Bella Read Online Free Page A

David cried.
    â€œUh-huh. But you’d better watch out. I might want to keep that ball for myself.”
    The boys looked from one to another, eyebrows raised, faces open. José had all the hope in the world for them. For himself too. But he needed to get going. How could one man take so long to get ready? “Francisco!” he yelled up to his manager again. “Francisco! Come on, brother! Your little sister doesn’t take this long. ”
    Finally.
    Francisco jogged down the front steps. “ Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful .” José could still remember his getup: black leather cap, a pink guayabera shirt, designer of course, loved by cigar smokers everywhere, only maybe not pink, but that was Francisco. An Argentine, Francisco spoke with his hands so much, José wanted to laugh. Well, since José himself wasn’t allowed to use his hands, the privilege might as well go to Francisco.
    Francisco clasped his watch around his wrist. “ Besides , Rome wasn’t built in a day; this takes time.” He snapped his fingers. “Let’s go! ”
    José held up the ball. “All right, guys. I’ll bring this one back to you, I promise.” They slapped hands, sealing the deal.
    He threw the ball into the back of his convertible, feeling very sweaty and slightly heroic. “All right, let’s go.”
    David crossed his arms. “What do we play with until you get back?”
    José opened the car door. He turned to Jasmine, who was standing on the porch. “Ah, Jasmine. Can you get one of those practice balls Francisco keeps in his closet?”
    She nodded and disappeared inside.
    â€œ No, no, no, José. Those balls are expensive. ”
    José hit Francisco on the shoulder as he slid into the vehicle. Such a skinny guy. “ Relax! We’re rich now .”
    Francisco nodded. “ You’re right .” He reached behind him to a cardboard box on the back seat, plucked a cap from inside, and handed it to David. “Call me if you ever need a manager.”
    Looking at himself in the rearview mirror, José licked his fingers and smoothed back his hair.
    â€œLet’s go, José,” Francisco said, as if José had made them late.
    Ah, well.
    Jasmine threw a practice ball from Francisco’s bedroom on the second story.
    David ran toward it, leading the pack of boys.
    All right, I’m ready .” José gripped the steering wheel. “
    Big day. Big, big day.
    He slipped the key into the ignition of the car, a 1957 Bel Air. Long and black, shining chrome, restored leather interior. With Manny and his father’s help, he’d spent hundreds of hours fixing it up. A different kind of car for a different kind of man. He’d show the world he was something else.
    The engine breathed and hummed. José slipped it into drive, and the dual exhausts rumbled as he drove off down the simmering street with a friendly honk of his horn, he and Francisco raising number ones to the boys behind them. The sun warmed their shoulders and they felt like conquerors. Brooklyn today, Europe tomorrow. Who knew? But they would drink it down to the dregs. José had promised himself that after all his family’s hard work and sacrifice to get him to this point, he wasn’t going to waste a second of it.
    Francisco pulled out a leather cigar case from the glove compartment and chose two Cuban Cohibas. He undid the cellophane, snipped off the end of one with his cigar cutter, then handed it to José.
    At the next stop sign, José popped it between his teeth and Francisco held his torch lighter up to the end. “You know not to inhale, right?”
    José sat back, took a deep pull, and let the sweet flavor rush over his tongue. He blew out a thin, directed stream of smoke that the wind quickly disbursed and looked at Francisco like he was crazy.
    Which he was. It was why he hired him as his manager. Francisco made