Dalila
I don’t know what it is about Ryan that made me want to call him back. Maybe it was the utter shock at seeing him again. Maybe it’s something about his confidence and carefree attitude. He didn’t show any emotion when it was obvious Rico was getting annoyed with him. It’s like he doesn’t care what people think of him.
How can he be so disconnected?
“I don’t fight girls,” Ryan says matter-of-factly.
Rico is standing beside me now, glaring at him. “You want to go a round with me?” Rico blurts out. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
Mr. America shakes his head. “I don’t fight amateurs.”
“Who you callin’ an amateur?” Rico is about to jump down from the ring, but I grab his arm and hold him back.
“Don’t,” I tell him. “He’s just trying to get under your skin.”
I can’t help but notice Ryan holding back a grin. He’s amused instead of scared, which boggles my mind. What guy wouldn’t be intimidated by Rico Cruz?
Ryan says something to the guy next to him, who I remember being a bodyguard at one of Demi’s parties. His name is Mateo Rodriguez. I can tell by the serious look on Ryan’s face they’re discussing something pretty intense.
“Listen to me, gringo,” Rico says. “I don’t know who you are or what the hell you’re doing here, but this is a Mexican gym. Go back to your country and find your own gym.”
“He’s cool, Rico,” Mateo says. “He’s with me.”
“I don’t care who brought him. Get him out of here.”
Ryan picks up a duffel and tosses it over his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere, so you might as well get used to me.” He walks up to the ring and boldly holds out a hand for Rico to shake. “My name’s Ryan Hess.”
Rico slaps Ryan’s hand away. “This is fucked-up.”
Ryan’s eyes shift to me and my entire body tingles. “You want to see me fight, Dalila? Hang around here long enough and I’ll show you what I’ve got.”
When he says my name Rico’s eyes go wide. “You know him?”
Umm. “Not really. I briefly met him when I went to Texas last week.” If Rico blabs to my parents, I’ll be grounded for life. I shoot Ryan a level stare as a hint not to reveal anything else.
“Don’t lie, Dalila. We know each other well. Very well.” Ryan’s eyes pierce mine and I feel a tingling sensation all the way down to my toes. “Right, Dalila?”
I refuse to be taunted by him. “I hardly remember meeting you.”
“Uh-huh.” He starts walking away from the ring. “I seem to remember you kissing me. I might even have a selfie of the magic moment.”
He didn’t go there! Rico’s nostrils are flaring. I grab the ropes hard, wishing it were Ryan’s big, fat neck. “I kissed you because I had no other choice!” I yell after him. “And there isn’t a selfie.”
“No other choice? He forced you? You come back here and I’ll fuck you up, Ryan Hess!” Rico yells.
Ryan walks cooly out the side door as if he can’t be bothered with Rico’s threats.
Rico suddenly jumps out of the ring and I panic. “Where are you going?”
“Ahorita regresó.”
He disappears through the door Ryan just walked through. “Rico, don’t go after him!” I call out, but it’s no use. “He didn’t force me to kiss him. I wanted to. I mean—”
I’m getting myself into more trouble. Rico is about to challenge Ryan in a misguided attempt to defend my honor. It’s so stupid and wrong. I need to stop him!
Rico’s confidence is egocentric and stems from being born privileged. Ryan’s confidence comes from somewhere else . . . as if he’s had to fight for the right to act tough or it’s a cover-up so people don’t dig into whatever pain he’s feeling on the inside.
I shake my head and silently scold myself. Maybe I’m confusing confidence with stupidity.
I glance at the other boxers at the gym. None of them are looking at me because they’re too focused. Unlike Rico.
Annoyed at my friend for not listening to my pleas, I head outside to find Rico in Ryan’s face. He’s telling him to go back to the US where he belongs and never look at me again.
With a set jaw and his hands balled into fists at his side, I can tell Ryan is just biding his time, waiting for the right moment to strike. This is not good.
Walking toward them, I accidentally kick a soda can and stumble. The can makes a rattling noise as it rolls across the ground. I can feel Ryan’s gaze on me as I look up . . .
