CHAPTER I
Led Zeppelin’s “Dazed and Confused” echoed through the air, the guitar lead resounding in the background. Amidst the melodic chaos, his mind drifted to memories of her. He pictured her twirling and dancing to the music, strands of hair obscuring her face, yet her beautiful smile shone through. Lost in the memory, he was abruptly yanked back to reality as a man yelled at him in Spanish, delivering a stinging slap across his cheek while spitting water on his face from an ancient, Spanish-labeled bottle. His gaze shifted to the opposing corner, where the source of the blood he was tasting in his mouth stood. It was at that moment he realized that Jimmy Page’s solo selection existed solely within his mind.
“Ding!”
The sound of the bell echoed, accompanied by the slurred announcement of:
“Asalto Treeeeees,”
from the inebriated announcer. He clenched his gloves together, ensuring his mouthguard was secure, and lowered his chin as he made his way towards his opponent. A man with a lightning-quick jab, nimble on his feet, yet predictable in his tendency to lead with his head during a right cross.
The song resumed its play within his mind, heightening his senses. He relished the taste of his own blood, for it was within the ring that he truly felt alive. It was why her face appeared clearest in his mind in the midst of his fights.
As a southpaw, he fixated on his footwork, meticulously calculating each step in his dance with the orthodox fighter. His strategy revolved around maintaining his lead foot on the outside, providing the advantageous angle against his opponent. With precision, he entrapped his adversary’s left lead hand, awaiting the opportune moment to unleash a devastating punch, the blow that would seal the fight’s fate.
The moment arrived, and he unleashed a thunderous combination of a right hook followed by a left uppercut, his fists sailing through the air in anticipation of where his opponent’s head would be. Yet, as his eyes swiftly shifted downward, he was confronted by the sight of his rival’s head colliding with the canvas, bearing the same insignia adorning the water bottle wielded by his cornerman.
Leaving from a side door of the dilapidated venue, he handed his prize money to a group of street kids, their hunger apparent from their skinny frames. Excitedly, they ran away, their cheers accompanied with laughter. It would be the last moment he truly felt alive until his next bout, a knowledge he carried within him. And so, like an addict yearning for a fix, he allowed the street kids’ happiness to intoxicate his soul before kick starting his motorcycle and heading off on his lonely journey into the night.
Upon waking, he fixed his gaze upon the bathroom mirror, which mercilessly reflected a face he no longer recognized. The stranger staring back at him bore the burden of unseen sorrows, eyes that had borne witness to the tragedies of the living. He had anticipated a black eye but it failed to materialize, instead revealing a partially raised upper lip, a subtle but visible mark of the prior night’s fight. After freshening up and dressing, he walked down to the nearby corner café, his Saturday morning ritual of sipping espresso with the pleasure of a cigar.
Seated at the cafe’s patio, his eyes were drawn to a stunning woman across the street. She wore a white summer dress with a long slit and a straw sun hat with a black band, which accentuated her dark hair and sunglasses. Engaged in conversation with an elderly man wearing a dark fedora, green dress shirt untucked and tan trousers, their interaction held his curiosity.
Lighting his cigar with a swift strike of a match, he kept his gaze fixed upon them. They gracefully swayed on the busy sidewalk, their dance performing without a trace of music. As tears welled in the man’s eyes, he noticed a satisfied smile on the woman’s lips. He couldn’t break his focus as a silent observer captivated by the scene that unfolded before him. In that instant, he felt the familiar sensations that were only felt within the boxing ring these days. The dullness and numbness were replaced with a great awareness of the moment he was living in.
“Hey, Jimmy, my boy, great fight,” Ernesto’s voice snapped him out of his state.
Taking a seat across from him, Ernesto obstructed his view of the mysterious couple dancing.
“I owe you a night of whiskey and steak, my boy. I hit it big last night betting on your fight,” Ernesto continued.
James raised his hand, dismissing Ernesto’s offer.
“You need to embrace life while you’re still handsome. Choose a night, and I’ll arrange an unforgettable experience with some lovely ladies,” Ernesto insisted.
James reluctantly nodded in agreement.
“Alright, I’m heading to my shop. Drop by; I’ve got a fresh shipment of Montes’. We’ll enjoy a smoke together.”
