Waking Up in the Land of Glitter (31 page)

“Are you all right?” he asked, concern creasing his eyes.

“Yes. Thanks. The damn tiles here, they’re so slick. How’s a girl supposed to have a drink and then make it in stilettos all
the way to the ladies’ room?”

He chuckled and extended his hand. “How fortunate to see you again, Chloe. I hoped you would come.”

She took his hand. Large, masculine, secure, with a warm grip. Chloe couldn’t let go. She let him slip away before but would
not make that mistake again. Gustavo’s energy was magical and powerful.

“I’m happy to be here.”

“I’m glad you made it. It’s our last show. Last-minute booking. To tell the truth, the only reason I had our manager take
the gig was because I hoped to see you,” he said, skimming his fingers down her bare arm.

Chloe smiled brightly at his words. “I’m here with my friends.” She pointed to the table where Star chummily clinked martini
glasses with some of her cousin’s Roller Derby friends. Chloe looked around the club for Larry and Ofie and spotted them on
the dance floor. Still holding her hand, Gustavo led her to the table where Star and Maria Juana were now arm wrestling. He
pulled out Chloe’s chair for her.

“I don’t feel so silly now that I kept tabs on you. I have all your CDs. I love them. I’ve thought about you every day since
we met,” she admitted bashfully, not only to him, but to herself.

Gustavo whispered in Chloe’s ear, “Let’s go out after the show, yes?”

“Sure,” she said, nervously reaching for a drink that wasn’t there. “I’ll be right here, waiting.”

W
hile Chloe floated on cloud nine, mesmerized by Gustavo and his celebrity status, Star received her own jolt of reality. About
six tables over and toward the back stood Theo, Corona in hand, alongside his cousin Victor. She shouldn’t have been surprised
to see him; he loved Reggae Sol as much as she. Star had to wave hello because they saw each other. She lifted a finger next
to her flushed, hot face and bent it up and down. He returned the gesture with a polite wink.

She considered going over to say hello, but then the DJ’s reggaeton jam ended, the lights went down—a sign that Reggae Sol
would appear any second. Star, along with the rest of the partiers, including Chloe, Ofie, and Larry, crowded to the front
of the dance floor.

The stage lights lifted to reveal a skinny bass player with a body like Bugs Bunny and a blond heavyset drummer who immediately
broke into a thick reggae dub. The hypnotic sound made the audience roar and cheer for what was to come next.

It cast a spell over Star. Without thinking, she wormed her way over to Theo, grabbed his arm, and led him through the crowded
dance floor, all the way to the front row. They made it, although they were smashed between two sweaty plus-sized fans in
reggae tams, but that only made the experience livelier. Star closed her eyes and let the music radiate up through her feet,
moving in rhythm with the drumbeat. She reached for Theo’s arms from behind and placed them around her waist, so they could
sway in unison to the groove. She loved that he used his thumb to stroke her stomach. She didn’t feel one bit nervous or hesitant,
and knew he didn’t either. The two of them were a natural fit. No words, no games.

Next, the three-piece horn section jumped on the wave, followed by two percussionists, who infused an African Nyabingi beat.
Chloe inched her way over to Star, and whistled through her teeth when the spotlight flicked on Gustavo’s face. The audience
roared as he stepped forward, dressed all in white like Rastafarian royalty, and moved to the beat with his guitar. His feet
were planted firmly, but his body rocked in sync with the bass line as his dreads swooshed back and forth behind his head.
The tune ceased abruptly so Gustavo could sing the first verses a cappella before the band kicked back in. He rarely took
his eyes off Chloe. The man was a solid crooner, comparable to Michael Bublé or Harry Connick Jr.—if either of them hailed
from Puerto Rico and sang reggae songs in Spanish.

For the first five cuts, Star and Theo danced facing the stage, singing to the air and cheering. The sixth song—a sexy island
version of Bobby Caldwell’s “What You Won’t Do for Love”—inspired her to turn around, put her arms around Theo’s neck, and
press her body against his. She had missed his smell, and to close her eyes and breathe him in now almost stopped her heart.
She moved closer to him. He welcomed her, and anchored his hips against hers, as they rocked back and forth to the melody.

Star couldn’t help herself any longer. She reached up and kissed Theo with parted lips. A weird sense of peace mixed with
excitement surged through her body, as though every shaky nerve from the past six months had been calmed.

