Authors note: This story was supposed to just be a one hitter quitter, but it ended up being a bit more than that! It was just one of those stories that would not leave me alone until I wrote it all down. so here it is! Let me know what you think! vote! comment! all that good stuff!
C8ER2U
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"The hurricane came and took my Louisiana home, and all I got in return was a darn country song." --Weezy .F Baby
"You're mine you know that?"
"Heard you twice the first time."
"And I'm yours."
Sean stirred and re-stirred her pre mixed drink. She stared down into her drug of choice; rum and coke. She could feel his dark eyes staring intensely at her. She didn't want to be here at all. Not with him staring at her like that anyway. Especially not with the direction her thoughts were swirling.
"Did you hear me?"
She swivelled on her bar stool and looked at him; the Spaniard. That's what she called him to everyone else. He was just too good to be true and she was completely taken aback when he'd hit on her a few weeks after Katrina hit. She'd fooled herself into thinking it was love at first sight, which happens to be the absolute scariest thing that ever happened to her. Naturally she ran from him like a bat outta hell but he wore her down with his charm and his Spanish. Not to mention he was the type of gorgeous you couldn't keep to yourself, you had to share him with the world. Maybe that was the problem. He was too much! Too beautiful, too charming, too everything she'd ever wanted in a man.
"Yes Alexander I heard you," she said with as much sarcasm as she could muster.
"I fucking hate when you do that, ay dios mio, my name is Alejandro! How would you feel if I called you... Bob?"
She gave him a face. "And just why would anyone call me Bob?"
He gave her the same look right back. "I don't know Sean!"
Sean turned away again and clenched her jaw angrily.
"Why is everything a fight with you? Since the second we met it's been a constant argument!"
"I ain't gonna apologize to you for who I am!"
Sean grabbed her purse and threw a handful of cash on the bar.
"I ain't changed one bit! I'm still the same damn Creole girl from Shreveport you fell in love with five years ago!"
She was standing now, dressed in her usual black cocktail dress, ready to walk the fuck out of this place and leave his ass there. He reached out for her and held her back.
"Please, don't go," he pleaded. His dark gaze fixed upon her and for a moment she was glued to the hard wood floor beneath her.
"I don't want to fight with you mi amour. I just want whatever this is between us, this thing that has begun to come between us to go. And never come back. I just want you; I want to be with you, without all this animosity between us."
His plea was earnest and so damn true. There definitely was something between them and she was tired of it too. They'd lost a closeness they'd once shared. Their love seemed to grow out of nowhere, the perpetual rose that grew out of swirling wind and rain, floods, waterlines, and mold. He sincerely loved her, and she without a doubt loved him from the very beginning, if only things had stayed that easy.
"Lee I know how you feel; I mean you don't think I feel the same way?"
Sean yawned and grabbed her coat off the back of her bar stool.
"Can we not have this conversation here?" she whispered to him.
Alejandro gave Sean a curt nod and signalled to the bartender to pay his tab. He stood and helped Sean into her jacket and they headed for the door where they bumped into a co-worker of Lee's. One that Sean particularly hated.
"Hey now! Where y'all goin the party's just startin!"
Sean rolled her eyes heavenward at his failed attempt for a Louisiana accent.
"Hey, lemmie ask you a question," he slurred to Sean, and she knew immediately what the question was. The same damn thing he's always asking. She could feel her temples pulsing in time with her clenching jaw.
"Why is it you're always wearin black? You look like a funeral director! Are you gonna embalm somebody?" he laughed.
Sean abruptly walked away and left Alejandro to deal with his 'friend' because she just had zero patience for idiocy. She knew people wondered why she was always dressed in the color of death. Come Christmas or her birthday she could count on her family to buy her beautiful, colorful clothing but she just couldn't bring herself to wear any of it.
