Kiss 200 - Grand Central Adventure
Part 1
When Deena proposed that all of the Writing Chicas meet for a conference, we were so excited! For all of us to get together and compare notes, discuss techniques (and talk about Antonio, of course!) was too good a chance to pass up. So, we did a lot of polling, discussing and organizing, and finally agreed to meet in New York City. Unfortunately, Internet writing doesn't pay - at least it doesn't for us - so we all decided that we would travel by train to save some money. And we were all lucky enough to arrange our trips so that we'd all be able to meet at Grand Central Station to begin our adventure. What happened to us on the way to New York and at the station was almost as fantastic as the actual conference…
Wow - we're finally here! The Californians - Steph and Susan, and I traveled together, and we were the first to arrive at Grand Central. While my friends wandered off to explore the terminal, I babysat our luggage. It had been a long three days, and I was tired, happy and anxious all at the same time. That combination would be enough to make anyone hallucinate…I was dozing, leaning against my laptop bag, when I felt someone sit down next to me. Oh great, I thought. Now I have to be polite and charming until I can gather up all this stuff and move.
"Hello, chica," a deep voice said softly. Oh my God…déjà vu…the last time I had heard that voice was in a dark movie house, on an August afternoon. I didn't dare look up.
"Ahmad? Is that you?" I murmured, and bent my head, eyes fixed on the floor. Noooo, this cannot be happening again. Chris will not believe this!
"Yes, it's me, chica," came the reply. "Look up, and you will see."
"N-n-no, I can't," I stammered. "This is just too weird. How did you get here? What do you want?"
"I heard that there was to be a gathering. I decided to attend. It is that simple, chica. No movie screen required, as you would see if you would raise your head!"
"OK…" I risked a peek, and yup, there he was, resplendent in his heavy red robes. "I guess you don't think that you look, uh, a little out of place? And you look wonderful, by the way."
"Thank you, as do you, love. There are people from every nation here. I look no different than they do," he answered. "Now, as to what I want…first of all, I wish to reiterate that I am NOT married, and never have been - and I would like you to make this clear to all the chicas. Can you do this for me?"
"Of course I can - and I will," I said, finally looking up into his dark eyes. "But, do I have to spend the rest of my life apologizing for a little literary license?"
"No, you do not - I just want to make it clear to everyone. Now as to the other…This is the famous laptop?" he asked, gently setting the bag on the ground and moving closer.
"How did you know about that?" I gasped, staring as his arm snaked around my shoulders.
"I know everything, chica. The other thing," he whispered cupping my cheek with his free hand. "I did not get a chance to do a proper job the last time we met." And with that, I was thoroughly kissed by Ahmad ibn Fadlan. Who then just - disappeared.
"KC …KC!!" Steph's voice broke through a golden haze. "You are not going to believe what just happened to me, chica!"
"No, you are not going to believe what just happened to ME! What time does the Raleigh train arrive? I have to talk to Chris…"
I just had to find the bathroom. Susan said she'd be right back and KC promised to watch the bags while I pushed my way through a crowd large enough to fill Candlestick Park. I thought I saw the signs and shoved my way through one very tall couple, but my backpack slipped off my shoulders. I looked down and twisted to pull it back up then, with my usual grace, stepped on the feet of someone in front of me. My head shot up just as that person turned, rising from a bent position and BAM! We knocked heads.
"Mierde! Watch where you're going!" came an angry male voice as I held my forehead. The voice made me stumble again and I lowered my hand.
"You!" we both said in unison, followed by, "what are you doing here?"
We stared at each other, my gaze frozen by the dark angry eyes of Miguel Bain.
"Well, excuse me for asking," I said. "I can guess what you're doing here."
"Are you following me," he demanded. He grabbed my arm and pulled me towards a group of lockers. When he stopped, I yanked my arm from his painful grip. "Well, Stephanie, what are you doing here?"
"I'm here for a Chica Writer's Conference," I said.
