Diago thunders into the ranch on his horse. ‘Gringaaaa! Payton! Payton, come here!’
I dash outside to see what all the fuss is about. He’s holding the reins to a most beautiful filly I’ve ever seen. She’s young, white and reminds me of a unicorn I used to read about.
‘This is your horse Gringa,’ he says. ‘Is for you. You must give her a name.’
‘For me? Gosh! I’ve never owned a horse before and she is so…so gorgeous.’ Most of all, she isn’t intimidating. ‘Wow Diago, this is great!’
‘Give her a name,’ he urges.
Mmm, young, white, nervous and out of place ...’ I look up at him. ‘Gringa Two,’ I say. ‘That’s her name.’
He looks at me and pulls a face. ‘Gringa too?’
‘Two. Diago, she’s young, white and edgy, just like me. So I’m Gringa and she’s like, Gringa Two.’
For the first time since I met him, he guffaws – just throws his head back and laughs. Everyone stares at him in surprise and I find his laughter very appealing.
‘You call that a horse?’ Santana sniggers. ‘Is a donkey.’
Everyone starts to make hee-haw sounds.
‘You’re all wrong,’ I say, lovingly stroking my horse, She’s not a donkey - she’s a beautiful horse and she’s going to take me places.’
As you can imagine, Gringa Two and I are kindred spirits, so we get on famously. Although she is a little bit of a prima donna and sometimes can be a little too demanding – wants a treat before she will let me ride her, won’t go out if it’s cold ...
‘Ride the horse,’ Diago says, ‘Don’t trot.’
‘I’m still scared Diago,’ I protest.
‘Ride!’
‘Diago, I …’
‘Ride!’
‘Diago stop!’
‘Okay, you ride my horse and I sit with you and help you,’ he says and hoists me onto his horse. He whacks his horse and we ride for about five minutes passing beautiful clearings.
‘We’re going too fast Diago,’ I cry over my shoulder.
‘Relax and enjoy the wind in your hair,’ he says and squeezes my waist.
‘Okay.’ With him next to me, I feel really safe.
‘What’s your horse’s name, Diago?’
‘Taxi.’
‘No, what’s your horse’s name?’
‘Taxi. Is my horse name.’
‘“Taxi”?’ I laugh. ‘That’s an funny name.’
He grins. ‘He my taxi,’ he says, patting his horse.
Finally, we reach the top of a hill just in time to see another colourful sunset. We climb off the horse, sit on the grass and I oooh and aaah at the changing lavender and champagne sky.
‘Diago,’ this is really beautiful,’ I whisper. ‘I’ve never seen such breathtaking sunsets like this back home.’
‘Si?’ He reaches for me and draws me in front of him. His strong arms circle my waist as he nuzzles my neck.
‘Yeah,’ I say, and angle my neck to accommodate his seeking lips. I close my eyes and bask in the intimacy of his touch. I like being nuzzled by him and I like being held by him. I shouldn’t, but I do. Go figure. I’m trying to.
‘This is beyond beautiful – it’s spectacular.’
‘I know what you mean, Mi Carazon,’ he says, his voice soft and meaningful. ‘Very spectacular. Like you.’
I smile. Nobody has ever called me or referred to me as spectacular before. Slowly, I turn my head to look at him and for a moment, our cheeks rest against each other – my smooth against his stubble.
I’m certain he’s going to kiss me.
I want him to kiss me.
But he draws back.
I smile away my disappointment.
We chat as we watch the sunset.
I’m ashamed of the sudden deep longing that’s looming inside of me. I’m not in any way confused - I really want him to kiss me.
I know what it is – too much time with Diago. Got to know him on a deeper level and I like him. With him, I feel cared for and protected. And anyway, he’s the only person in the world that gives a damn about me. How can I not gravitate towards him?
But why won’t he kiss me? It’s like he wants this barrier that prevents intimacy between us. I’m feeling rejected, sad.
I understand he’s maybe afraid to let down his guard and all that – something to do with being used as a punching bag by a tyrant, being used as an ashtray by a man he trusted, but still …
Today, I don’t want him to be afraid. I want him to trust me. I want to turn around, hold him and kiss him on the mouth and break down the barriers that keep me out.
‘What you thinking, baby?’ he whispers.
‘Eh ... how lovely this is,’ I lie and gently touch his cheek.
‘Si? Is lovely,’ his says, his breath fanning my ear. ‘Very lovely.’ His kisses on my neck intensify. I want to kiss him.
Fuck it! I can’t wait anymore - I jerk my neck around and draw his mouth to mine. He resists and tries to cheek me, but I hold onto his neck.
‘Don’t!’ I whisper and kiss him hard, sliding my tongue sensuously into his mouth. After a nanosecond of hesitation, he angles his head eagerly to accommodate mine and allows me my way and I steal a really deep kiss. Finally I stop and smile at him. ‘That’s what all the fuss is about,’ I say breathlessly.
With a groan, he swoops down and kisses me.
Okay, he is the worst kisser I’ve ever came across, but it’s still lovely, warm and I don’t want him to stop. I’ll have lots of fun teaching him later, I’m sure.
When he draws away, I struggle to hide my disappointment.
