“You ready to be dipped?” Carlos asks out of nowhere, and I just tense up and freeze. His arm’s sliding around my lower back anyway, so I do my best to prepare for an inevitable crash.
“I’ve got you,” he says, his voice low in my ear, and with a shake of my arm, he manages to loosen my other muscles. Then down I go, the entire club going topsy-turvy, my foot kicking up enough I worry I nicked somebody’s elbow…
But then I’m back in Carlos’s arms, the rise and fall of our chests syncing to the same rhythm.
Strands of my hair obscure his smile, but it’s stretched wide, and a laugh spills out of me. I’ve never been the sort of gal to step to any dude’s beat, but I stop fighting the experience so hard and transfer more of my weight to him.
Then we’re whirling and twirling across the floor, and I’m thanking his mom, aunties, and cousins for those extra dance lessons they’d thrust upon him. I’ve never been so thoroughly flung and spun, and I didn’t expect to be such a fan. It takes away that pressure of what I should do and say, and I haven’t felt so in-the-moment in a long, long time.
As the song comes to a close and I end up tucked against him, the top of my head secured in that comfy little spot between his shoulder and neck, I fully comprehend what Rita meant when she said never before had a man made her feel like such a woman. With his large hand secured low on my back, my body automatically swaying along with his, I feel petite and taken care of in a way I rarely do on dates.
It’s true that I didn’t know what I was missing, so I request another drink and a few more dances before I’m ready to call it a night.
I’m still bubbly and floaty as I quietly creep inside Grandma Helen’s house at the end of the evening, my muscles pleasantly sore and my shoes hooked in my fingers so they won’t clack against the floor of the entryway.
Fifi pads over, and I bend to greet her and then yelp as lights flip on and flood my vision.
Grandma Helen’s not the only one in the living room, either. She’s wearing her long nightdress that’s slightly see-through in the light, and I catch sight of Wanda sprawled out on the couch while Rita’s covered with an afghan in the recliner. I get that sleepovers are fun, but their bedrooms are mere steps away, although Rita would have to walk a whole street over.
“It’s after midnight,” Wanda mumbles in a sleep-roughened voice. “That’s what I’m talking about, baby girl. We knew you had it in you.”
Chapter Twelve
Maybe it was the night I spent dancing or maybe I’m just clicking in, but by the following Monday afternoon, I’ve reworked my publicity plan and am feeling rather hopeful about this fresh new start where my grannies workwithand not against me.
In fact, one of the best parts of my Friday night date was coming home to find they’d waited up for me and wanted me to spill. When Wanda sat up and patted the cushion next to her, I quickly settled in before casting a smile at Rita, allowing the joy I felt when I let myself sink into the salsa dancing shine through. “You should’ve seen the way the dress shimmered beneath the lights in the club.”
“Did he spin you around the floor?” she asks, perking up, a dreamy expression softening her features. “Did he make you feel like a hot-blooded woman?”
“Yes, yes he did.” I bob my head, unable to keep my grin from curving my lips, and they all sigh. “He’s a very good dancer. He told me about how, as one of the few boys in a family full of women, he had to also be the practice partner, isn’t that cute?”
Wanda clasps a hand to her heart, a wide grin on her face as she gives a squeal. “See, we knew it’d be good for you to get out and have some fun with someone your own age.”
Technically speaking, I did have fun.
Actually, any form of speaking, I had a blast. I felt younger and zippier despite all the dancing, exhausted but also recharged, not drained. It was also the first evening I hadn’t spent fixated on my dismal career status in weeks. “He dipped me, too, so low I was sure I’d fall, but the next thing I knew, I was back in his strong arms.”
I release a sigh, swooning despite myself, then reach across the arm of the couch to squeeze Rita’s hand. “We did you and Rafael proud, I promise.”
“Gracias, Mia mija,” she says, gripping me back with surprising strength. “It does my heart good to see that dress on you and recall my years of dancing on a stage. Makes me feel young again, if only for a night.”
There was such gratitude and joy on her face, not only from Rita but Wanda and Grandma Helen as well, that I decided if living out their regrets came along with a high like that… Well, I’m happier than ever I have so many grandmas.
Bonus, it’d made my Monday morning feel less daunting, but like most afternoons, I’m still in need of caffeine.
I stroll across the courtyard, an extra skip in my step at not having any half-naked protesters barring my way. Turns out I parked at the backside of the building my first day, and as I climb the cement steps and push inside, my pulse skids at the idea of bumping into Carlos on my coffee run.
My steps are lighter, the happy echo of my heels buoying my mood.
It takes a nosedive when I see the cart’s closed up, a sign draped across the top suggesting Icome again tomorrow. Their hours are so sporadic, but a check of my watch shows I’m also seventeen minutes too late.
Who stops serving coffee at 3:00?
Slowing my steps to a half drag, heels catching noisily, I glance toward the open archway of the medical clinic.
From here I’m still obscured, nothing risked, nothing gained.
It’s not like Ihaveto have a coffee in my hand to say hi.
