THE BIG MOVE (Miami Hearts Book 2) (16 page)

              I nodded. “You … you know the circumstances of my employment.”

              “Of course I know. I hired you, didn’t I?”

              “My Antonio.” My breath hiccupped in my chest and I fought not to fall to pieces. Wherever he was, he was being strong. He was always so strong. I had to draw on that same strength for myself. I couldn’t let him down. “He was taken into custody. He was in a car crash. They found out — they found out where he was from. Who he was.”

              “Where is he now?” How was Parker so calm about this? Sure, she didn’t love Antonio like I loved him. But the same event that had shattered my tenuous existence here only made her sound like she wanted to get down to business. Was she really an ice queen like everyone said she was — unfeeling and coldhearted?

              “I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head. “I called the police, and they said the immigration people have him. The car is in impound, and I don’t … I can’t … I’m scared.”

              “Stay here,” Parker said, turning on her heel and striding away.

              “Where are you going?”

              “I have some calls to make.”

              If she was an ice queen, she was at least efficient about it. If I wasn’t consumed by fear and despair, maybe I would’ve been able to help Antonio — and help myself. It seemed like a good skill to have to be able to shed your emotions and just get things done.

              By the time I’d taken a shower, removed all of my makeup, and changed into my street clothes, Parker had returned. I couldn’t have taken longer than thirty minutes, but she seemed like she had achieved some sort of progress.

              “I’m sending someone to fetch your car,” she said, taking me by the hand and forcing me to sit down on the bench beside her.

              “But the officer told me it would be $200,” I protested. “I don’t have that kind of money on hand. I could maybe get a loan. See if I can sell some things. Work overtime.”

              “No need,” she said, brisk and all business. “I called in a favor, that’s all. We don’t need to discuss it further. You’ll wait here for a little while. It should arrive in about ten minutes.”

              I swallowed. Parker was a woman to be reckoned with. I was awed by her pull and sway, but somehow not very surprised. She was someone who got what she wanted — when she wanted.

              “Your Antonio,” she continued, and stopped. Now I was surprised — my boss was faltering, fighting to find the words to tell me something that I could already guess. “This is not as solvable.”

              “Tell me.” I had to hear it. I had to hear how I’d failed my love.

              “He was transferred to a facility in California,” she said.

              I blanched. California was clear across this country, which was so much bigger than anyone thought. How would I see him? How would I contact him? Still, though, I had to count my blessings — even as they seemed to dwindle. California might be far away, but at least it wasn’t —

              “And then they flew him back home to Honduras,” she finished. “Sol, look at me.”

              I expelled a breath I’d been holding and shoved my face in my hands. How could this be happening? We’d struggled so mightily, traversed whole countries, battled hundreds of miles to get to where we were today. And just like that, just like some afterthought, all that effort was wiped away with a single car crash, a single question, a single flight.

              It was over. How could Antonio even begin to return to me now? We’d spent all of the money we’d so diligently saved journeying here. He’d have no way of earning that back. And the threats he faced now — how would he survive?

              “Sol, look at me.” Parker’s voice was even, an anchor I could hold on to. I uncovered my face and did as she told me.  Maybe the other dancers called her the ice queen because of her gray eyes. If you didn’t know her, maybe you’d think her gaze was cold. But there was something steady and true in there, and I latched on. It was all I could do to stay afloat, to keep breathing against the rising tide of panic and horror.

              “I know this sucks right now,” she said. “I know you don’t deserve this. I know you’ve been through a lot. And even if you don’t believe me right now, I’m going to tell you the truth. You will get through this.”

              Parker’s quiet conviction was inspiring, but she was right. I didn’t believe her. I couldn’t live without Antonio. He was the love of my life. He’d saved me. How could I have been too afraid to return the favor?

              My boss glanced down at her phone. “Your car is here,” she said. “You don’t have to go home, if you don’t want to. You can stay here as long as you like.”

              “Thank you,” I said faintly. “But I think I’ll go.”

              “Do you want some company?” she asked. “I can send one of the girls with you. One of your friends. Faith?”

              I shook my head. Faith had her own reasons for working as hard as she was. I didn’t need to take her away from that and immerse her in my nightmare.

              “I’ll be fine, just like you said,” I told Parker. “I’ll see you soon.”

              “Take your time,” she said. “I won’t expect you until you’re ready to come back.”

              I left, the idea of not coming in to work tomorrow unfathomable. If I stopped working, what else was there to do? I didn’t have a way to contact Antonio. I’d have to wait for him to contact me. It would be way too easy to curl up in a ball and just give up on everything.

              That fact worried me. That fact was enough to propel me into some kind of action. I needed to get the car home — and me along with it.

              It was hard to drive home in the car. First of all, the thing smelled like Antonio even though it had been languishing in the police impound lot. It was completely possible that I was imagining it, desperate for some lingering sign of my love in this country. I’d had to adjust the seat, pulling myself closer to the steering wheel, adjusting for our height difference.

              Secondly, even though I’d been home alone for some time now, I knew that there wasn’t any hope left of seeing Antonio. Even after the Miami police officer had told me that the immigration people had him, part of me expected Antonio to come striding in the door at any time, grinning and apologizing and kissing me to make everything better.