‘Let us go home to eat,’ he says, cupping my face with both his hands.
‘Yeah ... dinner ... starving …we should go.’
What else do I say: ‘Are you blind? Can’t you see I want you?’
Our ride home is punctuated by mini stops solely for canoodling and judging by the length and intensity of his kisses, I can tell he enjoys kissing me as much as I enjoy kissing him.
We ride on and from time-to-time he squeezes my waist or draws me back to him, enveloping me with his burly frame.
When we reach the ranch, Christa and some of the men are waiting outside for Diablo and they stare at us with narrow eyes. Maybe it’s something to do with our red faces.
‘We have been waiting for you to have dinner, Diablo,’ Christa chides, frowning at the sight of us riding together.
Bitch is probably frustrated –Diablo’s far too soft these days, too mellow. He seems to have lost that killer instinct she fought so hard to maintain. Since I arrived on the scene, he’s distracted and not interested in hurting anyone. The only way to stoke his rage these days is to wage battle or war against someone or something, reviving the beast in him.
‘Sorry. You should eat.’ Diago’s voice is laden with guilt and embarrassment.
Christa’s eyes grow wide. ‘Without you? We don’t that here Diago. We family, remember?’
Diago nods and alights, then helps me down. As he does, he squeezes my waist and places me on the floor really close to him, forcing us to brush intimately against each other.
‘I see you after dinner,’ he whispers, his eyes bright and alive.
I smile. I know exactly what he means.
He squeezes my waist harder. ‘Si?’ His voice is pleading. ‘I won the bet.’
So he wants to cash his prize. My smile widens and I nod slowly.
He grins.
Christa hones in on our tête-à-tête. ‘Diago, ever since you met Gringa, you have become soft like …like a girl, eh?’ Her eyes suddenly widen. ‘Santa Maria! You are in love Diago? Everybody -’
‘No!’ Diago roars. Only a fool falls in love.’
‘Ah, that is good, Diablo,’ she says, flinging me a triumphant look. ‘Because love is a roaring fire Diago, but after a fire, there is smoke and the smoke, it burns your eyes. Remember that Diago.’
‘Don’t worry about me,’ he says in a cocky voice.
Disappointment rips through my soul at his words, his arrogance. I don’t know what I expected him to say under the circumstances, but I know I didn’t want him to utter those words.
Christa twists to look at Santana. ‘Santana, see, we have nothing to worry about.’
I look up and see Santana glaring at me, a murderous gleam in her eye. Maybe she senses something happened between Diago and me today.
Diago glances uneasily at Santana, then at me. ‘Eh ...’ He clams up, at a loss for words.
Disenchanted by his words, I slowly make my way to the dinner table. To cope with my disillusionment, I convince myself that he needs to maintain a certain façade with his men and that’s why he acted so brash, so nonchalant about me.
But I’m too smitten to stay mad at him. Throughout dinner, we steal glances at each other and exchange secret smiles.
Tonight.
Tonight.
Tonight.
To my embarrassment, the men pick up the tension between the two of us and pass lewd comments and I find it hard to ignore them.
I suspect Diago finds it hard too because I notice him frowning.
I hurriedly finish dinner and flee the table, while Diago lingers.
About an hour later, he barges into my room pushes me onto the bed and kisses me and immediately, I forgive all his earlier remarks because, well, I melt like chocolate in his arms.
‘Imasorry,’ he whispers, between kisses.
‘Christa makes you bad,’ I say.
He kisses my nose. ‘That is my mother,’ he chastises.
‘No she isn’t,’ I want to shout, but I don’t. Maybe he has a need to call someone mother. Leave him to his delusions. For now.
Suddenly we hear unfamiliar voices outside. Diago lets go of me and peeps through the blinds.
We have visitors – six men, probably drug dealers. Diago’s brow creases and his eyes turn hard.
He looks at me, a flicker of annoyance on his face. ‘I have to go to them,’ he says, his voice an admixture of irritation and disappointment. ‘Business ...’
Damn Christa! Anything to diffuse this flourishing of emotions between us, I suppose.
I bite my lip, shrug then say, ‘Okay.’
Later, eh?’
‘Um ...’ I place both my hands on his chest. ‘How do you say ‘maybe’ in Spanish?’
‘Maybe? Eh, Quizás?’
I nod. “’Quizás”,’ I echo.
He chuckles and smacks my butt. He walks to the door, pauses and turns around. I blow him a kiss expecting him to leave, but he strides over and shakes his head from side-to-side.
He places both hands on my shoulders. ‘Say absolutamente.’
‘Sounds like a brand of Vodka. What does it mean?’
‘Um ... definitely ...’ he says, his hands sliding down my back and cupping my butt.
‘I see,’ I sigh, quivering at his intimate touch. ‘I was going to say that, but I didn’t know the Spanish word for it. But now I know – “absolutamente”.’
‘Good girl,’ he says, kissing me one last time.
Hours pass and he does not return. I spend hours looking at the door. Fuck him! I’m going to bed. I thump my pillows several times and snap off the light.
I’m awakened from my sleep when I hear him whisper my name.
‘Diago,’ I moan.
He plants kisses all over my face before he quietly leaves.
Christa won after all.