Page 50 of Secret Offer
“Too bad they’re fried. I’m going to have to do extra Pilates when I get home with all the junk I’ve been eating.”
"It’s not junk! Seafood is really healthy, Mom. Even if it is battered and fried. Besides, it’s important to partake of the local cuisine when you travel. Here, you have the last one,” I tell her. “I want to find us some coconut rum cake next."
She hesitates, glancing around like she’s checking to see if anybody's watching before she devours the last fritter. Then she throws the empty container in a trashcan and finishes off the limeade.
“There. Now we’re all set for cake,” she says. “I mean, it is the local cuisine, right?”
“Totally,” I agree.
I’m not sure why she’s in such a cavalier mood today, but I’m loving it. She's lived in a bubble of self-denial and moderation ever since my sister’s passing, as if punishing herself for not being able to prevent it. But she wasn’t always like that. My mom used to eat the cake, drink the extra glass of wine, buy herself flowers on Sunday afternoons. After Sophie died, though, Mom stopped treating herself. She lost her zest for life.
Seeing her indulge now is a joy I didn’t know I was missing.
We wander some more, stopping at various booths that have been set up for the festival with local wares. There are wood carvings, woven bags and baskets made of dried palm fronds, guava jam, shell earrings and matching necklaces. We find a table loaded with sparkling Junkanoo headpieces and even a fruit bowl hat that I jokingly try to put on my mother. Of course, she won't have it. So I put it on my own head and do a little twirl, modeling it for her.
"Blair, really. Take that off before someone sees you."
"Mom, someone seeing you is the idea of a hat like this. You can't wear an outlandish headpiece like this and hope to hide from the public. It’s very fashionable."
"Fine, then. I’ll buy it for you."
“No!” I shriek, laughing.
We find the rum cake I’ve been searching for, and the seller slices it into bite-sized pieces so we can eat it as we walk. Meanwhile, I never stop looking for Sebastian in the crowd.Where is he? As soon as I spot him, I’m going to make an excuse to my mom so I can run off and disappear with him.
Because it’s time for me to confess that this isn’t just a vacation romance for me. It’s turned into something real, something worth pursuing. I have to know if he feels the same way. If he doesn’t, at least I’ll know for sure. I don’t want to live with the regret of being too chicken to find out if Sebastian and I could have had more than a fling. Brooke’s pep talk was exactly what I needed to hear.
And the Junkanoo is exactly the right place to declare myself. The festival, with all its color, pageantry, and vibrant music, and the smell and sound of the ocean nearby, is the perfect romantic setting to tell him I'll do whatever it takes to turn this into a genuine relationship, long distance or not.
Mom pats my arm, looking intently at something up ahead. Then she waves. Oh no.
Ted freaking Polanskycannotshow up right now and ruin this for me.
But then I see who she’s waving at—a man and a woman about her age, looking a little shellshocked and lost on the edge of the crowd.
“You know them?” I ask.
“Your father and I met them at the wine bar. I’m going to say hi. Go find Ted! I’ll catch up with you after.”
“Have fun, Mom,” I say, gently shoving her in the couple’s direction. “I’ll just do my thing. Call my cell if you need me.”
She gives me a nod and sets off in their direction. Taking advantage of my newfound freedom, I browse a few more vendor stands, drop a few dollars in a hat for a band that's playing, and look for an alcohol stand. One of the performers hooks me by the arm and pulls me into a swing. We hop around in three big circles before he spins me twice and sets me back where I was. Heart soaring, I continue on my quest for a drink.
I should text Sebastian and tell him to meet me. Maybe I will, once I have some fortifying alcohol in my system.
A bar on wheels appears up ahead, and I get in line and end up ordering the ‘Tutti-frutti Zootie’ which comes in an oversized plastic goblet with several swords of fruit in it. A long, fat straw makes it possible to get to the actual alcohol in between bites of maraschino cherries and pineapple wedges. The booze hits almost immediately, and within a few minutes, I feel a pleasant buzz. It helps take the edge off of the anxiety I’m feeling about the possibility of getting rejected by Sebastian Argos.
Moving through the crowd, I get caught up in another impromptu dance with a couple of performers. These ones are a little more exuberant, and my drink sloshes over the sides of the goblet and splashes my feet. Sipping the drink faster to avoid more spillage, I dance my way out of the circle. That’s when I see a dark head in the throng of revelers farther down the street.
My pulse goes wild. I would know the slight curl to that dark hair and the set of those shoulders anywhere. I've traced the muscles on that broad back enough times to have his shape imprinted in my memory. Sebastian is here.
I weave my way through the crush of bodies to follow him. As I hurry along, the performers and spectators seem to tighten and swell around me. By the time I maneuver around the wall of people, I've lost him.
Taking out my phone, I decide to send him a text message when I hear someone yell my name. I glance up, heart pounding, only to see Ted Polansky heading straight toward me. My stomach sinks. If I have any chance of catching up with Sebastian, I can't get entangled with Ted right now.
"Blair!" he calls again.
I feel guilty, but I turn away and pretend that I can't hear him. I don't look in his direction, even as he yells for me again.Moving through the crowd, I finish my drink and toss it into a trashcan while searching wildly for Sebastian.
