Their house at the villa was almost a carbon copy of ours. Even the interior decorating was the same, only in different colors. and I think the walls were made out of papier mache.
There had been a quiet murmuring in the next room on and off for hours, Dom and Letty and Brian and Mia chatting quietly. I caught bits and pieces-Mia and Brian definitely wanted out of Mexico City, and Dom wasn't arguing. Vince was downstairs on the couch playing some gory game with the TV blaring, and Dom told Letty once Mia and Brian were gone that he didn't really trust Vince to behave there, either.
I didn't catch Letty's response. Their voices were quiet a while, then a little louder, so I could hear them over Leon's soft whooshing sleep-breaths.
"What about Izzie and Leon?" Letty asked.
"Izzie and Leon are not a package deal," he said. "Leon's coming. Izzie's not."
"Come on, Dom. Don't be an asshole."
"Stop. It's not personal and you know it."
"What is it then?"
"You know, Letty. We've been through it sixty fucking times."
"Bullshit. You want her." I sat up slowly, could not believe what I'd heard, and leaned my ear against the wall.
"Please, Letty. She's twelve years old."
"She's eighteen in three days," she said. "You're afraid you can't keep your dick out of her."
"I'm afraid I'll fuck up her life!" he shouted, explosively angry out of nowhere. "Jesse was JUST LIKE HER, Let. Smart, young. He coulda done anything, and I was his hero. Look where it got him. We're not goin' there for a tea party, Letty. Her father-have you seen her father? And her mother is a criminal defense lawyer."
"So what?"
"So you can't be careful enough."
"Come on. I'm not goin' if she's not."
"You're goin'."
A pause, then Letty's voice, with a little sweet seduction in it.
"I'll make it worth your trouble."
"Discussion's closed, Letty," he said, and then silence, and in my mind's eye I could just see her sulking, that terrific glare of hers fixed on him. But there was more silence, and more, and after about five minutes, I was next to positive that I would not be going to Mexico City, glare or not.
I sighed and laid down again, next to Leon, on my belly. I folded my arms and rested my head on them. Rich girl. Dad's a doctor, mom's a lawyer for Rudy Giuliani. No way in hell could I go anywhere with Dominic, and I didn't even know why.
Then, just as I was dozing off, a long, guttural moan split the noiseless night, and my eyes flew open.
Dom's voice, deep and shaky,
"Yeah. All right. She can come."
"You are absolutely not going," my father said. "Absolutely not. And what in God's name are you wearing?"
"Lawrence," my mother said. "She'll be eighteen in three days. I think-"
"They're derelicts, Carolyn," my father interjected. "The big filthy one with no brain is the pool boy, and the one that comes around here for her drives to and from the airport, hauls luggage, does repairs. And, the bald one, Mr. Muscles, sits on the beach and smokes dope all day. She's not going anywhere with them."
"Listen," my mom said, her voice stern and loud suddenly. It was the first time I'd heard her be assertive with him in years. "This is Isabel's vacation too. She is responsible, and has never given us any reason to doubt her judgement. She-"
"That outfit is reason enough to doubt her judgment! Look at her!"
"Larry, you're hysterical."
"I am not hysterical. She looks like a whore."
"Don't," my mother said. "She is almost an adult. And this boyfriend of hers-"
"Is thirty years old," my father cut in again.
"STOP interrupting me," she demanded, slamming her open hand down on the countertop. I jumped, but forced the bored deadpan to remain on my face. "We're having Leo over for dinner. We are going to be civil. We are going to talk to him, and give him a chance. THEN we will make our decision."
My father was silent for a long moment, sloshed as usual, holding a tumblerful of Whisky, clenching and unclenching his jaw. He took a gulp of his drink, then pointed at my mother.
"We're having him here," he said. "I refuse to be seen in public with that piece of shit."
And then he staggered from the kitchen to the main room, plunking his drink down on top of a mahogany Steinway baby grand, flopping onto the bench. My mom sighed and leaned heavily against the counter, deflated and flushed from the enigma. She looked up at me and I smiled a little, not knowing what else to do.
"For Christ's sake," she said. "Go change your clothes.”
I sat on the couch with Letty, and it was hotter than the hubs of hell, out and inside. It had taken me almost two hours to make myself a reasonable facsimile of the girl I'd been the day before, and I wore a black V-neck tank, a camel-colored suede miniskirt, and my black boots. I'd had my legs, bikini-line, armpits, and top lip waxed yesterday with Letty, so I was silky all over, and there wasn't a single man in the house to appreciate it.
"How'd the parents like the clothes?" Letty asked, and I shrugged, staring at the television.
"My father said I look like a whore," I said, and she chuckled.
"Daddy don' like Letty style?" she asked, and I shook my head. "What did they say about La Ciudad?"
"Mexico City?" She nodded. "My dad flat-out said no. My mom stuck up for me, but I think she's a little leery about it, too."
"Leery?"
"Nervous," I said, and felt awkward. "So now they want Leon over for dinner tonight to pick his brain and if he doesn't pass my father's tests, I can't go. We'll have to wait and see, but I have a feeling he'll be swimming upstream."
"Leon's gotta meet the parents?" She whistled long and low. "Don't worry. He's smarter than he looks."
"I know."
"You make him really happy, you know." I looked at her, pausing the game. She was somber. "We were all really worried about him." I didn't ask why, let her take her time. "Jesse...We all loved Jesse. But he and Leon grew up in the same apartment building. Their moms were tight. When Jesse died, Leon was gone. Like, he was here, but he was gone, you know? He wasn't Leon. And since he picked you up at the cabana...He's back." I nodded slowly, a chaotic variety of emotions swirling within me.
Guilt, for even thinking of another man when the one I had my hands on was so perfect. Awe, at the fact that I had brought him out of such a darkness. Anger, at Dom, for having such power over me. Fondness toward Letty. Hatred toward myself. Need to have Leon's hands and mouth on my body as they had been the night before. Confusion, because I wanted Dominic's hands on me, too.
I sat holding the game controller and staring blankly while I tried to work it all out in my head. Finally I cleared my throat and spoke.
"What happened. With Jesse, I mean."
"He was murdered," Letty said, tossing the control aside. "Two bullets to the chest. Dead before he hit the ground."
"Jesus," I gasped, the stifling heat, coupled with the shock, making it difficult to breathe. "Did they find out who did it?"
She cleared her throat.
"What time is dinner tonight? Does Leon know about it?"
"I don't know, and no," I said quietly, still shocked.
"He doesn't have any nice clothes," she said. "I'll have to take him to get something respectable."
"My dad's an asshole," I said. "He's gonna shoot to kill and Leon won't win no matter what he does, no matter what he wears."
"What won't I win?"
And there he was. Fresh from a swim in nothing but white mesh basketball shorts, his slim but well-defined shoulders glistening with beads of saltwater as he scrubbed his hair with a white hand towel.
"Nothing," I said, and he smiled at me. My God, those eyes. He’d win over anyone, to anything, with those eyes.
