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“Okay.”
“I was one negotiation away from sealing the deal with a big player in Mexico to partner up with. The week before the meeting that would’ve changed everything, the seventy-year-old CEO died in his mistress’s bed. Six months of courtship with the man’s wife amounted to nothing. I gave up on that prospect and started looking for another partner. She called me this morning. She wants out of the business. It’s way over her head. I have a team of lawyers, consultants, numbers people at the table, but I want you there as well.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m certain. Initially, everything will be done via video conferencing call—”
“Why not a face-to-face?”
“That’s what I love about you, Sofia. You have an incredible knack at connecting with people. The reason we can’t fly down to meet in her office located an hour from Guadalajara is because the woman’s granddaughter is expecting quadruplets any day now.”
“Four babies in one shot?”
“She already has two other young kids.”
“Yikes.”
“Her whole family is on standby, including her grandmother. That said, the woman wants to get the ball rolling. I’m eager to do the same. I want you to be part of my team not only because you’re fluent in Spanish, but because this woman spent her life taking care of eight kids. She isn’t comfortable in the boardroom. I don’t want my team to be solely comprised of suits.”
“I see.”
“I’d like to have a non-corporate person on board… and that person is you.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“This has nothing to do with kindness, Sofia. I surround myself with the best.”
My cheeks flush. “Oh.”
“If you still have concerns about Todd, I can get one of my VPs or directors to get in touch with you. In my opinion it’s a waste of time. Todd (without a last name) is in your rearview mirror.”
I lift my eyes to the ceiling. Thank you, God. “You’re lucky I’m available,” I say, my tone teasing.
“Don’t I know it,” he chuckles. “Now, let’s talk about your compensation.”
Chapter 31
Sofia
The Mexican widow who’s in talks with Alistair is an early riser. The first meeting that kicks off the negotiations started at six a.m. Guadalajara time, aka seven o’clock New York time.
Since I didn’t want to let Alistair down, I got up early enough to look presentable. We’re talking full makeup and hair, and a pretty top. The advantage of a conference video call is I was able to wear my yoga pants.
Two hours of back-and-forth in English and in Spanish this early in the morning, and my brain is fried.
I get up from the couch and stretch like a cat.
Coffee. I need coffee.
And breakfast.
I head to the entertainment console, select a vinyl record from my grandparents’ collection, put it on the turntable, and drop the needle on it.
Cuban-American Celia Cruz’s “Yo viviré” fills the house, calling to her spirit.
I shake my hips to la reina de la salsa’s version of “I will Survive”.
“Yo viviré! Yo viviré!”
