Acapulco Nights by K. J. Gillenwater Read Free Book Online Page B

have a good time with it? Who cared if I was another girl in a long line of girls? Sometimes you had to let go and let things happen.
    I got out of the car and held the door open so Janice could slide across the seat and follow me. My eyes stayed on Joaquin’s back.
    “God, I’m starving.”
    Janice interrupted my wayward thoughts.
    “Me, too,” I said distractedly.
    The focus of my concentration was not hard to notice.
    “See! I told you he was gorgeous,” Janice smiled triumphantly.
    “When you’re right, you really get it right.” Smoothing back my hair and straightening my clothes, I walked up to the two of them standing in line. Janice followed hot on my heels.
    “I don’t feel right about you buying us dinner after giving us a lift into the city. Here,” I pressed some pesos into his hand, “Please take this.” That small gesture gave me the opportunity to lightly brush his palm with my fingers, a lingering touch. He took the heavy coins from me.
    “You know what this means,” he said. “Now, I will have to buy you and your friends a drink.”
    “What do you think, girls?” I smiled at Mercedes, “Should we take him up on his offer?”
    “We might be able to meet you tomorrow night,” said Mercedes.
    Janice beamed. She’d wanted to make a trip to the Zona Rosa in downtown Mexico City ever since we arrived. The Zona Rosa took up an area several blocks long in the center of the city where nightclubs and discotheques thrived.
    Joaquin directed his words at me, as if I were the only one standing there on that street corner. “ Club Azteca . Nine o’clock?”
    I hesitated.
    Janice poked me in the back.
    “Why don’t I give you my number, and you can give me a call if you decide to go.” He grabbed a napkin from the small counter in front of the torta stand and looked to me to provide the writing utensil. I reached into my purse and pulled out a pen. “My friends and I usually meet there on Saturdays.” He scribbled some numbers down.
    I took the paper from his hand and tucked it in the back pocket of my jeans.
    “Why don’t you two wait in the car? We can get the food,” said Mercedes.
    I twisted my hair into a knot at the back of my head and let the evening air cool my sweaty neck. I nodded, and Janice and I went back to the sedan. From the backseat, I watched Joaquin and Mercedes as they shared the burden of carrying our food. They looked good together, their dark heads touching as they added more chiles to their tortas and grabbed extra napkins.
    Then, Joaquin turned and caught my eye, his face spread with a glorious, white smile. I had never seen a man more handsome than that very moment on the side of the road outside Mexico City, the dust blowing around our feet.
    *
    “ Hola, bonita. Bailamos ?” A tall Mexican approached me in the dark at Club Azteca. 
    Flashing, colored lights dipped and twirled above the dance floor, but the ambient lighting near the bar and tables was almost non-existent.
    Even in the dark, I recognized the tilt of his head, the wideness of his shoulders. Joaquin. He had come, and I didn’t see any friends with him.
    The music blared in Spanish. Tunes I did not recognize, but with an infectious beat.
    Janice encouraged me, “Go on, dance! Mercedes will be back in a little awhile.”
    Joaquin stood in front of me, waiting for an answer to his question: Would I dance with him?
    I looked up at him, his face shrouded in shadows, and nodded my assent. My breathing quickened in anticipation of his hands on my body.
    He grasped my hand and possessively curved his other arm around my waist.  His touch burned, and I leaned into him, enjoying the feel of his body next to mine. Guiding me to the dance floor, we swayed to the Latin beat of the music.
    “ Cómo estás, bonita ?” His eyes were warm, his lips sensuous and full.
    “ Bien ,” My stomach bubbled over with excitement. “ Y tú ?”
    “ Muy bien .”  He drew out those two words, and his eyes sparked at