“Reece. You’re embarrassing yourself, man.”

I glance at Dave and shrug. We’re at dinner at Ponte in Venice. The food and drinks are phenomenal and it’s a local eatery that’s casual and easy. Lucía and Jessica just got up to use the bathroom and I’m watching her walk away. Her hips have this great swing to them that gives her a bounce when she walks.

“You just wish it was you.” I go back to watching Lucía as they disappear down the dimly lit corridor where the restrooms are.

“Hell yeah, I do. She’s fucking hot,” Dave says.

“Yeah, and she’s a little young for you, old man.” He ribs me with his elbow. “How old is she, eighteen?” I slant a glance at him and grin.

“Hell yeah, she’s fucking hot. Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And she’s twenty-three.” And they all laugh out loud. I laugh too. I sound whipped. But that doesn’t bother me. Lucía could be fifty-three and she’d still be the woman I’m crazy about. Yeah, she’s young, but she’s got more emotional maturity than almost anyone I’ve ever met.

Lucía’s lit from within. She’s brave, brilliant and totally out of my league.

In LA, in the business, women like her are like myths. I want to be like Jay-Z and shout, “I got the hottest chick in the game wearing my chain.” Because she’s mine. She has been since she moved out to Malibu. God knows I’ve done my share of shit talking about them and their women, so I’ll take all the ribbing they want to dish, because I know I hit the fucking jackpot.

I look at Omar who is being unusually quiet. He’s been nursing one beer since we got there and has barely said a word. He also hasn’t taken his sunglasses off. In LA, that’s not unusual, but he’s wearing them to hide a black eye. He lost his mind and fucked his coach’s daughter. It’s been in the news, and it’s made his professional life a living hell. He got sucker punched by her brother a couple of days ago and he’s been laying low ever since.

“And you’re turning that book into a movie? Sort of different for your studio,” Dave says as he pops an olive into his mouth.

“Yes. So what?” I snap at him irritably.

“Easy, man. Just asking. Anyway, they’re coming back,” he says and then nods his head in the direction of the bathroom.

As they make their way through the restaurant, every single head turns to watch them.

Lucía’s wearing a long black sundress. It’s simple, but on her it looks like lingerie. She’s got her hair up in a messy bun that is just begging for me to take down.

“We’re back,” Jessica sings as they get back to the table. She’s a real party girl. You can tell she’s always up for fun and she’s been flirting outrageously with Dave all night and he’s been flirting back. But I know he’s not going to take it any further than that. He’s got a very serious girlfriend in New York and I think he’s planning on proposing to her soon.

Graham ambles back to the table, he left to take a call more than ten minutes ago.

“Sorry folks, I’ve got to love you and leave you. I’ve got a client who needs a FaceTime session to help talk her through a craving.”

I look at him and raise an eyebrow. “Since when do you do those?” I ask, knowing how covetous he is of his rare free time. He usually doesn’t take clients’ calls any later than three in the afternoon.

“Since this client started craving my cock, but is out of the country for work. FaceTime and my hand are going to help her get out tonight.”

Lucía chokes on her wine and Jessica laughs out loud.

“No one needed those details, man. You could have just said you had to go.”

“I did. You asked why. I answered.”

He turns to Lucía, his expression taking on a warm sincerity I rarely see from him. “It’s really nice to meet you. Good luck working with this guy, he’s a slave driver.” He takes her hand, places a kiss on the back of it. She flutters her lashes and blushes back at him.

I roll my eyes. Graham and women.

“I’ll see you at the premier if I don’t see you before.” He gives both her and Jessica a peck on the cheek and then strolls out.”

We settle back and I look at my clock, it’s getting late. I know Lucía’s got an early start in the morning, but I’m driving back to Malibu with her tonight and I don’t plan on leaving until it’s time for work.

I’m just about to say something to that effect when Omar speaks.

His sunglasses are still on but it’s clear he’s looking at Lucía when he speaks. “I read your book,” he says it quietly, but loud enough that we can all hear a note of displeasure in his voice.

