Page 23 of Tell Me What You Want

9

I put on a pair of jeans and a black Guns N’ Roses T-shirt my friend Ana gave me. At one o’clock, just as the phone rings, I put my hair up in a high ponytail. Sure it’s him, I don’t answer. He can call again. Ten seconds later, he does.

“Yes?” I answer.

“Come down. I’m waiting.”

Not even a “good afternoon.”

I’m totally taken aback when I come down and find him also wearing jeans and a black shirt and standing next to a red Ferrari. Wow.

I love it!

“Is it yours?” I ask as I get up close.

He shrugs and doesn’t answer.

I immediately fall in love with this amazing car. I run my hand tenderly over it as he looks on.

“Will you let me drive?” I ask.

“No.”

“C’mon,” I insist. “Don’t be a party pooper. My dad runs an auto shop. I swear I know what I’m doing.”

Eric stares at me. I stare back.

He sighs and I grin. Finally, he shakes his head.

“Show me Madrid, and if you behave, then maybe later I’ll let you drive it.”

That makes me happy.

“So, what do you say? Where shall we go?”

I think about it for a moment. “How about we go to the kitschiest places in Madrid—Plaza Mayor, Puerta del Sol, the Royal Palace. Have you been?”

He doesn’t say anything, so I just give him directions and we blend into traffic. While he drives, I delight in the fact that we’re in a Ferrari. What a ride! I turn up the music. I love the Juanes song that’s playing. He turns it down. I turn it up. Then he turns it back down.

“C’mon, I can’t hear it,” I protest.

“Are you deaf?”

“No ... I’m not deaf, but a little volume in the car is no big deal.”

“Do you have to sing too?”

This takes me aback. “What? You never sing?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He makes a face as he thinks about it.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” he finally says.

I’m stunned. “Well, music is a marvelous thing. My mother always said music soothes the savage beast, and that many songs can even help us understand our own emotions.”

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