Not Dreaming of You
Not Dreaming of You
Nina Cordoba
Copyright 2010 Nina Cordoba.
This is a copyrighted work. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author at www.ninacordoba.com.
This book is a work of fiction and the resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
All rights reserved.
Art Director: Sierra Acy
Cover: Kostis Pavlou
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Not Dreaming of You: A Romantic Comedy
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Books by Nina Cordoba:
Not Dreaming of You
Always Dreaming of You
No More Mr. Nice Girl
Don’t Make Me Make You Brownies
Mia Like Crazy
Dead Men Don’t Chew Gum
Dead Men Don’t Eat Quiche
Prologue
Buenos Aires, Argentina
Thirteen-year-old Kiki Villanueva tried to ignore the goose bumps on her arms and the strange sensation on the back of her neck. How could a day feel so normal and so weird all at once?
She squeezed her eyes together, then opened them one lid at a time, lifting her face slowly upward.
The sky had never been such a deep color of blue before. She felt its magnetic pull as she sat with her cousin Chris, propped against the big shade tree in her backyard. From the corner of her eye, Kiki could see the odd look he was giving her. But she didn’t want to tell him she thought she was having one of her “feelings” again. Although Chris hated the idea, Kiki was certain she’d be proven psychic one of these days.
The sound of a bicycle horn startled her out of her thoughts. A new neighbor boy zipped by wearing a fresh bowl cut, and it reminded her of something important. “Did you see Cassandra? I can’t believe she cut her hair short, like a boy. I would never do that.”
“Never?” Chris asked. He loved to pester her with the “Never Game.”
“Never,” Kiki answered with her usual confidence.
“Even if someone gave you a million dollars?”
“Never.”
“Even if you could have twenty-five dogs?”
Kiki reached under her knees and scratched Mickey behind one of his big ears. “That one’s tempting but, no,” she said.
The puppy thanked her for her attention by jumping up and planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek. She giggled and wiped her face with her hand. Then she focused her wary gaze back on Chris, knowing he was biding his time. Since she’d started liking boys, he’d been winning this game.
“Even if you could marry a movie star? Anyone you wanted?” he asked, grinning and wiggling his blonde eyebrows up and down.
Kiki turned her head away and rolled her eyes skyward, noting the intensity once more. “Well, I guess hair does grow back.” She glanced toward Chris, expecting him to be gloating about his win, but he and Mickey were gone.
Suddenly, the tree behind her started to quiver and leaves fell all around, morphing into giant snowflakes before they reached the grass. Light still surrounded her, though the heavens had darkened to midnight blue.
“Do you want to know of the man you will marry?” asked the trembling voice of an old woman.
Kiki jerked forward when she felt the vibrations on her back, but was too frightened to turn and face the voice, so she hugged her knees and shut her eyes.
“Yes,” she answered softly.
“Then, listen closely, so you will know him when he comes.”
Kiki awoke a short time later and was surprised to see she wasn’t in her backyard. When she stood, she realized it was Cassandra’s old playhouse behind her, instead of her own tree. Chris had been in her dream, but he wasn’t due back from California for another week.
Where had Cassandra gone?
As Kiki stepped through the back door into the laundry room, she heard Cassandra’s mother in the kitchen talking on the phone.
“Cassandra? Yes, she’s fine. I gave her the cutest haircut. She’s around here somewhere. Last time I saw her, she was with that pobrecita Kiki from down the street.”
Pobrecita? Since when am I poor?
“Yes, Rolando’s daughter. The only child. Lorena couldn’t have any more... No, she found out after you moved away from Buenos Aires. It was the same for her sister Leticia. Like a family curse... Hmm? Of course, I remember. Rolando could have had any woman he wanted, but he had to have the beautiful Lorena, and now look what it’s gotten him. No sons, just that scrawny little girl.”
Scrawny? Ha! Kiki’s father always called her “Princesa,” and he knew a lot more than jealous Señora Calderon.
“No, her sister married the American... Yes, only one boy. You know, when those girls were young, everyone was after them, but God has blessed us with all the children we wanted, mi amiga.
I’m sure Rolando rues the day he broke up with you. And he won’t be around forever. With so little family, I don’t know who will take care of his daughter. She may be too bony to get a husband.”
Double Ha! Kiki knew her father didn’t regret anything. She’d seen the way he looked at her mother. As for Kiki, her mother always told her she was perfect just as she was. Besides, she knew she could take care of herself when she grew up, since she made excellent grades in school.
She wanted to march into the kitchen and give Señora Calderon a piece of her mind, but her mother wouldn’t approve of disrespecting an adult, regardless of the excuse. She tiptoed out the back door and held the screen so it wouldn’t slam behind her. Suddenly, she remembered her dream and ran home to make her list.