His lips parted as he cocked his head. "A what?" he asked.
"A Chica Writer's Conference." I adjusted my backpack and looked around, afraid someone would see me with this guy and think I'm some sort of criminal. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll just be on my way."
He offered that laugh of his, a breathy sound that said, "I don't believe a word you're saying." His eyes, wide and dangerous, surveyed the changing crowd. "Who did you tell about Isla Mujeres?"
"Everyone," I said, arrogantly lifting my chin. "I posted the story on the Kiss page."
He looked at me, this time his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Ah, so you're one of those Chicas."
"What other Chicas are there?" I asked, slowly stepping backwards to put distance between us.
He moved closer, took my hand and pulled me back to where I had started my feeble escape. "You know, no one believes that shit." His lips curled with the curse. "You just keep writing those stories, Chica." His eyes darted again, wary and I knew he still didn't believe me. When he started to pull me further away from the main area, I yanked my arm back. He stopped, his piercing eyes so angry that I thought he might hit me. "Where do you think you are going?"
"To the bathroom," I said, and damn, I really needed to go. "Come on, Miguel, you know I'd never turn you in. I like living too much. So just let me go and no one will ever know we've met here."
He studied me a long time, then slowly leaned toward me and covered my mouth with his own. My head spun and my knees threatened to buckle, either from the danger or the kiss.
"All right," he said, releasing me, "but I'll be around for awhile, and if I see you talking to the cops," he leaned close, "you know what will happen." I started to turn away, but he stopped me once again. "And Stephanie, watch where you're walking. You never know who you might bump into."
"I will," I said, and rushed back into the crowd, my heart racing. I saw KC on a bench surrounded by our bags and ran towards her.
"KC …KC!!" I cried. "You are not going to believe what just happened to me, Chica!"
Then I saw Deenalah rush over to us from the other end of the station.
"Chicas!! Guess who I just tripped over?" I couldn't believe what had just happened to me. I was so glad to see KC and Stephanie together at the bench. I really didn't think I could tell what had just occurred to me more than once.
"Well it won't top what just happened to me," KC declared. "Or me," Steph chimed in.
"Let me tell you and you be the judge," I declared.
"I was heading toward the ladies room when all of a sudden I heard the wailing notes of a trumpet with the mute on. I stopped dead in my tracks and tried to follow the sound. It led to an empty stretch of tunnel way and there, blowing his heart out, standing in all his Cuban glory was Nestor! He was playing the interlude from "Que Bella Maria" and I couldn't resist. I started to sing along with the melody. I closed my eyes in sheer pleasure and really sang my heart out. When I opened them, manitas, he was staring straight at me. When the final notes sounded, he put the trumpet from his lips and softly said my name.
"Deena? Chica Deena? Tell me I am not dreaming. Is it really you?" His voice was incredulous as he peered even closer into my face.
"You're not dreaming, Nestor. But how did you recognize me? How did you know my name? And that I'm a chica?"
"I recognized you from your description of yourself in the Kiss stories. And after all, you did write about me. Twice!!!"
I giggled nervously when I realized that he had read the Kiss stories. What did he think of them?
"I like them. I do. And I loved the ones you wrote, Deenalah. So passionate.. so….sexy." The way he said 'sexy' just about blew me away. He lingered over the two syllables and caressed the letter 's'. he exhaled just slightly before he said the word. And, of course, the accent. Ahhh, heavenly.
"Nestor, where are you heading?"
"Taking the train to Miami. I have relatives there and they are going to help me set up the club I have always wished for."
"Oh, Nestor, are you going to have a house band? You really should be thinking of it. It is what all the good clubs have."
Of course, I had an ulterior motive.
"You're right!! Why didn't I think of it? I figured Cesar would come down with the Mambo Kings and play but that would be only on occasion. When I get to Miami, I will have to advertise."
