Page 11 of Vistaria Has Fallen
“To go down at least fifty percent of the time.”
Minnie grinned. “They say here that if you get tired climbing the hills, you can always lean against them.”
Two huge margaritas arrived, along with a platter of rolled tortillas surrounded by tomato slices, sour cream and green salsa.
“We didn’t order this,” Calli said.
“What’s this?” Minnie asked the waiter. She pointed at thetortillas. “Qué?”
“Sí.” The waiter pointed to a table at the far end of the patio where three men sat with a bottle of tequila between them. A woman was with them, wearing a modern business skirt and silky blouse. One man—young, with bright, happy eyes—lifted his shot glass toward them.
Minnie smiled and shook her head, a hand over her heart. “Please take them back,” she told the waiter. “Wejust want to have a quiet drink.”
The waiter looked at the man at the other table, shrugged and picked up the platter.
The man called out something. He motioned that the waiter should put the platter down, then got to his feet and bowed from the waist. With deliberate, exaggerated motions, he turned his chair to face the table of men, his back to them. He would leave them alone, despite hisgift.
“Oh, the darling,” Minnie breathed.
“How do youdothat?” Calli asked, rubbing her temple. She took a sip of the margarita. Delicious and with just the right degree of kick—featherweight—for this heat.
“Do what?”
“Get them to leave you alone after you’ve hooked them and drawn them in?”
“No idea,” Minnie admitted. “They just seem to understand.”
“Even here?”
Minnie waved toward thetable where they talked with their heads together, not taking the slightest notice of Calli and her. “Apparently.”
“I wish I’d had you with me last night,” Calli muttered.
“It didn’t occur to you that the men just wanted fun?”
“Groping is fun?”
“Groping is a compliment. The men here, they see, they like, they do something about it. It’s refreshing. You know where you stand.”
The images fromher dream zinged back into Calli’s mind. They were faded now and losing their edge, yet still had the power to catch her breath and make her pause. She remembered to breathe again and picked up one of the tortilla wraps. “I bet you do,” she told Minnie and took a bite.
Minnie tilted her head. “When are you going to forgive the race of men for what that bastard did to you? They’re not all tarredwith the same brush.”
Calli choked on the mouthful of tortilla as the spice hit the back of her mouth, her tongue and her lips. Afraid to take a breath lest her mouth burst into flames, she sat with the morsel on her tongue, not sure if she could swallow it. What would it do to her stomach? Tears blurred her vision.
“Swallow, then suck on the tomato,” Minnie advised, pushing a napkin into herhand.
Calli swallowed, then reached for the margarita.
“No, the tomato. Trust me.” Minnie took the glass from her. “That will make it worse.”
Calli grabbed a slice of the tomato and stuffed it into her mouth. She was astonished by the instant relief. “Oh my god!” she said, when at last she could draw breath. “Do Vistarians have cast iron stomachs? Metal linings in their mouths? I think my lipshave gone numb.” She prodded them experimentally.
Minnie smiled and took the rest of the tortilla from Calli. “Excuse fingers,” she said as she unrolled it. Along the row of spicy meat and vegetables inside she dabbed big dollops of sour cream and a line of the green salsa. Then she rolled up the tortilla and handed it back. “Try that.”
“Is it safe?”
Minnie merely sipped her drink with a smile.
