I.

Lucy walked nervously up the block toward the small, quiet café where her mother, Jean, had agreed to meet her. She was still amazed that it was happening. Her mother had refused to come to the city since Lucy had moved there, speaking to her only over the phone in short, cold conversations. But she relented when Lucy said she had important news to share with her and wanted to do so in person.

Lucy stopped a few steps away from the entrance, seeing her mother sitting at a table in the window. She was sipping tea from a small cup and a half-eaten scone sat on a dainty plate in front of her. She wore a dark teal dress with intricate embroidery all around the bodice, a veiled hat atop her head of light brown curls.

Lucy drew in a breath and straightened. Her mother always intimidated her to some degree, but she wouldn't be deterred from delivering her news. She walked confidently into the café and stood near the table where her mother sat.

Jean turned her head to look at her and she smirked. As always, her daughter was the picture of loveliness. Whatever news she was about to hear, at least she was satisfied that her daughter could still attract a man of good breeding. "Why, Lucille, dear, sit down and talk to your mother, it's been far too long."

Lucy smiled, hoping that this was a good sign that Jean would be happy about her news. "How are you, mother?" She sat slowly, a waiter bringing her a cup of coffee on cue.

"Oh, I'm just fine, dear. I asked this young man to bring a coffee as soon as you arrived, I hope you still take it light."

Lucy nodded and began to stir the coffee with a small silver spoon. "Yes, thank you."

Jean was satisfied so far. "Good. Now, what is this news that you couldn't tell me on the phone?"

Lucy swallowed, laying the spoon on the saucer gently. Her mother was cutting straight to the chase. "Well…I've met someone and…"

Jean interrupted her swiftly. "Oh, yes, you told me about that Tom fellow! He sounds like quite a nice young man. From Yale, did you say?"

Lucy started to shake her head. She hadn't told her mother about her breakup with Tom and, as a result, she didn't know anything about Ricky. It was her own fault, but she knew how her mother could be and she wanted to avoid the conflict. She had a feeling that the full force of it was about to hit her now. "No, mother, I…"

"No? Not Yale?"

"No, mother. Not Tom."

Jean sat back in her chair, the smile gone from her face. "I see. Who then?"

Lucy looked at her hands, fiddling timidly in her lap. "His name is Ricky. He's very wonderful, mother, I…"

Jean raised an eyebrow. "Ricky? Is that short for Richard? He should drop the 'y', dear, really. What does he do, where does his family come from?"

Lucy didn't know which question to answer first. None of them were going to make her mother happy. "Um…no, Ricky is a nickname. A stage name, actually, he's a musician. He sings and he plays the drums. He plays several instruments, actually. He's very good, mother, you should hear him…."

Lucy's voice trailed off when she saw the disapproving look on Jean's face. But she decided to press on. "He's very talented. And, well, he's from Cuba."

Jean silently took a linen napkin from her lap and dropped it onto the table. "Lucille, I don't know what's come over you since you moved into this dreadful city, but this is unbelievable. Is this what you made me take the train here to tell me? That you're dating a drummer from Cuba? Heavens, does he even speak English?"

Lucy sat straight in her chair, her fear taking a backseat to her defense of Ricky. "Yes, mother, he speaks English very well. He may not have gone to Yale, but he was well educated."

Jean laughed scornfully. "Well educated. In Cuba. Well. Nevermind, you're just sowing your wild oats. He's probably very attractive, but you'll see soon enough that he has nothing to offer you and no way to take care of you."

"No, mother, that's why I asked you to come here. To tell you that we're getting married."

Jean's eyes widened and she looked as though she might faint. "No. I forbid it. Never."

"You can't forbid me, mother, I'm twenty years old."

"I did not raise you to lower yourself to marry a common immigrant. You're a beautiful, well bred young woman from a good family and I refuse to allow you to shame us in this way."

"I love Ricky," Lucy said quietly, yet firmly.

Jean rose from her chair quietly and walked out of the café without another word. Lucy jumped up, hastily leaving money on the table before walking quickly after her. "Mother! Are you just never going to talk to me again?"

Jean turned and looked at her daughter silently. Lucy shrugged in exasperation. "Why don't you at least meet him before you disown me."

"I don't need to meet him. This is a disgrace."

Lucy's eyes welled with tears, but she stood firm. "I'm sorry you feel that way, mother. It means that you won't have anything to do with me…or any of your grandchildren."

