Taina
PERMISSION DENIED
Last night was interesting.
The attorney took one puff of my joint, looked at it with his brows drawn, and asked, “Where’d you get this weed from?”
And when I told him at a dispensary, he didn’t say anything. Just shook his head and handed it back to me. We didn’t say much else, and once we went back inside, he left.
So here I am, the morning after, replaying it and hating myself for it. What do I care what this man thinks? What do I care that he probably didn’t like my weed?
I’m not apologetic about a damn thing.
Rather than try to figure out what the fuck his problem was, I get ready for the gym and an afternoon of stalking. Nothing like reminding yourself that you have someone’s life to take to get your ass back on track , I think to myself as I step outside.
The cool morning air wraps itself around my body like I’m naked, and I shiver as I pull the door shut behind me. I’m about to step down the porch when I look up and notice I’m not alone.
What. The. Fuck?
The first thing I notice is how relaxed he appears, leaning against his sleek black vehicle, his bulky arms crossed over his chest.
It’s the first time I’m seeing him in more relaxed clothing, and I wonder if he wore gray fucking sweatpants on purpose.
Don’t look at his dick.
I blink and try to remind myself that I hate men. I’ve cemented my very identity in my disdain for anything with a penis.
If misandry no longer exists, I’ve dearly departed.
“Good morning,” he calls out, his smile so big, I think he’s trying to show me all of his teeth. Am I a fucking dentist, bro?
“Stalking is a criminal offense, counsel,” I call out as I stare at him, zipping my compression jacket up to my neck to conceal the bit of cleavage I allowed when I was alone. Oh, the irony.
He laughs, his eyes sparkling even from where I stand on my front steps. He remains leaned against his BMW, his gaze lingering on my chest before blinking and meeting my eyes again.
Why is he here?
Does he think this will impress me?
“Permission to approach,” he says, swinging his hands until they meet in front of him, and I have to pull my gaze away from where the notch in his neck bobs.
Who knew an Adam’s apple could be so fucking sexy?
“Permission denied.”
His smile doesn’t waver. Cono , what an infuriating motherfucker.
“Are you like a stray or something? I let you smoke with me and you coming back?” I quirk a brow, ready for him to tell me to go fuck myself.
He twists his lips, and I wonder if I’ve pissed him off. And if I haven’t, I’m curious about what anger looks like on such a large person. I bet he’s a fucking force when needed .
He doesn’t give me much time to wonder, narrowing his eyes with a smile.
This man thinks I’m a challenge? He has no idea.
“You always this mean?”
“You tell me,” I counter, my hand on my hip, my other gesturing toward him. “Three out of three seems pretty consistent to me.”
“Where are you headed?”
I take the few steps down and head toward my car in the driveway, eager to not have to look at him anymore. That’s probably how he gets his victims; forces them to look at him and oops , your panties are in his mouth. “The gym.”
“Mind if I come?” he calls out, earning my gaze again, albeit wide-eyed, brows drawn.
“Absolutely, I mind.” I pause in front of the driver side door, talking to him over the top of my car. “You don’t think showing up at my home early in the morning and trying to invite yourself to the gym with me doesn’t scream ‘serial killer’?”
Again, the irony is not lost on me.
“When you put it that way?—”
“There’s another way to put it?” I interject before pressing my lips together. I’m not gonna laugh at this guy. Nope. Not gonna happen.
“What if I’m just courting you? Trying to get to know you?” He spreads his arms, exhibiting his impressive arm span. Just all around big for no good reason.
“What if I’m the serial killer?” I try on for size.
“I’ve got a big trunk,” he insists, jerking his thumb back and half turning in his car’s direction.
I duck my head so he doesn’t see me fighting to hide my grin.
Pull it together. Do not let this man laugh you out of your panties.
“That’s fucked up,” he says once I straighten. “I worked hard for that smile. I should’ve gotten to see it! ”
I shrug and open my car door, prepared to get in.
“You sure you don’t want me to be your bodyguard?”
As if I need one of those.
“Not used to not getting your way?” Something about this dynamic is enticing. I could easily become addicted to it.
“Not used to being excited by it.”
And perhaps the chase is the thrill for him.
So I look him in his eye, standing there for an uninterrupted moment before he watches me get in my car and pull away.
I’ve just finished at the gym, walking out with my gym bag in hand, when my phone rings with an incoming call. One look at my screen and I want to toss it back into my bag. But I know she’ll just call again.
“ Si, Mami ,” I answer the call, prepared to listen to her bitch and moan about any little grievance I’ve unknowingly committed.
“Your father and I really appreciate your participation last night,” she says, her voice sounding far away.
“Am I on speaker?” I ask as I unlock my car and toss my gym bag in the backseat.
“Yes,” she starts, “because my hands are full, helping Linda prep the pasteles .”
I don’t want to talk in front of Linda. I like her, love how she knows to take my clothes out of my car, wash them, and put them back. And she doesn’t ask about the dark-red stains that are sometimes there. I also love that she knows not to enter my bedroom.
Doesn’t mean I want to talk about anything while she’s around.
“Um, okay,” is all I can muster, leaning my elbows on the top of my car.
“I do want to ask you about Emiliano. How do you know him?” Her voice sounds closer now, but I’m still annoyed.
“Mom, if you’re going to ask me personal questions, I’d prefer we not have an audience.”
I hear muffled sounds that end in my mother whispering, “Sorry about that, Linda. I’ll be right back.”
Yes, apologize to your housekeeper but never to your own fucking daughter.
“Hello,” she says into the phone.
“Who’s…Emiliano?”
“That young attorney you were speaking to last night. The really tall one.”
I’ve gotten so good at lying. May as well continue to.
“Me not knowing his name should tell you just about how serious that interaction was,” I mutter as I get into my car and start it.
She syncs up with my Bluetooth just in time for me to hear her next words.
“Stay away from him, mija ,” she attempts to warn me. “ Papi told me his family is dangerous.”
Not as dangerous as you all have been to me.
Maybe it’d be nice to join a family where people would actually kill for you.
“I will say, if this is your attempt to sway me, you don’t know me at all, Mami ,” I respond with a chuckle. “I’ve always wanted a family who would actually go to the ends of the earth to make sure nothing happens to me.”
The other end of the line is quiet, and I wonder if she hung up. Then she speaks again .
“If you think being a parent is such an easy job, we’ll see what happens when it’s your turn.”
She hangs up, not knowing the shit storm of emotional warfare she’s now struck up in my brain.
The idea of having a child out there, fending for themselves when I’m not around, gives me far too much anxiety. The idea that someone might do to them what was done to me, the notion that I could never keep them completely safe, would keep me up at night.
Nope, better to stay alone.
And while I’ve come to be okay with that, I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t sting past Taina, who dreamed of having children of her own to teach how to cook, dance, and be kind.
So many things were stolen from me that day.