Page 39 of Forbidden Dance
Blitz holds a chair out for me. “Lita is a very pushy friend of my mother’s.”
“She doesn’t want you dating agringa, then?”
He laughs. “She is just seeing how you will react. It doesn’t matter. Nobody cares.”
When we sit down, Blitz takes my hand and kisses each finger, one at a time. The food smells divine, and I try to relax. I’m in another world, and it’s good to be out among new people, even if it’s scary.
“So who is your best friend in the world?” I ask him.
He presses his lips against my knuckles and scrunches his eyebrows. Finally he says, “Well, up until the scandal, I would say it was Duke. We grew up together, and I moved him to LA to be a bodyguard of sorts. But we haven’t talked since everything went down.”
“Hasn’t that been a while?”
“Almost a month now. I stuck around a couple weeks, hoping it would blow over. But I swear every day there was some new women’s group ready to express their outrage.”
“Have you talked to the girl?”
He closes his eyes as if the thought of it is painful. “My lawyer has advised against it.”
“I’m sorry I keep bringing this up,” I say. “I really didn’t know anything about this until I met you.”
“It’s okay,” he says. “I wouldn’t go out with me either without the third degree.”
“I don’t even have a Twitter account,” I say. “So at least I can’t jump on the Burn Blitz Burn hashtag.”
He smiles, kissing my hand again. “I’m hoping I never make you feel like you should.”
My heart flips. This is intense. I lay my cheek against his hand, wrapped around mine. I want this moment to last, every moment to last. But I don’t even know how often I can see him, or how long he’ll be here.
Lita returns with a pitcher of tea and two glasses. “It’s got sugar,” she says. “You can burn it off later.” She plops them on the table. Behind her, a short man sets down a basket of chips and an enormous bowl of queso.
Blitz and I look at each other and laugh.
“What?” Lita says. “Your girl will blow away otherwise. You too!” She throws her hands up in the air. “Humans are supposed to eat! And don’t tell me you want vegetarianfrijoles! They aren’t any good without lard!” She takes off again, followed by the server.
“My LA friends would run screaming from this place,” Blitz says, dunking a tortilla chip deep into the melted cheese. “But Lita’s right. We can burn it off.” His eyes dance with mischief. “One way or another.”
My chest constricts. I look away, picking up a chip and nibbling on the corner.
“Come on,” he says. “Dunk it good. Don’t make me eat all this cheese alone!” He picks up another chip and buries it in the queso, then lifts it to my mouth.
I bite it, feeling the queso drip. Blitz catches it with his finger, then brings it to his lips. “You cannot take the San Antonio out of this LA boy.”
“You think you’ll go back?”
“I haven’t succeeded in convincing them to let me yet. I’ll have a decision then.” He picks up another chip and taps it on the edge of the bowl. “I really don’t know what to do.”
The thought of him leaving just as I get to know him, to pick out a dance partner on live television, is just too much.
At least it isn’t a wife.
Or so he says.
Lita returns with a steaming platter and a tortilla warmer. She plops them down. The metal plate, nestled on a wooden base, is filled with shrimp and chicken, peppers, and onions.
“Flour tortillas,” she says with a huff and makes the sign of the cross. “Because you’ve gone as white as the belly of a whale.”
“Lita, you are so cruel to me,” Blitz says. “Come give me a kiss.”