It began when the hurricane hit. They'd lost everything, the house she'd lived in since her family moved to New Orleans at the age of nine. They lost family photographs, heirlooms passed down through generations, and countless other things that were just priceless, but what left a larger mark on her was all the death. After Katrina hit all she had was the clothes on her back; an old pair of faded black jeans and a black tank top. She had nothing else. And she vowed then that she'd wear black every day from then on to honor the dead, family and friends she'd lost to the storm. But she also wore it for New Orleans. The city that had its spirit broken, its heart ripped out by the gnashing winds of a natural disaster and then drowned when the levees broke.
Now some five years later, she had a closet full of black dresses, and black shoes and she just couldn't explain that to someone who'd never seen the destruction, someone who never saw the floating bodies, the homes underwater, the violence, the starvation, the anger. How do you sum that up in a few sentences?
Sean was walking quickly in her three inch heels towards home. She knew her feet would be crying by the time she got home but she just couldn't call a taxi. She was stalling for time. She knew the conversation she had to have when she got home and she was avoiding it. She'd been avoiding it for months now.
"Wait up!"
Sean turned to find Alejandro running to catch up with her and she realized then the distance she'd walked from the bar. She watched him run to her; watched the easy way the muscles in his thighs flexed as he jogged. He almost looked like some misplaced James Bond, dressed in a three piece Italian suit that was tailored to perfection just for him. His large broad shoulders, full lips, medium length black hair, eyes so dark they could almost be black were what caused the moisture to gather in her panties.
But what made her love him were those intangible things that make up a man. Alejandro Estevan Montez Delgadillo was born and raised in Barcelona. He moved to the U.S. five and a half years ago, to become an actor; his life's dream. He had a natural knack for it too, did a few big auditions in New York, worked on a few commercials, shaving and selling Pepsi, but when the opportunity came up to work on a series in Louisiana he jumped at it.
The auditions themselves were in New Orleans but the show would have been filmed in Jean Lafitte. It was some historical drama about the man himself. But as fate would have it, the auditions were scheduled for the week after the hurricane, and by chance or some strange force of serendipity, Alejandro flew in a week early to prepare.
The day they'd met Sean was wandering the streets trying desperately to find her sister. She saw him first, asking random people questions, holding out a piece of paper to them and Sean wished she had a shower and clean clothes. She turned the opposite direction and walked quickly away from him but he spotted her and ran to catch up.
"Excuse me, could you point me in the direction of the ninth ward?"
She noticed his accent immediately and she found herself watching his lips as he spoke to her. She said nothing and turned to walk away from him when he reached out for her arm. It was that touch that changed her life. She felt his touch spread over her body like wildfire leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
Sean stared up into his eyes and began stuttering a response.
"It, it ain't no more Ninth Ward. It's... it's all under water now."
He was still holding her arm just above the elbow, and she pulled herself free of him. She needed to get away from this man. She needed to find her sister.
"Well have you seen this little boy? A friend is trying to find her son and she hasn't seen him since the levees broke. She's very afraid and I am as well. Please, if you could just look at the picture-"
"You know what?" Sean interrupted. "A lot of people are tryna find someone. Shit, I'm tryna find my sister right now and I ain't got time to be lookin fo nobody else's children. I got my own family to worry about! Now how about that? You seen a tall caramel colored woman with hair like mine?"
Sean pointed to the thick curls piled atop her head. A few weeks before the hurricane, she went and got highlights put in her natural mane, in copper auburn and honey. She looked damn good, a few weeks before the hurricane. Now she looked every bit the refugee the six o clock news had portrayed the people of New Orleans to be. Her hair was matted and knotted, dried out and barely contained by the headband she'd stolen from someone. Her honey colored skin which used to be buttery soft and covered in freckles was now ashen, dirty, and dull.
"I, well I mean I don't-"
Sean walked away again and began scanning the crowds for her sister's face.
"Wait!"
She looked behind her only to see him jogging towards her and she pulled away from him before he could touch her again.