Page 7 of Dirty Money
“So, you painted it bright orange?”
“Yes,” he said, abashed. “I thought it would be fun. Don’t see many orange ones anymore do you?”
“Haha, no. It’s funny, though, orange is one of my favorite colors. It’s just so… I don’t know. Happy.”
“Happy,” he said, nodding as he considered it. “Well, I guess that’s the perfect word for it. I’m honestly just happy that it runs.” As if to illustrate his point, the car screeched as they pulled up to a stoplight, the brakes clearly weren’t as happy as he was that the ancient car was running.
“So, where are we going?” Aullie asked. The ice still hadn’t quite been broken. She was definitely nervous. Weston was not the usual caliber of man she went out with, physically at least. He was so good-looking that she almost wondered if she was dreaming.
“Actually, we’re not going anymore,” he said with a smile.
Alarm exploded through Aullie. “What do you mean by that?”I knew he was too good to be true. I feel for this attractive little trap, and now he’s some kind of serial killer. He’s kidnapped me. I’m going to die in this little orange bug!
“Because we’re here.” The slyness in his eyes acknowledging that he’d heard the mild panic in her voice and that his little joke had been a success on his end.
The adrenaline that had surged through Aullie’s veins seemed to instantly dissolve. She gave a shaky laugh, feeling an embarrassed blush stain her cheeks.
Weston worked the vintage bug into a parking spot on the side of the two-lane street. As it turned out, he was not a very adept parallel parker. Thankfully the bug was small, so he was able to maneuver it in without hitting the parked cars in front of and behind them.
“Wait here a sec,” he said, opening the door and stepping out. Aullie watched him curiously as he walked around the front of the bug. It was only when his hand touched her door handle that she realized what was going on. He was opening the door for her.
Who says chivalry is dead?
She had a fairly active dating life, although not quite as much in the last few months with her heavy school load and ever-increasing financial demands that kept her practically living in the bar to get by, but no man had ever done this for her. She was thoroughly impressed, and still a little blown away as he took her hand and helped her out of the low little car.
Aullie stumbled slightly on her heels but wasn’t sure whether the wedges or Weston’s warm smile that was making her knees wobbly.
‘Those are some straight, white teeth’, she thought, alarmingly aware of how smitten she was with this man that she knew almost nothing about.
Weston had parked in front of a local strip mall, a block long congregation of small local businesses. Taking Aullie’s arm in his, he guided her to a hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant that she had never been too. Making for an interesting first date location.
He pulled open the door, which tinkled a little bell. He gestured for Aullie to enter before him and she gave him a small nod, an involuntary smile playing at her full lips. She caught Weston’s gaze, resting hungrily on her mouth and knew the deep red lipstick had been a good choice.
The decor was tacky and colorful. Big, flashy sombreros, rough oil paintings of Aztec warriors, landscapes dotted with small adobe buildings, and beautiful handmade clay plates covered most of the wall space. Bright fake parrots hung from the ceiling on little metal swings. The paint behind them was deep, golden yellow with ornate white trim along the ceilings and floors. The air inside was warm and smelled heartily of spice and meat, and Aullie immediately felt her mouth water.
Weston pulled her chair out for her, earning him, even more, brownie points. He took his seat across from her and said, “I love this place; it’s a little, under-credited gem. The family migrated here from Mexico about fifteen years ago, if I remember correctly, and they’re very cultural. Their food is also all totally traditional and amazing. Best refried beans I’ve ever had.”
“Well, I’m definitely excited to try them then,” Aullie said, her nerves beginning to relax a bit. The atmosphere there was so welcoming, so full of life, she couldn’t take her eyes off the eccentrically decorated walls. “I love the little parrots,” she said, pointing to the plastic birds.
“They’re something, aren’t they?” He chuckled. Lowering his voice, he said, “I’ve actually named them.” He pointed from bird to bird, first a green one, then a blue one. “That’s Miguel, that’s Juan.” Then to a red one. “That’s Rosalita.” Lastly to yellow one. “And that’s Steve.”
Aullie couldn’t help a burst of laughter. “All those traditional names, then Steve?”
Weston shrugged and gave her a wink. “Why not?”
Aullie couldn’t fault that logic, she thought with a giggle. She shook her head at him with a playful smile. He was just so charming and funny too, and she could listen to that smooth, lilted voice all day.
A short, squat Mexican woman in a frilly red blouse, tight black skirt and flesh-colored hose with clunky black shoes approached the table. Her hair was scraped back into a severe bun and she wore a large fake flower behind one ear.
“Hola,” she greeted them, placing a large one-page menu in front of each of them. “Can I get you something to drink?” she asked with a heavy accent.
“You a margarita fan?” he asked Aullie.
“Oh yeah,” she replied.
“Make itdosmargaritas,” he said, no shame in his broken Spanish. The little woman nodded with a toothy grin and scampered away as quickly as she had come.
“So, Aullie,” The way his beautiful mouth said her name still really got to her. “Tell me about yourself.”
