He heard the click of the locks sliding open and watched her get behind the wheel and adjust the seat before taking his place beside her. He couldn’t help but smile. The car was roomy, the leather interior comfortable, the seats warm, and she was here.
As she was pulling out of the garage she said, “You might want to program some music stations.”
“How do I do this?”
“The car came with a subscription to Sirius, so go to the menu, hit the icon and then scroll through the selections until you find something you like. When you do, push one of those buttons and hold it in until it pings.”
“What is Sirius?”
“It’s a streaming system that’s commercial free.”
“Do they have Latino music?”
“They offer pretty much everything so I’m sure they must. It’s probably further down the list.”
He continued to scroll passing a variety of genres and sports. While he did, he asked, “What kinds of stations do you listen to?”
“Current hits, nineties, country, classical, jazz. It depends on my mood.”
“I am always in the mood for island style.”
He finally found one labeled tropical Latino hits and followed her directions. The car was filled with maracas and a man’s voice belting out a song in Spanish. He began to sing along with the familiar lyrics while his body moved to the beat. He closed his eyes and let himself be transported back to the land that used to be home. When it finished with a flourish, it was followed by another one he knew, a slower number, and he sang it with emotion. He’d never felt so free in his life.
He finally noticed that Alicia had pulled into the parking lot at Calipari’s. She’d left the car running so he could finish his serenade, and as soon as he was done, she shut off the motor.
Her eyes were bright with appreciation. “You have a very nice voice… and those moves. Do all Latinos have that kind of rhythm?”
He gave her a wide grin. “There is music and dance always on the streets of Havana. Musicians sit in front of the store fronts with bongos, guitars, sticks, and play to whatever audience appears. It is the way of life in Cuba.”
“In other words, it’s in your blood.”
“Yes. It is. It is where the salsa and mambo originated. Did you ever hear of the bolero?”
She shook her head.
“It is the embodiment of a romantic love song and purely Cuban. The trova spread gossip and news through in lyrics and melody. It is a rural style that places like my small town used to be famous for.”
“Sort of like troubadours.”
The smile that slowly tipped the edges of her mouth made his heart race.
She was in his blood as well, and he felt a surge of desire that he was barely able to conceal.
Patience, Mateo. The chill in her heart is melting. Take your time.
Listening to his own advice, he got out of the car, dragging their bags along with him.
When they entered Calipari’s, she guided him in the opposite direction from where the mock baseball field was housed, and on entering the gym, he looked around at the gleaming silver and black equipment. Would he ever get used to the change in circumstance? If he had known America was like this, he would have come years ago. His mother had been trying to convince him for that long, but he’d hesitated, unsure as to whether he could leave his homeland.
“Hey, Case. I brought a friend.”
He looked up to see a woman coming toward them, wearing brightly flowered spandex and a designer tee. Her hair was in a ponytail, she wore glasses, and she looked very much like Mac, who he’d seen on the news last night giving an interview as the new manager.
She came right over to him, her hand out to shake his, but her eyes were twinkling at Alicia.
“A friend, huh?”
Alicia was giving her an evil stare, telling her without words not to…what? Ask questions? Or did she know the story? They were friends and you told friends your secrets.
“Yeah. This is the guy I was telling you about.”
“Nice to meet you, Mateo. I think I heard the guys were calling you Mattie, weren’t they?”
She’d overheard them talking? Had she taken a look at her long-lost love while they were here the other day? He’d seen Seb sneaking side-long glances up to the walkway that he assumed bridged the spaces between offices and the athletic training facilities. He was going to walk the line of neutrality. This was Alicia’s friend and he wasn’t going to get on her bad side for kibitzing with Seb about her.
With polite formality he said, “Yes. Rique’s been calling me that since I met him in Brazil.”
“Do you like it, or would you prefer your legal name?”
“Mattie is my new American name. It fits, don’t you think?”
“It does. Welcome to our humble gym. If there’s a machine that you don’t know how to work, let me know and I’ll explain it. Or Allie can. She’s worked them all at one time or another. Now me? I just use the treadmill or elliptical. I’m not into sweat the way our friend is.”
Again, Alicia shot her a look that was dangerous, but Casey just smiled good-naturedly instead of backing off.
“We had a lot of these machines in our training center in Camagüey and Havana, but they were old and falling apart. It will be nice to know whatever I choose will not spit a part out at me.”
Alicia rummaged in her bag and pulled out a small device and handed it over, the earbuds wrapped snuggly around it.
“I brought my old iPod with me, if you want to use it. I have a fairly large play list, so you should be able to find something you like to listen to while working out. I can use my phone.”
“How does it work?”
Allie seemed surprised. “You’ve never seen
