Chapter 7 #2
“Oh wow, that’s great! But you should know it may take longer than that to get here. There’s going to be a lot of traffic, since it’s Friday night. Actually, it might be really awful, so if you don’t want to—”
“I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll be there as soon as I can, Arie.”
That said, it took a little over four hours to make the hundred- and twenty-mile drive. Half of that was stop and go traffic, which was incredibly frustrating. I was stiff and cranky by the time I finally pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine.
Armando’s apartment building was a two-story rectangle that had probably been built in the 1960s or 70s, with an exterior walkway spanning the second floor.
A group of men had set up folding chairs and were drinking beer outside one of the ground floor apartments.
Dante had leased a black Mercedes with tinted windows for me, and when I climbed out of the car, they all stopped talking and stared.
I ignored them as I slung my bag over my shoulder and crossed the parking lot. A big guy with a lot of tattoos was standing near the staircase. He eyed me up and down and asked, “What’s somebody got to do to afford a car like that?”
I didn’t break my stride as I replied, “Be a criminal.”
He nodded. “That’s what I figured.”
I went upstairs and knocked on Armando’s door. He was wincing when he answered, and the first thing he said was, “Traffic was horrible, wasn’t it? I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to drive down on a Friday night.”
He closed the door behind me, and I dropped the bag and pulled him into my arms. As I buried my face in his hair, I murmured, “Totally worth it.”
After a moment, we were interrupted by the beep of his phone. He pulled it from his pocket and read a text, which made him grin. “It’s from my downstairs neighbor.”
He held up the phone so I could read the message: Hey hermano, do you need some help with that big mofo with the flashy car? If he’s here to collect on a debt or some shit, me and the boys can come up there and rough him up for you.
Instead of typing a reply, he went outside, leaned over the railing, and called, “Thanks for looking out for me, Julio, but that’s my new friend Tory. You’ll probably be seeing a lot of him.”
A deep voice replied, “That’s cool. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay, Manny.”
“I appreciate it.” Armando came back inside and shut the door again. His grin turned teasing when he said, “That really is a flashy car, especially with the tinted windows. It looks like something a mob boss would drive.”
“It’s a lease, and I didn’t pick it.”
He raised a brow and asked, “The rich cousin again? The one who thought you needed a private jet to fly home from San Francisco?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand your relationship, especially the part where he buys you expensive stuff.”
“It was just some short-term assistance,” I said, “and I’m going to pay him back for every penny of it.”
“To help you get settled in the US?”
“Something like that.”
Armando nodded. “Okay. Now I get it.”
He took my hand and led me to the couch. After I sat down, he climbed onto my lap and planted a long, slow, deep kiss on me. Then he sat back and held my face between his palms, staring at me in wonder as he murmured, “This is wild.”
“What is?”
“The fact that you’re here, in my world. The time we spent together last weekend felt like a dream, but now you’re in my apartment! It’s like fantasy and reality have blurred together.”
I wrapped my arms around him, and he snuggled against me. As I rubbed his back, I asked, “Did you eat dinner tonight?”
“It wasn’t actually a meal, but I did eat. I had a biscuit, which was left over from breakfast. And we sold out of the corn chowder, so I dumped what was left into a mug and ate that.” He grinned and admitted, “I made a point of eating because I knew you’d ask, and I wanted to be able to say yes.”
“That’s good,” I said, as I brushed his hair from his eyes. “But please Arie, I need you to take care of yourself. It’s important. You’re important.”
Armando kissed me again and whispered, “Thank you for caring about me.” He rested his head on my shoulder and asked, “How are you, Tory? How was your day, before I got you stuck in horrible traffic?”
“It was fine.”
“I know we’re supposed to be lying to each other and making up stories, but it feels a little odd that I don’t actually know what you do for a living, or how you spend your time.” He quickly added, “Not that you have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“I’m not working right now. My move to the U.S.
was a chance for a fresh start, and I’m taking some time to figure out what’s next for me.
As far as what I do all day, it’s nothing very interesting.
I work out every morning. Later on, I read, or run errands, or go for a long walk or a drive to explore the city.
I’ve also been trying to learn to meditate and do yoga, but I’ve discovered I’m pretty high-strung, so it’s not going well. ”
“When did you start working out?”
“When I was a teenager. I was a shy, pudgy kid with glasses, and I got picked on a lot. Around the time I turned sixteen, I decided to become someone people thought twice about harassing.”
“You totally transformed yourself.” He sounded impressed.
“It helped that I had a huge growth spurt in my late teens.”
“You obviously work hard to stay in shape, though. No wonder you’re so ripped.” He sat up and grinned as he tried to wrap his hands around my bicep.
All this talk about my leisurely lifestyle made me feel guilty, given how hard he worked. I felt like I needed to explain myself, so I started to say, “I know I seem really idle right now. I just need to figure some stuff out, like I said…”
“Of course. There’s nothing wrong with taking some time for yourself.”
He traced my jawline and kissed me again. Everything sped up after that. We stripped and caressed each other, in between feverish kisses and licks and little nibbles. I loved how comfortable Armando seemed, and how confidently he explored my body.
We ended up in a tangled sixty-nine on the rug. It was quick and urgent, almost like there was a time limit and the clock was about to run out. I came first, and he shot down my throat maybe half a minute later.
Armando shifted around and rested his head on my chest as both of us caught our breath. “That was so hot,” he said. “I’d fantasized about doing that pretty much all of my adult life.”
“I wish I’d known that. We could have taken our time and—”
“No, it was perfect. I’d had that so built up in my mind that I needed to dive right in and just go for it. Otherwise, I would have gotten nervous and overthought everything I was doing.”
His eyelids were getting heavy, so I suggested moving to the bedroom. We both got to our feet, and when he wavered a little, I scooped him into my arms.
I carried him down the hall, stepped through the first door we came to, and flipped the light switch. The small bedroom was crowded with overflowing bookshelves, a desk and drawing table, and a tiny twin bed. The walls were completely covered with sketches of clothing designs.
“This is my son’s room,” he murmured, as he snuggled against me. “Mine’s at the end of the hall, past the bathroom.”
It turned out his bedroom was as sparse as the other was cluttered.
All it contained was a medium-sized bed, a nightstand, and a chair, which held a pile of laundry.
The white walls were empty, aside from a few faded drawings that must have been done by his son as a child.
They were clustered beside the window, which was covered with lopsided miniblinds.
Armando and I climbed under his dark blue blanket, which turned out to be wonderfully soft. As he burrowed into my arms, he mumbled, “I just need to rest for a minute. I’m not going to sleep.” He proved himself wrong by drifting off about two seconds later.
I kissed his forehead and sighed contentedly. All week, I’d felt like I was adrift. But now, finally, I was right where I belonged.