Silver and Chrome: A Bad Boy MC Romance (44 page)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Although
Chase stayed in town for the week, as promised, he got his own room so as not
to make Evelyn feel crowded or like we were pushing her out.  I didn’t object
because the hotel was close by and every time we had sex in my apartment with
Eve around, I felt like I had to stay quiet and restrained.  After the week we
’
d
had together in Vegas where we could be as loud as we wanted, I felt spoiled
and held back.  So most nights would end in loud, passionate sex sessions at
his hotel room, after a day of helping my roommate pack. 

Although our packing sessions really only
lasted a few hours each day - from when Evelyn got home from work until she
determined that she
’
d
had enough.  Still, with Chase
’
s
help the packing moved faster than she had anticipated anyway.  And each night
after we had called it quits, the three of us would have dinner together until
Eve was tired, leaving Chase and me to retire back to his hotel. 

I
’
m
finally starting to see more of the benefits of a paid room from Chase
’
s
point of view.  Each day we come home to a tidy room, fresh sheets and towels,
and no concerns about being too noisy.  Although I do sometimes wonder whether
any guests on either side of us can hear some of our more vocal sessions. 

The only problem is, I still haven
’
t
figured out what I want to do.  Since that first night, Chase and I have been
avoiding the topic of our near future by engrossing ourselves in our immediate
future.  Sleeping late, lounging at the hotel pool, sex, packing, eating, more
sex, back to sleep.  It only takes a couple of days for that to become a
routine that lulls us away from thinking about what we will do when it all
ends.  Now that Friday has arrived, we have even less than usual to distract
us.  Evelyn is off work, staying at home to handle the movers, and Chase and I
are headed over there later to keep her company.  But the prospect of her
leaving is impossible to ignore now that it
’
s
finally upon us.  Once she
’
s
gone, there will be no more reason for the hotel, no more afternoon packing
sessions or roommate to keep company, no more excuses for us to ignore the
inevitable questions of what to do next. 

Chase is sitting on one of the chairs by
the window, the skyline of Toronto looming over his left shoulder as he scrolls
through his phone.  As the week has gone by, he
’
s
been on it more and more, responding to questions about where he
’
s
been and what he
’
s doing.  Not only
from friends or other poker players in Vegas, but from fans expecting to see
him at yet more tournaments he
’
s
cancelled to hang out with me instead.

He denies it, but I know he
’
s
missing the action.  I
’
m
starting to worry that he
’
s
soon going to realize that life with me will actually be terribly
uninteresting, a fact that I’ve mentioned on more than one occasion.

“
What are we going to do?
”
I ask, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to his
chair.  I reach out and put one hand down gently on his knee to get his
attention.

“
Did you want to go to the
pool again?
”
he asks, not looking up
from the tweet he
’
s writing.

“
No, I mean in the grand
sense.  What are
we
going to
do
?”

Now I have his attention.  His thumbs have
paused mid-sentence and he looks up at me. 

“
I know you
’
re
bored,”
I continue. 
“
Hanging
around a home all day isn’t really your style.  You
’
re
all about the adventure.  The gambling, the motorcycles, the skydiving, and
whatever else it is that you spend your off hours doing.
”

“
Lila, as hard as it seems
to be for you to believe, I appreciate my downtime as well.  I
’
m
enjoying this.  Us.  I
’
m
not anxious to go back.  I don
’
t
have to go back.  That’s part of this lifestyle.  I don
’
t
answer to anyone but myself and what I want to do.  You
’
re
who I want to spend my time with now.
”

Now.  But how long is that going to last? 
I
’
m not entirely convinced
that a lifestyle like this can keep a man like Chase satisfied.  Hell, after
the taste of his lifestyle last week, I
’
m
not sure I want to go back to a life like this either.  

“
Eventually we both have
to go back to our lives,
”
I insist. 

Chase shrugs, more with his eyes than his
shoulders. 
“
Why can
’t
our lives change?  Why can’t
this be our lives?
”

“
What’s this?  We aren’t
doing anything.  We
’
re
in a hotel.
”

“I’ll
have a house soon.
”

“
I don’
t
live in Vegas.
”

Chase stands up and comes to the bed,
pulling me up and into a hug. 
“
You
worry too much,
”
he
says softly. 
“We’ll
figure it all out. 
There
’
s no rush to do it right
away.  I know you don
’
t
want to be dependent on me, and I get that, but at least for now don
’
t
worry about money or anything like that.  I have enough to go around, and the
thing I’ve figured out about it is, it
’
s
useless to have when you
’
re
alone.
”

I start to shake my head but he squeezes
me tightly. 
“Lila, I
’
m
serious.  We’ll figure out something that works for both of us, I promise.  But
for now, let
’
s just relax a
bit.  Consider this just being on vacation for a little while.
”

I laugh lightly at the thought.