As Ernesto departed, James hastily glanced across the street, only to find the woman and the man vanished. Disappointed, he exhaled a sigh of frustration, puffing on his cigar.
As he began to rise from his seat, the woman from across the street unexpectedly took her place beside him.
“You have sad eyes and a fat lip,” she uttered, catching James off guard.
He nodded in response, at a loss for words.
“Do you also have a swollen tongue?” she inquired, puzzling him further.
Perplexed, he replied, “No.”
“Ah, good. You can speak,” she remarked.
“I’m not accustomed to strangers joining me at my table and commenting on my sad eyes and fat lip,” James said.
“Well I’m not a stranger, you were watching me dance with Migel just moments ago.”
Shit, he thought,
Before he could respond she continued,
“Would you like to dance with me too?”
“Dancing with a beautiful woman is like a frozen steak for a fat lip, a remedy for sadness. But I refuse to dance with a man holding a frozen steak to his lip, so the lip will have to wait,” she said, grinning.
“There is no music,” James pointed out, while thinking she has a smile that could stop traffic and probably does.
Unfazed, she countered, “Did it seem like Miguel cared about the lack of music?”
“Why was he crying while you danced with him?” James asked.
“He mourns the loss of his wife, Gabriella, whom he danced with every morning for fifty years since their newlywed days. Even after losing the love of his life, Miguel refuses to settle in life, so we dance.”
His gaze dropped to his empty espresso cup, trying to hide the sting he felt from what she had just said.
Comfortingly, she reassured him, sensing his thoughts.
“It’s okay. I intend to unsettle you.”
“Unsettle me? What does that mean?” James asked.
“Dance with me here and now to no music in front of all these people and I’ll show you.”
James put the stub of his cigar into the espresso cup and was about to stand up, but instead leaned back and said,
“Sorry, not today. I had a long night.”
“Since you declined to dance with me today, I’ll say goodbye, James. We shall cross paths again.”
With those words, she rose from her seat, gracefully mounting a red Vespa parked nearby. Her hair danced in the wind as she rode off into the distance, leaving James behind to ponder the unexpected and odd encounter.He wished he would have danced with her regardless how ridiculous it was… and how the fuck did she know his name?
CHAPTER II
By 3:00 PM, James concluded his business dealings in the United States. The majority of his calls had been to clients in California, specifically Napa. Knowing it was Saturday, he understood that reaching anyone in their office after noon was unlikely. He had a fondness for his Saturday clients, they were familiar to him, each known by name and face. He had shared meals with their families in the comfort of their homes. When contacting his Saturday clients, he strived to offer them the finest and most distinctive wines. While his weekday clientele brought in the most profit, they were mere numbers and corporations. He knew he would never meet the voices on the other end of the phone, nor did he have any inclination to do so.
From his home office window, James watched birds soaring through the sky. Their freedom reminded him of the mysterious woman he had met earlier that morning. Like those birds, she had the freedom of flight, to sing or dance in the streets without any constraint of music or concern of judgment.
Just as he took a sip of wine, his phone vibrated, interrupting his thoughts.
“COME DOWN AT SIX FOR A SMOKE – ERNESTO,” the message read.
That old bastard always texted in capital letters and signed his name as if James couldn’t recognize it. He would also leave the “Hey my boy this is Ernesto… call me back” voicemails as if they were living in 2010.
James yearned to go back to 2010, if only for a day. It had been a good year, the year he first met Sophie at her family’s winery. Back then, he was in business school, and his friends had this idea that wine tasting would be a good way of meeting girls. He met one, but they didn’t. By the end of that summer, they were in love, and a few years later, they were married. They worked together at the winery as Sophie taught him all aspects of the business. The plan had been for them to eventually take over the business once her parents retired.
Fate took a cruel turn. Five years later, Sophie’s life was tragically cut short in a car accident, shattering their dreams. Overwhelmed by grief, James packed his bags and departed. Sophie’s family had hoped he would still assume control of the winery, but the pain was too profound. Every step he took in the vineyard, every moment spent in the tasting room, was a searing stab of memories. The barrel room, where they shared their first kiss, became a forbidden place he never entered again. Selling wine as a broker became something he did to exist and wine became something he drank to forget, not to enjoy.