“Fight me,” Rico orders.
Ryan turns his attention back to Rico and shakes his head. “Dude, I’m not gonna fight you.”
“You scared?”
Ryan walks away. “Sure, that’s it. I’m scared. Now go back to your girlfriend before someone else comes along and pays attention to her.”
“Don’t turn away from me, gringo,” Rico calls out. “Or you’ll regret it.”
“Rico, stop trying to fight him!” I yell.
When Rico looks at me like I just betrayed him, I quickly turn around and head for the car. I’m not going to wait around while he continues to threaten Ryan.
Five minutes later Rico appears. As he settles into the front seat, I can’t even look at him. “You shouldn’t have confronted him,” I blurt out.
He grabs the steering wheel so tightly his fingers practically turn white. “Why are you mad at me? I was defending your honor.”
“I don’t want you to defend my honor, Rico. Did you fight him?”
“No.” With a small chuckle, Rico starts the car. “But I’ll fight him one day, whether it’s in the ring or out of it. I promise you that.”
The car tires spin when we drive off, another show-off move. The entire drive I sit silently, not believing that Ryan barged into my life again.
But he did.
“How was your date with Rico?” Mamá asks me when I get home.
“Eventful.”
“Bueno. I’m glad you had a good time.”
I don’t tell her that what happened today wasn’t fun. When I go to bed in the evening and replay the day’s events in my head, a set of very blue eyes invades my thoughts.
Why is Ryan Hess in Mexico? Will I ever see him again?
Fate says yes.
My emotions scream no.
Every year our town puts on a summer festival. Since I was a little girl I’ve looked forward to the music, dancing, and food. It’s great seeing everyone in town dressed up and enjoying themselves. I’ve been getting ready all morning, waiting for Soona and Demi to call me and let me know when to pick them up so we can join in the celebration.
“Why don’t you ask Rico to drive you?” Mamá asks after I ask for her car keys. “It’s dangerous to go on your own.”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” I tell her. “It’s a festival, not a cartel showdown.”
“Sometimes one can turn into the other, Dalila.” She snaps her bright red manicured fingers. “Just like that.”
“We’ll be fine. I promise.”
At the festival, I get a rush of adrenaline just from being out of the house. There are red and yellow paper lanterns hanging from the lampposts. Jugglers and clowns in colorful costumes line the streets ready to entertain the kids. Vendors selling their food in kiosks are scattered around the festival. I breathe in the scent of freshly baked tortillas and my mouth waters.
I want to feel free to roam around the festival with my friends but every five minutes I get a text from my parents asking if I’m safe. What do they think, that someone is going to pop out of the crowd and kidnap us?
“Let’s get our portraits drawn,” Demi says, pointing to an artist selling charcoal drawings of people. She tugs my arm, guiding me to the artist, but my mind isn’t on the drawings. I find myself scanning the crowd for someone specific.
Mr. America.
From what it sounded like, Ryan is living in Mexico. Or at the very least he was planning on being here for a while. My thoughts turn to the way he dismissed Rico, as if he couldn’t be bothered being threatened by him.
The only plan Ryan lives by is his own. He’s completely unpredictable and someone I would never want in my life.
While Demi admires the charcoal portraits and considers getting one, I turn my attention to Soona. She’s showing off the outfit she got in Colombia when she traveled there with her parents on vacation last year. It’s a stark white top that shows off her midriff and high-waisted blue shorts with white buttons running down the sides. She looks like a cute sailor. Demi opted for skinny jeans with a red skintight top, while I chose my new pink off-the-shoulder sundress I got the last time I was in a boutique in Mexico City.
“We can get our portraits drawn later. Right now I need some machaca,” I tell my friends, unable to wait to taste the homemade tasty beef stuffed inside a burrito.
Demi and I buy machaca from a vendor while Soona chomps down on tasty hot tamales.
The celebration marks the anniversary of the founding of Panche. The streets are filled with mariachi singers and expert dancers wearing frilly traditional dresses. My friends and I dance with strangers and have a good time, reveling in the joyous festivities.
