Wilson Mooney Eighteen at Last (30 page)

I pulled on my panties and
fastened my bra, and my mind shifted to what Nick had said about
Max and me being broken up. A sick swell of losing Max curdled in
my stomach. I snatched my shirt and stretched it over my head,
thinking about Nick’s comments that were better left unsaid. I got
mad thinking about the “
If I was Max, I’d
fight for you”
part.
Who told him Max wasn’t fighting for me?

I stretched my jeans across my legs
and hopped, pulling them past my feet. I could feel my jaw tighten
and my shoulders stiffen. Nick needed to explain to me who said
what. Were the words “broken up” coming from Nick or
Calvin?

I don’t think Max would
say we were broken up. I mean, he had to know I wasn’t breaking up
with him…I told him I loved him. But when I left him I didn’t give
him an explanation of what I was doing, and…I drove away with
another guy. But I never said we were breaking up, or that we were
not breaking up. Shit, I can’t remember what I said!

I snatched my phone from the bed,
checked to see if I had any missed calls or texts, then shoved it
into my pocket. I went to get my makeup bag from my suitcase when I
remembered I left it in the bathroom, and I sure as hell wasn’t
going to go back in there. I needed to get to Nick and find out
just who he’d gotten his information from, so I towel dried my
hair, combing my fingers through it, before I trudged
downstairs.

I heard him in the kitchen with
Lupita. He was laughing spastically, and she was speaking quick,
sarcastic, high-pitched words, plastered with her Spanish accent. I
froze in the dining room, waiting to hear what was so
funny.

“
Thanks for cheering me
up, Lupita, I needed that,” I heard Nick say as he caught his
breath.

“
No problem,
Nikos
. Would you like enchiladas
for your señorita or chili rellenos?” I heard her say with a kick
in her words.

“
Well, Lupita, she isn’t
my girl, she’s in love with someone else.” Nick’s voice carried a
heavy tone.

“
No worries, mi bebé. Your
Lupita will work her magia. That señorita won’t resist mi cooking
and your cora
ź
on,” Lupita sang over clanking pans and splashing
water.

“
Well, I’m afraid my heart
isn’t enough; but maybe your magical cooking will give me a
chance,” Nick told her.

I felt my gut twist. Deep
down I’d always known he had feelings for me; nothing had changed
for him, from when he kissed me back in November and all the time
in between when there’d been subtle moves on his part. Okay, well,
maybe sucking my finger wasn’t too subtle.
But damn it, I’m really pissed off that I’ve been
misrepresented.
I wanted to drill Nick
about what Calvin said about Max and me breaking up, but I couldn’t
bring myself to come blaring in with my guns drawn and my pain
nailed to my sleeve. Nick rushed to me when I needed him; he was
there for me, without question. So I meandered in to the kitchen
like I hadn’t heard any of their conversation.

I clomped my feet, making enough noise
so they’d hear me. Nick was leaning back in the bar chair, his
hands tangled in his brown, wispy hair as he used the moment to
stretch his body. Lupita was waist deep in the huge
restaurant-style fridge, pulling out everything she needed to make
dinner. Nick saw me, hopped off his chair, and pulled out the one
next to him.

“
Hey, Wilson, nice to see
you dressed,” he said through a smile.

“
Funny, Nick. Hi, Lupita.
Nice to see you,” I sang, hoping Lupita would hear me as I slipped
into the chair Nick held.

“
Gracias, señorita.
Nicholas told me you are hungry. I’m making
enchiladas rancheras.
Son
deliciosas,” Lupita declared as she kicked the door closed. Wedged
between her chin and hands was a huge block of
queso fresco
cheese, a massive stack
of corn tortillas, a bundle of green onions, and a grocery bag of
red, plump tomatoes.

“
Mucha hambre. Is that how
you say very hungry?” I asked, rubbing my stomach.

“
Sí, muy bien,” Lupita
nodded as she slid a can of Coke across the granite counter to
me.

