Nine Lies of B.G. Davies

On the Malecón

Tania saw the man walk toward her and decided this was the person she would sleep with. It wasn't because she knew him or because someone had set them up, it was because he was alone. She could tell by the way he glanced at the other girls sitting on the seawall and how he sauntered with the confidence tourists have when they cruise the streets looking for Cuban woman. Like so many of them, he was older and a little pudgy, but at least he wasn't gross. He would do. The man slowed his pace as he approached and Tania played over in her mind how it should unfold, the way Maria told her it would happen.

When they first visited the Malecón at night, Maria taught her to look around to see if the police were watching. "They likely will be," she said, "so make eye contact with the tourist, smile, but let him pass. Then, a minute later while the man is still within your sight, get up and walk behind him. He will glance back and you must smile at him. He will soon stop and sit on the seawall and wait for you, but you are to keep on walking. Turn to him, show him the sexiest smile he has ever seen, give your head a nudge down the Malecón and keep moving. Be sure to swing your little hips. He will follow you."

Tania swallowed hard and tried to focus on the character she would play. She fingered her plastic pearl necklace and took a deep breath of salty air.

The man was slowing his pace. He stopped next to her and looked out to the Gulf of Mexico. The sun was an orange disc, half buried in the sea. Tania almost believed the man was interested in watching the sunset but knew better. What she didn't know was how to proceed now Maria's plan had been altered.

Tania reminded herself she was Cuban. She was resourceful, and like the musicians from the bars and street combos, she could improvise. She knew she had this one.

"Hello, Mr. Tourist man. Are you looking to hear some good Cuban music? My cousin is playing in a band not far from here. You want to come see?"

She impressed herself with her English. It was the perfect mix of Spanish inflection and proper English. With a surge of confidence, Tania turned toward him and crossed her legs, letting her thin dress ride up her thigh. She watched as his eyes met hers, then lowered to her legs. His face redden slightly.

He turned his gaze back to the sea, pretending he didn't hear. She took a moment to study his features. His complexion was light, but not as light as some of the foreign boys who hung out at the bars near the University. His face was a little more rugged. Dark brown hair spurted a dust of grey at his temples, his hair was cut neatly and he was clean shaven. He was dressed in a light button down shirt and cargo shorts. Probably a teacher with a thing for young girls.

"Buena Vista Social Club, you heard of them, yes? My cousin plays with them. I can take you in." Tania flicked her long, black hair over her right shoulder. "We can dance the salsa, Mr. Tourist Man."

It looked to Tania as though the man was smiling, but she could only see the side of his face as he looked out to the water. He said nothing. In the silence, Tania could hear her heart beating. They had been talking too long.

Tania jumped to her feet and stood next to the man. Maybe with their backs to the street, she thought, the police wouldn't notice a foreigner talking to a Cuban girl. Together they looked out at the Straights of Florida, in silence.

Tania was grateful for the pause. She had time to rethink her strategy now that the man wasn't behaving the way he was supposed to. She couldn't guess what was wrong with him, why he didn't take the bait being so deliciously offered. She was, after all, the most attractive girl in her language program at the University of Havana. Everyone said so. She could be a movie star, they said, she was that pretty. Maria was pretty too, but not in the same way. Her friend was pretty from a Cuban's point of view: she had the curves that showed she wasn't starving, the bosom that would jiggle in her tight shirt as she danced; she had a mix of black and white and Hispanic, giving her something to please everyone. Tania, in her own mind, was too frail. She was too slender, a little too white, and, as her mother always said, too smart for her own good. Maybe the man wanted a bigger, darker girl. Maybe she looked too young.