Spanish Surrender Page 2
Lina showed no sign she found this logic any more compelling than she had earlier, so Loreto changed tactics. “And wasn’t Ren one of your clients? Can you honestly say if she’d showed up in your room wearing nothing but a bath towel, you’d have just said, ‘Sorry, my boss wouldn’t like that?’”
“Sí.”
“It’s the truth,” Ren said wistfully. “It took me days before she even let me kiss her.”
“You’re not helping, amor,” Lina said, but the bite drained from her tone, leaving her sounding more tired than angry. “And we aren’t talking about us. We’re talking about a habit that’s getting out of hand.”
Loreto sighed, finding the topic as tedious as Lina now seemed to. “You can’t tell me not to sleep with a grown woman on my own time. It’s my business.”
“No, it’s my business. Your meeting a woman and taking her back to your place is not the same thing as one of my guides taking one of my guests back to one of the rooms I’ve paid for, leaving my underaged guests unattended overnight . . .”
Loreto slumped in her chair resignedly. Lina obviously had a speech prepared, and Loreto had sat through worse. Ultimately, she’d learned she didn’t have to win every argument. She didn’t even have to engage them if she didn’t care to, and she didn’t care about much. Besides, a stern talking-to was a small price to pay to keep a job as good as this one. Still, she wondered how long this was going to take. Lina seemed to be on quite a roll.
“. . . but it’s not only bad for our business. I’m starting to worry about you, too. I know you’ve been through a lot, and it’s probably hard to have faith in people, but you’ve moved past irreverent and into self-destructive. Are you even listening?”
“Sí, you’re irreverent and self-destructive.”
Ren set her forehead down on the table with a thud. “Uh-oh.”
Lina threw up her hands. “Clearly, nothing I can say is going to change anything.”
“It’s good we realize we can’t change each other. No use going on about it.”
“No, we’re done talking. You’ve forced me to take action. You’re relieved of your next tour.”
Loreto sat up straight. “What? You’re firing me?”
“Not firing, just a leave of absence.”
“I don’t have an apartment, or income. What about my papers? Dios mio.” Loreto turned to her other boss. “Ren, help.”
“Why do people always think you’re the nice one?” Lina asked.
“Sorry, Loreto. This was my idea,” Ren acknowledged. “You’ve worked nonstop for three months. You need a break. Or maybe you need a new challenge to pull yourself out of this rut you’re in.”
“Living ten days without a paycheck will be a challenge all right. What am I supposed to do? Lay on the beach? Go to the clubs? No offense, but that’s not exactly the way to get me away from women.”
“We thought of that. Obviously, we care about you.”
Loreto snorted.
“We don’t want anything to jeopardize your status,” Ren continued, “and the choice is yours. You can mope around if you need a break, but there’s another option.”
“Why do I have the feeling I won’t like this other option?”
“It’s a private tour.”
“I didn’t think you did private tours.”
“You don’t work for us for the next ten days,” Ren explained. “The client doesn’t seem very interested in playing tourista, so you’ll likely do a lot of driving and translation, maybe offer context and cultural insight, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she expects you to carry her bags while you’re at it.”
Loreto started to understand. “So, the tour’s not the challenge, the client is?”
“Nicely put,” Ren confirmed. “An Americana on business for some important meeting next week. She’s willing to pay heavily for what I can only assume will be a very long seven days.”
“She wants a pack mule?”
“Pretty much, so if you want to sleep in hostels for the length of your suspension, no one would blame you, but personally, I think the job will be good for you.”
“Lina, you think working for this woman is what I need to do my penance?”
“No, I think one of you is likely to arrive at our next meeting in a box,” Lina deadpanned, “but if it’s you, just remember you dug your own grave.”
“Ouch.” Loreto had enough experience to know Americans with money could be a high-maintenance breed, and she had a particularly low tolerance for them. “So, it’s a test?”
