion. True, we were supposed to be chaperoned at all times, but the girl assigned to me assured me I could do what I wanted as long as I was back for the shuttle to the airport. She faithfully watched my luggage, which I stowed in her room, and my escapade caused no harm. Eric did not seduce me or give me drinks or drugs. He didn’t even kiss me or touch me. But we talked all night and when he played his violin, my spirit soared and at that moment, I believed anything was possible, and that I, little Evie Sánchez, could become a surgeon.

Now, I can’t even pass anatomy.

I press on Romeo’s chest, not wanting to break the connection. “It’s not like that. I wasn’t ready to be your wife. I’m still not ready to marry.”