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Tucker is looking out the window just as Mario has the girl facing the wall.
And then I hear it.
Is Tucker singing under his breathAfternoon Delight?
Sixty-Seven
I’D LIKE TO PUT AN ORDER IN FOR MAC AND CHEESE ASAP!
Ophelia
Once Mario returns and AD and her gal-pal leave the café, I’ll pack myself up and settle my bill, and the job will get completed with the indisputable evidence in Mack’s SUV.
I take a quick look around at the remaining customers and recognize to my surprise there is only one other occupied table with two females I remember from earlier in the week, sitting near the front door. The redheaded waitress is talking to them.
I continued pretending to work on my manuscript while wondering why these two ladies had shown up while I was in the bathroom. Maybe they are all meeting up afterward, but why don’t they sit with the other chick waiting for AD to return from her sex session?
I count the staff and realize the blonde waitress is no longer in sight. There is only one waitress, and Mario is still working after three-thirty. The kitchen is closed, so the cook has gone for the day. I watched as he waved his goodbyes leaving through the front door.
I’ve not sat here until nearly closing before today, so I wasn’t sure when Mario dissolved the staff for the day.
I take another casual glance around the café, making sure to make a show of getting to my feet to stretch my back muscles and move around, one hand rubbing my protruding belly.
The two new female customers catch my eye and smile. They are a little older than the girls from the booth. One is Latina and looks street tough and closer to my age, and the other is a pretty, black female who was here a few days ago hooking up with Mario.
I smile back as the redheaded waitress leaves their table.
I sit back down just as Mario strolls back into the café with a satisfied look on his face.
I wave him over and watch his eyes narrow and happy facial expression dissolve when Mario notices the black woman seated with her friend. The Latina girl salutes him with two fingers to her forehead.
Something isn’t right.
Mario holds one finger up to me with a fake plastered on polite smile filled with butter-wouldn’t-melt before it evolves into anger when he is just about past my table, making a beeline for them.
I angle my laptop and subtly slide my body so I can watch the trio.
Mario isn’t happy. He seats himself down with his back to me, hunching his shoulders.
I think Mr. Diego’s sexcapades just took on something grimmer.
I wasn’t expecting this turn of events.
I can’t capture any of their conversations; it’s like they aren’t even talking. I’m beginning to wonder if they are texting each other for fear of being overheard.
Then Mario pounds his fist down hard on their table.
Crap! What’s going on now? Mario is mad, and mad isn’t good.
A few minutes later, AD comes gliding back into the café, leaving the wooden spoon on the counter. I note she hasn’t bothered to change her hair or reapply makeup.
Odd. She’s breaking the pattern.
I watch AD look toward the café front door. She makes eye contact with the black woman. AD nods her head ever so slightly, and she nods back as though confirming something.
AD stands by the booth I’ve bugged and bends down to her friend she brought along with her today. I hear her whisper, “Time to go. The girls have made a deal with Mario for us all to keep our mouths shut. Now we get to fuck him over and over and over without sex. I’ll text the boss now.” She’s confident that something is about to or already has played out.
Honey, you haven’t even seen your demise sitting over here.