He kissed her back lovingly, as if he too had been longing for this moment. And their kiss told the most romantic story ever,
even without the melodramatic speech bubbles or racy illustrations like in the
El Solitario
novella.

Star let go first. “Are you really moving to Santa Fe?” she shouted over the music.

He drew her to him again. “Let’s just enjoy the moment.” He set his hands on her shoulders and steered her toward the bar.

“Cheers to old friends,” Star said, holding up a Corona.

“To old friends,” he repeated back.

She took a sip from her bottle and Theo bent his head down to gently kiss the moisture from her lips. Star wanted the moment
to last forever.

An hour later, after saying goodbye to Chloe, Ofie, and Larry, Star and Theo headed outside, arm in arm, where Victor waited
at Theo’s ’48 Chevy. The last time Star rode in it, it was a boring primer gray. Now it sparkled a metallic green.

Theo put Star’s coat around her shoulders to shield her from the chilly late-night November air. “Estrella, Victor is driving
us home before this gets out of hand. Give me your keys and I’ll bring your car home in the morning.”

“I don’t want to wake my folks this late. At least, not after I’ve been drinking. Let’s go to your place and sober up on coffee
first. Please?”

Theo turned to Victor. “Okay, then. You heard her. My place.”

S
tar snuggled up to Theo’s chest in the backseat of his car, and heard the familiar sound of the tires pulling into his gravel
driveway. He gently nudged her cheek to signal their arrival and she opened her eyes to see his smiling face nestled to hers.
Victor unlocked the door and helped them out.

“Good to have you around again, Star,” Victor said before making his own way home. Just like old times, Star thought. Crashing
at Theo’s after a night of too much fun. She inhaled the scent of the oleanders that encased the property, and looked up to
see a full moon glowing in the black sky. She tightened her coat around her waist to guard against the chill, and followed
Theo inside.

When she entered his home, she heaved as if a bucket of ice water had just been dumped on her head. Large moving boxes everywhere,
filled and taped shut, were stacked along the walls. She did her best to hide her distress. After all, he did tell her about
the move weeks ago. It just hadn’t sunk in until now.

Star tossed her jacket, tugged off her boots, and climbed into her favorite chair, the leather La-Z-boy recliner, a gift from
Theo’s grandfather. She couldn’t believe this was the same house she had visited so often. Theo had always had a slick way
of decorating. Hues of deep reds and greens, stark matted prints and, of course, lots of accessories Star had given him over
the years. Now all were removed, leaving empty walls and vacant corners.

Cody, Theo’s bear-sized mutt, pounced on her lap and licked her neck.

“Cody! Bad dog! Get down!” Theo yelled as Cody slobbered on Star’s chest, neck, and face. She rolled around on the chair in
a fit of giggles. Cody finally retreated, fell to the hardwood floor, and rested his heavy head on her feet. Star slapped
the armrest, gripped her stomach, and rocked back and forth. “Oh, man…,” she said through heavy breaths. “I miss that!”

“So what’s up with the fireman?” Theo blurted. Star wondered how long he’d been wanting to ask her that.

“Nada,” she assured him. “We’re friends. It ended before it started. That’s all.” She felt no need to elaborate any further;
she had her own probing to do.

“So you’re really leaving. Excited?” She tried to sound upbeat, but it was a struggle. Still, she wouldn’t let herself be
selfish about this. Many blessings had come her way, and now Theo had the opportunity of a lifetime. Every night she prayed
for him to be happy, and he deserved to be recognized on a national level.

“Yeah, tomorrow I take off.” He sighed. “Frank is renting the house. Estrella, I’m really glad we got to hang out tonight.
There is no one else I would have rather spent my last night in Phoenix with.”

Star climbed off the chair to rub his back. “I’m glad too. Thank God for Reggae Sol, huh? They are like the bookends to our
relationship.”

“Yeah… I suppose they are.” Theo leaned over, opened one of the boxes in the hallway, and grabbed a couple of sheets and a
pillow. “You take my bed and I’ll crash out here. If you need anything, tell me and I’ll find it in the boxes.”

They kissed for several minutes, and then slowly pulled apart and retreated to opposite corners of the house.

