hoped that none of the other grad students would thank him. He felt ridiculous, and for a moment he could not remember why he had come. And then he recalled that La Fuente de Piedra waited for him at home.
“ Un hombre condenado no necesita apurarse ,” Malcolm mumbled before taking a swig of his beer.
“What?” Maren looked at him as if he’d addressed her.
“Oh!...Nothing,” Malcolm shook his head and looked toward the kitchen to dismiss her.
“A man….has….to hurry?” she asked, squinting at him.
Shit.
“You speak Spanish?” he asked, hoping to draw her away from his confession.
“A little,” she shrugged. “I took two years in college, but I’ve just about lost it.” She was looking him straight in the eye. “What is condenado?”
Malcolm swallowed and eyed the girls sitting next to her. They were listening to Dalton and the other guys at the head of the table who were now debating the judging criteria for the Deep South Writers Conference.
“It was contento. Un hombre contento no necesita apurarse . A content man does not need to hurry,” Malcolm lied.
Maren gave him a doubtful look.
“¿Es usted un hombre contento?”
Malcolm busied himself with a gulp of beer and tried to drown the terror that her attention had woken. He set his mug down with deliberate ease and slowly topped it off again.
“Do I look like I’m in a hurry?”
“Oh, of course not,” Maren said, with a wry arch in her brow.
Chapter 5
Maren
C ondemned . That’s what he had said.
Condemned?
Maren had thought that she’d heard him right, but she wasn’t sure that she correctly remembered the word, so she looked it up on her phone as Helene drove her home. She would have walked the four blocks from Bisbano’s to Louisa Street, but Helene had insisted.
“You know, you really need a car, Maren,” Helene said, as though reading her mind.
“No, I don’t. I’m only five blocks from school, and my parents just live across town. I can borrow theirs whenever I really need one. And I have my bike.”
“It’s not safe. Really. I mean, walking and riding your bike is fine during the day, but you shouldn’t try to walk or bike home from a bar. Not even Bisbano’s.”
Maren smiled at her new friend.
“Well, my dear Helene, that’s why I have you. To save me from going home alone on a Friday night.”
“Oh, I think Jess would have been only too happy to save you from that loathsome fate.” Helene faced the road, but she glanced at her friend with what Maren thought was a look of trepidation. Maren wrinkled her nose.
“Hmm....Jess is...pretty, but...I don’t know....”
“He knows it,” Helene said with certainty. And, Maren thought, a little bitterness.
“Yes....yes, that’s true.” Jess Dalton did know that he was pretty. Beautiful, in fact. And he could probably have almost any girl he wanted, even Helene, if her body language could be trusted, but the fact that he knew it, took it for granted, gave Maren a chill. Jess Dalton was trouble. Helene could have him.
But you deserve better, Helene, she thought.
Helene’s Ford Focus made a left onto Louisa, and Maren could see the lights on in her living room. Good. Tuva was home, which meant that Perry had been fed. There was no way that little despot would allow Tuva a moment’s peace before he had his dinner. Maren suppressed a giggle. Perry was not easy to love, but Tuva exuded love to anyone and anything. Maren—and Perry—had been lucky to find such a roommate.
“Want to come in for a bit? I think we have Ben & Jerry’s in the freezer” Maren offered.
“Neh. I’ve had enough junk for one day.”
“GASP! Sacrilege!” Maren feigned horror. “How dare you speak of B&J’s Chocolate Therapy that way?”
Helene threw her head back and laughed.
“Oh! Forgive me. What was I thinking?!? But, no, thanks. I’m calling it a day.”
Maren leaned over and gave Helene a hug.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“It’s nothing, girl. See
“ Un hombre condenado no necesita apurarse ,” Malcolm mumbled before taking a swig of his beer.
“What?” Maren looked at him as if he’d addressed her.
“Oh!...Nothing,” Malcolm shook his head and looked toward the kitchen to dismiss her.
“A man….has….to hurry?” she asked, squinting at him.
Shit.
“You speak Spanish?” he asked, hoping to draw her away from his confession.
“A little,” she shrugged. “I took two years in college, but I’ve just about lost it.” She was looking him straight in the eye. “What is condenado?”
Malcolm swallowed and eyed the girls sitting next to her. They were listening to Dalton and the other guys at the head of the table who were now debating the judging criteria for the Deep South Writers Conference.
“It was contento. Un hombre contento no necesita apurarse . A content man does not need to hurry,” Malcolm lied.
Maren gave him a doubtful look.
“¿Es usted un hombre contento?”
Malcolm busied himself with a gulp of beer and tried to drown the terror that her attention had woken. He set his mug down with deliberate ease and slowly topped it off again.
“Do I look like I’m in a hurry?”
“Oh, of course not,” Maren said, with a wry arch in her brow.
Chapter 5
Maren
C ondemned . That’s what he had said.
Condemned?
Maren had thought that she’d heard him right, but she wasn’t sure that she correctly remembered the word, so she looked it up on her phone as Helene drove her home. She would have walked the four blocks from Bisbano’s to Louisa Street, but Helene had insisted.
“You know, you really need a car, Maren,” Helene said, as though reading her mind.
“No, I don’t. I’m only five blocks from school, and my parents just live across town. I can borrow theirs whenever I really need one. And I have my bike.”
“It’s not safe. Really. I mean, walking and riding your bike is fine during the day, but you shouldn’t try to walk or bike home from a bar. Not even Bisbano’s.”
Maren smiled at her new friend.
“Well, my dear Helene, that’s why I have you. To save me from going home alone on a Friday night.”
“Oh, I think Jess would have been only too happy to save you from that loathsome fate.” Helene faced the road, but she glanced at her friend with what Maren thought was a look of trepidation. Maren wrinkled her nose.
“Hmm....Jess is...pretty, but...I don’t know....”
“He knows it,” Helene said with certainty. And, Maren thought, a little bitterness.
“Yes....yes, that’s true.” Jess Dalton did know that he was pretty. Beautiful, in fact. And he could probably have almost any girl he wanted, even Helene, if her body language could be trusted, but the fact that he knew it, took it for granted, gave Maren a chill. Jess Dalton was trouble. Helene could have him.
But you deserve better, Helene, she thought.
Helene’s Ford Focus made a left onto Louisa, and Maren could see the lights on in her living room. Good. Tuva was home, which meant that Perry had been fed. There was no way that little despot would allow Tuva a moment’s peace before he had his dinner. Maren suppressed a giggle. Perry was not easy to love, but Tuva exuded love to anyone and anything. Maren—and Perry—had been lucky to find such a roommate.
“Want to come in for a bit? I think we have Ben & Jerry’s in the freezer” Maren offered.
“Neh. I’ve had enough junk for one day.”
“GASP! Sacrilege!” Maren feigned horror. “How dare you speak of B&J’s Chocolate Therapy that way?”
Helene threw her head back and laughed.
“Oh! Forgive me. What was I thinking?!? But, no, thanks. I’m calling it a day.”
Maren leaned over and gave Helene a hug.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“It’s nothing, girl. See
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