“Consider it a contest,” Ren offered cheerfully. “You versus the naysayers.”
Loreto rolled her eyes. Nothing about this sounded promising, but she did have a competitive streak, and virtually no cash. Ten days of no plans and no money didn’t exactly appeal to her either. “Fine. I’m in.”
Ren grinned and Lina sighed again.
“When do I meet this woman?”
“Two-thirty,” they both said in unison and then laughed, Loreto assumed at one of their inside jokes. Then Ren added, “Go get some sleep.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled and headed up the stairs. If this client was as bad as they were making her out to be, she’d need all the rest she could get.
Simone woke up to the familiar ring of her cell phone. It was two o’clock in the afternoon, which meant it was morning in New York, though she was too foggy to figure out what time. She’d had four hours of sleep, which was more than enough to function, but not enough to thrive.
“Hello,” she said, instantly sounding professional even if she didn’t feel it yet.
“I take it you’re on the ground,” Henry Alston said without introduction. He was used to being instantly recognized.
“Yes, sir. I arrived in Málaga this morning. I’m checked into the hotel your secretary suggested, and I have a meeting with a potential guide in an hour.”
“Good girl. I know I don’t have to tell you to do your homework on Liberdad. I want this fish mounted on my wall by this time next week.”
Simone grimaced, both at being called “girl” and at her senior vice president’s absurd fishing metaphor. They were talking about a small publishing company, not a large-mouth bass. “Have I ever let you down?”
“Never,” he laughed, “which is why I wrecked your first vacation in over a year, but you know I’ll make it up to you.”
He’d make it up to her bank account, which to him was the same as making it up to her, and generally it was. “Of course. I had a chance to glance at the specs on the flight from Milan, and it looks like an insanely generous offer, given their limited assets.”
“Asset. They only have one, Juanes Cánovas. He’s a fucking god with a pen, and American women are going to think he’s sex on a stick, but Liberdad Press has everything from translation rights and movie rights to right of first refusal on future works.”
“No one has everything. There’s no way their lawyers can stack up to ours. Why not poach him?”
“Already tried. He’s got some misguided loyalty to that little mom-and-pop shop in Málaga. They’ve fed him some line about his artistic integrity being compromised. He says they are quintessentially Spanish, whatever the hell that means. They’re all afraid we’re going to Americanize Juanes and sex him up.”
“Are we?”
“Of course.”
“If they won’t sell him, what makes you think they’ll sell the company?”
“Two reasons. One, we’re going to make sure the owners never have to work again, and two, I sent you, and you never let me down.”
“Both very good points.”
“Wine them, dine them, hell, tattoo a Spanish flag on your ass. I don’t care how you do it, but get the contract on my desk without giving me any more headaches.”
Simone realized her window for asking questions had ended. “I’ll be in touch.”
She ended the call and got out of bed, mentally making a list of what she needed to do to get going on this project. Powering on her laptop, she perched it on the bathroom counter while she hopped in the shower. There wasn’t time to luxuriate under the warm water. In a matter of minutes, she was drying her long, blond hair with one hand while she Googled “ebooks on Spain” with the other. She picked out one on history and one on the country’s economic development, as well as a guidebook to southern Spain. She had them downloaded by the time she slipped into a pair of gray linen slacks and a white Oxford shirt, a move she regretted the moment she stepped onto the hotel patio.
It had to be one hundred degrees outside, and the humidity made her hair seem to double in both volume and weight. She stopped to pull an ink pen from her leather business satchel, and winding her long locks into a bun, she stuck the pen through the center to hold it up off her neck.
“Nice,” someone said in a suggestive tone. Simone turned to see a rakish boy laying on his stomach on a lounge chair by the pool. He wore ratty shorts and beat up sandals. His dark hair was a mess, cascading over dark aviator glasses as he propped his chin atop his folded arms.
“You wish.”