A noise from his studio out back woke Theo a few hours later. He rolled off the sheet and went to his bedroom. No Star. He
shook his head in disappointment, thinking she had left, and was about to dive face-first into his bed when he heard the noise
again. He walked to the window and saw her hourglass silhouette in the studio. Wearing only his boxers, he jogged outside
through the cold air to see what she was up to.

He pushed open the creaky door to find patchouli incense burning, a candle lit, and Star sitting on a barstool in his favorite
lucha libre silk-screened tee and his baggy paint sweats. She stroked a brush across a small canvas and winked when he entered.

“You’re moving to Santa Fe to kick up your art career and you haven’t even packed your supplies?”

“That’s trip two,” he answered. “It’s three in the morning. What are you doing?”

“I can’t sleep. I thought practicing painting would help. Come check it out.” She flicked her fingers toward her as an invitation.

Theo moved to stand behind her. The more time they spent together tonight, the harder it would be to say goodbye tomorrow.
But her spontaneity was too hard to resist. “You can’t create without tunes,” he said, reaching for the stereo remote. He
fired up his favorite lowrider oldies to match the mood. Star didn’t respond. She was too involved in blending a background
on the canvas.

Finally, she spoke. “Thanks for the roses you sent for my art show. They brought me good luck.”

“You don’t need luck,” he said. “You are the only person I know who can score an exhibit without ever having made art, and
then sell every piece in one night. That’s my Estrella.”

“I like to think it was Nana Esteban watching over me.” Star rinsed her brush in a cup of water on the table. “By the way,
I peeked at your new paintings. Why haven’t you shown them? Are they for Santa Fe?”

He scooted to the edge of the red canvas sofa, where he sat and rested his elbows on his lap. “Painting, going to galleries,
all of it—it’s not exciting anymore. I can’t explain it. But… I did do one piece I like. Want to see?”

“Bring it on,” Star replied, standing up to approach him.

He went to a cart by the wall, lifted out a canvas, and handed it over: A three-by-four-foot mixed-media painting of her.
Black and blue curly locks of hair, which swirled around her head like tentacles underwater. A metallic gold arch floated
above, like a gilded crown. Her chestnut eyes were outlined with ultra-fine green glitter and her Cupid’s bow lips in pinkish
red. All of it was immersed under a layer of thin opalescent wax, creating a shimmery, antique effect. Around the border of
the painting were miniature illustrated mementos of their friendship: a piece of pan dulce, a matchbox from La Pachanga, a
Spanish book, jars of paints, a boom box, and various versions of heart milagros.

Star put her hands on her cheeks and breathed heavier than she ever had before. She closed her eyes in disbelief and when
she lifted her lids, she felt Theo’s eyelashes on her temple.

“I miss you,” he said, nuzzling close.

She didn’t respond. She couldn’t.

He smelled her hair. “I miss everything about you. Your smile. Your laugh. Your hair. Your clothes. Your crazy philosophies.
Your bad Spanish. All of it.”

Silence.

“Estrella? Please say something.”

She took his hand and led him to the couch. She turned out the light, so only the candle illuminated the room.

“I miss you too,” she whispered before covering his chest, neck, and face in what seemed like a million tiny kisses. He gripped
her petite waist and moved her back just a little so he could return the favor. Then he pulled her close and took in the scent
of her skin.

“Remember at Sangria when I said I regretted falling in love with you? I lied.”

She rubbed his nose with hers. “I deserved it. I’m sorry again about your mural.”

“I know a way you can make it up to me…,” he whispered into her ear. She kissed his nose, took his hand and they dashed through
the backyard to his bedroom.

As they toppled down onto Theo’s bed, Star felt a sense of peace and closure. This is where she wanted to be, with Theo. They
kissed, touched, and tumbled like two rowdy puppies, twisting across the brown serape bedspread that had a blazing Aztec warrior
in the center.

“I can’t believe what I’ve been missing out on for so long,” Theo said, amazed at his prize. His dark brown fingers traced
her curves. “Your body… It’s as fun as a set of monkey bars.” He ran his nose up her forearm, and then kissed her bandida
tattoo.

Star giggled, enjoying his playfulness.

“You’re as tasty as a ripe peach. You’re like a brand-new acoustic guitar, right out of the box. No, wait,” he said as he
slouched back and examined her from afar. “No, no, no… wait. I got it!” he said. “Your body? It’s like Raquel Welch without
her loincloth in
One Million Years B.C.
” He growled and teasingly bit her belly.