Madrid is everything I always thought it would be and more. It’s gorgeous, vibrant and fun. Except that Cameron isn’t here. And try as I might— which I’ve been doing, very, very hard— I can’t get him out of my mind.
I came here to try to forget him. Since he no longer wanted me at his firm— or as his “office whore”— and since I sold my app and have money to travel, I figured there was no better time than to come to the place I’ve always wanted to come.
But now all I can think about is how much I want him. I just want him to touch me one more time. To look at me. To talk to me. To kiss me. To fuck me.
It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen him. And I’ve been here for a week. Right now, I’m at an Internet café but I’m supposed to go to a discoteca with some friends I met at an international coding meetup when I first got here. I don’t really feel like going, though.
Nor do I want to go back to the hostel where I’m staying. Although I have enough money to stay at a nice hotel, I had always envisioned “roughing it” when I imagined this trip to Madrid and so now I feel compelled to make reality match up to the fantasy I had pictured in my head.
Except, reality is never as good as fantasy. Except for when I was with Cameron, of course, and that’s no longer the case. Now, the hostel I’m staying at is crowded, rather stinky and doesn’t even have basic amenities such as WiFi— hence my need for the Internet café.
I’m a programmer, I think. Why the hell didn’t I think ahead to make sure the place I was staying at had Internet access?
I trudge through the streets, trying to decide whether to just go to another movie. The Conde Duque cinema has been showing marathon old school Pedro Almodovar movies and I’d love to catch another one. That would probably make more sense than hanging out at a discoteca until it closes at six a.m. and my new friends finally want to go home, which is what I already did the other night.
Great, now it’s starting to rain.
I decide to duck into La Cocina de mi Vecina café, for a few different reasons. I want to escape the rain, I need a WiFi connection again so I can check the movie showing times, and of course I absolutely must have some churros and hot chocolate. This café is everything I’d hoped it would be and more, and I can’t get enough of their food.
But as soon as I step inside, the owner of the shop starts going crazy.
“Ruby! Ruby!” he cries, waving his hands at me as if he’s much further away than he is.
I trudge up to the counter, perplexed about why he would he be so excited to me. Sure, I’ve come here every day since I arrived about a week ago and we’ve chatted— he’s friendly— but nothing more. My Spanish isn’t even good enough to converse in full sentences, although it’s better already, just from being around Spanish-speaking friends more often.
“Hi Carlos,” I say in my bad Spanish, meeting him at the cash register. “What’s up?”
“Someone is looking for you,” he says, his hands gesturing widely. “A gentleman caller.”
As he says this he raises his eyelashes and bats his eyes, teasingly.
“Very funny,” I tell him, doing my best to ignore him.
“No. Really. Wait. He told me to give you this phone number if I see you.”
Who could possibly want to see me in Madrid? Barely anyone knows me here. And no one back home even knows I’m here.
He disappears to the back and then he re-appears with a ripped-off piece of paper. He smiles proudly. “Here you go.”
I look down at the handwriting and what is written on it and nearly faint.
Dear Ruby,
I’m sorry. I came all the way here to find you. Please wait right where you are and ask Carlos to call me.
Love,
Cameron
PS Even if you don’t ask Carlos to call me, he will.
“What the…?”
I look up at Carlos’ proud, still smiling face.
Apparently he was lying about having a number to give me. He had a different trick up his sleeve.
“I called Mr. Sanchez while I was in the back,” he reports. “He says to stay right here. He is so happy. And I am so happy for you. You seem like you make a very happy couple.”
Just wait until you see how old he is, I think. I don’t know if May/ December romances are very big in Madrid.
I’m stunned that Cameron would come all the way here to find me. I can’t believe he still wants to be with me.
“Can I get some churros while I wait?” I ask Carlos, and we both burst out laughing.
“Of course. It’s on the house.”
I’m in Madrid. I’m going to see Cameron. I sold my app for a lot of money.
As Carlos brings me the churros, I can’t believe my good fortune.
It’s like the best of everything I’d ever dreamed of, all wrapped up into one. The old me never had good things happen to her. But the new me seems to get everything I want. Correction, Ruby Mansfield seems to get everything she wants.
