my uncle and aunt,” Santiago said, addressing the frown on Angelica’s face. “They are the first persons I stayed with when I came to the United States from Honduras. Nothing like family.”
Santiago uttered a barrage of words in Spanish to Maria, and before anyone could count to three, a skillet and pots were hitting the stove.
“In another few hours, they would have been up to start the day,” Santiago said. “Uncle Jorge and Aunt Maria have owned this little restaurant for almost thirty years. Life has been good to them, and they love it when I come around, give them a few dollars, and bring some big spenders. They have been my only family since the day my mother and father were killed in Honduras. I owe them so much more than I’ve given them.”
“They seem to be very nice people,” Angelica said. “To fix you breakfast in the middle of the night…”
“They would do anything for me. Now, let’s talk about you. What are you doing in New York?”
Angelica cringed as she suddenly thought about Donna lying in some morgue. At some point and time, she was going to have to make contact with someone about Donna’s death. Whom, she did not know. The last thing she wanted to do was share any of it with Santiago. She fidgeted in her seat, and tried to think of something to say.
“I wanted to start a fresh life far away from North Carolina,” Angelica said softly. “Not much in N-C. I figured I would have a better chance in great big New York.”
“So your fresh start is stripping at a nightclub for a bunch of lust-filled men?”
Angelica looked directly at Santiago. She sensed he was fishing for something but could not put her finger on it. Why was he so interested in what she was doing with her life?
“I needed some quick money to get me started.”
“I thought you owned property in North Carolina or something.”
“My brother, Edward, sold my home and used some of the money for my trial. The rest…he is overseeing. He doles it out to me when I need it.” She wasn’t about to tell Santiago about leaving her condo she recently bought in Fayetteville.
“It’s your damn money, isn’t it?”
“Oh, I’m sure I can get some anytime I need it, but coming to New York was a sudden move for me, and I didn’t have time to consult my brother about it.”
“So you came to New York without a real plan. Seems rather odd to me.”
“Well, I had actually been asked to model for a magazine, but I found out that I really wasn’t cut out for the business. Too demanding.”
“Modeling would have been much more respectable than what you’re doing.”
Angelica was becoming irritated at Santiago’s line of questioning. Again, why should he care? It was her life, not his. She only consented to go to breakfast with him, not become part of his life.
“Why does it matter to you what I’m doing?” Angelica asked.
“Curious. There’s so much more to you, Angelica. It doesn’t seem to be your style.”
“Do we really ever get to know everything about someone-the real truth?”
“So, what should I know about Ms. Angelica Barnes that I don’t know?”
“You probably already know all there is to know about me.”
A pained look crossed Santiago’s face. It frightened Angelica, but she refused to let him see it. He placed his chin on his hand and continued to look at her as if he had disappeared into her soul. Angelica could feel his footsteps on her heart, searching and looking for the thing that made her tick. The footsteps were so hard that she could feel her blood running from them.
She needed to get far away from his quiet probing because she had no idea what was going through his mind. The demons of the past were starting to haunt her, and his words came flooding back to her,
Santiago was getting ready to say something when Aunt Maria shoved two steaming plates in front of them full of scrambled eggs, sausages with grilled onions and peppers, hash browns and hot biscuits.
“That’s breakfast,” Santiago finally said after a period of silence.
“Way too much for me at this time of morning,” Angelica said. “Gracias,” she said to Aunt Maria whose wide smile acknowledged her thanks.
“You can take home what you don’t eat and have it in the morning.” Santiago rattled off more Spanish to Jorge and Maria. They rattled something back, nodded their heads and exited the room. For the first time in a while, Santiago smiled at Angelica.
They finished their meal with so many unanswered questions still lingering in the air.
“I’ll take you home, now,” Santiago said. “I enjoyed our short time together.”
Although Santiago was a perfect gentleman, Angelica still questioned his motive. She wanted to believe that his seeing her at the club was a shock to his system, and he wanted to commune with an old friend. She may never know what he was thinking, but she hoped that their repast satisfied any curiosities he had about her.
The driver was waiting for them outside. They got in the car. She really did not want Santiago to know where she lived, but she had little or no choice.
“So, you live alone?” Santiago asked.
“No,” Angelica was quick to say. “I’m staying with a friend temporarily. I hope to have a place of my own soon.”
“Why not move in with me? I have a beautiful place outside of the city. A beautiful woman like yourself would certainly add a certain amount of elegance to the place.”
Angelica’s lips remained sealed. She looked straight ahead as a bad feeling began to mushroom. Santiago’s world was not her world. She did not belong. Anonymity was what she truly wanted, but exposure is what brought him to her. This is what he meant about redeeming herself. No, she couldn’t live with him.
“Think about it,” Santiago said. “You don’t have to give me an answer right away.” Santiago looked straight ahead. “I know all about you-your whereabouts, what you’ve been up to, and I know you have nowhere else to go.”
The whites of Angelica’s eyes bulged from their sockets. Her chest heaved in and out as she digested what Santiago said. She turned her head to stare at him, unable to comprehend the madness that was erupting before her. Santiago stared back.
Angelica’s frown turned to anger. “Have you known all along that I was here in New York? What is this, Santiago? I don’t have time for games.”
“Neither do I. You owe me, Angelica. I’ve waited five long years for you to repay your debt, and you can start by giving me the five one-hundred-dollar bills I gave you. You won’t be needing them, because somehow I already know that your decision to move in with me will be a yes, and if so, you won’t need to take off your clothes to a room full of drunk, lecherous men for your survival.”
“I hate you.”
“You’ll love me more in the morning.”
The rest of the ride was in silence until they neared the street where Ari lived. It was six in the morning, and day was breaking. As they started to turn down Ari’s block, Santiago spotted a police car at the end of the street, sitting at the stoplight. Perspiration formed on Santiago’s forehead, although it was cool in the car. He instructed the driver to pull to the curb and told Angelica to get out. He would be in touch with her later.
Angelica stiffened. Why were the cops in this neighborhood at this time of morning? She wondered if they were casing Ari’s place and compiling information on her because of Donna’s death? She shuddered and exited the car, glad to be away from Santiago. Her knees began to wobble and her hands started to shake. Angelica’s feet felt like lead-too heavy to lift and climb the few stairs to the porch. She managed the climb and turned her head in time to see the police move on as the light changed. And then from out of the shadows, the lone black car with Santiago in it pulled away from the curb, turned the corner, and drove out of sight.
25
Several days had passed since Malik had had lunch with Jefferson. Malik couldn’t erase the picture of the broken-down man who had sat before him. This was the man he held in high esteem, a man he
