Breaking Down

Chapter 7

7

Gabi

All week, I had gone to practice with the guys early in the morning, had a late lunch with them, then Gui, Pedro, and I came back to the apartment. Pedro sulked, while Gui played video games and texted with Hilary.

Usually after a snack in the middle of the afternoon, Gui and Pedro went to the gym to work out. And I usually went with them.

Friday morning was no different.

“Ready?” Gui asked as he filled his water bottle from the fridge’s water dispenser.

“Ready,” I said, picking up my backpack. I had all the clothing I could need there, but my mood was going south. “Though I’m not sure I’ll practice today.”

He turned to me, screwing the cap back onto his bottle. “Por quê?”

“Feeling a little off, is all.” I shrugged, taking a seat on one of the kitchen stools, in no rush. We still had to wait for Pedro who had ignored his snooze alarm and was now running late.

Gui snorted. “You say that now. I bet when we’re there and you see the field and the horses and the mallets, you’ll be the first on the field.” He knew me well. Damn him. He patted my shoulder. “I’m gonna check on Pedro.”

To pass the time, I took my phone out of my bag and found a new message from a number I didn’t know.

It’s Tyler. Can we talk? What time can I call you?

Tyler had sent me that message about an hour ago. Droga.

I quickly replied to him.

You might not want to call me since my number is international.

Not even thirty seconds later, my phone dinged with a new message.

Then tell me your address. And what time I should come by.

I bit the inside of my cheek. Droga. What did he want now? To humiliate me some more? But of course, my brain rushed ahead, assuming he wanted to tell me he had reconsidered and wanted to accept my deal.

My heart raced as I typed in the apartment address and told him he could come by in about thirty minutes.

Okay was his reply.

I stared at the phone and barely registered Gui coming back to the kitchen.

“What are you doing?”

I lowered my phone as if he had caught me drooling at pics of shirtless men on the internet. “Nothing, just checking my social media.”

Pedro stumbled out of the hallway. “I’m here, I’m here. Let’s go.”

I scrunched my nose. “Actually, I’m not going.”

“What happened?” Gui asked, concern lacing his words.

I smiled at him. “Nothing to be worried about. I just … I got my period yesterday and things are nasty down here.” I gestured toward my lower parts, making both guys cringe. Bingo. “And the cramps are starting. I better stay in bed for a little while more.”

“Hm, sim, do that.” Gui retreated a few steps as if it could be contagious. I bit back a laugh.

“Isso. Rest.” Pedro waved at me and marched to the door. “See you later.”

The guys bolted out of the apartment and I chuckled. Then, I froze.

Meu Deus, Tyler was coming here. Now.

I looked down at myself, to make sure I looked okay. Jeans, a plaid shirt with rolled up sleeves, and cowboy boots. Nothing much. My practice clothes were in my backpack, and I also had a few things in Gui’s locker at the club.

For the next thirty minutes, I paced the living room, checked my phone two hundred times, turned on The Bachelor but didn’t pay any attention to it, and I tried not to bite my nails off.

Forty minutes passed.

Then fifty.

Then sixty.

What was he thinking, that he could toy with me? I had just opened the messaging app and was about to text him when the intercom rang. I raced to the kitchen, almost tripping on my feet in the process, and answered the call.

“Good afternoon, Miss Fernandes,” the bellman said. “Tyler Reid is here. Should I send him up?”

“Yes, please.” My voice was calm but my hands started shaking.

Even though it would take him a couple of minutes to hop on the elevator and come up, I rushed to the door as if the kitchen was on fire. My heart beat fast against my ribs as I opened the door and waited, wondering, wishing, hoping, he was here for a good reason.

The elevator’s soft ding echoed through the hallway, and two seconds later, Tyler stepped out. I held my breath. Instantly, his eyes found mine.

He was more handsome than I remembered, which made my heart do a flip. And taller too. His shirt hugged his wide shoulders, and his jeans seemed to have been molded to his thick thighs. I tried not to stare at him, but I was too nervous to do anything else.

“Hi,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

Suddenly on the defensive, I crossed my arms. “Hey.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Can we talk?”

He was here. Did that mean he had reconsidered my offer? He wouldn’t have come all this way to tell me no again, right?

I stopped the thoughts hemorrhaging in my brain and stepped back, allowing him to enter the apartment.

He walked in and glanced around. “Nice place.”

“It’s my brother’s, not mine.” I closed the front door and walked around him. “I was going to get a Coke for me. Do you want anything?” I started for the kitchen. “There’s Coke, guaraná, orange and grape juice, water, sparkling water, and also the essentials like beer, whiskey, and wine.”

He followed me into the kitchen, but halted on the other side of the island. “What’s guaraná?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “It’s a Brazilian soda made from a fruit called guaraná. It’s rather good. Want to try it?”

A knot knitted his forehead. “Um, no. Not right now. And since it’s too early for the essentials, maybe a Coke.”

I opened the fridge and grabbed two cans of Coke. “Here you go.” I handed him the can and then leaned back on the counter. I took a sip from my Coke and stared at him while he still scanned the apartment. My defensive mode rang louder. “All right, Tyler, I don’t have the heart for this, and I’m leaving for Brazil in four days. If you have something to say, say it.”

He returned his eyes to me and sighed. “I lied before. I’m desperate for money and I want … to talk more about your proposition.”

“Okay … hm, but first tell me, how much do you need?”

He paused. “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars and counting.”

It was a lot of money, but not too bad. At least he didn’t need millions. “May I ask if you’re in trouble, like do you owe money to some mafia boss or something? Sorry, but I don’t want to be attached to a criminal. That wouldn’t help with the green card process.”

He let out a hollow chuckle. “No, I’m not a criminal. Only if having lots of debt is a crime. I mean, it certainly doesn’t look good, but I'm not a guy who'll end up in jail—maybe homeless.” He inhaled sharply. “How much can you offer me?”

“Don’t you want to know the other details first?”

“I know they matter, but right now, I’m more interest about my end of the deal.”

I took a deep breath. “Three hundred thousand dollars.” His eyes widened and I went on. “If we get married and I apply for a green card, we have to stay married for two years before divorcing. If we divorce before completing two years, I lose the green card. So, here’s my deal: I'll give you one third of the money on the night of our wedding, the second third on our first anniversary, and the final third on our second anniversary. Does that sound okay?”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “What else do I need to know about your end of the deal?”

“I would have to research more, but I think the first thing would be to actually get married and move in together.”

“Move in together? Can’t we just pretend to live together?”

I shook my head. “The immigration officer assigned to our case will find out if we’re not living together and then my green card would be denied.”

“Okay. What else?”

“After the wedding, I can contact an immigration lawyer, and he’ll handle the green card application. As far as I know, the immigration office will then contact us and schedule an interview, about three or four months after the application is received. They will ask questions about us, about our relationship, like how we met, when we found out we were in love, and even about our everyday life. They are hard on these, and if they suspect we’re lying, they will interview us separately and ask questions like what’s our favorite color, and other small things like that, to make sure we know each other. I found a list of questions online—not sure if it’s accurate, but we can study those.” I had done extensive research about the green card process in the last few days, simply because I couldn’t stop dreaming. “If they still aren’t sure about us, I heard they can come to family gatherings to see us together, to see how we behave together. If they conclude we’re lying, I’ll be deported and I’ll never be able to come back, not even to visit my family and you … you’ll end up in jail.”