“I
’
m
serious,
”
he says. 
“
In
fact, let
’
s make it a real
vacation.
”

“
What do you mean?
” 
I pull back from his embrace a bit to look at him. 
His eyes are serious, although they do have a little excited gleam to them.

“
I mean, let
’
s
go somewhere.  You can
’
t
have a proper vacation in your own city.  So that means no Toronto or Vegas.
”

“Chase,”
I start to protest
with a little shake of my head. 

“I
’
m
not taking no on this, Lila.  We only had a week in Vegas with my issues with
the house and Denise, and now we
’
re
back here with your stresses of your apartment, best friend leaving and lack of
job prospects.  Let
’
s
go someplace where the only baggage we take with us is whatever we can store
under the plane.
”

“
I don’
t
know, it seems irresponsible of me to go somewhere when I don
’
t
even have a job. I sent out a bunch of resumes this week, what if one of them
calls me back?
” 

“
If it
’
s
that important to you, we’ll only be a flight away.  We can come back if your
dream job calls.
”

“But-”

“Lila, trust me.  Let
’
s
do this.  I want to go somewhere with you.
”

I let out a long heavy breath.  There
’
s
no point arguing with him.  He
’
s
right.  There
’
s no reason for me
to stay here, and we both know my dream job isn’t going to be calling.  I
didn’t even apply to anywhere this week that I really even want to work at. 
“
Where
would we go?
”
I finally relent.

“
Well,
”
he says, a smile splitting across his face,
“we
’
re
in Canada, so why not take advantage of it?
”

“
What do you mean?
”

“
Ever been to Cuba?
”

Chapter Thirty

Saying
goodbye to Evelyn had been a tearful affair, and although we both promised we
would still see each other as often as possible, and of course keep in touch
via phone calls and texts, I wonder how realistic it is.  She’ll be working for
the CEO of a billion dollar company, likely putting in long hours and unable to
get a lot of vacation.  And I still have no job or prospects, so weekend trips
to Chicago seem very unlikely.  Of course, Chase was quick to offer to help
with that, but I can
’
t
keep asking for handouts from him.

I
’
m
already feeling guilty enough for agreeing to go on this trip.   It
’
s
too late for second thoughts now, though, given that the pilot just announced
that we’ve begun our descent.  Chase reaches over and gives my hand a little
squeeze, his eyes still focused on the magazine he
’
s
reading.  He
’
s given me the
window seat, and I can already see the little green island looming larger by
the minute. 

If I don
’
t
include Vegas as a vacation, this is really the first one I’ve been on in
years.  Not since Evelyn and I took a spring break trip to Cancun during our
first year of University.  I might be feeling a little bit guilty about going
away when I
’
m broke and
jobless, having my wealthy new boyfriend pay for me, but I
’
d
be lying if I don
’
t admit to a
little excitement as well.  I’ve never been to Cuba, but more importantly, I
’
m
looking forward to spending some time with Chase where both of us are out of
our own comfort zones, completely left to ourselves in an unfamiliar world.

Unfamiliar to me, anyway.  Chase told me he
’
s
been here a couple of times, usually as a quick forbidden vacation after
playing a tournament in Niagara Falls.  The man loves to bend the rules
whenever he can, but I can hardly fault him.  I’ve never really understood the
whole American embargo thing, and I
’
m
glad that lately the rules seem to finally be loosening.  Chase seems to think
it will be a while before travel is completely free and unrestricted.  I wonder
if, when it is, he
’
ll
no longer be interested in coming here.

I watch the plane curve over the lush
green hills and trees that are sparely dotted with small houses all built
deliberately close to the Atlantic.  It
’
s
already beautiful, and my misgivings about coming are quickly fading.  I slip
my hand out from under Chase
’
s
and put it on top, giving his a squeeze of thanks.  I catch his eye and smile
at him. 

“It
’
s
starting to rain,
”
he
notes.  It
’
s true, there are
light drops on my window. 
“Don
’
t
worry, though.  It never lasts long.
”

By the time we land and disembark, the shower
is already over and the sun is shining through the windows of the small
terminal.  It
’
s already very hot
as we wait in line to pass through customs.

“
You can go through first,
”
he motions as our turn arrives.  There
’
s
a small door in front of our line that I have to go through, but the man behind
the counter seems pleasant enough.  He gives my passport and tourist card a
stamp, and then I
’
m through and
waiting for Chase. 