The boy shrugged and resumed his nap while Simone headed inside to find a table in the lobby. Was there anything in this country that wouldn’t annoy her? The café was closed, and there was no one working the front desk. The entire place was empty and quiet in the middle of the day. What kind of establishment was this?
She took the seat that put her back to the wall, giving her a view of both the front door and the entrance to the patio. She was in control of this meeting, and she wanted to situate herself as such. She pulled out her iPad and checked the time. While the meeting wasn’t scheduled until three, anyone who wasn’t at least five minutes early was late. It was 2:40, and her tour guide was now on the clock.
 
; She was tapping her toe like a ticking clock ten minutes later when Ren and Lina pushed through the front door to the lobby.
“Hola, Simone,” Lina said, her smile more welcoming than earlier. “I hope you got some rest.”
“I did, but I’d really like a bottle of water, and I can’t get any service in this hotel. It’s like no one works here.”
“It’s siesta time. No one works from one to three in the afternoon.”
Ren had said the words clearly enough, but they made so little sense she might as well have spoken Spanish. “Siesta? Surely that’s not a serious thing.”
“I know it’s probably a little jarring, but we do things differently in Southern Spain.”
“I don’t care where we are. You can’t shut a business down for two hours in the middle of the day. You can’t run a company like that.”
“And yet this city has thrived exactly like that for centuries. You’ll find billion-dollar homes less than three miles from here, and Michelin-starred restaurants, and upscale boutiques to rival New York or Milan. They’re all doing just fine. Spain sets her own tempo. It’s best to go with it.”
“It’s best to do what you’re paid to do. I’m being paid to work, and my guide will be expected to do the same. I hope that won’t be a problem.”
Ren sighed. “You can negotiate your terms with Loreto when she gets here.”
“I thought I’d be contracting her services through you.”
“No,” Lina said quickly. “We don’t do individual tours. Loreto’s completely free to accept or deny any terms she sees fit. We’re merely offering an introduction.”
“Why?” Simone eyed her suspiciously.
“Why what?”
“Why offer an introduction? Why give up your room early? Why provide one of your guides to a stranger if you aren’t going to accept payment?”
Ren shrugged. “Spanish hospitality.”
Simone didn’t buy that. No one did something for nothing, and she was about to say so when the door from the patio opened and the boy from the pool came strolling in, only upright and facing forward. Without the sunglasses, he was most definitely a she, and a very good looking she at that.
Her baggy shorts now hung off of the feminine curve of her hips, showing a tantalizing glimpse of tanned midriff, and her plain white T-shirt barely concealed her pert breasts. The style was grungier than Simone usually went for, but despite her disheveled appearance, the woman exuded a confidence anyone would find appealing. Most alluring, though, were her eyes. Deep brown irises swirled so dark, then almost melted into her pupils.
“Good afternoon, Loreto.” Ren rose to meet the newcomer. “This is Simone. Simone, meet your guide, Loreto Molina.”
“My guide?” Simone was caught off guard, a feeling she detested. This woman may be a fine candidate for eye candy, but she didn’t appear to have an ounce of professionalism. Shouldn’t tour guides look like, well, she didn’t know, closer to zoo docents or the retirees who sat on stools in art galleries, rather than some sort of sexy skateboard model or a Latina boi band front man?
“Hola, Señorita.” Loreto extended her hand, and Simone accepted it, sneaking a peek at her watch in the process. It was two minutes until three, so technically she wasn’t late.
“I don’t speak Spanish.”
“That’s not a problem. I’m a native English speaker,” Loreto replied with little more than a wisp of an accent, proving she couldn’t be discredited on the basis of a language barrier.
“How long have you been a guide?” Simone asked, as they took a seat.
“This is my third season working for Lina and Ren. Before that, I spent a few years traveling through the country on my own.”
“We can vouch for the fact that Loreto is one of our most knowledgeable guides. She consistently gets very high satisfaction ratings from our clients.”
