Give It To Me. Ana Castillo
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Название: Give It To Me

Автор: Ana Castillo

Издательство: Ingram

Жанр: Короткие любовные романы

Серия:

isbn: 9781558618510

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СКАЧАТЬ and treated herself to the exhibit. She walked out high on art and made her way back down Michigan Avenue where she saw Pepito waiting. He had an ankle monitor, which allowed him out for a few hours a day to look for employment. He was wearing a tight, plaid shirt and sweating from the humidity. They made eye contact as if he thought only she could see him. Maybe it was an ex-con thing, thinking they were invisible—or hoping. Most were invisible to everyone except to their target. The fact that he saw her told Palma that he was ready for her. Or he thought he was. She was ready for him, too. The night of the day that she threw Pepito out of her room there were about twelve texts and voicemails on her cell phone. Basic message: please, please, please, Prima. He couldn’t let her go just yet, Palma was sure, because he had a live one on the hook. He wiped his brow with a cloth hanky and shoved it in his back pocket, his black, long hair tied back. When he walked he had a slight pimp gait. She hated everything about his gangster style. Palma thought for a moment about whether or not she hated him, too. Hey, he said.

      Her small hand in Pepito’s grip, they headed straight to her hotel. As far as her little cousin was concerned, they were consenting adults. Let’s make up for lost time. We’ll recapture that day I went to see you when you were sick and I was cutting school, he said. Me, fourteen and you, twenty-four.

      Palma left on her bra. She had this idea that if he truly desired her he would take it off. He never did. He was a big man, twice her size and weight. He laid on his back and propped the woman on his face. He was going to ring Palma’s chimes, float her boat and send her to paradise, he said. Cliché his way to her heart was how she took it. He knew she was with a woman so the intent was to show her he could do with his tongue whatever a female could do. She came so hard they may have heard her elephant mating calls in the next room. I’ve gotta go, he said, after getting washed and dressed. He glanced down at his ankle with the monitor. I’ve got a job interview tomorrow, he said. What time you leave for the airport?

      What? Palma said, half believing what she was seeing and hearing. He’d wasted no time getting out of bed. Men were said not to like to cuddle, but as far as she knew this one had not been held for over diez años. He acted like a fugitive on the run. I saw Jim-Bo yesterday, Palma said. Pepito’s left eyebrow went up. He looked only mildly interested. Jim-Bo, you know? Your uncle? Most likely your father? Pepito made a get-out-of-here face, put on his cheap watch, and patted down his hair. I’m making him accountable about Abuela’s house, she said. It was the house we grew up in, man! Don’t you care? She pelted out questions, one after the other, with no response. Then he was out the door.

      4

      Two days later she was back in her stucco house in Albuquerque, her cat gone, and the dog still at Ursula’s. Ursula worked nights and hadn’t gotten around to bringing Dog back. Palma could get him but was too worn out from her trip down memory lane. The cat would come around and the dog was fine wherever he was as long as you let him out twice a day and kept him fed. As pets went, hers were loyal only to meals. That made them ideal for Palma because it was about as far as her commitment went. Pepito had bitten her tongue and it blistered. It was the one undeniable sign that she had not imagined their shenanigans in the hotel. There was more evidence about the trip. When Palma went into Abuela’s closet she got out the suitcase her grandmother had carried from Mexico as a young bride. Among other Abuela-deemed tesoros it held were the letters and postcards Palma sent from her own travels. She confiscated them, stashing them inside her bag. Back in Albuquerque, they went in the top bureau drawer. One day the ramblin’ granddaughter would tell her life story.

      Ursula called. She was coming over later with Dog. I’m bringing some Chinese, Ursula said. Okay, Palma said. Do they have papers? Pause. You are most hilarious, the other woman said. Why don’t you audition at the comedy club and stop wasting your talents on a tired-ass dancer like me? Her ass was hardly tired but yes, she really was stripping her way through nursing school. It was Ursula’s night off and she came over with takeout and the dog. What’s that? Palma noticed something different about the mongrel rescue right away. Oh, I took him for his shots, she said. He’s got tags. No, that other tag, Palma said. Yeah, she said. I named him. Romeo? Palma said fingering the brass, bone-shaped tag. Yes, she said. He’s our loverboy, is he not? Why someone would adopt a dog and refuse to name it I haven’t figured out, hon’, Ursula said. She was in a tight exercise top and Spandex shorts. It was hot in the desert. Palma’s lover was slim and well formed with reddish brown hair all gathered up on top of her head. She looked like she had been out on a run, sunburned and sweaty, and pulling off her top she started making her way to the shower. Her boobs were pale compared to the rest, and while Palma was old school and did not approve, the implants looked good. Almost real. Not too big. Palma didn’t mind them small or hothouse tomatoes like her own. Ursula’s were a business investment for the time being, she said. Once she had her nursing degree she’d have them removed.

      Palma caught up to her. She kissed her mouth, moved down to her neck and then each nipple. Her lover had large areolas. They showered together and made love. (Two women making love required a whole lot of patience. More when they were standing up.) Afterward, the couple took their Chinese to bed and watched the latest broadcast of 48 Hours on the laptop. Why do you like to watch that morbid stuff? Ursula said, sleepily. Palma didn’t know. Those murder investigations fed the latent state prosecutor inside her, maybe. Half the time she’d get freaked out and couldn’t stop thinking about how many shows centered on wives who had been killed by their prominent doctor husbands or ministers, proverbial pillars of the community, telling herself that Abuela was right, you couldn’t trust nobody. Especially not among los gringos. Yankees. Gabachos. Gachupines. Güeros. Palma turned off the light.

      I’ve got something to tell you, Ursula whispered. There’s good news and bad news, actually. Which do you want first?

      I could use good news. Palma opted.

      I’m quitting my job, Ursula said.

      Dancing? Palma said, as if her lover had another job.

      Uh-huh, she gave an earlobe nibble and stretched her taut body against Palma’s. That was in fact, super news. Then she said what sounded at first like details about the good news. My mom has offered to pay for my schooling.

      Your mom in Houston? Palma said. It was unlikely that Ursula was talking about any other mom so the fact that she said where Ursula’s mom was revealed that her subconscious guessed the bad news. Her lover was lost without family in Albuquerque. Yes, that mom, Ursula said, the one who said she’d pay for my schooling if I came home. Palma rolled over and Ursula hugged her back, I’ll miss you, she said. Palma patted the other’s hands at her belly, I’ll miss you, too. The truth was she liked Ursula a lot, but unlike Snowball, Palma knew that when she was gone Palma would not love her.

      5

      The letters and postcards that Palma Piedras sent to Abuela over the years from her adventures were spread out on the bed. Without thinking about it she had brought them out. She told herself she couldn’t sleep because she’d drunk coffee too late in the day. The fact was that it was going to take time to get used to Ursula’s absence. Getting unused to someone around, Palma thought, was not the same as missing them. She noticed there were a few envelopes held together with a rubber band. They weren’t in her handwriting but addressed to Abuela. She picked the bundle up and turned it around a few times. The return address was in LA. Who did her grandmother know in LA? Well, the answer could be anybody. Most likely a relocated pastor from her church or former church member.

      Out of curiosity as to why the old woman would keep those letters, eight with her own correspondence, Palma pulled off the rubber band. It was so brittle it snapped. They dated back to when Palma was a mere Tater Tot. Included were two business envelopes with government return addresses: The Department of Human Services. The others were in letter-size envelopes. Large, loopy handwriting. She opened one randomly. Mami. СКАЧАТЬ