𓊆🌹𓊇 𓏵—𝒿𝓊𝒶𝓃𝒶

"Hm? Must be Grantz." I said to myself while fixing my makeup on the vanity stand. I got up and opened the door to see a tall, blue eyed man, completely unrelated to Grantz leaning on the doorway and giving me a smirk.

"So, you must be Juana." He said. I could tell he was latino just from his accent.

"Can I help you?" I asked.

"Mami, I think that question would apply to you." He pushed my nose lightly with his index finger. Then, he fixed his posture, dusted himself and extended an arm. "Gabriel Vasquez, owner of Las Noches."

"Oh? So, it was you who called me here..." I flung my face away, then turned back to him and shook his hand. "You might know me already, but I'd like to introduce myself once again. I'm Juana DeGata."

"It feels so much better to hear it from you, than from the...what you call them?" He snapped his fingers trying to find the right words.

"Hey, it's fine, I can speak Spanish too."

"Babe, it's really kind of you to remind me that, it's a free country, but not everything come for free here, y'know? Let me English my way and while I'm at it, let me revise what I tell you, first impression matter to me a lot, y'know?" He cleared his throat.

"It feels so much better to hear your own name come out of your own mouth, than to hear that pretty name come out of a retailer's mouth." He shook my hand again.

"You flatter me." I chuckled trying not to make eye contact with the new guy.

"No. I only speak the truth. I learn something when I come here in America. It's that if I tell the truth to men, but lie to women, I no man. I finished, I die."

"Speaking of which, are you an immigrant?"

"I political refugee from Cuba. Where's you from, pussycat?"

"I'm Cuban too." I smiled with my eyes hanging low to look at his shoes.

"Oh, I see, we already have a lot in common."

"A lot is so far fetched."

"Your boat ride to America was a mental hospital of its own, I'm sure. I no fetch far, emigration is a big part of you now that you American, you get me?"

"Okay, how did you even know I am an emigrant?"

"You think I was born this morning? Fidel would have caught your ass dead or beat before you could cross no fucking border."

"So, what are you gonna do now? You've been standing in my dressing room doorway for 5 minutes now."

"I was wondering if you could let me in."

"Not a chance." I looked up at him before a roadie interrupted our conversation.

"What the hell happened to this guy?!" The roadie asked in shock looking at the state of the other one who was laying on the floor.

"Oh my God!" I gasped. "Is he alright?"

"His pulse is fine, but don't worry about that, Miss DeGata. I came to say that you're up in..." He checked his watch. "Five minutes."

"Five?! I'm not ready yet." I pulled my robe closer to me.

"Leave the roadies, I make up for the time you lost. Get back in there, now."

He ushered me back into the dressing room. He rushed inside and asked me:

"Mami, you got a lot of dresses. Which one you gonna wear?"

"El rojo!"

"You gonna look real pretty in this one." He pulled a fishtail gown with a high slit and gave the dress low whistle.

As I was about to undress, I glared at him and he said:

"Me? No. I no look." He turned to face the wall. "Go on, do your thing, Gata." He swatted the air.

"Wow, such a gentleman." I chuckled as I quickly slipped my dress on. "Hey, check my backside, will you? Does my hair look good?"

"I think you ask the wrong guy..." He dragged his words, then pulled something from the pocket of his suit's vest. "But, I think your hair will look better with this..."

He tucked one side of my hair and planted a plastic rose to the side of my head.

"I was holding onto it every single night before I landed here, it's like my lucky thing. Besides, it looks good with your dress." He sounded like he was admiring me and I couldn't help but feel flattered.

His tone was smooth, slow and deep, forcing me to look into the mirror, my wild wavy hair standing out all from a single rose.

"I think it's time for you to go now. There's people there waiting for you." He said, still look at me through the vanity's mirror.

"I...I can't accept this." I said attempting to remove the rose, but stopped by a large hand holding my wrist.

"Please do." He said as if almost begging, still not making any direct eye contact with me. "A pretty girl like you refusing is worse than death."

I attempted to lower my hand as a sign of surrender before he let go of my wrist.

"It was nice to meet you, Gabriel..." I stammered.

"The pleasure was all mine, Gatita." He smirked and kissed my hand. "And please, call me Grimmjow, if you'd like. I just think it suits me better."

"Don't lose your roots, boy. The American dream is deadly." I said as I headed towards the door. "Anyway, see you in the crowd."

"You don't have to tell me twice." He followed me outside and went back to where he was seated, the smell of his cologne caught up in my nose.

"Hey, is the last guy who was here alright?"

"The paramedics got him in good hands, now go, go. You got a show, Miss." The roadie urged for me as I rushed cautiously with heels on towards the stage, a host already there to present me.

"Your star for tonight, Juana DeGata." The host stretched an arm as I made my way on stage.

