Read Online Havana Jazz Club by Lola Mariné - Free Book Online Page A

repulsed her. Armando caressed her with the tips of his fingers, descending slowly to her stomach. He stopped at her belly button and delicately kissed her shoulder. But when he turned to kiss her on the mouth, he stopped. The girl’s face was wet with tears. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and her jaw was clenched. Then he realized she was shaking.
    “What’s happening to you?” he asked, alarmed.
    She shook her head, biting down on her lip in a desperate effort to contain a sob. But it only ended up bursting out more violently, and she collapsed on the edge of the bed like a sand sculpture battered by the wind, covering her face with her hands.
    Bewildered, Armando immediately covered her with her dress and dragged over a chair so he could sit across from her.
    “Calm down, calm down,” he spluttered, not daring to touch her. “Would you like some water?”
    Before she could answer, he got up and made for the bar. As he opened a bottle and filled a glass, he watched her with concern. Billie took little sips, hiccupping between sobs.
    Armando sat down across from her again.
    “This is your first time, is that it?” he ventured. Billie nodded without looking up from the floor. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to. I already suspected you weren’t like the others. But Gregorio was so insistent . . . You don’t know how sorry I am.”
    Billie looked him in the eye for the first time, an expression of infinite gratitude on her face. She put on her dress with shaking hands and wiped her tears with the handkerchief Armando offered her.
    “I’m only at the New York to sing,” she tried to say, her voice wavering.
    “But, sweetie! How did you end up at a place like that? All of Madrid knows what goes on in that place. Go on—go home. And if you want some good advice, don’t go back there. It’s not a place for a girl like you.”
    He got to his feet and took a wad of bills from his wallet. He held them out to Billie.
    “I can’t accept that,” she said, shaking her head. “We didn’t do anything . . .”
    Armando took her hand and closed it around the money.
    “Only you and I know that,” he smiled. “I don’t want you to get into trouble because of me. But listen to me and get away from that dump and all those people as soon as you can.”
    Billie didn’t respond. How could she explain that it wasn’t that simple? That her own husband had pushed her into his bed?
    “Thank you,” she mumbled, standing up and heading toward the door.
    “Wait,” Armando said, handing her a card. “I have a jazz club in Barcelona. It’s a small, modest place in the old city, but if what you want is to sing, I can offer you a job . . . If there’s ever anything I can do for you, don’t hesitate to call me.”
    She took the card and gave a small nod.
    “I don’t want you to get the wrong impression of me,” the man continued, trying to justify himself. “I don’t like having to pay women to . . . you know. But, who would want anything to do with a guy who looks like me?”
    “Please,” she broke in, trying to smile. “You don’t owe me any explanations. You’re a good person. One day you’ll find someone . . .”
    “I don’t have much hope anymore,” he smiled bitterly.
    Billie slipped the card into her pocket. Feeling a sudden wave of compassion for the man, she went over and kissed him on the cheek.
    “Good-bye,” she said. “And thank you. I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me.”
    “Would you like me to take you in a taxi?” he offered.
    The girl shook her head.
    “I’d rather walk for a bit. Thank you though.”
    Once she was in the hall, she took a deep breath and then sprinted toward the elevator as if she were afraid that Armando would regret his kindhearted act and come after her, to claim what he had paid for so generously. She pressed the elevator button with tears streaming down her face. As the pent-up tension burst forth, she was