"Just make sure you don't advertise for a singer," I stated laughingly. "Or wait till after the Writing Chicas convention before you do. I'd love to audition for the job."
Nestor looked at me speculatively.
"Do you know Spanish?"
"Well, only to sing in. I've been told I have a good ear for accents. I'd love to audition for the position."
"Did I not hear you sing with me earlier? Perhaps another song?"
I agreed instantly. With all my heart I wanted to sing with him.
"Nestor, can we do a duet together maybe? You and me singing, I mean."
Nestor looked at me consideringly, his amber eyes gleaming with emotion.
"Do you know 'No Se Por Que Te Quiero'? It is a lovely song."
"Do I know it??? I love it!!"
"Well, let's do that one."
He opened up his trumpet case and laid his trumpet back in it, leaving it open on the floor of the station. Giving us the starting pitch, he then raised his hand to give me the downbeat and I closed my eyes and opened my heart and mouth and sang. I truly felt inspired. And then he began to sing, "si no me hicieran falta tus besos." My eyes flew open to watch his beautiful face as he sang. It was then that I noticed that a crowd had gathered around us and were listening intently to our voices. In the open case was a pile of money!! As the final notes of the duet faded away, the crowd broke into spontaneous applause. Holding hands, we graciously bowed to our impromptu audience and blew them kisses. Gathering up the money in his fist, Nestor shoved the bills in my hands.
"For Miami!" he said sweetly. "The Club Elegante. Be there!"
And he was gone.
"Well, chicas, what do you think? And here's the money to prove it!"
The girls all stared at the roll of bills I had in my hand.
"We have to tell Susan about this, "KC said. "Look, she's coming from the newsstand."
As I walked back from the newsstand I noticed the excitement that the other chicas were experiencing.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"You are never going to believe it!" KC said.
"Try me."
KC told me about her visit from Ahmad, Steph's encounter with Miguel and Deena's duet with Nestor.
"Oh geez! I can see this is going to be a very eventful trip. I'll be right back, I have to go to the bathroom."
"Be careful, you never know who'll be waiting for you," said KC.
I smiled as I walked down the terminal looking for the bathroom. I felt like I was being watched. I stopped and looked around, but didn't see anyone. I scrugged my shoulders and took one step forward; all of a sudden I thought I heard someone call for Serena.
I looked around, but still saw no one. Then I heard, "Psssst Serena."
"All right, who's there? You better come out now because you're starting to piss me off!"
From out of the shadows I saw a figure of a man emerge and before I knew it I was staring into the face of Miguel Bain.
"Miguel? What are you doing here?" I asked.
"I want to talk to you Serena," he said as he moved closer.
"My name isn't Serena."
"I know that Susana, but you are Serena in the story that you wrote."
"Story? What story?"
He took me by the arm and pulled me towards him.
"I've read your story about us on the kiss page. I know that you are Serena."
"Wait a minute, she's just a character that I made up."
"No she's not! She is you and you are her, and you both are mine!" he exclaimed.
He held me so close to him that I could actually feel his heart beat.
"Okay, fine Miguel, just calm down," I said.
"Come back with me to Spain. I want to show you the places that you wrote about, like the town, my house, my bedroom."
"Let me think about it Miguel? I've got to go now. I have people waiting for me."
"Ah yes the other chicas. Go then, but remember I will come back for you."
He kissed me passionately; he then took off his silver bracelet and put it on my left wrist.
"What is this for?"I asked.
"I will be back for it on the day I come to take you with me. Don't you know that you and I are a match made in hell and that means made for each other," he laughed as he walked away.
In a blink of an eye he was gone. I forgot about the bathroom and returned to the others. KC noticed that something happened.
"What happened? she asked.
"I ran into Miguel."
"What did he say?"
"He said that he would be back to retrieve something from me one day and on that day he would take me back to Spain with him."
"Retrieve what?" KC asked.
I showed them the silver bracelet on my left wrist.