Jean tilted her head and for just a moment, Lucy thought she might soften her position. But the moment was short lived. "Lucille…if you become pregnant with a child of that man's, he'll leave you so fast you won't know what happened. There's no satisfying those animals. He'll be catting around with every skirt in New York City. When that happens, my dear daughter, you'll call me because in your delicate and immoral state, you'll have no choice."

With that, Jean turned and hailed a perfectly timed passing taxi. Lucy watched her get in the taxi, order the driver to the train station and leave without another word. She stood on the sidewalk, the rest of New York passing by her, oblivious to her shock and disgust at her mother's cruelty.

She felt as though she wasn't breathing for several moments. Her eyes drifted ahead of her and in the distance, she saw the building which held Ricky's small studio apartment. She started to walk.

III.

Lucy didn't want to keep thinking of the afternoon when she told her mother about her engagement to Ricky. True, it had been an important day. It had solidified their plans to elope without any family involvement in their wedding. It had also set the tone for Lucy's relationship with her mother from that point forth; it had been six months since she and Ricky had gotten married and they'd only seen her mother once, at the wedding of a relative. They hadn't spoken on the phone in all that time and only a scant number of letters had been exchanged.

Still, Lucy hadn't given it much thought until now. Life had been much easier without her mother's domineering interference. Besides that, she was the happiest she'd ever been in her life, enjoying every moment she could with her new husband.

But while she'd been out running errands that morning, she overheard a conversation that seemed strikingly similar to the one she'd had with her own mother. Forgetting that she shouldn't eavesdrop, Lucy found herself frozen, listening to the argument between a woman and her daughter. It ended much the same way Lucy's and Jean's interaction had: with the mother leaving her daughter where they stood after having forbid her from marrying a foreigner.

For a moment, Lucy had felt compelled to speak to the young woman and offer her a kind word. But before she could, the woman was gone, leaving Lucy with overwhelming confusion. All this time, she'd thought it was only her own mother who was so unreasonable. But it turned out there were more. And nothing brought their ire to the surface more than an 'undesirable' man around their daughters.

So deep were Lucy's thoughts that she found herself on the subway, heading downtown toward The Tropicana. When she emerged from the station a block away from the club, she quickened her pace. She was eager to see her husband, but she couldn't really identify the reason for the sudden urgency.

She walked into the club quietly. It was dark except for the spotlights directly above the stage. The boys seemed to taking a break and Ricky was off to the side, having a heated conversation with his agent. No one had noticed her come in, so she sat quietly at a darkened table. She observed the musicians, most of whom were Hispanic immigrants. They were tuning instruments, going over racing forms and smoking cigarettes. They talked in hushed tones, alternating between English and Spanish.

One man, a musician who was unfamiliar to Lucy and seemed to be new to the orchestra, noticed her sitting there after a while and walked over to the table. He had well-defined arms, like Ricky's, so she assumed him to be a drummer of some kind. When he finally spoke, she was taken aback that his accent was even heavier than Ricky's, if that was possible. "Jou know, we dun't open until later tonight. But I could give you a personal tour…"

Before the man could continue and before Lucy could interrupt him, the piano player, Marco, yelled at him from the stage. "Oye, Fernando, marcha atras! Ella es de Ricky!"

Hearing the commotion, Ricky turned from his conversation and saw Fernando backing away from the table where Lucy sat. Even without having witnessed anything, he knew exactly what had happened and walked toward them with a smirk.

Fernando looked at Ricky with wide eyes. "Lo siento, jefe, no lo sabia!"

Ricky was firm, but he wasn't angry. "Lo que dije sobre eso? Nunca se sabe quien se va a estar tratando de recoger. Volver alla a donde perteneces."

Fernando rushed back to the stage and disappeared in the crowd of musicians, who laughed and teased him.

Ricky leaned over the table. "Hi there, beautiful."

Lucy giggled. "It's just not safe for a girl in this place!"

Ricky grinned. "Wanna have lunch with me?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

With that, Ricky turned around and shouted to his orchestra. "Tomar una hora para el almuerzo. Y no llegues tarde!" He turned back to Lucy and reached out a hand for her. "C'mon there's a new little place up the block that I wanna try."

IV.

Lucy smiled at Ricky across the table. He had been starving and thoroughly enjoyed the meatball sub at the little Italian deli. Lucy stole a french fry from him and giggled.

Ricky looked over at her and chuckled. "That was great!"

"You never had a sub before?"

Ricky blinked. "A what?"

Lucy reached over and rested her hand on his arm. "We call that a sub."

He shrugged. "Whatever you call it, I like it!"