              There would be no happy reunion. He was in Honduras and I was here. I couldn’t return to my home country even if my love was there. I was so afraid, ever since those men attacked me. I could never go back.

              I sat on the edge of the bed I’d shared with my Antonio, dry-eyed and lonely for his arms around me. I could never go back, so to get his arms around me again, he would have to return to Miami. I was earning more money at the club than I’d ever earned in Honduras. I’d tighten my finances, downgrade into a studio apartment, live as meagerly as I could in order to amass the cash it would take for such an operation. We’d go through the
coyotes
again, sure, and it wouldn’t be easy, but we’d done it before.

              Since he’d be traveling alone, without me to hold him back, Antonio might even make it faster and easier.

              It was a flimsy plan, and one that would take much time and effort, but it was something. Parker said I was going to get through this, and so I was. The trick was, I needed to be the one to lift myself out of my sadness, put purpose back in my life, find hope in any place I could look. This was going to work. I was going to work as hard as I could, get as much money as I could, wait for Antonio to contact me, and then tell him what was going to happen.

              In our relationship, it was always the other way around. Antonio was my rock, the strength that I leaned on. I’d let him down before by being weak. Now, though, I was going to be the strong one. I was going to make this solution work for the both of us.

              I fell asleep in that too-big bed, my heart lighter than it had been in a solid week. I slept without dreaming, woke up refreshed, before my alarm even sounded, and made myself eggs for breakfast. I needed to keep up my strength if I wanted to earn the money required to bring Antonio back to Miami.

              It was another week of long shifts at the club, Parker keeping a cool but watchful eye, when I finally got the call.

              I’d just gotten home to my new apartment, which was so tiny that it made it seem like I had many more possessions than I actually did. Naturally, I’d kept all of Antonio’s clothes. He’d need them when he got here.

              My phone vibrated on the kitchen table, and I jumped to answer it even though it was an unknown number. I was still afraid of the immigration people tracking down my information, but had felt marginally better ever since I’d moved.

              “Hello?” The other end of the line crackled a bit with static, as if whoever was calling me was far away.

              “
Amor
.”

              I exhaled heavily, as if I was finally expelling a breath I’d been holding ever since he’d gone missing. Antonio. My Antonio, calling me.

              “I’ve been so worried,” I said. “I found out what happened through the police. My boss helped, too.”

              “I am so sorry,” he said, and then my love did something I would never have expected.

              He wept.

              My rock, my strong Antonio broke down, and my heart broke, too. I wanted to take him in my arms, stroke his raven hair, kiss all of this pain away. But I couldn’t. We were apart, and that was the source of this torment.

              “Tell me everything,” I said. “How are you? How is everything? God, I hate this, but I’m so glad to hear your voice. I was so worried.”

              Antonio calmed himself, telling me of the questions and the cells and the flight, shackled like a felon to the airplane seat.

              “But none of that compared to what happened when we landed in Tegucigalpa,” he continued. “They marched us into the airport, sat us down in an empty hangar, and welcomed us home.” He choked on his own rage, struggling to explain the event. “They were playing festive music, Sol. There were sweets. There were flags and bunting everywhere, as if it was some big party or we were important dignitaries arriving in the country for the first time. We had to talk to members of a ‘welcoming committee’ to explain why we’d left in the first place, and how they can help us readjust to life in our home country.”

              Antonio breathed hard. He was a good man, but he had his pride. This would’ve wounded anyone to the core.

              “I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” I told him. “I’m just glad you’re all right. Are you somewhere safe?”

              “You don’t understand,” he said, bypassing my question. “What am I supposed to say when someone working for the government asked why I fled the country I was born in?”

              “What did you say?”

              “I said because we were poor,” he said, biting each syllable off bitterly. “Because the threats to our lives were too great. Because the violence that had torn our families apart. Because we had to strive for something better. Because we are human beings and it is our nature to improve our situations. Because no one deserves to live like we were living, here.”

              We had left for all of those things, and it hurt terribly to picture my love back in that place of waking nightmares.

              “Were those answers not good enough for the government?” I asked.

              “My member of the ‘welcoming committee’ just made checks on a sheet of paper on her clipboard, gave me a bag of groceries and a bus voucher, and told me Honduras was happy to take a native son back into its embrace.”

              I could practically hear him pacing around, as he always did when he was agitated. I was outraged on his behalf — I really was. But it was still such a relief to hear his voice that it was hard to be anything more than thankful that he was alive.

              “Where will you go?” I asked. “How far into the countryside will the bus voucher get you?”

              “Are you not listening to me?” he demanded. “Are you not as insulted as I am at this sham? You know as well as I do that people are dying every day in the street needlessly. Something has to change. It must change from the top, down.”

              “I am insulted,” I said. “But I am grateful that you are talking to me now. I am grateful, above all things, Antonio. I thought … I thought the worst.”

              He calmed himself with a long sigh that whistled into the phone, and I closed my eyes, willing him to be transported to my side.

              “I’m sorry,
amor
,” he said. “This whole farce just added insult to injury. I’m happy to hear your voice. You don’t know how much better I feel just to have you in my ear.”

              I smiled, but it faded swiftly as I glanced up at the clock. It was after dark there, and Antonio shouldn’t be out in the streets.

              “Where are you staying?” I asked. “Have you made contact with anyone in the city?”