"Oh shit! Is that Miguel's bracelet?" KC exclaimed.
"Yup. What is everybody going to say?" I said.
"They'll know that you're telling them the truth when they see the bracelet. Wait until Chris hears about this!" KC said.
Wow, this place is huge, I thought, as I walked into the station. How am I ever going to find everyone? The station was filled with people milling around, most of them looking like they knew exactly where they were headed. I was staring at the ceiling of the station, when a man bumped into me, and practically knocked me down. My bag flew open spewing its contents everywhere. A looked up to see who had hit me, but all I saw was a man scurrying away. He didn't even apologize. "Jerk!" I mumbled under my breath.
I began to pick up my things, snatching them out from under the feet of the other passengers, hoping I wouldn't get trampled. I was about to just give up, when I heard someone clearing his throat behind me.
I turned to look and saw a pair of shiny black boots, under black pants, and a red tunic covering him all the way to his knees. My first thought was that there were Santas already parading around the city.
"A little early for Santa Claus, isn't it?"
"Excuse me?"
The voice was most definitely not Santa. I knew that voice, but it couldn't be! Not here in this train station. I slowly looked up, not believing that it could really be him, but as my eyes met his face, there was no doubt.
"Ahmad? Wow, I didn't expect to see you again until next year. I mean, when the video is… oh, forget it."
"Yes, when the video is released. But I wanted to see you chicas again."
"Chicas? Have you seen KC? Is she here?"
"What did you call me before? Santa Claus?" His lips curled around the name as if he was tasting it. "Yes, she's here. You would rather see her than me?"
"NO! I mean, no, of course not. I was just supposed to meet her and the other California chicas, and JoAnn, and Deena and lots of others. You came here just to see the chicas?" I realized I was babbling.
"Let me help you up," he said, as his hand reached down to me. I took his hand, and he pulled me to my feet. His hand didn't let go of mine when I stood, and he started walking away from the busy aisle where I had spilled my things.
"Where are we going?" I asked a little nervously.
"Somewhere I can ask you more about this Santa fellow. Would you rather have him help you up?"
"Oh, no, Ahmad. I'd rather see you any day. Santa doesn't come to see me anymore."
"This Santa left you? What kind of a man would do such a thing as that? He is not a good man!" "No, no, no. That's not what I meant at all. I never really knew Santa. He's just this character…, listen can we just forget about Santa? How did he get in this conversation anyway?"
"Is he someone you want to kiss?"
"Not really, Ahmad. Well, there is that one Santa…NEVER MIND! No more about Santa. I'll never be able to explain that one to you. Are you going to meet the others?"
"That is up to them, but right now, I'm here to see you."
With that, his arm slipped around my waist, and he pulled me toward him. His lips brushed across mine, then pressed more firmly. He held me close to him as his tongue pushed into my mouth, We tasted each other, a lovely warm kiss, making me want to back in that dark theater all alone with him again.
He finally released me, then turned to leave. He walked away a few steps, then turned back. "I think this may belong to you."
In his hand was a tube of eyeliner. "You're sure you don't need it?" He looked at me, puzzled. "Never mind," I said, as I took it from him. At that instant, I heard someone calling my name. I turned to see JoAnn coming toward me. I waved, and turned back to Ahmad, but he had vanished into the crowd. I turned back to JoAnn. We hugged, and I tried to explain what had happened as she led me back to her seat. "I can't wait to tell KC about this one!" I said, as I sat down.
"I need to make a phone call…will you sit here and keep your eyes open for Gina?"
"Sure thing," I said, nodding to Chris. I sat down on one of the smooth, wooden sectioned benches that lined the walls of the train station and pulled the latest copy of InStyle Magazine out of my overnight bag. Oh, yes…Antonio…the look on his face when he's sitting on that wall, as Mel drapes her arms around him…mmm, yeah, I could look at him all day long….
"Excuse me, senorita, do you have the time?"