He comes through the door right after me
and speaks to the official.  When he hands him his passport and card, though, I
see that he also slips some paper money along with them.  He exchanges words
with the official and then gets his documents back before joining me.

“
Why did you give him
money?
”
I ask, as we walk toward the baggage carousel.

“
It can cause
complications when I go back home if I have a Cuban stamp on my passport,
”
he replies.

“
So that was a bribe?
”

“
I prefer to think of it
more as a thank you for not stamping my passport.
”

I give him a little sidelong glance and he
winks at me. 
“
I thought restrictions
were easing for you guys.  Do they still care about that?
”

“
I don’
t
know,
”
he admits with a shrug. 
“
But
why take the chance.  Besides, everyone here can use a little something extra
anyway.  I don
’
t mind.”

I’ve
heard that, and in fact,
despite the fact that Chase didn’t bring a lot of clothes of his own since he
hadn’t packed for Cuba initially, he brought two big suitcases on the trip
after filling one entirely with hundreds of dollars
’
worth of sundry items he picked up at the dollar and
drugstore.  I was happy to see him do that.  It
’
s
common knowledge in Canada that Cubans have very little and what is available
to them is very expensive, so travelers often bring toiletries or clothes to
hand out to the locals, but I didn’t know if Chase was aware of that custom.

Within minutes we have our bags and are
outside the airport looking for a taxi. 

“
Look at these cars,
”
I gasp in surprise.  All of a sudden I have a weird
feeling like I’ve been transported into a movie from the 1950s.  There seems to
be classic cars everywhere and all of them in amazingly good shape.  No signs
of rust or dents, polished and washed as if they
’
d
just come off the showroom floor. 

Chase laughs and leads me to one of them. 
A dark and weathered man smiles at us and opens his trunk before grabbing our
bags and putting them in.

I give Chase a questioning look.

“
This is our taxi,
”
he grins.

The man opens the door and Chase says
something to him quickly in Spanish before we both get in. 
“
This
is a taxi?
”  It
’
s
odd that a people that have so little would use expensive classic cars as
taxis.

“
The embargo started
around 1960,
”
Chase explains as the
driver makes his way around the front of the car to his still open door. 
“
Before
that, Cuba would import lots of cars from the US.  But since then, they’ve had
nothing new.  They have to just maintain everything they already had.
”

“But…
how do they get parts to
keep them running?
”
I
ask.  The car seems to be in great shape for something more than 60 years old.

“
They have to make them. 
There aren’t really any junkyards filled with old cars in Cuba.  Everything is
reused and rebuilt by hand.  You will see newer cars here, but not from the
States.
”

He
’
s
right.  As we drive, there are other cars.  Some from Europe, many from Asia. 
I see a lot of Hyundais.  But at the same time, we also pass plenty of horse
drawn carts.  It
’
s an odd contrast
to see the mix of classic American cars, newer Asia ones, and then horse
powered wagons all being used at the same time for day to day activities.

I stare out the window in wonder as we
drive.  I’ve never seen so much green.

“
What do they grow here?
”

“
Lots of stuff.  Sugar
cane used to be their primary industry.  It
’
s
still their biggest export.  Canada and China are their biggest trading
partners these days.
”

“
You said it used to be
their primary industry?  What is it now?
”

“
Tourism.  At this point
it employs more workers than sugar cane.
”

We drive for a little while and I
’
m
in awe at the surrounding countryside. 
“It
’s
beautiful
,
”
I breathe.

“
It really is.  The resort
we
’
re going to is beautiful
as well, it
’
s made for
tourists.  I booked us there because I thought it would be nice to have a
getaway where we can be pampered, but I do want to take you off resort to see
the real Cuba.
”

“
Definitely,
”
I nod. 

We finally pull through tall gates with
the driver stopping only briefly to say something to the guard before pulling
us through.  He pulls around to an open front desk and we get out while he
brings our bags around to us.  Chase hands him a few bills and thanks him in
Spanish before leading us to the smiling faces of the hotel staff.  They greet
us with drinks and I sit down on a comfortable couch while Chase checks us in. 
Within ten minutes we
’
re
standing in front of a small, private, beachfront cabana.  As soon as Chase
opens the door I can tell it
’
s
perfect.  The walls are white, and sunlight is streaming through the curtains
onto a big king size bed that is covered in rose petals.  There’s a bottle of
champagne on ice on the nightstand next to it.

“
What do you think?
”
he asks.  It
’
s
a stupid question, so I don
’
t
waste time answering it.  Instead, I spin on my heel and pull him towards me
and into a kiss as I continue to back up until I feel the edge of the bed
behind me.  My only concern is making sure that Chase
’
s
body lands firmly on top of me as I fall backwards amongst the red petals.