Chapter One
Los Angeles, thirteen years later.
Tell him or don’t tell him?
Mark Bennett sat on the exam room table, glad to be out of the silly paper dress and back in his own jeans and button-down shirt. For about the fiftieth time, he looked around at the posters of ear canals and dissected heart chambers. Why did doctors think normal people wanted to look at this stuff? He wished he’d brought the Newsweek from the waiting room.
Dr. Chuck Wilson breezed back in, staring into a file. Mark knew if the guy hadn’t been a friend of the family, he never would have chosen a doctor who went by the name “Chuck.” “Charles Wilson” sounded like a doctor. “Chuck” sounded like a furniture salesman.
“Okay,” Chuck said. “All the labs are back from last week, and I’ve examined everything I can examine. I pronounce you in perfect health.” He snapped the file shut with the usual case-closed-I-went-to-school-for-twenty-years doctor confidence.
“Really?” Mark couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice.
“You sound disappointed. Did you want a note excusing you from gym class or something?”
“You know, you’re a regular Patch Adams,” Mark said sarcastically.
“I was going for Hawkeye Pierce.” Chuck laid the file on a desk, then turned back and looked Mark squarely in the face. “Okay, you called my office and scheduled a thorough physical. You’re only thirty years old, and you’re not the hypochondriac type, so why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
After several seconds of watching Chuck stare at him, Mark took a deep breath and said, “I’ve...quit finding women attractive.” The doctor shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
Damn, I told him.
Chuck seemed to lose his power of speech for a few moments, which alone was worth the cost of the office visit. Finally, he asked, “So, are you coming out of the closet or—?”
“No. I’m not attracted to men either,” Mark answered, hoping Chuck could hear the annoyance in his voice.
“But the equipment worked last time you used it?”
The equipment? Mark glanced up at the framed diplomas on the walls. Had anyone in his family bothered to find out if Chuck really graduated from medical school? On the other hand, maybe they were better off with euphemisms this time. “Yeah, it worked. But that was a while back.”
Chuck’s eyes widened and he leaned closer. “How long?”
“I was going to talk to you about it on my last visit.” Mark tried not to wince as Chuck flipped the folder open and picked up a couple of pages, scanning the others underneath.
“You haven’t been here for nearly a year,” Chuck said. “That would mean it’s been a year and a half, tw
o years?”
Mark was even more uncomfortable now that he remembered what a horn-dog Chuck was at fifty-something, even by L.A. standards. He always had a younger woman on his arm. “Yeah. A year...or two,” he said. “I didn’t write it on a calendar.”
Chuck eased down onto his stool, looking as if someone had just informed him last month’s one-night stand was pregnant with twins. “So you don’t find them attractive at all?” Maybe he was afraid it could happen to him.
“I can see that they are,” Mark answered. “But I don’t feel anything.”
“But it’s still in working order, like, when you wake up in the morning?”
“Yeah, it still works.”
Chuck breathed a sigh of relief and hopped up from his stool. “Maybe it’s a psychological thing. How’s the rest of your life? Your job?”
Mark hadn’t thought to connect the two before. “The same, I guess. Nothing’s exciting, or even very interesting, any more.”
“Are you a drug user?”
“No, not at all.”
Chuck rubbed his chin for a few seconds. “You may need to see a shrink.”
Mark couldn’t believe he was serious. “You know Bennetts don’t get their heads shrunk.”
“Well, we can try you on an anti-depressant first.” Chuck pulled out his prescription pad.
“I thought they could cause sexual dysfunction.”
“Sure, but I’ll throw in a prescription for Viagra to go with it.”
“Then, I would be a drug user.”
Chuck let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re as stubborn as your dad. Do you still have that dog?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Unconditional love. He may keep you from killing yourself.”
“Killing myself? In five minutes, I’ve gone from ‘perfect’ to suicidal?”
Chuck shrugged.
“I swear I’m not suicidal.”
“In that case, you can try another approach.” He tossed his pad onto the desk. “Do you work out?”
“Some free weights, and the machines at the gym, two or three times a week.”
“I want you to do something aerobic, like running,” Chuck said. Mark looked at Chuck’s waistline and wondered if he owned a pair of running shoes. “Join a competitive sports team. Didn’t you play baseball in college?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “What we’re going for here are endorphins, adrenaline, testosterone—oh, and take a vacation or do a different kind of writing. Stay away from D.C. for a while. Damn, looking at a bunch of politicians all the time could shrivel anybody’s balls.”
This got a little chuckle out of Mark. “I hope you sound more professional with your other patients.”
“Yeah, yeah. All they hear is ‘erection,’ ‘libido,’ ‘testicles.’ Aren’t you glad you’re special?”
