“We are similar, you and me? You and I?” said Luis. “Forgive me. I learned my English the way most immigrants do. While working my butt off.”
“Your English is fine,” said Adele. “It’s you and I. But we can switch to Spanish if you’d prefer.”
“No. I need the practice. Thank you.”
A waiter walked over with a platter of colorful finger foods that took longer to explain than to eat. Adele would have been fine with pigs in a blanket.
“What I’m trying to say is that I’m also torn,” said Luis. “I’m very grateful to the police officer for coming to help me so quickly. But I’m sad that a man died as a result.”
“I wish you could say that publicly,” said Adele.
“I have,” said Luis. “I issued a statement through my publicist. And I gave a donation to your organization.”
“No. I mean what you’re saying about Detective Vega.”
“Ah.”
Another person came up to Luis, a black woman with platinum-blond hair whom Adele vaguely recalled seeing on the cover of some fashion magazine.
“Adele.” Luis touched her arm. “I would like to talk more to you about this officer and his situation. Can you give me—maybe forty-five minutes to greet everyone? Then can you meet me by the back doors of the kitchen? I’ll need a cigarette by then.”
“You smoke? But your voice?”
Luis winked at her. “Don’t tell my agent, okay? He thinks I’ve quit.”
Dave Lindsey caught up to Adele when Luis slipped away.
“That didn’t go too well with Tate back there.”
“It might have.” Adele held his gaze. “If my chairman of the board didn’t see fit to broadcast my private life to the public.”
“People know, Adele. Whether I tell them or not. Some already knew and now they all do. Besides, how else could anyone explain your behavior? You spoke to the DA’s office. You confirmed all the incriminating facts. And yet you’re still refusing to call for a grand jury investigation.”
“I’m not refusing. I’m weighing it.”
“What’s to weigh?”
Adele blinked at him.
“Okay. I get it,” said Lindsey. “If you stand up on that stage tomorrow and call for a grand jury investigation, your life with this man is over. But let me ask you this: if you found out he executed an unarmed man at point-blank range, would you really want a life with him after that? You’ve spent ten grueling years building La Casa. You’ve spent what?—a few months?—dating this guy. Are you really willing to stake your whole career—La Casa’s credibility—on what he did in those woods?”
One of the board members pulled Lindsey aside to ask him a question. Adele used the excuse to disappear into the crowd. She felt lost and was reeling. She wished she knew what to believe. She wished Vega would tell her. Why couldn’t he just tell her?
After forty-five minutes, Adele grabbed her coat and found her way out through the kitchen. Minutes ticked by. Luis wasn’t there. She turned to go back inside.
“Finally. My nicotine fix.” And there he was, dimpled grin on command, smiling at her as he stuck a cigarette between his lips and lit it. “You smoke?” He held the pack out to her.
“No. Thanks.” She shook her head. His presence one-on-one turned her shy.
Luis regarded the glowing embers of his cigarette. “I keep trying to quit but I’ve been smoking since I was thirteen.”
“That young?”
Luis shrugged. “I was a street kid in Nogales, Mexico. You grow up fast.”
“Did you always sing?”
“Sang. Danced. You name it, I did it.”
“I guess people noticed your talent.”
Luis laughed. He could act, too. He was acting like he cared what Adele had to say. “Nobody notices anything when your belly’s empty. Believe me, I spent years dressing up in ridiculous costumes and doing stupid gong show routines on Sábado Gigante. One wrong move and I could end up back there.” Adele knew the Spanish-language variety show. She used to watch it as a child. “Despite what everyone sees, I was not an overnight success.”
“So how did you get your big break?”
He shrugged. “You make the right connections and then just do whatever you need to keep them. You got my book, right?”
“Um, yes. Thank you.” She hadn’t cracked the spine.
“See, that’s where I am right now. I just wrapped up my first American movie. It’s coming out in July and my agent and a whole bunch of people in Hollywood think this is the career move that’s going to break me out of the Latin market and into mainstream audiences. This shooting—it could ruin everything.”
“I’m sure you’ve got an army of publicists handling that,” said Adele.
“Yes. I do,” said Luis. “But when you told me just now about your connection to the police officer”—he sighed—“I feel bad. I never wanted things to go like this. I know the detective was just trying to do his job.”