David couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be scared of talking to someone. “Why is the gang issue so bad? Can’t the government do something?”
“During the civil war, the violence was horrible, and people fled to the United States. They formed gangs here to protect themselves, and then in the nineties they were deported back to El Salvador because they were causing so much trouble. The gangs picked up from where they left off, terrorizing the local people.”
He didn’t know that. Who was he kidding? He knew nothing about the situation. His father’s voice echoed in his ear.“Don’t believe everything you hear.”He shut it out. Sure, he’d do his research later, but if Zita was lying, she deserved an award. It was tearing her up. “Is there some way I can help?”
“The biggest problem is that the issue can’t be solved by letting in all the refugees. It has to be stopped in the country— reduce the divide between rich and poor, increase education, stop the corruption in the government and the control of the gangs. Some of the girls want to return home after they’ve got their degrees, but it’s dangerous.” She was silent a moment. “If you want to do something you could support Casa Flanagan, or educate people like your father.”
“Dad listens to reason. I’m sure he got a lot out of the symposium.” His father liked to bluster and get reactions from people, which gave them the wrong idea.
“If you say so,” Zita said. “I’ve got to go. If you’ve got any more questions, just call. Do you want to come to Teresa’s other meetings?”
“Yes, please. I’d like to keep up to date with what’s happening with her family as well.” Now he’d heard their story, he couldn’t forget it.
“Of course.” She sounded surprised. “I’ll keep in touch.” She hung up.
David suspected getting involved in the immigration issues was going to be more time consuming than he’d expected, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t in good conscience ignore what he’d learned.
He got to his feet to reheat his meal. He also wanted to see Zita again. She wasn’t like the women he normally dated. She wasn’t sophisticated, or fashion conscious, or worried about what people thought. She didn’t appear to care who he was, or how much he was worth. She didn’t seem interested in him in that way at all.
He smiled.
Hopefully he could change her mind.
***
David walked into the lounge bar on New Year’s Eve and scanned the room for Carly and Evan. It was a gorgeous venue for their engagement party, and aside from the celebration, he was looking forward to seeing Zita again. It had been a few weeks since Teresa’s meeting and he hadn’t heard anything from her.
The first thing he noticed was that he was in the minority. Most of the room was full of Hispanic women, though there were a few men as well, and the conversation was largely in Spanish. It was the first time he’d ever been conscious of being a white male. It was a strange experience, slightly unsettling.
Then he saw the tall, strawberry blonde wearing a yellow evening dress that had ruffles like a flamenco dress down the split and showed a lot of leg, and he forgot all about being the odd one out.
Zita.
She went over to the bar to order herself a drink, the dress flouncing with her. His groin stirred. The way she moved, confident and completely unaware of her body, was pure seduction. He followed her.
“Hi, Zita.”
She smiled at him. “David. Nice to see you.”
“You look lovely tonight.” That was the understatement of the evening. He brushed his lips over her cheek and was rewarded with a sharp intake of her breath. “How have you been?”
“Busy,” she said. “Christmas is seriously crazy at Casa Flanagan. Almost all of our foster sisters come home and the house is overflowing with people.”
His own Christmas had been at his parents’ mansion with all his cousins, aunts and uncles. They were loud and raucous so he knew what she meant. “That must be nice.”
Zita took her margarita from the barman and, not wanting her to leave yet, he asked, “Do you want to have a seat?” He gestured to the lounge chairs near them as he ordered a glass of red wine.
“Sure.”
He picked up his glass and moved over to the seats, placing the present he’d brought on the table. He didn’t want to talk about her work tonight. “So, were you on Santa’s naughty or nice list this year?
She chuckled. “The jury’s still out on that.”
“Is that so? What did you do that was bad?”
She looked him up and down, her eyes assessing. “If you’re lucky, you might find out.”
David grinned. “I usually have great luck.”