Buzz buzz.
The same text arrived once more, a reminder that James hadn’t responded. Annoyed but knowing that Uncle Ernesto would persist until he acknowledged it, James replied. Ernesto, a dear friend to Sophie’s family, felt a deep sense of responsibility towards James. As he took another sip of wine, James pondered whether he should share the experience he had with the captivating brunette at the cafe after Ernesto left. Would Ernesto never let him hear the end of it for declining to dance?
The lady had filled his mind, and the thought of discussing her with Ernesto both intrigued and concerned him. He would probably end up with a fatter lip if he described how she looked to Ernesto and he didn’t even ask her name. This woman scared James and he didn’t expect Ernesto to understand why because he wasn’t sure why.
He half-heartedly polished his boots, donned a blazer, and stepped out onto the busy street en route to Ernesto’s cigar shop. The distance was manageable, so he opted for a walk to loosen his stiff and sore body from the previous night. Also, he anticipated an evening of whiskey or wine and preferred not to leave his bike on some side street for the night.
A flash of red caught his eye, a Vespa zipped past, its occupant unmistakable with her dark tresses trailing behind. Had she always been there, and he simply failed to notice until now? The thought lingered as he neared the shop, only to be struck with a sudden realization. There, parked in front, sat the Vespa.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath.
He glanced at his reflection in a nearby car window, ensuring his appearance. Then he looked through the reflection and noticed the kids on the other side of the window laughing at him. He smiled and laughed at himself too, laughing children always gave him a momentary jolt of happiness.
Reluctantly, he pushed open the door and found himself confronted by the sight of her engaged in conversation with Ernesto. He started to turn and head back out, but it was too late, they had already spotted him.
“Jimmy boy, come in, come in. I have someone I want you to meet,” Ernesto beckoned, his voice filled with anticipation.
With a heavy sigh, he approached the duo, his gaze fixed on her. She now wore a black dress, more form-fitting and slightly shorter, accentuating her beauty in a new way. As their eyes met, a smile graced her lips, and a rush of emotions surged within him.
“Hola, James. I told you our paths would cross again,” she greeted him, her words dripping with a sense of fate.
Ernesto, with a mischievous wink, introduced James to his niece Maria. She greeted him with a smile, extending her hand as if to shake his. However, she swiftly sidestepped, planting a kiss on his cheek instead. Her playful words echoed through the air, teasingly questioning James’ boxing speed.
“He’s lucky I opted for a kiss instead of a punch,” she remarked, causing him to momentarily freeze.
The warmth and moisture of her kiss, coupled with the tantalizing brush of her body against his, ignited a flood of memories. The scent of Flowerbomb, Sophie’s perfume, lingered in the air, intensifying his apprehension. Maria’s resemblance to Sophie both captivated and terrified him. Now, he consciously understood what he had subconsciously noticed on the street, the reason he had refrained from dancing with her.
Ernesto playfully slapped James on the back, jolting him from his thoughts. With a tone of anticipation, he shared both good and bad news. A valuable client was in town, seeking a private showing in thirty minutes, a customer who frequented the shop and made substantial purchases. Ernesto’s eyes sparkled as he continued, revealing that he had enlisted Maria to keep James company for the evening while he attended to the client.
James searched for a plausible excuse to decline, a way to escape and return home. Yet deep down, he knew it was futile. Before he could muster a response, Maria seized his hand.
“I’ll have him back by curfew,” she said.
And with that, she whisked him out the door, leading him into an uncertain night.
She gracefully mounted her Vespa, motioning him to join her. James hesitated briefly, unsure of what lay ahead, but eventually complied. Squeezing onto the small scooter, their proximity felt intimate, and he found himself uncertain of where to place his hands. Without a word, Maria seized his hands, guiding them around her waist.
It had been since Sophie that he had held a woman in such a manner, and he couldn’t help but feel nervous. His palms grew clammy, and he wondered if she could sense his perspiration through her fitted dress.
Determined to quell his escalating anxiety, she revved the engine, causing him to tighten his grip and cling to the seat for stability. Her hair danced in the wind, carrying the scent of coconut, captivating his senses. Though she still ignited a sense of fear within him, an undeniable desire battled that fear.