Lucía looks at him, a little warily. “Thanks . . . what did you think?” she asks a bit hesitantly.

“Well, I think it glorifies a bunch of law breaking people who have convinced themselves they have a right to be here.”

The mood at the table goes from jovial to hair trigger tense.

“Well, that’s rude.” This is from Jessica who has started to put a protective arm around her friend’s shoulder.

I look at Lucía and she looks relaxed, so I let myself relax, too. He’s entitled to his opinion. I know he has strong ones. We’ve argued about this issue for years.

Lucía moves slightly so she’s not under Jessica’s arm and says to her, “It’s not rude. I know that he and a lot of people feel that way. Tell me why you think it’s glorifying anything.”

Omar puts his beer down on the table and takes his sunglasses off. His right eye is red, and swollen with skin that ranges from dark purple, to mottled green all around the outer edge of it.

“Because everyone in that book is made out to be some sort of hero. All of them are criminals.” This is a tone I’ve never heard him use before.

“Hey, man. Careful,” I warn him.

Dave groans and pulls his baseball cap down even farther on his forehead and slumps in his seat. He can tell that this is going to get messy, quick.

Omar glances at me. “Careful with what? My parents are immigrants to this country, too. They waited until they could enter legally and I did things the right way. But people like the ones she writes about, they give us all a bad name. Why couldn’t that family just go back to Mexico and use the skills they learned here, there?”

Lucía tips her head at him, her eyes narrowing and I see all my plans for tonight go up in ball of flames. I’m going to fucking kill Omar.

“Go back Mexico? Don’t you think that people would LOVE to be able to go back to the country of their birth? You think they all want to have to leave just to feed their kids? Good for you that you had the luxury of choosing when you immigrated. My characters came here as children. What choice did they have?” she demands.

“Why is that now the entire country’s burden?” Omar throws back at her.

“What burden? They work, virtually every single social service excludes them from access even though they pay taxes. They can’t access health insurance; they can’t get proper identification. They do work you couldn’t even imagine. They fucking contribute.” Her voice raises at that last sentence and people at the adjacent table turn to look at us.

She lowers her voice a little. “They’re your neighbors. Not all undocumented people are criminals and drug mules. I bet your soccer team has someone on staff who is undocumented and who lives in fear of exposure every day.”

“If they’re so afraid, they should find a way to go back home.” Omar’s keeps his voice down.

“I’m undocumented.”

All of us stop and turn to look at Jessica. She looks completely sober and more serious than I’ve ever seen her.

“I am. I came here to study. When my visa was running out, I got married. To the love of my life, but he died before he could file for me. My husband left me all his money when he died and it’s made it easy for me to blend in. But, I’m basically stuck here. If I leave, I wouldn’t be able to come back.”

I had no idea about Jessica and apparently Lucía didn’t either. She looks dumbstruck. But she just moves closer to her friend and puts an arm around her.

She looks at me. “Reece, last year there was a man whose legal fees your foundation paid. He was born in South Korea, but he’d lived here since he was three. He was married, had children, owned a restaurant. At the age of forty-two he committed a petty crime. He went to trial, was found not guilty of the crime, but because he was undocumented, they deported him anyway. He had to leave his wife and kids and go.”

Her eyes blaze at Omar.

“They drop you off with a hundred and fifty dollars and tell you good luck. He didn’t speak Korean; he couldn’t find a job or a place to live. The South Korean government, like most nations, doesn’t have any resources available for people like him. He was homeless for months before he killed himself. I know it’s against the law to enter or remain in this country without paper. But, for those of us who didn’t actively break that law, it’s unfair to treat us as if we did.” She takes a sip of her drink and continues. “It’s easy to say, go back home. Or tell me that now that I’m old enough I should go to Mexico and petition to enter legally. What would happen to my work, my bills, my friends, my life if I did that? I would have to wait three years to apply for re-entry. What would I do in Mexico for three years? My Spanish is barely conversant.

