“Since when are you a marketing expert?” Valentina barks back, startling Silvana.
“It’s mostly through flyers, ads in the local paper, and word of mouth,” I reply.
“I just find that a bit surprising. You can’t possibly get enough business just from word of mouth.”
I stare at my half-eaten duck, trying to think of what I could say to stop this line of questioning.
“What do you plan to do about—”
“Oh my God, will you shut up?” Maria shouts. “You’re so fucking nosy. It’s none of your business, Silvie. Just eat your fucking duck. Damn.”
For a moment, everyone is quiet. Their eyes shifting back and forth between each other. Then, almost as if it was rehearsed earlier, they all begin laughing. Luciano nearly spits out his wine. Abuelita is giggling so hard, her eyes are completely closed from the grin on her face. Rosita has tears falling down her face.
Maritza and Silvana, on the other hand, are unamused. Silvana’s cheeks are flushed, probably from embarrassment. I can’t say I’m unhappy about this.
“Maria, you nailed it right on the head,” Rosita says, laughing even louder. “These two are the nosiest putas in this place.”
Everyone laughs so much harder. Even I can’t help but join in.
I look over at Silvana, who is just glaring at me. Something tells me I just became her new target for the week.
I was never close to Silvana or Maritza, who, like Rosita, is my mother’s sister. She and my mother were so different that they never got along. I barely saw my aunt and cousin, but when I did, I remember thinking what an absolute snob Silvie was. It looks like she still is one, if not worse now.
The first dessert course arrives, and it’s the original one they planned before I came and added another one. It’s a merlot-poached pear. I don’t even know how to eat it. Do I pick it up and take a bite? It’s all soggy. There’s no way. I see everyone using a fork and a knife to slice into the pear. I’m suddenly incredibly excited about the rice pudding afterward.
“Interesting dessert choice,” I whisper to Valentina.
“Only the best for your highness,” she mutters.
“Do you normally make desserts like this at your gigs?”
Valentina nods. “This is the norm for me. I get a lot of…bougie clients, for lack of a better word. They like to eat fancy dishes to make themselves seem important. To them, a simple plate with a random pear is decadent. A symbol of class.”
“And for you?” I say, glancing up at her eyes. The string lights above us make them sparkle.
She smirks. “I hate pears.”
I can’t help but smile back. The way her eyes crease every time she grins makes me want to melt. Maybe it’s just the merlot in the pear getting to me or the second glass of chardonnay I had earlier. I feel a buzzing in my head, hyperaware of her presence next to me. The way her thigh presses up against mine, even though there’s definitely room. The sweet scent that wafts in the air whenever she flips her hair back to reveal her long neck.
“What the fuck is this?” Maria whispers, breaking my trance.
“What do you mean? It’s obviously a fancy dessert for fancy people like us,” I joke.
“We need some flan or tres leches up in here. Who do I speak to about this?” Maria laughs as she pokes the pear with her knife.
“Just eat it, you child,” I demand. “We need to play the part.”
If it weren’t for Silvana, I would be in a perfect position to continue talking to Luciano. Now is the time, before the real dessert—Roberto’s arroz con leche—that I should gather some more information about him. I need to know everything I can to impress him with my business plan.
“So, how did you two meet?” I ask, pointing back and forth between Luciano and Sofia.
They look into each other’s eyes in perfect unison and smile like a couple of almost newlyweds, blindly in love.
“Oh, brother,” Valentina mumbles.
“Should I say or do you want to, mi amor?” Luciano coos.
“You can say it. Or I can say it.” Sofia giggles.