Lucy moved around the table and sat next to her husband in the small booth, resting her hand on his lap. He turned to look at her and smiled warmly.

"Ricky?"

He placed his hand on hers. "Mmm?"

"Can I ask you a question? I'm curious…"

Ricky looked at her expectantly. "Ok…"

"What…are most men like in Cuba? I mean…are they all like you or are they all like…"

"Fernando?"

"Well, yes."

Ricky laughed softly. "You dun't have to worry about Fernando, he's harmless. He just din't know you're my wife."

"Oh, I know that. But…I mean…why does everyone have this idea that Cuban men are…um…"

He looked at her knowingly as she searched for the right words. "Mujeriegos."

Lucy frowned. "What does that mean?"

Ricky struggled for an English translation. "A mujeriego is a man that…how do you say…takes advantage of women."

Lucy breathed deeply, surprised at how succinctly he had been able to describe what she meant. "Yes, that."

Ricky sighed. He looked at his wife and thought carefully about his answer to her. "Many men in Cuba are mujeriegos. They love to have their way with women. Then they get married and have children, but to the side, they keep other women and sometimes other children, too."

"Oh." Lucy looked down at her hand on Ricky's leg. She had hoped that he would vehemently deny the rumors and put her mind to ease that her mother and others like her were wrong.

Ricky put a finger under her chin and lifted her face to look at him again. "And you want to know if that's true for me, too?"

She shook her head. "Oh, Ricky, I…"

"It's alright, you're askin' about it, so I want you to know." He looked at her intently. "I could have been that way. My father married my mother and they had five children, includin' me. But he had women all over town. My uncle never married, but his affairs with hookers is legend in Havana. My brothers call the…burdel…what is it in English? Whorehouse? My brothers call that a second home. This is part of the culture on the island, I can't deny it."

Lucy exhaled slowly, not knowing what to say. After a moment of thought, she spoke in almost a whisper. "So what happened to make you different?"

Ricky shrugged. "I dun't really know. I was focused on my music and gettin' off the island. There was nothin' for me there, that life was a dead end." He smiled warmly. "And then I met you and I couldn't imagine myself with anyone but you. You're everythin' to me."

He kissed her sweetly and felt her relax into his embrace.

V.

It was late, but Lucy couldn't sleep. Even if she had been tired, she wanted to wait for Ricky. While she waited, she remembered a book that she hadn't finished reading and was looking for it on the shelf at the top of the closet.

While she was reaching and standing on her toes, Ricky came in quietly and watched her. She hadn't heard him.

He bit his lip as she moved, frustrated by her inability to find what she was looking for. The silk gown around her figure hugged her curves as she reached. Slowly, he walked toward her, loosening his collar and throwing his tie to the side. When he grabbed her from behind, she gasped with surprise.

She started to turn around to face him, but he stopped her. His lips rested on her ear gently. "I'm not a mujeriego, but that doesn't mean I dun't desire like one."

With passionate force, he ripped the gown from her body. He stood a moment looking at her, tracing a line down her spine with his fingertip. He turned her around and looked at her silently, barely touching the curve of her breast with the tips of his fingers.

Lucy closed her eyes when his face closed in on hers. She breathed in his cologne and felt his shirt gently brush her bare skin. She released a sigh as his hands slipped down her sides and rested on her hips. The space between her thighs tingled and warmed as he pressed her against the wall in the closet. She opened his shirt slowly, her fingers trembling as she touched his smooth chest. In all the times they had made love, she never was able to keep from being overwhelmed by her attraction to him.

He moved her hands down his stomach and she released his erection from beneath the soft fabric of his pants. Her fingers wound around it, his skin like velvet.

When he could no longer stand the anticipation of feeling himself inside of her, Ricky lifted her and she responded by wrapping her legs around him tightly. The cool plaster of the wall against her back was a stark contrast to the heat of Ricky's body against her breasts. Lucy cried out as he penetrated her, the length of him entering her fully and with no hesitation.

Ricky's breath was hot against her neck as he continued his rapid, impassioned strokes. "No quiero que nadia mas que tu. La fuerza de mis deseos estara en ti, mi mujer."

Lucy's hands laced through Ricky's black waves as she fell over the edge of her passions in climax. He smiled with satisfaction as her legs weakened around him and he released into her.

Ricky kissed her neck and her cheek tenderly. She caught her breath slowly, leaning on him as her strength returned. "I don't want to share you with anyone…"

He smiled again. "Good. I'm all yours, sweetheart."