Surrendering Affair

Chapter 1

Somewhere In NYC, 1960s.

The city was hot and bustling. My chunky boots patted against the sizzling concrete of the city. The city was beautiful then. Somehow we all lived together, and while there were differences, we made it work.

A few men whistled at me as I passed, holding my large paper grocery bag to my chest. The neighborhoods were really changing. New faces were coming in everyday.

Not only was the city sweltering, but it was becoming a melting pot. Our Cuban brothers and sisters began to move in, as well as our Jamaican, Nigerians with a dash of more Chinese, more Italians and more Irish. The neighborhoods constantly changed, some people fleeing to avoid their new neighbors. Some neighborhoods pushing in and becoming small hubs of a specific culture. Others newly forming and filling the gaps left by those who'd jumped ship for Westchester and Long Island.

My neighborhood in Harlem was becoming a perfect mix of Caribbean and African Americans. The only others being old Edwardian relics who refused to give up their apartments. In my hand I held a brown paper bag, with one hand occupied, I struggled to get the key in the front door.

"Negrita!" Called Enriqué as he jogged over. He stopped right by the stoop, resting his foot on the first step. The heat was definitely getting to him. His hair was greased back neatly, with a curl hanging in front of his forehead. He wore a white, tank top undershirt. His gold, oval shaped amulet of La Morenita shimmered under the beating sun. "Do you need a hand?"

"I've got it." I told him as I turned back toward the door. As I fumbled with the key in my hand, suddenly it fell onto the ground. "Shit."

"Let me help you." He insisted, walking up the few steps of the stoop. Taking my large grocery bag, he stood there as I crouched down and picked up my keys. "Do you need help going up to your apartment?"

"You don't live in this building, Enriqué." I reminded him with a smirk. He smiled at me while I took my groceries back from him. "Besides, the landlord will go ape if strangers are passing through her building. You know Mrs. Nelson hates strangers."

"You're gonna need to open your front door..." He said smoothly as he stepped toward me.

I rolled my eyes, playing hard to get. "No thank you." I insisted. With a nod, he walked down the steps. As he faced me, he backed away with a dimpled grin. Then he walked off to find another way to occupy himself on that hot day.

Walking into my building, I shut the door behind me. After three flights of stairs that felt like thirty, I finally made it to my floor. Just as Enriqué envisioned, I found myself fumbling with my key.

Next thing I knew, the bottom to the bag I held broke. All of my groceries fell on the floor. I jumped and moved my feet as I tried to avoid getting my toes stubbed by tin cans.

"Shit." I said under my breath.

"Hey, are you alright, there?" A young man called from the step landing above. I was still staring down at the mess I'd made, holding my limp and now useless paper bag.

"Yeah, but I can pick all this up—" When I looked up at him, I was shocked. It was as if his face was molded by the gods themselves. He leaned nonchalantly over the railing at his landing. My, he was attractive. His deep blue eyes only added to the equation. Then he smiled, and that made everything so much worse. Suddenly I no longer had stranger danger. "Well... I guess I could use some help."

The young man disappeared from the railing he leaned over. The sound of his footsteps echoed in the hallway. I quickly fixed my short, beehive hair as if to prepare for my handsome knight in shining armor. Once he appeared at the bottom of the steps, he walked over to me willing to help. He wore a white t-shirt, dark grey slacks and loafers. Now I was positive the weather wasn't the hottest thing in New York at that moment.