“I have no idea,” Silvia replied while eyeing them. “I guess we could tie them to the bumper like we just got hitched.”
“Or we could tie them to other stuff,” Omar said, going to a dresser drawer and digging around inside. He held up a little green army man. “And then let them go.”
“That would be fun,” Silvia said carefully, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “Just one of them maybe?”
“Hell yeah!” Omar was already moving toward the balcony attached to his room. “Aliens have been sighted in the sky,” he said to the little plastic man. “We need you to defend the Earth’s airspace. Do you accept this mission, soldier?” He looked over his shoulder. “Choose a balloon, babe, because he says yes!”
She adored his imagination. They could have simply removed the plain plastic disc that weighted the balloon down and tied the soldier to it, but Omar kept briefing the little figure, inventing details on the spot that made her realize how creative he could be. Not a complete surprise, considering how often he filmed silly sketches, but his improvisation skills were impressive. She joined him in a countdown and saluted the soldier as it slowly floated away across a landscape of suburban rooftops.
“That was fun!” she said.
“Yeah, it really was,” Omar replied.
They looked at each other suddenly.
“One more?” Silvia asked.
“Yes!” Her boyfriend replied, clenching a fist in excitement. “Let’s see what else we’ve got!”
One by one, they tied various things to the balloons and set them free: A key so old that Omar no longer remembered what it went to. Slices of bread so birds would get an in-the-air treat. Or her favorite, a Milli Vanilli cassette tape that a clueless relative had given Omar as a gift. They removed it from the case and tied two balloons to it, one through each spool hole, which was just enough lift to make it skid down the street before an updraft sent it soaring.
“Last one,” Omar said, reappearing on the balcony with the balloon in tow. It was red and heart shaped.
“Can I keep it?” Silvia said.
“Of course, it’s your gift! I’m just glad we managed to have a good time with the others.”
They really had. Omar had kept her laughing as they released each balloon. When they returned inside to his room, the roses were much easier to appreciate. She was admiring them again when she noticed him watching her with a lopsided smile.
“I’m so lucky,” he said.
He certainly knew how to make a girl feel loved. And he looked so damn handsome, with his dark hair wild and windblown from their time out on the balcony.
“How much longer until that dinner reservation?” she asked.
“We’ll have to leave in about an hour.”
“And you parents are still out?”
“With my sister, yeah. They used to drag us both along on their dates. I think it’s weird.”
She nodded, but not in interest. “And isn’t it around this time that Mamani takes her nap?”
“Yeah,” he said. Then his eyes got a little wider. “How come?”
Silvia shrugged. “Remember when you told Anthony that I gave you a blowjob?”
Omar squirmed. “Technically, I only let him believe that it was you, but I’m still really sorry about—”
She raised a hand to stop him. “I don’t want to talk about the things we never did. I want to do the things we’ve never really talked about.”
Omar squinted. “Huh?”
She tried again. “I want to make you an honest man.”
“Oh, so you would…” Omar went rigid. “Oh! For real?”
Silvia nodded. She grabbed one of the canvas chairs and dragged it closer to him. “Sit down,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am!”
She pretended to be thrilled over some unexpected discovery, and clutched her hands together in front of her chest. “Aren’t you Omar Jafari?” she said enthusiastically. “The big shot director that all of Hollywood is talking about?”
“Yes I am,” Omar said, making his voice sound deeper. “I suppose a beautiful young lady like you is hoping to land a role in my next movie.”
“No, I’m not here to sell myself,” Silvia said with a gentle shake of her head before she resumed her role. “I’m just an adoring fan who wants to express her appreciation for your art.”
“Then you’ll want my autograph,” Omar said, patting the pockets of his slacks. And the space between them. “Hmm. I know I have a big fat marker around here somewhere.”
“I can help you look,” Silvia said, getting down on her knees.
She slowly undid the buttons of his slacks, thinking of the handful of times they had gotten off in front of each other in recent weeks. She had even grabbed it once, while they were making out. This would be much more involved, and she didn’t know if she could do it right. But she was eager to try, because the hunger in his eyes had her seriously turned on.
“What’s your favorite movie of mine?” he asked while lifting his hips so she could shimmy his pants and boxers down.
“Record Store Girl,” she replied, referencing the project they had worked on together.
“That one came straight from the heart,” Omar said in a strained voice as she took hold of him.
That he managed to be sweet, even in the intensity of the moment, only made her love him more. Silvia smiled up at him before she leaned forward. Omar gripped the arms of his chair. Then he began stifling moans as Silvia slid a hand between her legs. Next year they could definitely skip the presents, because as far as she was concerned, this was a much better way of expressing their affection for each other.
CHAPTER 3
February 14th, 1993
Ricky was increasingly confused as Diego drove them outside the city limits of Pride and into the darkness beyond. He glanced over, the thick features of his boyfriend’s face cast in crimson from the red dashboard lights, and was reminded of just how intimidating he could be. He looked like some sort of demon. A huge super-hot, leather-jacket-wearing devil who would have no trouble convincing Ricky to sell his soul, because even now, he was willing to let Diego take him anywhere he saw fit. Although when they turned down a country road that was little more than two faint tracks in a shadowy tunnel of trees, he began to have second thoughts.
“If you’re going to murder me out here,” Ricky said, “could you at least make it romantic?”
“How exactly would I do that?” Diego asked without dismissing the idea.
“I don’t know.” Ricky shrugged. “Maybe you’d say that I’ll always be a part of you and then kiss me just before the knife slides into my gut?”
Diego studied him a moment longer before returning his attention to the road—or lack thereof. “If anything, I should be scared of you.”
“Probably, because in all seriousness, it wouldn’t be the worst way to go.”
Diego’s brow furrowed. “Don’t make jokes about you dying. I don’t like it.”
“Sorry,” Ricky said, mentally kicking himself. Diego had already lost his father. Of course he didn’t find such things funny.