Nick twisted and leaned in toward me,
close enough that I could smell the faint hint of his cologne dance
between us. “Wilson, I wanted to apologize for what happened
upstairs. I didn’t mean to…it wasn’t supposed…I didn’t mean to
umm…” Nick struggled to say the right thing. I felt the swell of
his breath pour warmth down my neck and across my
collarbone.

I turned, staring into his dark brown
eyes, hoping he’d discover how hurt I was by what he said to me
upstairs. But what was I going to say? Especially after I overheard
what he was telling Lupita. So I swallowed the words I wanted to
ask him.

“
Well, it isn’t every day
you see me buck naked,” I said as I cracked open the Coke and took
a swig. He relaxed at my words, but it didn’t stop me from wanting
to find out what Calvin had told him about Max.

“
That’s true. I can’t
stop
that
image
from burning across my eyes,” he mumbled in a snarky tone before he
glanced at me.

“
Well I can poke your eyes
out, that may help,” I retorted as I pointed my fingers toward his
face.

It felt like the
old
Nick for a moment;
the one I could hang out with and it wouldn’t be
awkward.

“
Naw, I got something
better.” He hopped off the chair and went into the liquor room. I
was hoping that I could broach the subject of Calvin and Max when
he came back, but he didn’t give me a chance to say
anything.

“
Lupita, would you hand me
a couple of glasses with ice, please?” Nick asked as he slid a
bottle of Bacardi across the counter. Lupita handed him two short
glasses filled to the brim with ice.

“
Thanks,” he
said.

“
I don’t know, Nick, I
haven’t really eaten anything today and I’ve already had that drink
you made me earlier,” I said, taking a swig of my Coke.

“
Oh, don’t worry, I’ll
take care of you. Besides, Lupita is a great cook. Right,
Lupita?”

“
Sí,
Nikos
,” she confirmed as she worked the kitchen. She slipped a
huge glass dish of enchiladas into the oven. “Quince minutos,” she
declared before wiping her hands on the bottom of her
apron.

“
Hear that? Fifteen
minutes and you will have some of the best Mexican food in
town.”

“
Really, so Lupita cooks
for Browler’s Burritos?” I teased.

“
Now come on, not
everything is so black and white,” Nick answered.

“
I didn’t think so.” I
looked at Nick before turning to Lupita; we shared a
smile.

Nick pulled the glasses over and
filled them a third of the way up with rum before he snagged my
Coke and topped them off.

“
Just try this, you’ll
like it,” Nick said as he held up one of the drinks.

“
What if I don’t like
it?”

“
Trust me, you’ll like
it,” he snickered.

“
Well don’t be so sure.
What if I don’t?” I pushed.

“
You will. Everyone likes
Bacardi and Coke.” His eyes twinkled. I stared at him as I put the
rim of the glass to my mouth. I made sure he watched me, and just
before I took a swig, I pulled the glass away. “Well, I am totally
trusting you right now, so you’d better be right,” I
said.

I pushed the chilled rim between my
lips and let the drink pour across the tip of my tongue before it
pooled against my taste buds. The back of my tongue began to burn
and my windpipe constricted, causing me to swallow. The gulp I took
blazed so slowly down my esophagus, it left a forest fire of
burning residue. My eyes automatically began to water and tears ran
down my cheeks.

“
Holy shit, Wilson, you
are supposed to sip it; not take a huge gulp. Well, not until
you’ve had a couple, at least.” Nick grabbed the kitchen towel from
the counter, leaned back in his chair, and started to fan
me.

“
I blame it on you,
telling me everyone likes them. Besides, I’m not a lush like all of
Cindy’s Seasonals,” I spat as I caught the towel and blotted my
cheeks. My voice sounded like I had a bubble in my throat; I didn’t
expect the drink to be so harsh.

“
Aquí, bebés—eat,” said
Lupita, totally oblivious to my rookie move of taking a huge swig.
She slid two plates in front of us. Nick reached across to catch
the cheese that was cresting the side of his plate.

