Page 33 of Sucker Punch Drunk Love

“No, she's my fighter. I'm training her,” I clarified in English, not wanting to be rude. “She won her first fight with me, and the woman's never had authentic Cuban or Jersey food. So, let's set her straight,” I teased, letting Laz lead us to a booth.

She had really outdone herself. I was gonna either be fighting or icing my dick all night, because Sierra was sporting a simple two-piece crop top and side slit dress that highlighted those delectably strong thighs and calves of hers. You couldn't take a girl like this in public without having people stare.

I wasn’t a fan of long nails, but they surprisingly flattered her. They were doing a lot, a different design on each nail representing something from Puerto Rican culture, but she’d only have a few more days with them, so it hurt no one to admit it complimented her round-the-way look.

“Ready to order?”

“I know what I want. Just give us a second to go through the menu. I want her to see all the options,” dismissing Laz, letting Sierra eye all the entire menu.

“What are you getting?”

“I can't tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because it'll affect what you're getting. By the end of the night, I want you to have had at least one drink, one meal, and one dessert that's distinctively Cuban.”

She studied the menu, pointing out the first thing she saw. “What about disco fries? Is that distinctively Cuban?”

“The waytheymake them is,” I winked.

“It says I can order it with pernil?*.”

“No, no, no,” I wagged a finger. “Con ropa vieja o nada?*,” I argued, affectionately tapping her thigh before withdrawing my hand. Had to stop being so comfortable doing that.

Her attention was split from the menu and the posters and decorations of the place, that I knew when her wondering eyes stopped, she’d bring up the familiar face on the wall. “I'm assuming all the pictures of you on the wall means you're originally from here,” she observed.

“Havana on the Hudson, born and raised. I may live a bit far out, but I don't forget where I come from. Especially with my last fight. Got a humbling welcome back. You would’ve never known I’d lost with how much they embraced me. I don't take that shit for granted, so I hope you don’t either.”

Sierra couldn't decide on what to order, but Laz hooked us up, sending a complimentary drink that I didn’t hesitate to sip. “¡Coño! ¿Qué fue loque le echaron a esto??* This shit it strong, I gotta drive,” as for the moment I put it down, convinced that was all I was having for the rest of the night.

“Damn, mami, you burning a hole through that menu?” wondering what was taking her so long to decide.

“I'm tempted to just try the flan, since there's familiarity there.”

“You'd like the pastelitos?*,” I offered, knowing she’d never make up her mind.

“I could have that at a Puerto Rican spot,” she argued.

“But you wouldn't have it likehere.” Given her lack of urgency, I got up and purchased some outright, as they’d just put out some fresh ones on the bakery counter. When I returned, I directed one of the treats toward her mouth, as at first, she hesitated, claiming it looked different than what she was used to.

“Wait, there's no powdered sugar on it. How will I know it'll be sweet?”

“By putting it in your mouth, Medina. It's not rocket science.” Eventually she caved, finally taking a small bite before plucking it from my hand.

“After eating to train for so long, it feels indulgent to have something made with dough,” she blushed.

“Enjoy it. You probably won't taste it again until after your next fight,” I taunted.

“Which willbe?” she inquired.

“Patience, Sierra. I want to pick therightfights. Sometimes it can take a few weeks. Sometimes it might be months,” knowing I already had an idea of who I wanted lined up.

“I can't afford not to fight for months?—”

“And you can't afford not to be fully healed either. Relax.” She took another bite of a pastelito?*, surprising herself whenthe filling was gooier than she expected, as half the guava paste spilled on the area just above her breastplate.

That was the host of most of her tattoos, and given a chance, I would have licked every last one of them just to make sure the jelly was gone. She managed to clean herself up, but didn't realize the corner of her mouth still hosted remnants of the dessert.