What should he do now? Console her with a hug? But God knew what teary outcome that would have. He also didn’t want to greet her with an embrace right in front of Cristy. Shake hands? To greet Magdalena with a handshake, after all the time they had lain side by side over the past four years, was too wooden to contemplate. So he just said, “Here… why don’t we sit down.”
It was the little round table farthest from the counter. They sat down on the old bentwood chairs. He felt more awkward by the moment. She was as gorgeous as ever. But that didn’t convert from an observation to an emotion. All he could think up to say was “What would you like? Coffee? A pastelito?”
“Just a café cubana for me.”
She began to slide her chair back, as if to go to the counter herself, but Nestor stood up and motioned to her to stay seated. “I’ll get it,” he said. “It’s my treat.” The truth was, he longed to escape from the table. He was embarrassed. She was so beautiful! He wasn’t swept away by lust but by awe. He had forgotten. Everyone would be staring at her. He flicked a glance toward the counter… and, yes, they were… the four construction workers, Cristy, even Ricky… Ricky himself had left the kitchen area long enough to gawk. Nestor began to get ideas of his own, but he wasn’t going to dwell on any such ideas, was he? The fact that she had come back to him because she needed him now… the completely vulnerable look she gave him… these had nothing to do with lust, did they? But he could see—see!—as if it were all happening right now—he could see her the time he was lying in bed, and she was standing a couple of feet from him naked, except for a wisp of lace panties, and she gave him that teasing look she had at such moments, slowly slipping her fingers inside the elastic band—that teasing look!—and lowering them… slowly lowering them… until—
::::::But she’s already betrayed you once, you imbecile! What makes you think she’s changed? Just because she’s boo-hooing for your help? What about Ghislaine? You haven’t done anything… but you’re just outside the door. How is she supposed to feel? But she wouldn’t have to know, would she… Oh, some game that would be… there’s not enough testosterone in your body to turn you into that much of a fool. Well… why not just go with the flow for a while? Great, Nestor! There you have the very battle cry of the fool!::::::
At the counter, Nicky brought him the two cafés cubanas he ordered. He didn’t know Nicky nearly as well as Cristy, but she leaned her chin over the counter and cast her eyes at his table, then turned back to him and said, “So, that’s Magdalena?”
He nodded yes, and she arched her eyebrows in an exaggerated and very knowing way. Did that mean that everybody knew about the two of them?
He returned to the table with the two coffees… and his first friendly smile. “Magdalena, you look terrific. You know that? You don’t look like somebody worried to death.” He continued smiling.
That didn’t change her mood in the slightest. She hung her head. “ ‘Worried to death…’ ” she muttered… then she lifted her head and faced him. “Nestor… I’m scared to death! Pleeease!… I don’t know of anybody, not a single soul, to tell me what to do, except you. You’ll know because you used to be a policeman.”
“I still am,” he said, a bit more curtly than he meant to.
“But I thought—” She didn’t know how to put it.
“You thought I had been thrown off the force. Right?”
“I guess I got confused. There are so many things written about you in the newspapers. Do you realize how many big stories they’ve written about you?”
Nestor shrugged. That was his outward response. Inside he tingled with vanity. ::::::I never thought about it that way before.::::::
“I was what’s called ‘relieved of duty.’ I’m still a cop, but ‘relieved of duty’ is bad enough.”
Magdalena obviously didn’t understand. “Well… whatever it is, I trust you-oo-ooo”—her words rolled out on mere sobs—“Nes-tor-or-or-or.”
“Thank you.” Nestor tried to sound sincerely moved. “Why don’t you go ahead and tell me what you’re worried about.”
She took off the dark glasses to wipe the tears from her eyes. ::::::¡Dios mío! They’re all red and