“
Cuidado esta
caliente,
Nikos,”
Lupita chanted as she slapped his hand with her
oven mitt.

“
Ooooh, you got your hand
slapped, you’re in trouu-bble,” I teased.

“
Yeah, well she’s the only
one who is allowed to slap my hand,” he said as he dropped the
melted cheese in his mouth.

Lupita smiled at Nick; her brown eyes
sparkled against her lively wrinkles and earthy skin. Her thick,
onyx-black hair, speckled with strands of gray, was perched
flawlessly on the crown of her head in a tight bun.

“
And it’s a good thing I
love you like mí madre,” he said as he looked at Lupita fondly;
without hesitation, she bent toward him over the counter and
wrapped her portly arms around him before whacking him across his
shoulder.

It was comfortable—in fact,
enjoyable—to watch Nick and Lupita interact. It kept my mind off
every other crappy thing happening outside of the moment. I took a
bite of the enchiladas and didn’t look back. They were amazing.
White, Mexican cheese that melted in your mouth jumbled with green
onions and black olives folded between huge, flour tortillas,
drowning in ranchera sauce. I inhaled half of my first enchilada
before ever looking up.

“
Oh my God, these
enchiladas are unbelievable, Lupita, thank you so much,” I said as
I glanced at her and Nick. They both started smiling.

“
What?” I
asked.

“
Triunfo mí magia,” Lupita
whispered to Nick. She looked at me and added, “Gracias. I must go
organizar señorita Cindy’s dormitorio.” She pulled off her apron
and headed upstairs. Nick watched her leave before he turned to me
and smiled.

“
Why did she say triunfo
magia?” I asked, looking at him.

He ignored my question as he motioned
toward his face; his eyes were fixed on my mouth and licking the
corner of his lip. “You’ve got some ranchero sauce right here,” he
said.

I ran my tongue around my lips. “Did I
get it?”

“
No, it’s in the bottom
corner.” He pushed his finger toward my face. He watched me
struggle, trying to lick the corner of my mouth.

“
Here, let me—help you,”
he said as he stood next to me and snatched his napkin off the
counter. He held my chin with one hand and delicately wiped the
corner of my mouth. His fingers felt hot as they pressed, his eyes
beamed bright, and his smirk twisted as he focused on helping
me.

“
So, why did Lupita say
her magic is done?” I asked as he kept dabbing the corner of my
mouth. Nick’s eyes constricted and his head tilted.

“
I didn’t know you
understood Spanish.”

“
Ahh, yeah, well, four
years with the same crazy Spanish teacher will do that.”

“
You’ve had the same
teacher for the last four years?” he asked, almost like he knew he
was changing the subject.

“
Señora Puttabaugh. Wesley
encourages its students to take four years of a foreign language.
Basically, it boils down to, the woman’s gotta work and there isn’t
a huge demand for more than one Spanish teacher in a boarding
school of less than a hundred and seventy-five
students.”

“
Yeah, I guess you’re
right,” Nick said, tossing his napkin. My eyes followed the napkin
as it landed into the island’s stainless steel sink. I caught sight
of his iPhone on the counter between us. Suddenly, I wanted to
check
my
phone.
Maybe Max texted me, or called and I didn’t hear it.

Who am I fooling? What I
really want to find out is what Calvin said to Nick. I am aching to
know what Nick knows about Max.
It took
every bit of self control I had not to blurt out my questions at
him. But then again, my internal voice is never really too
internal. So of course, keeping with tradition, I went
there.

“
So when you called Cal
earlier, what did he say about Max and…me?” I spewed before I
picked up my drink and took another swig.

I obviously tossed Nick off balance by
the way I changed the subject. His eyes narrowed, his face flushed
two shades of colorless, and he sucked in his bottom lip, catching
it between his teeth as he thought about his response.

“
He told me Frank…died,”
Nick said before he retrieved his drink and poured the rest into
his mouth. I knew this wasn’t a subject he wanted to talk about.
But I wanted to know if he knew anything about Max, and if all I
could do was pick his brain, then I was going to do it.