DYLAN.
It was a very good thing that Ra drove a bite sized, claret red Cadillac Escalade downtown to an obscure restaurant faraway from the bustle of the island. Overlooking the hot beach splayed out for the diners therein to gawk at, I couldn't resist salivating because of robust coconuts hanging on grandfather trees dotting the arena. Time and again, the ocean would sway left and right, like a graceful ballet dancer.
"Wow," Kiera spoke in hushed tones. She deserved a burnished gold trophy for echoing my thoughts until she pinched my cheek.
"Ow!"
"Sorry, not sorry. I need to be sure that I'm not dreaming," she lisped, vibrantly engrossed in appreciating the fair landscape.
"Tell me you've at least taken Kiera out once," Ra chortled from behind the steering wheel.
"Are you for reals? That man in the backseat is so scared of losing me," she imitated a pity baby face.
I pressed my forehead with my thumb and index finger, grumbling, "Whose side are you on, Ra? I thought you had my back."
"Seriously, you owe this young lady here an all-expense-paid tour. You shouldn't rein her in any longer. Let her see the sights, you got the money, man. Spend it on somebody worth it."
"Yeah, I get that," I declared.
Ra thought Kiera was worth my fortune. Throughout the latter part of the bewitching ride through summer in the paradise of the world, a tinge of pride stained my conscience.
Gaping at them laughing together over ridiculously funny things, I supposed he was right. Kiera deserved better.
**
"I should really run away one of these days," she tapped Ra for his overdue response but got nothing. Right. No reaction at all to her manic comments. The reason for his queer behaviour soon made herself known, blending by a mile into the handful of diners conspiring over plates of spicy hot food.
"Hey," she stated lustily as Ra drew her in for a swift strong kiss.
"I like that dress on you," he moved his voice an intimate notch lower.
"Yeah, I bought it with you on my mind. Wait until tonight is almost fading away, love. I got a couple of exciting ideas up my sleeve."
"Do those ideas involve you?" He asked, deftly sucking on her earlobe, out there in front of everybody.
"Every single part of me," she supplied, fighting to repress a few moans that I was certain she pined to set free. Exactly why I had a love-hate relationship with couples who deemed it a sin to keep their hands off each other in public eye.
"Guys," I cleared my throat. "Date. Still on."
Though it was not his fault that he fell head over boots for the famous British-Dutch singer who released her first hit record at thirteen. As of now, they were both under foolproof disguise, she donning her signature bob wig, faded black jeans and a cherry backless top.
Anyone would be caught in the trap of concluding she was a regular Puerto Rican. No money, no flashy cars, and definitely no music label. I appreciated their untiring efforts to persist in incognito mode.
"For the love of God, live a little." She sighed, dramatically rolled her eyes, fanned herself with her slender fingers, regardless of the air conditioner running in the restaurant.
"Um, hi! Have I... Seen you somewhere before?" Kiera smiled lucidly.
Ra looked at me. I returned his desperate stare with a dumbstruck one of my own making. Our cover could not be blown. If his girlfriend let a word of her identity slip, the date would be over before it even began.
"Uh, she's... R... Raven. Yeah, Raven. Y'know, Ra's girlfriend, my sidekick... Yeah." I scratched my head.
Raven did a quick rundown of the weird tilt in the atmosphere.
"So our ship name is Raaven," Ra said out of the pastel blues.
"Cute." Kiera's grin widened as she took Raven's left hand and inspected her ring finger with delight. "Engaged yet?"
"Guys, stop," the Raven scowled.
"Come on, dude," I used our secret code.
Thousands of years ago when we were attached at the hip, we broke into a neighbour's home while she was away on an extraordinarily long vacation. It had been our intention to transform it into a temporary music studio for Raven, because her parents were yet chronically blind to building her talents. I kept watch on the window for intruders whilst she sang her heart out into a mic she'd stolen from a fair.
It was then we agreed that, if trouble sneaked on us unawares, either of us would start our defence with "dude", so that the other would understand and embellish the silly lie. That neighbour never returned from her trip.
Her death abroad coincided with Raven's parents' discovery of her precious gifting, and they bought the house from the woman's elderly aunt, spread a couple of hundred bucks around and voila! A brand new studio, ready to go. Dude, I had the best Christmas of my life that heroic year.
Raven's brows knotted, "I don't know what you're up to, but I'm not in with you on this one. Dude."