I looked up into the amber eyes of a very attractive, dark-haired man. His accent bespoke South America and his manner was very gentlemanly. I looked at my watch and told him the time. He thanked me, giving me a devastating smile. Then he leaned over and began to read my magazine with me, bracing his elbow on the armrest of my part of the bench. I finally smiled and turned in his direction. His face was mere inches from mine, and I felt the uncharacteristic urge to kiss him. His sex appeal was understated, but potent. He looked into my eyes, capturing me with a power I didn't know existed. Then, without a word, he leaned forward and kissed me gently on the lips.
"I like your perfume," he whispered, as his lips caressed my cheek. "It makes me think of Italy, of a bed of rose petals, of lovemaking in secret places."
I swallowed hard and tried to remember my own name. "Um...thank you, I…"
Just then another man plopped down next to me on the other side of the bench. I turned around abruptly, since he had knocked my magazine off my lap.
"Oh, sorry, sweetie…here, let me get that for you. Hey…I like that scent you're wearing. Makes me think of running through a field of flowers, escaping from the…well, never mind, I like it. Hey, you got fifteen, twenty minutes to spare? Want to get it on? I like your looks! I think I could show you a hot time, sweetie. Don't waste your time on chit chat with this loser, when you could have me."
The South American sat up straight, before I could even respond. "How dare you speak to a lady that way?"
The rough man on my left smirked, pushing up the sleeves of his coat. "Whatsamatter, 'mano? Did I intrude on your little hunting expedition? Well, too bad! I go after what I want, and I want her…for at least a while. How about it, sweetie?" The rough man leaned over towards me, the curls of his hair falling over his cheeks. He had a manic look in his eyes that made me fear a little, but also a hot sexuality that made me momentarily wonder what the fifteen minutes he offered would be like. What was I thinking? "NO", I said, giving him a little shove with my hand.
He laughed, his eyebrows lifting. "Ooooh, a wildcat, huh? Just my type. Come on, sweetie, let's…"
At that, the South American jumped to his feet. "You dog! I will not allow you to treat her in such a way! You will leave now!"
The rough man sat forward, his eyes narrowed like a cat's. "Oh yeah…well, I don't feel like it, and I never do anything I don't feel like doing! So get lost! Who the hell are you, anyway?"
"I am Dr. Francisco Leal, you son of a…"
"Uh uh uh…only I get to say those things, not you. Why don't you go diagnose yourself some place else?"
"Why don't you take your crazy talk out to the gutter where it belongs?"
"Crazy talk? Don't call me crazy, you quack!"
"I know you're crazy! I'm a psychiatrist! I can see it in you from a mile away!"
"Oh yeah? Why don't you go get a life and leave mine alone!"
"You actually have a life? Impossible!"
By now both men were up out of their seats and circling each other like mad bulldogs on a summers' day. I stood up and tucked my magazine back into my bag. I stepped around them, as they continued to hurl insults at each other. Neither of them had even noticed I was leaving! Men. I'll take Antonio, anytime. I saw Gina at the station entrance and waved at her, smiling to myself. What a story I'd have to share with her, about my momentary place in the sun…before machismo took over and ruled the day.
Major chica time! In the Big Apple! Big sightseeing. Big shows. Big shopping. And REALLY Big Antonio! And on a train trip from Cincinnati to New York City! Wow! I was looking forward to some quality private Gina time. A little junk food. A new Sue Grafton novel. And some really mindless trashy magazines. I walked into the small gift shop, and started to look at the magazines. I was thumbing through one, and I heard a voice at my ear. 'Gina, you already have 3 of those magazines." I looked up from the In Style magazine, and there was…Tony. "Tony? What, what are you you doing here?"
"You have one of those at your office, and two at home, so why are you looking at another one?" "Huh?" "You heard me. Now, what are those you have in your hand? Hm?" I was a little stunned.