I scan the crowd once again, searching for Ryan. I know it’s stupid, but my mind keeps wandering to thoughts of him. If I went to the boxing club again, would he be there? I don’t even like the guy, so I don’t even know why I care.
While my friends walk over to a guy doing a funny puppet show in front of a crowd, I catch sight of Rico and his friends on the other side of the street.
“¡Señorita!” a little boy around nine or ten years old calls out to me as I pass him. He’s sitting on the curb wearing ripped, dirty clothes and my heart swells with sympathy. “¿Me puede ayudar con algún cambio?” he asks me in a soft, vulnerable voice while he holds out his hand, palm up. “Tengo hambre pero no tengo dinero.”
I kneel down to his level. “¿Cómo te llamas?” I ask, wanting to know his name so I can remember it tonight when I pray for the safety and security of the children of my country. Yes, there are vast differences in social class in Mexico but I hope one day to help bridge that gap so it’s not so wide.
“Sergio,” he says.
I ask Sergio if he has a home. He swallows, then shakes his head and tells me he stays on the streets most nights.
As I reach into my purse to give him money for food, I look down at the little, innocent, dirty face in front of me. Sergio’s eyes show a sadness that tears into my soul. I’m not stupid enough to think there aren’t thieves or pickpockets in town, but I can tell when a kid is in need.
Sergio’s face lights up when I hand him some pesos for food . . . and more to spare. He immediately runs like a miniature rocket to the tamale stand a few feet away.
Rico is suddenly at my side. “You need to be more careful about who you interact with, Doña Sandoval. I have no problem telling your father that you interact with pordioseros.”
“You, my friend, shouldn’t tattle on people.”
Rico shrugs. “You’re right. So, my friend, why haven’t you returned my texts and calls?”
I look up at his impeccably styled hair, which shines in the sun. “We didn’t exactly end things on a good note the other day.”
“I know. I’m sorry, okay? That guy triggered me and I lost it.” He takes my elbow and leads me aside. “I promise not to be a jerk again.”
I give Rico a small smile. “Okay. But if you fight or threaten anyone, I’m done.”
His face softens. “Your dad raised a really independent girl.”
Pride rushes to the surface. “Yep.”
His friends stand next to him. One of them is laughing loudly and the other has bloodshot eyes. They’ve definitely been drinking.
“Who’s this?” Demi asks in a flirty voice as she focuses on the guys with no small amount of interest. I admit they’re an impressive bunch, as if they all jumped out of a Mexican prep school TV ad.
Soona, on the other hand, isn’t impressed. She hasn’t said anything, but I’ve caught her texting that Pablo guy she met at the concert. Ryan’s friend.
“Guys, this is Rico Cruz. Our dads grew up together.”
Rico nods at the girls, flashing his bright white teeth and friendly grin. “You didn’t tell me your friends were beautiful, Dalila.”
“I didn’t?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, they are.”
Demi holds out her hand for Rico to shake. “I’m Demi,” she says.
Soona twirls her long, highlighted hair around her finger as I say, “And this is Soona.”
Rico points to one of his friends. “This is David and Marcus.”
Rico and his friends hang with us the rest of the time, bringing us food while we sit at the park and listen to the various bands taking turns playing music very different from Shadows of Darkness. It’s traditional and I get lost in the moment, wondering if this is what it was like when my parents were younger.
When the sun sets and darkness envelops us, Rico leans in and says, “We’re planning on going to an underground club. Join us.”
“What kind of club?” I ask.
“If we told you then we’d have to kill you,” one of his friends says, then laughs.
“It’ll be fun,” Rico chimes in. “I promise.”
Demi’s face lights up. “I’m in,” she says. “I’ve never been to an underground club.”
“Sounds scary,” Soona says as she bites on a nail. “I’ve heard underground clubs can be dangerous.”
Rico’s friend Marcus laughs. “We’ll protect you. We know people who know people.”
Rico drapes his arm around us. “What he means is that we have a lot of friends meeting us there. It’ll be like one big party.”
“If we hate it we can leave,” I tell Soona, then stand and wipe the dust off my legs. “Let’s go!”