" Ladies? Gentlemen?" As it turned out, a waiter observed we were distracting other dear customers from their even dearer lunches, and grandly took it upon himself to quiet us down. We did the needful. He accepted our reserved "Sorry"s, shepherded us to a round table for five at the utmost rear of the restaurant, then, thank God, withdrew, after excusing himself to get us menus.
"Is there something nobody wants to tell me?"
All us glanced at the trace of Kiera's lips receding into a pout worn so beautifully, yet balanced the thin line between flaming angry and mildly pissed.
"That's it. There's definitely something you're hiding from me."
The waiter returned from his journey, handed us a menu each and stood by.
"Here you are. The drinks are at the back of the menu. We also have a separate wines list, which shows you what amazing wines we have."
I thanked him. He took that as his cue to retire. In the meantime, there was Ra faking a cough going wrong.
"Guys, stop it," Raven intervened. She turned to Kiera. "Don't listen to these idiots. I'm no Raven."
Kiera's mouth hung ajar.
"You can't..."
"I'm not done, Ra. You can call me Iris whenever you want."
"Holy moly, as in Iris, my favourite musician? Dang, I knew I'd seen you somewhere!"
"Not just that, Ra and I will be co-hosting a talent show in August for all upcoming singers, songwriters, whoever expresses art."
"What?" Kiera shrieked, however, Ra pulled a warning look on his girlfriend.
I knew that look. If paparazzi got wind of her location, we would bolt through the backdoor. Iris was on her own.
"It's okay. I like her," she aired.
That was new. The Iris I knew rarely liked people. Except for likes of me, of course, because I was US's most eligible bachelor.
The waiter was back. "Today, our specials are rellenos de papa and pastelon."
"Sounds interesting," Kiera nodded.
Perusing the menu, Iris chimed, "Sounds like trouble."
"The first meal is essentially potatoes stuffed in ground beef and deep fried to create a crispy outer layer. Pastelon is the Puerto Rican version of Italian lasagna, filled instead with fried meat mixed with sofrito, olives and tomato sauce," the waiter offered.
"I'm having the second. What about you, love?" Ra blushed at Iris's openness about their fling.
"Yeah. Puerto Rican lasagna, here we come."
Kiera and I opted for the potatoes delicacy. Out food was soon served along with sparkling water and Coco Rico. As we traded light talk, Kiera's palm and mine brushed over the table when we reached for the last standing glass of water at the same time. I kept our gazes interlocked as I squeezed her hand gently, mouthing, "You're okay?"
Even I could not shun the way my fingers tingled and sang, as if shockwaves were teasing my skin. The things Kiera did to me should be contraband for life, forbidden, patented.
Armed with nothing but herself, she blasted through my sturdy coat of mail, and aimed her arrows right at my heart. I trembled out of fear and shame. When Joanne returned from her impromptu vacation, how would she feel?
At some point, evening crept in, and Kiera had to use the restroom.
I should have been better prepared for an encounter with the ravishingly handsome stranger, whose ripped muscles puffed out like balloons, his bare arms inked with dark haunted tattoos. I felt it. He was coming our way. Marching like a patriotic soldier at the first battlecry. He intensely studied each one of us, storing our headshots in his photographic brain.
"Hey Ra," I whispered, "Hey."
Stranger would be at our table any second from now. But Ra was too busy eating Iris's face.
"Hey," I tried harder, "we have to get out of here. N__"
"How about before you face your worst fears?" Stranger's breath hung subtly in the air. The smell of expensive cigarettes dampened by mints probably hashed at the last minute before heading out. The smell of streetlords.
"Who're you?" I stood up.
My friends just happened to observe that I needed backup, quit their make out session and switched to alert mode.
"Someone who cares enough," he poked two stubby fingers at my chest, using the extra height he had over me to his sick advantage, "About Kiera."
"Piss off, man," Ra complained.
"I came to leave a friendly message: that, for someone who claims to be high and mighty, you suck at protecting the ones you love."
Maybe I did not love Kiera.
"He's on the lookout for her. He's contacted every hot shot in Homeland Security, Interpol and ISI."
"Who's the he?"
"Watch her back. Otherwise, the next time she visits a restroom, she might not be coming out. You might just be going in. To get her dead body."
By when I recovered from the shock of his statements, exactly three seconds later, he was nowhere to be found.