“Thank God for DACA or I’d probably be gone by now. God knows I wouldn’t have had time to write a book without it. When I couldn’t get documented jobs, I worked in restaurants, valet stands, grocery stock rooms. I had to have three jobs to survive. When I got my work permit and could get a real job, I was able to cut down to one job and that gave me time to write this book . . .”

She trails off as she notices that all of us are staring at her. Omar in surprise, Jessica and me, in alarm.

“What?!” she exclaims. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

Omar speaks before we can. “You’re undocumented?” he asks her, looking back and forth between us.

Her face drains of color when she realizes that in her rant she’s given herself away. She doesn’t want it to be public knowledge. That’s why she wrote under a pen name. It’s why she has avoided publicity.

She lifts her chin at Omar defiantly, but even I can see that she’s not feeling the bravado she’s trying to put on.

“Yes, I am.”

He looks at me. “Reece, you knew? And you’re employing her? That’s illegal,” he whispers at me.

My hackles rise. I hunch my shoulders and look down at the table before I speak. I choose my words carefully. “Omar, you need to watch it. Don’t cross a line we can’t come back from, man.” I don’t look up at him.

He doesn’t back down. Instead, he gives me a dismissive glance before turning back to Lucía.

“What are you even talking about? I’m stating facts. And you know how I feel about this already. I’m sure she’s a great woman. But she’s still illegal.”

“Omar—”

“Reece, it’s okay.” Lucía touches my arm and shakes her head. I hadn’t even realized I’d stood up. I sit back down. Trying to respect her, but what I really want to do is to make his other eye black and maybe knock out some of his teeth.

I look him dead straight in the eyes and tell him, “I’m sitting down, out of respect for my woman. But if you speak about her like that, one more time, you and I can take it outside.”

His jaw drops, not because he’s afraid of me kicking his ass, but because I just threatened to kick his ass. And because of a woman, at that. He knows that fighting is a last resort for me. I’m not a violent man, but when it comes to Lucía, I want to fuck up everyone who disrespects her. Everyone, not just Omar. The table is quiet while they take me in. Omar’s face drops and he runs a hand over his face.

“Reece, I’m sorry man. I didn’t mean any disrespect. Lucía, it was nice to meet you. I mean that. I’m sorry that we’re just so far apart on this issue. But, Reece, you’re my brother and you know I’ve got your back. I’m going to get out of here now.” He stands up without saying anything else and leaves.

“Fuuuuuck, man. You guys know how to kill a buzz,” Dave groans. He sits up and pulls his cap off and runs his hands through his dark red hair before he puts it back on. “I was nice and buzzed when I came in here. Now I’m stressed the fuck out.”

He looks at Lucía. “Omar’s an asshole. But he’s our asshole. He may talk shit, but he’s loyal as fuck. He’s had a rough week. Try not to hold it against him.” He rubs his hand together in glee. “If you want, I’ll kick his ass for you.”

We all laugh at that. Dave is at least four inches shorter than Omar, he’s also about fifty pounds lighter. He’s a violinist and he’s got the most beautiful hands I’ve ever seen—on a man or a woman. He sleeps with gloves on. He won’t even attempt to open a jar that’s tightly sealed, much less fight Omar.

“Anyway, I’m getting out of here. Going to hit up my girl and then get some practice in. I might come out to Malibu if you don’t get back to LA soon, Lucía. We need to hang out.”

He gives me a pat on the shoulder, throws some bills on the table and then saunters out.

“Well, I’m ready to go home,” announces Jessica. She looks at me and says, “You should be careful how you choose your friends.” The combination of too many cocktails and her anger makes her accent, which is normally very subtle, more pronounced.

“Hey, Jess.” Lucía gives her a hug so their heads are touching. “Omar feeling that way doesn’t mean he’s a bad person. He was honest, said what he felt and he allowed me to do the same. Yes, I wish he didn’t see things that way, but as long he doesn’t try to hurt me, I have no reason to dislike him.”

She’s an amazing human being. “I’m so crazy about you, Lucia.” I say, inserting myself into their conversation and clearly surprising them both. She and Jessica both look at me, mouths agape.