“I guess so.” Mark scooted off the table. “Since you put it that way.”
~
Tell them. Don’t tell them.
Kiki walked with her eyes lowered as she and all four of her parents hurried through the Ministro Pistarini International Airport. “The parents” knew her too well. If she looked into her mother’s eyes or her Tía Leticia’s, they’d start asking questions and what would she tell them?
Kiki had felt so positive about this trip until today, but now that she was leaving the people who’d cared for her all her life, and given her sound advice every time she’d asked for it, and taught her to be honest and forthright, she was having second thoughts about the truth.
She wasn’t used to lying or even omitting the truth. Kiki was what her Tío Karl called an “open book.” She wished her best friend Alejandra were here to run interference, even though Ali had told her many times that both her list and her fears were ridiculous.
Her parents, aunt, and uncle thought she was only going back to L.A. to spend time with Chris while the four of them went on their month-long cruise. And, of course, she couldn’t wait to see him, since in her heart, he was more a brother than a cousin.
However, there were much bigger reasons this time. Earth-shattering ones for her, but Kiki knew if she told the parents what she was thinking, it would only upset them. Her mother and aunt would feel responsible somehow and everyone would worry.
Her flight was leaving before theirs, so the parents walked her to her gate.
“Adios, Hijita,” her mother said as she hugged her tightly. “Te quiero mucho.”
When it was her father’s turn to say goodbye, Kiki braced herself for the squeeze that always pushed the breath out of her. “I love you, and give Chris our love too,” he told her in his soothing, Ricardo Montalban voice. Sandy-haired Tío Karl, who stood several inches above the rest of the group gave her a big bear hug, then turned her over to Tía Leticia.
But her mother’s sister didn’t hug her right away. She stared deeply into Kiki’s eyes and Kiki knew she suspected something was up. There had always been a special connection between them, so much so that people said they were twins born thirty years apart.
Kiki gave her a big smile and embraced her. “Have fun,” she said enthusiastically. “And don’t forget to bring me something cute.”
Tía Leticia laughed and kissed her on the cheek. “You know I won’t forget, my munequita. And you make sure Cristóval is eating.”
“I’ll cook for him personally,” Kiki promised, relieved her aunt hadn’t asked any questions. She threw her arms around each of them one last time, then forced herself to board the plane.
She found her assigned row, noting the heavy-set, probably-American sitting by the window, reading the Wall Street Journal.
Since she’d viewed the scenery between Buenos Aires and L.A. many times, Kiki never requested the window, assuming there were other people who should get their turns. Besides, she enjoyed watching everyone as they came down the aisle, so she could guess why they were traveling.
Two men got on the plane in dress shirts and suit slacks as though they’d come straight from a meeting. They sounded American. She figured they’d come to Buenos Aires on business and were returning home.
A young couple, who were speaking Spanish to each other, managed to continue holding hands while squeezing single-file down the narrow aisle with carry-ons.
Honeymooners. The young woman’s arm brushed Kiki’s as she passed, and for a split second, Kiki was sure she could feel the intensity of emotion between them.
They’re perfect for each other.
She kept her eyes on them until she heard the window-seat man groan. She glanced over at him, following his gaze to another couple coming toward them. The woman was holding a wailing baby in her arms.
Kiki’s row mate shook his head as they came closer. “Just my luck. I’m gonna have a baby a few feet away, and I’m sure it’ll cry the whole damn time.”
Kiki looked at him with the expression she usually saved for playground bullies. “A baby’s cry is the most beautiful sound in the world. It’s the way they first announce they’ve arrived.”
He stared at her as if she’d fallen off the circus wagon. “Can I have some?”
“Some what?”
“Some of the drugs you’re on.”
Shaking her head, Kiki gave him the angry eyebrows she used on little boys who made fart noises with their armpits during class. The man looked unimpressed and went back to reading his newspaper.
After the door was closed, she reached into her handbag and unzipped one of the compartments, fingering the two slips of paper to make sure they were still there. One, she’d carried with her since she was thirteen years old. She didn’t need it, since she’d had the contents memorized for years, but knowing it was in her possession always made her feel as though her life was going to work out as she’d planned. And with her other worries growing stronger lately, that list was never more than a few feet away from her.
The second note had been added a few weeks ago when she’d gotten a feeling she should be back in L.A. The scrap of paper contained the time, date, and location of a secret appointment. The kind she’d never been able to bring herself to make in Buenos Aires. The one she couldn’t tell her family about.
And although she knew it wasn’t a curse that plagued her mother and aunt, she also knew that she had good reason to be worried about her future, even at twenty-six.
But, thinking about it made her sick to her stomach, so she focused her attention on the baby, now seated across the aisle from her in her mother’s lap.