A round of applause was made for me as I continued to sing, moreover to set the mood. No one was really paying any attention to me after that. The band was chiming against my ears and people were either on the dance floor or having regular conversations. He, however, was watching me and intently at that. He undressed me with his beaming blue eyes as he took hits from a cigar every now and then and I couldn't help but look away embarrassed by what was happening. Him giving me attention felt like this entire club had its eyes on me, like he sunk into my heart with the amount of satisfaction he was staring at me with. He knew what he was doing by thickening the atmosphere between us, it made me choke on my notes, my voice all of a sudden cracked and I had to sit the embarrassment of the many faces that twitched when hearing my singing voice strain. I was ashamed, but continued on to sing, thinking of my memories as a teenager pretending to be Donna Summer or Diana Ross. My abuelo's cane, a microphone. My mother's scarves, my fancy shawls. The sofa, my limousine. It was all in my head, my expectations were different from my reality. I could sing, but was I happy? I didn't even know anymore. Even as I sang, it already felt like my soul was being drained and drunken by him. The occasional smirks he would give me were everything to me, even if under all the murmurs, I heard people complain about me unexpectedly letting out a bad note. The problem was the fact that it never occurred to me before that I'd be falling in love at first sight with such a man.

From his face tattoo to the way he stood in his own velvet armchair, I knew I shouldn't be falling for him, but I also knew that unlike my other clients, he didn't see me in the way I thought he did. He, to say the least, cared. Even if it was just for a moment. My eye was on him and his on mine through my entire performance.

"Where the fuck were you? I was looking everywhere." Grantz panted tapping Gabriel's shoulder.

"Me? Oh, I was around."

"You fucking abandoned me in the middle of the crowd!"

"I wanted to see your muse a little bit closer."

"Don't tell me you fucked her."

"Fuck no! Are you crazy? I just got to know her, man." He adjusted himself upward against his armchair.

"You are insufferable."

"Shh, she's singing." He leaned closer, resting his elbows against his thighs.

"Guess mine is not the first heart broken." I closed my eyes upon singing the next song and I got closer to the microphone, holding it in my hands. "My eyes are not the first to cry..."

Hours slipped away until the clock struck one in the morning and I was escorted by my roadies and then, Grantz noticed me and immediately got up.

"Looks like someone's ready to get back to their hotel."

"Isn't the Cadillac here to pick me up?"

"Yes, but you'll also be here a good week."

"Huh?!" I looked in confusion, secretly wishing I would see that handsome, but harsh blue eyed man again.

"Honey, I know it's not your usual style, but trust me, you'll be fine. Miami every once in a while won't do you any bad." He patted my shoulder, attempting to escort me, but was stopped by Gabriel.

"She's not going anywhere until I've finished with her." He smirked and kissed my hand, his hot breath covering the surface. "I guess I'll be seeing you tomorrow night, Miss...DeGata."

"Believe me, this was only the begging." I spoke playfully to him, giving him a wink.

Driving all the way to the other side of Miami was the last road I was willing to make. Grantz was driving, while I just needed to sleep on the side of the passenger's seat, but couldn't.

"I think he loves me." I murmured in an attempt to break the silence.

"Oh, really?" Grantz chuckled. "How can you tell?"

"The eyes. They never lie, because they can't."

"Don't rush yourself, Gata. Who knows what his true intentions are with you? Grimmjow, he's not the kind of guy who falls in love easily. Give it time, sweetheart. You just met him."

I still tucked the rose behind my hair, being reminded of the gesture each time I felt it against my head. I couldn't relate to that statement, because with the entirety of my childhood spent in Cuba, I couldn't open up properly, I could still remember being called a prostitute by older boys in the neighborhood and even my own relatives. I just used singing as an escape, because that's what my hopes and dreams relied heavily on. It was the effect that it all had on me. Maybe I didn't know how to really talk with a guy. Not every boyfriend I ever had was worth the sitting. Even if I really am into Grimmjow, I'm honestly kind of scared to make another move.

"Only Heaven knows." I sulked.

"Miami's too big to be handling your problems, Gata. Maybe there was a God out there for you in Cuba, but here in the United States, I am your god and you only pray to me for prosperity." Grantz said with his eyes on the road.

I took the rose out of my hair and smelt it. I didn't except an artificial flower to be scented, but that's what made it special. I kept it under my nose until Szayel stopped at the hotel.

"Don't forget to take your stuff with you, Gata." He said as I opened the door and took my luggage with me.

"Aren't you coming?"

"You're gonna have to wait for me, bubblehead. I think I just made some new friends and you know I can't leave 'em hanging." He chuckled and made a reverse turn before going back to the nightclub in which he sent me.

"Sure, sure, don't leave your friends. They're more important than I ever was, especially when you just met them."

I took my luggage with me into my hotel. I showed the receptionist my ID and I was given my keycard, sliding it into my room's door. Exhausted, I immediately dropped into bed, the rose still in my hand.

"I wonder why." I looked at the rose and left it on my beside table and opened my luggage, so as to get into my nightgown.

"No olvides tus cigarrillos!" A pack of cigarettes was laying on top of my stuff with a note from Grantz.

"Fuck that." I folded my dress, got into my nightgown and wrapped a duvet around me. "Tomorrow is another day." I sighed.

A knock came at my hotel room door, and another and another after that, buy I'd be damned if I ever responded to another one when I was in the middle of a good sleep. Then, my worst nightmare occurred to me when I was uncovered from my bedsheets and a sweet: "Rise and shine, Gatita! We're going dress shopping!"

"Come pinga." I groaned. "How did you get in my room?"

"I had a key card too. Now, get up. We got a big day, sweetie!" He vigorously shook me awake.

"I'm tired."

"And I'm not leaving until you get up."

"Ay coño. You are a living nightmare." I bunched my hair in my hands out of annoyance. "Fine."

"That's a good girl."