Her mouth opens and closes a couple of times. Jessica grins broadly. “Oh, Reece…” she sighs, turning the soft “c” at the end of my name into a “z.”

Lucia slides in her seat so that she’s pressed against my side. She brings her hand up to cup my cheek and says, “Can you take me home? We’ve all had a long day.”

If Omar had still been there I might have made his other eye black. There go my plans for tonight. I’ve been building up to it all day, but I can tell she’s tired. It’s been an emotional day; I should have known she’d be tired when it was over. I feel my cock start to lose interest and I say a silent apology to it before I answer Lucía.

“Of course, I’ll take you back to Malibu tonight.”

She looks up at me through her eyelashes. A small, shy smile plays about her mouth. She leans close to me and whispers so that only I can hear. “Can I stay with you tonight? I was thinking that since it’s so late, maybe you could take me back in the morning? We’d have to leave early, but. . .” She bites her lip nervously. “What do you think?”

As if I’d say no to that. “I think it’s the best idea I’ve heard in months.”

She laughs and looks back at Jessica. She’s drooped over in her seat and looks like she could fall asleep right there. I make a note to ask Lucía about her later. I think every time I’ve seen her, she’s been totally smashed.

“Let’s get her home,” I echo to Lucía, and she nods. Jessica scoots out of the booth. I try to take her arm, thinking she needs the support. But she pulls her arm out of mine. “I can walk just fine,” she huffs indignantly and walks out ahead of us.

I put my arm around Lucía’s shoulder and pull her into me. She wraps one arm around my waist and presses herself even closer. And just like that, we’ve reached an agreement. I’m about to fuck her so hard she’ll find sitting . . . memorable, for at least a couple of day. I’ve never had sex with a woman I felt this way about. I can’t wait.

When my car pulls up, we all pile in. I’m glad I went home to get my car before dinner. I don’t think Jessica could have made it home on her own. I give my driver Jessica’s address and we drop her off. We sit on opposite ends of the bench seat in the back of the SUV. We don’t speak, we don’t touch. I know the minute I do either of those two things, I’ll be pushing her panties to the side and fucking her where she stands or sits. I don’t want our first time to be in the back of my SUV, so I’m keeping my distance until we get home. But then, all bets are off.

She’s quiet, too. She’s watching the road and not speaking either.

When we get to my house, I hop down. I let my driver help her down as I rush into my house.

She walks into the house a minute after I do. “Reece, you left me outside!” she calls. I grab her, push the door shut behind her. She gasps as I stoop down to hook two hands under her thighs and lift her up, her dress rides up to the top of her thighs. I back her against the wall and grind my cock against her pussy. I can feel the heat of it through my jeans.

“Did you come here so I could fuck you?” I growl into her ear. I run my nose along the soft outer shell of her ear, nuzzling her silky hair, breathing her in, reveling in the familiar scent of her.

She nods.

I use one hand to push her hair back and I put my mouth on her neck and start to suck. When I feel her flinch, I ease up and lick the spot I’ve just bruised.

She’s panting and winding her waist, trying to find some relief. Her fingers dig into my back.

“Reece.” She pauses to catch her breath and then says, “Did you give me a hickey?” She sounds shocked.

I grin into her neck. “Yeah.”

“People will see it,” she protests even as she reaches down and cups my ass, pulling, telling me she needs more. I’m about to give it to her.

“That’s the point,” I say and then I take advantage of her mouth being open and put mine over it. I lick the inside of her mouth, stroke her tongue. I want to fucking drink her. I want to know what every single part of her tastes like.

I walk us down the hallway and kick the door of my bedroom open. I flip the lights on, put her on my bed and then lay on top of her. She feels so good beneath me, I might come just from this. I need inside her.

“You ready?” I say to her. Her eyes are dazed, she looks like she might not even know what her own name is if she were asked.

“Yes. So ready,” she says. But then I look in her eyes and she looks at me warily.

She shakes her head and says the last words I want to hear. “Well, maybe not quite.”