I still can’t believe any of this is happening to me. And the reason for that is probably because it’s not happening to me—it’s happening to Ruby. The person I invented, to make my dreams come true, and to whom all of that and more has actually happened.
Still, even though I orchestrated it, I can’t believe it.
And I can’t believe how good this churros is.
But most of all, I can’t wait to see Cameron. And to find out what he has in mind to do with me. Especially after he learns the truth about who I really am.
I’m used to hopping in my jet and flying anywhere and everywhere. But I’m not used to doing it because I’m chasing after a woman.
Sometimes it was the other way around— I was running away from one. And other times it was because I had one on my arm I needed to show off for a very short time before moving on to the next.
But this time, it’s because I’m chasing after Ruby Mansfield. Or whoever she is. There’s no denying it, she’s stolen my heart, my cock and my sense of dignity.
I’ve flown to a different country— a different continent— to find her. I’ve come to the café I know she likes and talked to the owner, basically asking him to stalk her just like I am. And now I’m fucking coming to get her.
As soon as I walk in and see her, I know she’s the one for me. If I had had any doubt, I wouldn’t have done all of this. But I see her standing there in casual clothes— a long flowing skirt and a tank top— so different than how she looks at work. And I feel it in my bones, in my cock, in my heart— she’s the one.
“Ruby.”
She rushes up to me and I kiss her like I’ve never kissed her before.
When I come up for air, Carlos is looking at us like a bit of a creeper. But I don’t know what else I would have expected from a man who agreed to track down Ruby for me. Now, he winks at me and says a phrase that’s the Spanish equivalent of “I told you I had your back, bro.”
“Come on,” I tell her, taking her by the arm.
“Where are we going?” she asks me.
“Carlos told me you’re staying a hostel that doesn’t even have WiFi,” I tell her. “And I decided that that’s an unsuitable environment for my techie girlfriend. We at least have to get you to somewhere with Internet access. That’s the baseline measurement of civilization.”
“Girlfriend, huh?” is all she remarks.
“Thank you, Carlos,” I nod at him as we leave his café.
“Not a problem, my friend,” he says. “Enjoy your night. And your visit to Madrid.”
We walk along the Gran Via, my arm wrapped tight around her waist.
“I can’t believe you came all the way out here to see me,” Ruby says.
“I can’t believe you ran all the way here to get away from me.”
She laughs.
“It wasn’t like that. I understand how everything went down. I just needed to get away.”
“Well, you sure picked a great place.”
I look around at the bright lights and majestic looking buildings that surround us as we walk down the street.
“You know, the Spanish have a saying about Madrid I find very appropriate,” Ruby says.
“And what is that?”
“From Madrid to Heaven, and from Heaven a little window to look back on Madrid.”
“That’s perfect,” I tell her, squeezing her ass just a bit. “But I wouldn’t want to be in Madrid— or anywhere really— without you.”
“Since when did you become so sappy?” she asks me, but I can see in the lights shining through the building windows that she has a big smile on her face. She likes that I’m fucking sappy.
“Since realizing I love you, Ruby Mansfield.”
She stops and turns to face me.
“I love you too. But there are a few things you might want to know first before telling me that again,” she confesses. “Like, who I even really am.”
“Whoever it is, I know you’re the one I want to be with,” I tell her. “Because everything felt so fucking bleak when I wasn’t.”
“That’s funny,” she says, leaning her head onto my shoulder. “Because I feel the exact same way.”
We’re at GastroVia 61 on the Gran Via, and Cameron is treating me to a date I won’t ever forget. Neither will he, once he hears what I have to tell him.
We order wine and cocido madrileño, which the waiter explains to us is a Gastro specialty of traditional stew made with chickpeas, meat and vegetables.
“So apparently, there are some rumblings that you may have hacked into the toy company’s website or computer or something,” Cameron begins by asking me. I’m sure it’s just one of many questions he has but it makes me laugh.
“What?” he asks, looking a little offended.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “It’s just funny.”
“Why?”
“Because if I had gotten information by hacking, I highly doubt I would have given it to you or anyone at the firm.”
“That’s a good point,” Cameron agrees. “But why do they think you hacked them?”
