“What’s cau-cau?”
“Tripe. The stomach lining of a cow. It makes most gringos gag, and my Tia Carlotta loves to cook it.”
Kate shivered. “That will send dear Wendell right over the edge.”
“So when am I coming to dinner? I’m inviting myself for purely altruistic motives,” he reassured her. “Only in order to save you, you see.”
“Yeah. I am touched by your selflessness, Al.”
“No, please not Al. You may call me Alejo, though.”
“Alejo,” she repeated, liking the exotic sound of it.
“Yes. Perfecto. Now, Alejo is coming to dinner on what evening, mi corazon?”
“You are shameless,” she told him.
“Sí.” His tone remained warm and amused.
She decided to relent. “I can’t believe I’m doing this, but it’s for a good cause—Wendell-fumigation. You can come to dinner on Saturday, okay?”
“I am there. Gracias.”
“And you’ll bring the cigars and the…that nasty stuff.”
“Well, as a Peruvian, I don’t think it’s nasty, but sí. You wish me to bring the pot-bellied pig?”
Kate almost said no. Then she looked around. Spinneys didn’t bring the barn into the parlor…but Just Kate might. What the hell. She had no carpet for it to soil. And it might be very entertaining to see Wendell’s reaction to it. A woman who danced on tables might have a pig in her condo, right?
“I really can’t believe I’m doing this. But yes. I’ll need the pot-bellied pig on the sixth, the night he arrives. It doesn’t bite or anything, does it?”
“Not usually. It does squeal, though. And it makes other strange pig noises.”
“What does it eat?”
“Purina Mini Pig Chow, of course.”
“Of course. Silly me, I should have known that.” Purina made pig chow? “Is this animal house-trained? Do I take it for walks?”
“Exactly. It’s just like a dog with a snout and a curly, non-waggable tail. It even fetches. So, Kate, does this mean we’re going to work together on the marketing class project?”
“Is that why you’re helping me get rid of my cousin?”
“Maybe.”
“We don’t even know what the project is yet,” she said. Why did he want to work with her so much? What was his agenda? Her money? Her mouth twisted.
“We know that it’s a hands-on project, and that we’ll be working in teams. He’ll tell us the rest next week.”
Hands-on. Did Alejandro, self-proclaimed genetic flirt, want to get his hands on her? The thought sent a flash of heat through her body. She’d never had a Latin Lover. The term cracked her up. It sounded so purple, so over the top.
“So what do you say, Kate? Will you trade a partnership for a pot-bellied pig, a cigar and some tripe?”
“Limited liability partnership,” she said, hugely entertained. “And I need it in writing that the pig won’t bite.”
He chuckled. “I can’t possibly put that in writing. There’s no guarantee with animals. But I’ll throw in a roll of duct tape and we have a deal. What you do with it and the pig is your concern. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Kate peered over the railing at three buns-up bathing beauties who were abundantly endowed and wore nothing but neon thongs. “Alejandro, you’ve got to explain something to me. The women down here in Miami—how can they walk around wearing nothing except butt-floss? It’s indecent!”
“Butt…floss, did you say?”
“Yes. These women down by the pool—they’d get arrested for indecent exposure in Boston.”
“Why?”
“Their br—bodacious ta-tas are hanging out! Among other things.”
“Kate, they’re just breasts and buttocks.”
“Yeah, I noticed. Where I come from, we cover those things up. We don’t display them to the entire United States and all of South America, too.”
“What a shame. You’re such a Yankee, mi amorcito. Women are beautiful. Why not appreciate them?”
“I’m not your little love-morsel, you flirt. And it’s fine for women to be attractive, but I think they can be that way without baring their cracks to the planet.”
He laughed softly.
“And the flashy men! What’s with all the Rolexes and gold bracelets and rings? Talk about conspicuous consumption.”
“You’re not in Boston anymore, Dorothy. It’s just a different style here. Casual but elegant.”
Don’t you mean tacky?
“You will get used to Miami soon. And,” he said provocatively, “I think you’d look wonderful in a thong yourself.”
“You couldn’t get me into one of those if I were dead, sport.” She shuddered. “And people wonder why there are shark attacks in Florida?”
She watched, scandalized, as one of the bathing beauties sat up, rubbed oil shamelessly all over her bare gazangas, and then lay back down tits-up. Unbelievable.
“When in Rome, Kate.”
“At least in Rome they wore togas!”
“Yes, before and after the orgies.”
“Orgies? How did we get onto this topic, Alejandro?”
“I believe you asked me how Miami women can wear thongs. It’s because they’re not uptight like Yankees.”
“I am not uptight.”
“Describe your own bathing suit, then.”
“It’s a navy blue one-piece.”
He chortled. “That says it all, Kate.”
She felt like growling. “Well, if I’m so uptight, then why do you want to work with me? Why are you riding to my rescue with a pot-bellied pig?”
A long pause ensued. Finally he said, “Because I think you’re bright and beautiful and in a class by yourself.” All traces of teasing were gone from his voice.
Kate’s knees wobbled, and she sat down abruptly on the rough cement of her balcony. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. “Who paid you to say that?”
“Nobody paid me, tesorito. What’s the matter, you can’t take a compliment?”
A lump formed in her throat and she knew she needed to get off the phone before she embarrassed herself. “I can accept a compliment,” she insisted. “But I’m thinking you need an eye exam, since you’re a little young for cataracts. I’ve got to go, Alejandro. See you in class Monday.”
“Oh, very flattering. I say something nice, and I’m told I need an eye appointment. I suppose I need a cane and some Viagra, as well?”
“You tell me,” she said, before she could stop herself.
“I’d be more than happy to show you that I don’t.”
Kate experienced a flash of heat, but she just laughed.
He cleared his throat. “It’s been a pleasure talking with you, my stiff-necked little Yankee. Enjoy your weekend.”