"Gina, Gina, National Enquirer? The Star? Mad Magazine? These are NOT worthy of your attention." He took the magazines out of my hand. "Now, Gina, what is this in your other hand? Oh, Gina, no, no, no, cheese curls and malted milk balls, and root beer. Oh, no, no, no." He took all the food out of my hands.
"I think we can do better than that, Gina" I stopped and grasped his arm. "What's going on, what are you doing here?"
"I heard you were going to the writing conference in New York City, and I just wanted to give you a little inspiration." "Inspiration?" "Gina, you are a sweet chica, and I wanted to give you a little Tony inspiration when you meet with the chicas.
Before I knew what was happening, we were in my little room. Emphasize pequeno. Very pequeno. "Uh, Tony, uh, I'm I'm sorry I'm not wearing anything very nice for you." "You look just fine. What is that on your t-shirt?" "Oh, it's a shirt I made up for the chica workshop." I pulled it out. "Chicas Rule NYC!" "Gina, chicas rule everywhere, not just NYC." he said as he pulled it over my head. He bent down to unlace my sneakers and take them off. "What is this?" he said holding a shoelace. "Oh, I had those made up too, they say" "I know, Chicas Rule!"
He started to pull down my jeans, and stopped. "Does your underwear say Chicas Rule! too?" "No, Tony, they say Hanes Her Way!" We both laughed as we pulled off the rest of our clothes.
"Gina, come on in the shower with me, I want to caress you and touch you." "Uh, Tony, uh, I don't think there's that much room in that shower" "Oh, that is alright, Gina, we'll just be closer together, eh?"
We finally emerged from the shower and started to get into the equally pequeno bed. We barely were touching each other when we started to roll off the bed onto the floor. I fell right on my rear end, Tony falling on top of me. After a couple of minutes, I could feel something banging and clinking against my head. We stopped for a minute, and Tony started to throw the suitcase up on the bed. "Oh, be careful, Tony with that!" "Why, what's in it?" "Well, it's" "Something for the chicas, right?" "Well, yes, I brought some decorations and wine." "Wine? Really? What kind?"
"Come now, Tony, you know very well what kind." "Come now Gina? You want me to come now?" he said laughing. "What do you think?" "I think you need more now now and even more come now!"
Before I knew it we were about to pull into New York City. But we had to pull out of my room first. And each other. I couldn't believe it. I had to get it together, because I was going to see the chicas any minute. I had a pounding headache from where my head had banged against the shower wall again and again. And I turned to look at my back. Carpet burn. Oh, did it hurt. And my butt from where I fell off the bed on the floor. I tried to get my hair dry, and I decided to just stick it up under my Chica Gina cap.
"Oh, well", I thought. "The chicas will never notice. They'll be so excited, they won't pay any attention to the fact that I'm a walking disaster area." I slowly made my way into the station, and saw Joann and Chris and KC waving at me. Chris got to me first, giving me a big bear hug. I thought I was going to die. Joann saw the look on my face. "What the hell happened to you? You look all banged up, Gina!"
Before I could answer, there was a soft voice by my ear. "Gina, here, you left your chica shirt behind. And I picked up some wine to replace what we drank." Joann and Chris were just standing there looking stunned. "Now, you chicas take good care of Gina."
KC somehow found her voice. "Well, Tony, we were just saying Gina looked all banged up. And you, you, look all banged up too. Come now, what's been going on?"
"Well, I think Gina can tell you, eh chica? I think you should give them an English lesson in tenses. You should start with the words now now. And then come now. " He gently kissed me and whispered in my ear, "I see you again soon, chica." And he waved at the other chicas and walked away. "So Gina, what tenses? What was he talking about?" KC said. I pulled her aside. "Shhhh. Just suffice it to say I came, I saw, I have carpet burn, okay?" She was so excited she gave me a big hug. I thought I was going to scream. But it was okay, I was with the chicas. In New York City. Big shopping. Big shows. Big Antonio. And REALLY big carpet burn.
