by Beth Fred
Chapter 4
I stood on the sidewalk and watched them board the bus. When they realized I wasn't going to the airport with them, a couple of them started calling me names.
I hated my sister right now. I didn't like that she was marrying Emmett, but I never said anything. I didn't want to come to Cancun, and that I did say. I didn't like that she had volunteered me to pay for it, but I didn't complain. I had told her it would be her wedding present. But the mess she made here was too much.
For the moment, all I could do was stand there on that sidewalk and hope Luke came outside. He could tell me where to get my sister, and I'd have to find a way there. And probably sell some belongings to post bail. Belongings. My suitcase was still upstairs. I was too upset to think to bring it down with me.
Finally, Luke came out of the glass doors. I hated to bother him again after he had to help clean up my sister's mess, but I needed to get the address to where they took Kammy and hoped he could call me a cab. My Spanish didn't seem nearly extensive enough to provide the address on my own.
I rushed toward him, “Luke.”
“Ahh, chica, there you are.”
“I—”
“It's not fair, you know.”
I looked down at the sidewalk. “I know. I'm sorry.”
“You know my name, but I don't know yours. If you don't tell me soon, I'm probably going to have to call you anjel.”
I couldn't help but look up and smile. I felt the heat in my face again, but I didn't even care. My Spanish might be limited, but I did grow up in Texas. I thought I knew anjel. “Anjel?”
“Angel. Any girl who can care so much for a sister like Kammy has to be an angel, and you look like one.”
“Thank you,” I said, as the heat in my cheeks grew warmer. I stood there for a minute looking dumb, then realized I had to get past flirting with this guy, as much as I liked it, because I had to find Kammy. “Hey, I'm really sorry to bother you again, but do you think you can give me the address to where they took my sister?”
“Only if you let me buy you dinner.”
Three thoughts mingled in my mind at once. First, I didn't know this guy, and I shouldn't get in the car with a stranger. Second, why on earth would a guy who'd seen my sister's disaster tonight and had taken a gash to the eye trying to end it want to go out with me? Finally, he was so cute. Too cute. The kind of guy I usually wouldn't date, because I would assume he was some jerk. But this guy had been so nice all night. It didn't make sense.
“Dinner after I find my sister?”
“Uhh—I think it is totally appropriate to make her wait.”
I felt guilty leaving Kammy in some jail where she didn't even know the language and couldn't communicate with anyone. But this was her fault. She ruined my weekend, my financial quarter, and God only knew how much money she’d cost me, so I decided Luke was right. Let her wait. Have fun. Put Tiffany first. If the situation were reversed, that was what Kammy would do.
“You're right,” I said.
“My car is with the valet.” He took my hand, and my heart fluttered. I hadn't been on a date in a year, and the last guy I dated was no Luke. Of course, I didn't know much about this guy. He could still turn out to be a total loser—and guys that went for me usually were. But it didn't seem like it. I wanted to relish every second of this, and I wanted to turn and run.
But I had to leave the country in a couple of days. And after everything Kammy did, maybe sooner. Since I already knew this could only end in disappointment, I couldn't be hurt too badly. I knew one other comforting fact. It wouldn't end as badly as my last relationship. I'd never be betrayed like that again.
A silver sports car pulled up. The valet got out and handed the keys to Luke, who opened the passenger door for me and got in the other side.
“You have a really nice car,” I said.
He shrugged. “It's a rental.”
“Where is your car?”
“Unavailable.”
Whatever that meant.
“Do you think Kammy's okay?”
He laughed. “Mexican jails aren't much worse than US jails. She'll be alright.”
“I didn't mean—”
“I know. You're trying to take care of your sister. But she'll be okay. It might not be up to her standards, but she's too drunk to remember that.”
“That's true.”
“You know, you still haven't told me your name, mystery girl.”
Yes, I did. Didn't I? Oh, my God. He was totally right. He called me angel. I got busy flirting. I forgot! Smooth, Tiffany. Real smooth.
I laughed at my own stupidity. “Tiffany.”
“So, Tiffany, why are you doing your taxes on vacation?”
“I didn't say I was doing my taxes.” I actually hadn't had time to do that yet. “I said I was doing taxes.”
“So, angel girl is doing someone else's taxes on vacation?”
I shrugged. “I'm an accountant. It's my job.”
“Where did you go to school?”
“SMU.”
“Eww—rich white girl.”