The thought of Ernesto’s niece taking him out for a good time, only for him to end up rubbing against her back with a fucking erection and sweaty palms. He had to maintain composure.
Suddenly, she slammed on the brakes with surprising force. James was propelled forward, pressing into her even more, as she uttered a stream of rapid Spanish toward a street vendor who had cut them off. Momentarily disoriented, he regained his bearings as she turned to him, a smile gracing the side of her face.
“We have arrived,” she announced.
James surveyed their surroundings, expecting to see a bustling bar or restaurant. Instead, all he saw was an open field and dirt roads stretching into the distance.
“Where are we?” James asked.
Maria met his gaze, her expression playful yet enigmatic.
“We’re exactly where we’re meant to be tonight,” she replied cryptically.
Retrieving a blanket, an old radio, and an unfamiliar brand of whiskey from a compartment, she handed him the collection in his left arm. Taking his right arm in hers, she led him towards the field. Their bodies brushed against each other with each step, reigniting a long-forgotten sensation that James had sorely missed.
They sat in the grassy meadow, surrounded by the gentle sway of trees and the soft breeze. Her dancing earlier flashed in his mind, stirring up both fear and desire. She had entered his life unexpectedly, disrupting his carefully crafted routines and challenging his sense of safety. Since Sophie’s passing, he had confined himself to a small, controlled world. She was the embodiment of everything he had avoided, a free spirit that both intrigued and frightened him.
He was snapped out of his thoughts as she kissed him on the cheek and tugged at his arm, urging him to dance. The night sky twinkled above, and he felt a magnetic pull toward her. They swayed in a slow dance, their bodies moving to the rhythm of an unfamiliar Spanish melody. James closed his eyes, surrendering to the sensation of her presence against him. A gentle breeze rustled her hair, caressing his shoulder, and carrying faint traces of her perfume.
Softly, she spoke into his ear, her words revealing a connection beyond the moment.
“I don’t usually reveal myself so openly to a man, but my uncle has spoken of you for months, and somehow, I feel like I already know you.”
Moved by her confession, James drew back, locking eyes with her. In that exchange, their eyes had a silent conversation.
“James, I, too, comprehend the pain you have felt,” she whispered.
“It’s alright to feel whatever you’re feeling right now. All I ask is that you continue to dance with me.”
The sincerity in her eyes held him captive, and without hesitation, he pulled her closer, capturing her lips. In that lingering embrace, they surrendered to their desires for a moment, before James abruptly stepped back, a mix of regret and fear etched on his face.
“Sorry… I shouldn’t have done that,” he confessed with remorse.
“Yes you should, but it’s okay. Let’s just sit and talk, and the stars can be our audience.”
As they reclined on the blanket, their gazes fixed upon the star-studded expanse above, James couldn’t help but voice the burning question that had plagued him since that fateful morning.
“What did you mean when you said you were going to unsettle me?”
Maria’s laughter danced with playfulness that warmed his soul.
“I suspected that has been gnawing at you all day,” she quipped, her eyes sparkling mischievously.
James nodded.
“People often settle for a life that is generic, predictable, and safe,” Maria began.
“It’s the path of least resistance, the comfort zone where routine reigns. But you, James, you’ve tasted an extraordinary life only to have it slip through your fingers. Now, you settle for ordinary because it feels safe, because it shields you from the tumultuous waves of uncertainty.”
James listened intently, his understanding growing with each word she spoke.
Maria’s gaze intensified, her voice brimming with conviction.
“But life isn’t meant to be merely existing, to be confined to a comfort lacking passion and depth. It’s about embracing the full spectrum of emotions and experiences. It’s about savoring the taste of wine, feeling the touch of a woman, and immersing yourself in the transformative power of music. Life, James, demands that we live with passion and fervor.”
Her words hung in the night air, their weight sinking deep into James’s heart. He felt the stirring of dormant desires and the call to reclaim the vibrant essence of his existence. In that moment, beneath the stars’ watchful gaze, he made a silent vow to himself, to break free from the shackles of fear. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but he had to try.
Sophie would want him to. He knew.
