Naked In Havana (Naked Series Book 1) by Falconer Colin

Author:Falconer, Colin [Falconer, Colin]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mysteries & Thrillers
Publisher: Cool Gus Publishing
Published: 2013-09-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

It wasn’t the heat that got me down as much as the humidity. It was as if there wasn’t enough oxygen to breathe, and it brought on a torpor that made it hard to do anything after midday. It was unrelenting. I never felt dry, even when the ceiling fans were working flat out.

I wiped the condensation off my glass, touched it to my neck and forehead. I was about to meet with one of America’s most famous gangsters and I felt tense, though not as much as you might expect.

Once, when I was nine years old, I fell from my horse and broke my ankle. When my mother found me, my foot twisted round, she fainted. Even my father had panicked. I had to tell him what to do, and I didn’t cry, not once.

Afterwards my father said I should have been a boy.

“I’m tougher than any boy,” was apparently how I’d responded to that.

I didn’t need a diploma from the drama school to tell me I was a good actress. It wasn’t that I pretended to be two different people; I was two different people. I didn’t love my papi any less for sometimes being the daughter he would be ashamed of, but at least I could make him proud this afternoon.

So there we were, the two Magdalenas. When I needed one, the other stood back.

While I waited for Lansky I practised my arpeggios on my knee. “More feeling into it,” Inocencia had said.

Is this enough feeling, Señora Inocencia? Is this enough al forte?

The Left Bank was still a mess. The staff were on their hands and knees scrubbing at the blood on the floor, trying to get the stains out of the wooden dance floor. Glass had been swept into piles by the bar and no one had come to take it away. The chairs and tables had been stacked against the walls, but there were still blast marks on the walls and the ceiling. God only knew when Papi would be able to reopen.

There were just two chairs set up, and this table, right in front of the stage.

Waiting for Mister Lansky.

He arrived on time and he had his bodyguard with him, as usual. He waited by the bar.

Lansky was immaculate as always. They said he had the biggest collection of bow ties anywhere in Central America, if not the whole continent. He took off his Panama and looked around, taking in the damage. He raised his eyebrows, gave me an apologetic smile. “Bastards,” he said and sat down.

I didn’t get up or offer him my hand. My mouth was suddenly dry and I wanted to take a sip of my lime and soda, but I was afraid that my hands might shake and betray me. I said nothing straight away, not even trusting my own voice.

“How’s your father?” he said.

“He has a concussion. The doctors say he’ll be fine in a day or two.”

“That’s good, he was very lucky. It could have been much worse.

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