I laughed. “Well, I did have a college fund, but I had a scholarship, too. It wasn't much more than if I went to a public school. What about you?” I asked to be polite, but the truth was unless it was in Mexico City, I would have never heard of it.
“UT.”
Okay, wrong. UT, I knew. “What do you do?”
He shrugged. “Not much. Help out on mi abuela's sugar plantation.”
“You went to UT to farm sugar?” I realized how rude that sounded as soon as I said it. But UT wasn't the easiest school to get into, and international tuition is steep. Why would anyone do that to work on his grandmother’s farm?
He laughed. “It was a fun six years.”
“Not very studious, huh?”
He took his eyes off the road for a brief moment and looked at me with a crease in his forehead. “Not studious?”
“Well, even if you take summers off, college is only four years.”
He gave me a smug smile. “What can I say? I spent a lot of time with girls like your sister and her friends.”
I laughed.
“In fact, a few of those could have been exes.”
Are you serious? Maybe, it could happen twice. My face grew serious. “Not Kammy, right?”
His voice took a tone of caution. “Not Kammy what?”
“Kammy couldn't be an ex.”
“I was actually joking.”
“Oh,” I said as I blew out a breath. But I'd just made a decision. Dinner, an address to my sister's jail cell, and this was done. I was right in the beginning. Guys like Luke don't belong with girls like me.
He pulled up in front of a small cafe on the beach.
“I'm not one of those guys that orders for you, usually, but you have to let me tonight.”
“Okay, but then I get to order for you.”
He laughed. “Okay, why?”
“Because if I don't like what you order for me, I'm eating yours.”
“I like bold girls.”
“I'm not bold, only hungry.”
We walked toward the dark restaurant. Luke tried to open the door and found it to be locked. “What? This place is always open,” he said. He flicked his wrist and looked down at his big gold watch. “It's after midnight.”
“Oh, my God, I should get Kammy.”
“We should get food. I'm such a loser. I can't believe I took a girl to a closed restaurant on a first date.”
That was odd. He was worried about impressing me?
Back in the car, Luke said, “I know one more place we can try, and if that's not open, we're eating at my place.”
“What makes you think I'm going to your place? I don't even know you.”
“Well, you've been kicked out of your hotel room. Everything is closed, and I'm guessing you don't have a driver’s license here, so I don't think you have many options. But fortunately for you, I can't engage in crimi
nal activity, so you're perfectly safe.”
“Why can't you engage in criminal activity?”
“My grandparents know everyone. If people talked, they'd beat me up.”
Luke was more than six feet tall, all of that muscle. I tried to imagine a couple of old people beating him up. It made me laugh.
“What?”
“I'm pretty sure you could handle your grandparents.”
“Then, my dad would beat me up.”
“He's old, too.”
“My brothers would gang up on me if I hit my dad.”
“I don't know. I saw you take two strippers down at once, and those guys were pretty muscular.”
“They were also drunk.”
“Whatever.”
We pulled up next to a trailer on the street. “Are you serious?”
“They have good tacos.”
“I'm not eating from a truck.”
“You're one of those Americans who thinks everywhere else is third world, right?”
“Not really. But I don't eat from a truck at home, and I'm not doing it here.”
He laughed. “So, you're willing to risk going to my place?”
“Yes, but I get to cook.”
“Oh, so you're coming to my place and taking over.”
“It was your idea, Romeo.”
He laughed. “You've loosened up a lot from the girl doing taxes on a laptop in the bar.”
“Well since then, my little sister got arrested with a truckload of strippers. My credit card has most likely been maxed out, and I'm sure the transaction was declined, so I'll probably get sued for the rest. The guy who translated the police for me took a blow to the eye and still wants to have dinner with me, and I realized right before you walked outside the hotel that I have no clothes or blow dryer, or toothbrush, or personal belongings of any kind, because my suitcase was in that room. I don't have much left to lose. I could probably even stomach a margarita right now.”
He laughed. “I watched you try to drink liquor. You can't stomach a margarita. I have an extra toothbrush you can have and—”
“Gross.”
“What?”
“I don't want your toothbrush.”
“Chica, it's still in the wrapper. I'm not going to give you a used toothbrush. God, white girls are crazy.”
Once again, I felt stupid.
“Fine.”
He laughed. “Fine?”
“Fine.” Now I was laughing.
In spite of the fact that I had way too many problems to count, I was having fun tonight.