As soon as the train stopped, I was off and into the station. I stretched as I walked, trying to pop out the kinks from sitting for most of the past fifteen hours. Looking around, I tried to figure out where I was supposed to meet the chicas who had already arrived. Before I started looking for my amigas, I needed to find a bathroom.
I was walking out of the ladies' room, trying to dry my hands by shaking them vigorously (no paper towels) when someone touched me on the shoulder; I looked around and up into the most beautiful pair of brown eyes I'd ever seen. The round face and full lips were unmistakable, framed by a mass of dark curls. "You are Celia, aren't you?"
"Yes. Well, no. That's not my real name..."
"But it's the name you use to write, isn't it? For the Kiss Page?" I nodded.
"Then you're the one I'm looking for. I wanted to thank you for my story. No one else ever wrote a romantic story about me before."
I laughed nervously. "You're Miguel Alvarez, aren't you?"
"Of course, I am. I thought you'd recognize me immediately; after all, you wrote a story about me."
I laughed again. "Please forgive me, but I never thought I'd actually get to meet you, Miguel. What are you doing in New York?"
"I'm here to speak at an AIDS Awareness Conference, and I heard you were coming in for the Writer's Conference. I wanted to meet you and thank you for giving me Paul."
Paul? "Oh, Paul! In the story."
"He may only be a character in a story to you, but he's become almost everything to me. I can't imagine how I'd have survived the past few years without him."
"Well, to tell you the truth, Miguel, he's not just a character in a story - he's a friend of mine. I worked with him for two years before I decided to 'introduce' him into your life in the story. I knew you'd be perfect for each other."
"I hope one day that you'll find the time to write about what's happened with us over the past several years, since that night at the Halloween party."
"Yes, I have every intention of expanding yours and Paul's story as soon as I find the time."
Miguel looked past me for a minute, then spoke again, "One of the most important things Paul has taught me is not to question why things happen any more - just enjoy the moment. It's all we really have, you know?"
I paused for a moment to consider this, then said, "You're right, of course."
Suddenly, I was grabbed in a full-body hug, which lasted for several minutes. As he pulled back, he gave me a quick, and very chaste, peck on the cheek. "I know you need to find your friends, so I won't hold you up. I have a reception to attend tonight."
"Thank you for coming to see me, Miguel. It was a pleasure to meet you."
He bowed politely. "And you as well. If we're both going to be in New York for a few days, maybe we can get together again. Have dinner. Or maybe you'd like to attend my presentation at the conference. It's not really a speech - I just talk about Andrew and how hard it was to watch him die and how much I cherish each day with Paul."
"I'd love to hear your talk, Miguel. When is it?"
Handing me a brochure, he said, "Here's all the information. Just call that number and tell them you'd like to attend as my guest."
"I'll do that as soon as I get to the hotel."
"Here." Miguel removed the red ribbon he wore on his lapel and pinned it to the collar of my jacket. "See you soon, Celia."
I found my friends without further incident; after we introduced ourselves, I listened to their stories of meeting Ahmed and Nestor and Tony and Miguel, and I waited for someone to notice the tiny red ribbon pinned to my lapel, so I could say, 'You'll never guess who I just ran into!'
When I stepped off the train in Grand Central Station, I immediately spotted the chicas waiting for me. I had never met them before, but I recognized them by the way their jaws dropped in unison when they saw who was with me. I gave them a meaningful look and shook my head slightly, trying to warn them not to draw attention to my companion and me. They were obviously puzzled, but said nothing as we walked briskly past them to an exit, keeping a careful watch for police all the while.
When we reached the street, I hailed a cab, then turned to my companion. "Good bye, Angel," I said. "Please be careful. And remember what we said about those false confessions."
"I will," he said with a sweet smile. "I promise." Kissing me shyly, he added, "Thanks for all you've done for me."
Angel got into the cab, and I returned to the station to tell the chicas all about my trip.
