“I’m gonna buy a villa. Then I’m going to spend my days cruising the net and my nights cruising for hookers. I’m going to get a straw hat and demand that everyone call me
“Sometimes I worry about you. Where is this villa going to be?”
“Either back in Arizona or somewhere in Mexico, down by the sea. I’ve always wanted to live on the ocean.”
“Hold the phone Pancho Villa, you don’t even speak Spanish.”
“Yes, I do,” Alvarez insisted.
“Ok, say something Spanish.”
Alvarez looked around for a moment. “Ok, you don’t think I can speak Spanish. How about this, ‘puede contener mani cacahuate.’”
“That doesn’t sound Spanish, that sounds Hawaiian.”
“It’s Spanish.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means stop insulting my ancestors.”
“What was it again?”
“Puede contener mani cacahuate,” Alvarez repeated.
“You sure that doesn’t mean, ‘may contain nut products’?”
“You speak Spanish?”
“No, but I can read.” Corbin picked up a McDonalds cup from the floor of Alvarez’s car. Written on the side of the cup was: “puede contener mani cacahuate” just below “may contain nut products.” Corbin dropped the cup back to the floor. “I’d rethink the Mexico plan, amigo.”
“It’s a work in progress. What are you gonna do with your share?”
Corbin shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I don’t have any plans for it.”
“What do you think dipshit will do with his?”
“Don’t know. . don’t care.”
Chapter 18
Blue set a beer down in front of Corbin when Corbin returned from the stage. Blue was grinning, which made Corbin suspicious.
“This beer come from the young lady over your left shoulder. Brunette. Very pretty,” he said in his deep, raspy voice.
“Which one?” Corbin asked, scanning the crowd.
“You know who Jean Simmons is?”
Corbin squinted at Blue. “From KISS?”
“No, the actress. . 1950’s. She was in that movie with Brando and Sinatra. She kind a’ look like her.”
“Sounds temping, but I’ll pass.”
“You ain’t gonna wanna pass on this one.”
Corbin started to protest, but Blue grabbed his arm.
“I promised I’d send you over if I had to carry you. You gonna make a liar outta me?”
Corbin chuckled. “All right, but just because we’re friends.”
It took Corbin only a few seconds to spot the woman. She would have stood out in any crowd. She was sitting at a small table with her back to the bar, wearing a green vintage dress from the 1940s. The dress had an hourglass shape and was cut tightly around the knees, where it flared out before finishing mid-calf. Her auburn- brown hair was held up in a twist, exposing her neck. One hand gracefully stirred a martini glass with a straw. The other rested in her lap.
As Corbin approached, he suddenly recognized her as the woman with the pink flower, though she didn’t have the flower with her tonight. “Blue, you sneaky dog,” he said to himself. He pulled back his shoulders and said, “May I join you?”
“Please do,” she said confidently, though she began nervously shaking her crossed leg.
“Thanks for the beer.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Did you like the performance?”
She smiled. “You’re very good.”
“Thank you.”
Neither seemed to know what to say next. They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. Both of their hearts were beating faster.
“Can I ask you a question?” Corbin finally said, as he tried to suppress the grin slowly taking over his face.
The woman lightly brushed a stray hair from her face before nodding.
“Why the pink flower?”
“Pink flower?” Now she too struggled to suppress a grin.
“I’m pretty sure you had a pink flower on your table when I first saw you,” Corbin said, resting both arms on the table.
“Fascinating,” she replied breathlessly.
“That’s not a denial.”
“It’s not a confirmation either. Why the change in your music?” she countered.
“Change?”
The woman looked down at the table. She ran her fingers up and down the stem of her martini glass. “You haven’t noticed?” she said, with a hint of disappointment.
“I take it, you mean more than just the playlist?”
“Don’t tell me you really haven’t noticed?”
Corbin reluctantly shook his head.
“You haven’t heard the incredible passion in your music lately?”
“Passion?”
“For the past month or so, in everything you’ve played.”
Corbin raised an eyebrow. “Wow, no one’s ever told me that before.”
The woman tilted her head to one side and half-squinted one eye. “You’re kidding?”
“No, honestly. I’d love to hear more.”
She smiled. For the first time, she noticeably blushed.
“I’ve just had a thought,” Corbin said. “I noticed you haven’t eaten, and I’m pretty hungry myself, and it sounds like this could take some time. And as much as I like Blue, he’s not the best cook. But I know this wonderful Mexican place in Ballston. They’re open until three in the morning. Want to join me for some very late dinner?”
“What should I say to that?”
“Say ‘yes.’ No one can resist Mexican food after midnight.”
Molly lounged more than sat on Corbin’s desk with her legs crossed at the knee and one foot propped up on the extra chair. The other foot bounced around in the air out in front of her, with her high-heeled sandal dancing from the ends of her toes. Her hands were on the desk behind her, balancing her body as she leaned backwards. It was high-summer and Molly was as skimpily dressed as the dress code would allow. Above her tan stockings she wore a tan miniskirt and a white silk blouse with rolled-up sleeves and a wide open collar. A silver chain hung around her neck with two intersecting hearts. This was a gift from Shoe Guy, whom she was still dating.
Corbin slumped in his chair. His light-gray suit looked wrinkled and his tie rested loosely around his neck. The top button on his shirt was unbuttoned.
“What happened to you?” Molly asked.
“What do you mean?” Corbin asked through half-open eyes.
“You look like you haven’t slept, you’re grinning like an idiot, and no offense, but you smell like a Mexican restaurant. Beyond that everything seems normal,” Molly added sarcastically. She pushed her hair back over her
