"Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
"Right now is good, if you'd like to come back to my desk with me."
"I’m also in search of lunch. Do you mind coming with me while I order a burger?"
"Of course not,” she says.
We start off in the direction of the hamburger shack, Nora moving swiftly along the wide path in her heels, in juxtaposition to the tourists strolling along in their flip-flops and floppy hats. She’s all business today. "What can I do for you?"
"I was hoping you’d act as the contact person for all stock orders from Rojas during the competition.”
"We have a beverage services manager for that. I’d be happy to pass his contact information to you.”
“As our point person from the resort, it’ll be much smoother on my end if you do it. I’d like to give your email address to my personal assistant, Jaquell Morales. She’ll be given strict instructions that any orders placed by you are to be treated as top priority and will be filled immediately.”
"Certainly,” she says, offering me a tight smile. "I’d be happy to take care of that for you."
We arrive at the hamburger shack, and I'm certain she's about to drop me off and leave, so I say, "Would you care to join me for lunch?"
She looks taken aback, and I’m sure she’s about to say no, so I add, “There’s something else I was hoping to discuss with you.”
“All right,” she says without inflection.
After we order—a cheeseburger with fries for me and a burger with no bun and no fries for her—we sit at a table for two overlooking the beach. A thatched roof protects us from the sun.
Nora fidgets with the napkin dispenser, then looks at me expectantly. “Is everything okay with your room?”
“Yes, it’s perfectly adequate for my purposes, thank you,” I tell her.
“Good. How’s your week going?”
“Busy. Yours?”I’m dying. All I can think about is how pretty she looks in this light, when what I need to do is figure out a way to bring up Paz.
“Same. I’ve been spending a lot of time helping set up practice sessions for the contestants.”
Ah, here we go. We’re getting closer… “Is that where you were taking Paz Castillo the other day?”
“Yes.” Her cheeks turn pink. “I watched him for a while. He’s extremely talented. Really great personality too. I think he’s got a good shot at the title.”
My jaw clenches, but I do my best to look relaxed. “I’m sure he does. He’s definitely capable of turning on the charm, but there’s not a lot of substance to back it up.”
The server stops at our table with our meals. Setting them down, she gives Nora the eye, as in “is this a date?” to which Nora replies, “Ronnie, this is Mr. Rojas, the sponsor of the bartending competition. We’re having a working lunch.”
Ronnie offers me a grin, then says, “Pleasure to meet you. I just love Rojas Rummies.”
“Thank you. They’re quite popular among the younger crowd,” I answer (i.e., people too lazy to mix their own drinks).
“It’s just so nice that they’re premixed for you.”
“Exactly.”
The entire time we’re chatting, I can sense Nora’s outrage at what I said about Paz, and I know as soon as Ronnie leaves, I’m going to get an earful.
After Ronnie hurries off, leaving us alone, I pour ketchup on my plate, dip a fry in, and pop it in my mouth. On her side of the table, Nora is furiously cutting up the burger patty, tomato, and lettuce with a fork and knife. She selects a bite, pops it in her mouth, and chews.
A few more angry bites later, she says, “Ronnie’s parents died when she was seventeen. Car accident. So sad.”
“That’s awful,” I answer. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