I had boarded the train in Atlanta, heading north by northeast to New York. Because it was an overnight trip, I had booked a cabin in the sleeping car. The porter brought my luggage to the cabin and showed me how to open the bed, which folded in toward the wall when not in use. As evening came, I grew hungry and made my way to the dining car.
I paused at the door of the dining car, looking for an empty table. As my eyes scanned the crowd, I noticed a young man seated at a table by himself. He was dressed in gray sweats, and he held the menu close to his face, as if to shield himself from the prying glances of other diners. Despite the menu, I could see him well enough to know that he was incredibly handsome -- a younger, poorer, more nervous version of Antonio Banderas. I tipped the maitre d' ten dollars to seat me at his table.
When I introduced myself, the young man looked at me nervously and told me, in a heavily accented voice, that his name was Angel Giminez. As it turned out, he was poor. The prices were higher than he had expected, and he could not afford anything on the menu. I insisted on treating him to dinner and ordered fish for him and a steak, very rare, for myself.
When our food arrived, I cut into the steak and began to eat with gusto. After a moment, I looked up to find that Angel's eyes were fixed on my plate. The color had drained from his face, and great beads of sweat stood out on his brow.
"Are you all right?" I asked with concern.
"Yes," he replied, with difficulty. "It's just that the sight of blood makes me feel faint."
I looked down at my plate and saw that bloody juices were indeed oozing from my steak. I apologized to Angel and was about to signal the waiter to take my plate away when I noticed that Angel was staring at something behind me with obvious alarm. When I turned, I saw that two uniformed police officers had entered the dining car and were checking the passengers' identification, working their way slowly toward us.
"What's wrong?" I asked Angel.
He looked at me for an instant, as if deciding whether to tell me the truth. Finally, he said, "I think they are looking for me."
"Why?" I asked.
"I'm a suspect in an investigation in Florida. I ran away, and I think they are after me."
"What kind of investigation, Angel?" I said with utter seriousness.
"Murder," he replied. "But I didn't do it. You've got to believe me. And please," he added urgently, "please help me."
The police officers were now two tables away from us, and I had to think fast. I couldn't believe that a man who fainted at the sight of blood could be a murderer. I grabbed Angel's hand and led him away from the officers and toward my cabin in the sleeping car. When we reached the cabin, I pulled him inside and locked the door behind us.
"Why do the police think you killed someone?" I asked in my sternest voice.
"Well, um, it's probably because I, ah, told them I did it," he said.
"You confessed to a crime you didn't commit? Why?" I asked in amazement.
"I don't know exactly," he said. "It's happened before. I just feel so guilty about everything, I think I deserve to be punished, and when I get the urge to confess, I can't stop."
"But now you've changed your mind," I said, with more than a hint of sarcasm.
"They execute murderers in Florida," he replied. And that, I had to admit, was an excellent reason to flee.
We were interrupted then by a loud knock at the door, as the police officers announced themselves and asked me to let them in. Angel was paralyzed with fear. "Just a moment," I called to the officers, looking desperately around the small cabin for a place to hide Angel. With a flash of inspiration, I pushed him toward the bed. When he got in, I closed the bed against the wall and latched it, with Angel inside.
The officers showed me a picture of Angel and told me he was wanted for murder. I lied to them coolly, and said I had never seen him before. The officers seemed satisfied at last, and left. When I was sure they were gone, I unlatched the bed, and Angel fell out, gasping for air.
We spent the rest of the night talking. Angel told me about his past and the strange murder case in which he had been involved in Madrid. He had come to America to make a new start. We talked about his feelings of guilt and the false confessions he had made. I could only hope that our conversation might help him to understand his compulsion and resist the urge to incriminate himself in the future.
When the train reached New York the next day, we got off together, and I saw him safely to a cab. He waved to me as the cab pulled away, leaving me with his shy kiss and his sweet smile. And, of course, with an incredible story to tell the chicas.
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