Loreto’s grin flashed something more smug, and Lina gave an almost-imperceptible shake of her head. The move may have gone unnoticed by someone who didn’t watch for tells, but Simone wasn’t one of them.
“If she’s one of your best guides, why are you willing to part with her?”
All three of the women exchanged another quick look before Ren stepped in diplomatically once more. “She just finished with a group from England this morning. She’s got the next week off, and we thought she might be a good fit for you.”
“But if you want to shop around, feel free,” Loreto added quickly. “It’s only peak travel time, school holidays, and film festival week on short notice.”
Simone’s jaw tightened at the challenge in Loreto’s voice, but again, she only chose battles she expected to win, and she didn’t have enough information on viable alternatives to dismiss this woman’s points. She’d had plenty of practice swallowing her resistance over the years, but it still tasted bitter as she tried to hedge her bets. “I’m on a tight time frame. I’m willing to give you a trial on your employer’s recommendation.”
Loreto nodded, as if she were neither impressed nor offended by the tepid offer.
“We can come to terms on a price per day, but I reserve the right to terminate the agreement with payment made only for services rendered. Does that make sense?”
Loreto shrugged. “I don’t work, I don’t get paid. I piss you off, I don’t get paid. You find a better offer, I don’t get paid.”
Simone fought the urge to defend herself against an accusation of unfairness that hadn’t actually been spoken. The harsh summary of terms wasn’t exactly false, so much as blunt.
Lina shook her head. “That’s very one-sided. There should be some sort of neutral metric put in place for the possibility—”
“Nah.” Loreto cut her off. “I’m good. She wants me gone, I’ll go.”
“Reto,” Lina said, dropping her voice. “Make sure it goes both ways.”
Simone smiled slightly as she realized what Lina was suggesting. “She’s right. Some people find my standards too high. If that turns out to be true of you, you also have the right to terminate the agreement at the end of any day without financial obligation.”
Loreto seemed to ponder the offer, lowering her chin and closing her eyes so that her full, dark lashes rested on smooth skin for a second, then opening them, she said, “No commitment. I like that.”
Simone pursed her lips as the feeling the comment should have inspired in her butted up against the ones it actually did. “So, we have a deal?”
Loreto nodded once more, this time resolutely. “Deal.”
They sat staring at each other for a long, heavy moment before Ren broke the silence by pushing back from the table. “All right then, we’ll leave you two to hash out the details.”
Lina didn’t jump up so quickly, instead looking from one to the other. Her eyes narrowed as she seemed to inspect each of them, but whatever thoughts spun in her head were silenced before they reached her lips as Ren laid a hand on her shoulder.
“All right,” Lina said and rose. “You’re right.”
Simone shook her head slowly, not understanding who or what the comment referred to.
“It’s not you,” Loreto whispered conspiratorially. “They just do that sometimes.”
“Do what?”
“Have conversations no one else can hear.”
“We do,” Ren said, without a hint of chagrin, “and now we’ve decided to leave you to your own devices.”
Simone found the choice of words a bit odd, but everything about this country had been odd so far. She thanked them both and tried not to examine the minute twist of wistfulness in her stomach as she watched them walk away hand in hand.
Chapter Two
As the door closed behind Ren and Lina, Loreto sat back and watched the American gather herself. She’d clearly done this sort of thing before. Most tourists were hesitant and nervous in a new country, around new people, and their sense of frustration or anxiety mixed with their entitlement in all sorts of unappealing ways. This woman carried plenty of entitlement, but she also oozed confidence. From her rod-straight back and the level set of her shoulders to the subtle lift of her angular chin, Loreto suspected a bit of middle-class overcompensation. The way she’d shot off the terms of their agreement in contractual language spoke not only of a familiarity with corporate lingo, but also a desire to make certain she sounded like she belonged in those circles. There was an insecurity to her hypercompetence, and Loreto quietly tucked that knowledge away for later as Simone turned to face her once more.