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Summary
It was like something out of a movie. A car pulled up, straight out of the 50’s like everything he’d imagined about Cuba. It was teal, shiny and topless, the fins sleek and long in the back. It rolled to a stop and turned off, its driver stepping out and fluidly closing the door behind him.
Ian’s eyes started from the top and worked down. The man’s skin was pale, a touch of pink across his nose and cheeks. His black hair was slicked back, his button-down Hawaiian shirt open at the throat and to the top of his chest. He walked with purpose and swagger, and it seemed Ian wasn’t the only one who was paying attention.
Ian had thought that he’d seen all of the beauty this country had to offer, but it seemed he’d only scratched the surface.