Page 41 of St. Lucia Escapades
“It looked like the bar was hopping all night.”
“Yes, I think my bartenders and waitstaff will be exhausted today.”
Moira chuckled. She took in their surroundings. Cord’s neighborhood was a quiet little place, which seemed surprising since it was New York. His home was in an older part of the Bronx, but the neighborhood was well maintained. He had told her that the people had fought tooth and nail to keep the troubles of the city out of their little pocket. When they turned into a park, she smiled as a group of teenagers waved and called out to Cord. It was obvious to her, then and there, that Cord was well known and liked by his neighbors.
“Hey Senor O’Brien.” A boy of about sixteen greeted, walking up with a basketball tucked under his arm.
“Hey Rico.” Cord smiled.
“Is this the Senorita you told us about?” Rico asked.
“It is. Rico, this is Moira Donovan. Moira, this Rico Arzola. He and his family live two houses down.”
“It’s nice to meet you Rico.” Moira smiled, offering her hand.
“Senor O’Brien has talked about you a lot.” Rico grinned.
The young man surprised her when instead of shaking her hand, he took it and kissed the back of her hand. “Awe, no eres el caballero?”
Rico’s eyes widened at her calling him a gentleman in his native language. “You speak Spanish?”
Moira giggled, “Only a little. I live in DC and come to New York often to visit my editor and publisher. My editor Holly, lives in Spanish Harlem and she taught me a little. Course, with me being Irish, my Spanish isn’t all that good.”
“It’s better than mine. Rico has been trying for a few years now to teach me and I still can only say ‘hello’ and ‘my name is’.” Cord laughed.
“Well, my friends and I were wondering if you’d like to play a game of basketball?” Rico asked, looking up at Cord hopefully.
“Oh, um…”
“Cord go play. I’ll sit right there on the bleachers and cheer you on.” Moira insisted.
Cord kissed her cheek and followed Rico. Moira made her way to the bleachers and took a seat next to two women, one Hispanic or Puerto Rican and the other African American, both who looked to be in their early to mid-forties. The ladies studied her before one of them spoke up.
“Are you a friend of Senor O’Brien?”
“Aye. We met on vacation…” Moira began.
“Oh! You’re the one Mr. O’Brien told our boys about. I’m Leticia Jackson. Those are my boys there, Travis and Aaron. This is Camilla Arzola. Her boy is Rico.” Leticia introduced.
“It’s nice to meet you. Rico was quite the gentleman. When I offered my hand, he didn’t shake it, but kissed it.” Moira replied.
Camilla smiled, “I try to teach him to be el caballero. Today, too many jóvenes have no respect.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” Leticia agreed. “My sister lives in Harlem and her oldest boy got mixed up with some gang bangers last year and he’s now in juvie. I told Aaron and Travis if I ever caught them doing that nonsense they wouldn’t have to worry about the police. In fact, they’d be wanting the police to catch them before I did.”
“It’s sad to see so many kids being mixed up with that. My Da is a policeman in DC and my ma is a nurse. They see it too much. They made sure me, and my brother Sean were taught better.” Moira added, sadness creeping into her voice.
“Mr. O’Brien told us you are a writer?” Leticia questioned.
“I am.” Moira smiled.
“I’ve read a few of your books. I enjoyed them.” Camilla said.
Cord
Cord helped Moira into her chair at the restaurant he had picked out for dinner. The day had been a great one. After three games of basketball with the kids, he and Moira had returned home for lunch. He had then grabbed a shower and they spent most of the afternoon on his couch watching TV. When he told her, they were going out to dinner in Manhattan, Moira had hurried upstairs to get ready.
“So, what did you think of Mrs. Jackson and Señora Arzola?”