“Because they don’t understand the myriad of information that’s available on the Internet and all the ways I know how to get to it,” I tell him.
“So, you’re like an Internet sleuth then?” He asks. “A World Wide Web detective?”
It’s all I can do not to laugh again. But I don’t. I don’t want to hurt his feelings.
“I guess you could say that,” I nod, as I eat the delicious stew.
This dinner is much better than watching a movie by myself or being at a crowded discoteca with “friends” I just met. Everything is even better in Madrid ever since Cameron showed up. Even if he is practically interrogating me right now.
He’s still looking at me, expecting more of an explanation.
“I went into their file on the client drive and looked at their financial information,” I tell him. “I saw some things that didn’t quite add up. So, I Googled the owner’s name and found out about his foundations and businesses.”
“It was that easy?” he asks.
I can tell he’s not asking because he doesn’t believe me. He’s asking because he feels stupid for not having figured out to do that on his own.
“It definitely takes some advanced skills,” I tell him.
“I can’t believe Asher made some huge deal out of it,” he says. “He really made it seem so much worse than that.”
I shrug.
“That seems par for the course for Asher,” I tell him. “Always blowing everything out of proportion.”
“He’s just got a very vibrant personality,” Cameron says.
I like how loyal he is to his friend. They’re both powerful alpha males who are bound to clash sometimes. But I can tell that he’s gotten bolder and has shown Asher that he’s in charge too. As he rightfully should.
“So now that we have that big mystery solved,” I joke, “what else do you want to know?”
“Apparently, the toy company was convinced you did some hacking so they did some counter-hacking,” Cameron says, looking uncomfortable that he has to tell me any of this. “They say you’re not who you say you are. But I wanted to give you a chance to explain.”
I lean back and look at him.
“What exactly did they hack?”
“Your employment file and your email,” Cameron says, inhaling sharply as if he feels very bad about telling me this.
“Is that it?” I ask him.
“As far as I know.”
“Okay.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. That’s elementary level hacking. There’s nothing in there I wouldn’t want them to see. Other than the email, but at least that shows I was trying to be honest. Or contemplating it at least. For Cameron’s sake. I keep all my tech information in encrypted files.
“They must have some kind of hacking skills to be able to figure out that I’m not even who I say I am,” I muse aloud. And then I put a hand over my mouth, realizing that that’s probably not the best way to have told Cameron that fact.
But he just clears his throat. As if he already knows.
“I went to a lot of effort to create a new identity,” I tell him. “I’m not sure how they cracked it.”
“Well, you’re the one who found out and showed me the extent of their resources.”
“Very true.”
I hadn’t really thought about that. That the fact that they have so much money means they probably have a very good IT department as well. Now I feel as silly as I could tell Cameron felt earlier.
“So,” Cameron says, looking at me intently from across the table. “Can I hear the whole story? And find out who you really are?”
I take another bite of stew and nod.
I’d thought a lot about how to tell him all of this. Hoping he’ll understand. But in the end, I decide to just spill it.
“I grew up poor,” I tell him.
It’s a fact I used to be ashamed of but it’s just a simple fact.
“So did I,” he says. “I grew up in the War Zone.”
Hmmm.
I’d heard that he had been a friend of Asher’s for a long time and that they were from two different worlds. I’d heard that he’d worked hard to get to where he’s at. But I never knew we had the same upbringing.
I’m not sure if this commonality helps or hurts my cause to get him to understand and forgive me.
“Well, while you were undoubtedly getting straight A’s in school and working your way up from kindergartener to lawyer, I took a different path.”
“Oh yeah?”
This doesn’t seem to faze him. I realize there are probably a lot of people from his neighborhood who turned out the same of worse than I have.
“When I was a teenager, I was caught shoplifting and sent to juvie,” I tell him, all in a rush. And then I hasten to explain more of my rationale. “It was only because we were poor and I wanted to give my mom something for Christmas. I had saved up a lot of money doing odd jobs and I went to buy a shirt I knew she’d like.”
“Uh huh.”
Cameron raises an eyebrow at me, either not too shocked or at least pretending not to be. Perhaps he had been afraid it would be much worse. But he hasn’t heard the whole story yet. I just hope he’ll still stick around once he does.