“I think that can be arranged, but your friend here,” he paused to glance at Qui, “Ms. Aguilera, must agree to have dinner with me.”
“How do you know my name?” instantly on alert Qui demanded, her voice cool and imperious.
“Information around the hotel is cheap.”
Tiring of the direction of the conversation at Liliana’s table, Zayas motioned Lucinda back from the bar with a wave and said, “See Liliana and her friend over there?” he indicated their direction.
Glancing over, she nodded and replied, “Yeah. That creep’s a real jerk. He was hitting on me earlier. Know what he asked?”
“What?”
“If he could take me to dinner when my shift was up; said his money could buy us both pleasure. Crude.” She smiled at him, then added, “Not a bit like you.”
“Then, let’s see if we can make the jerk leave. Send a round of drinks to the ladies, and make it clear that they came from me.”
“Okay. Your money, your trouble,” she grinned at him. “One Havana Especiale for Quiana and a virgin Daiquiri for Liliana.”
“So, her name is Quiana? What can you tell me about her?”
“Well, she’s Liliana’s friend, loves to dance, and is a PNR officer. Comes from old money, but she’s OK.”
“Is she married?”
“Not yet. Why? You interested?”
“Could be. Maybe. Possibly.”
“She dates a doctor, but he never comes ‘round here. Liliana can’t stand him. He’s a phony like Liliana’s dance partner.”
“Ahh, yes. And has Liliana’s partner, the popular, always-late Antonio, arrived yet?”
“As usual, delayed at his makeup table!” They both laughed at the common joke about Antonio’s habitual narcissism.
“Time I ate dinner. Better bring me my tab.”
“Still on American time, I see. You can carry the tab into the restaurant,” she suggested.
“Rather settle up here first. See if the jerk leaves.”
She nodded in understanding. “Be right back.”
He watched her deliver and serve the drinks to Quiana and Liliana. By this time, the American had insinuated himself further by sitting at their table. All three followed Lucinda’s finger when Qui asked who’d sent drinks. A smiling Zayas raised his glass in acknowledgement as he rose from his semi-hidden table to his full height. The tourist got the silent message-a code between men-and in a moment the American bid a quick and polite good evening to the women.
While Qui sat expressionless, Liliana’s features spelled gratitude as she motioned Julio Zayas to their table.
Leaving money on the table, Julio picked up his drink and walked over. As he approached, Liliana smiled up at him and said, “Jazzy, I didn’t see you over there! Bad boy, hiding! Come, join us. This is my friend, Quiana. She’s a new Lieutenant Detective and insists she doesn’t like Americans, but don’t let that fool you, she’s really very nice! Quiana, this is-”
“Julio Zayas, also known as JZ or Jazzy among friends,” he quickly added, extending his hand to Qui.
“You’re among friends now, Jazzy!” replied Liliana, bubbling over.
Qui offered a brief smile, and said, “You’re the new security officer with the American Interest Section. You were at the stationhouse the other day…Pena’s missing persons case.”
Surprised she’d remembered him, JZ smiled before replying, “I noticed you, too. You work cases with Pena?”
“So far, thankfully, no.”
“Good. I can’t imagine a less pleasant experience, except maybe dealing with your colonel!”
Liliana laughed at the characterization, while Qui raised her glass in a toast. The three drank to the colonel’s health. Then another pseudo toast to Pena’s health.
When the glasses were lowered, Qui said, “Thank you for the drinks. Should I call you ‘Jazzy’ or JZ?”
“I answer to either.”
“You two met at the jail?” Liliana teased. “Not in a cellblock, I hope!”
“Nooo,” they chorused in unison, a bit louder than necessary. JZ said, “Actually, this is our first real introduction.”
“All right, Liliana,” began Qui, “now tell me how you two met.”
“Well, Jazzy’s been taking dance lessons here at the hotel,” Liliana paused, “and now he’s rescued you from that letch everyone’s calling Maui Jim.”
“Colton? The guy who was just here?” Qui asked, her eyes wide. “One more touchy-touchy and I’d’ve put him on the floor!”
“I’d’ve paid to see that,” said JZ, which made Liliana burst into laughter.
Between gasps, Liliana said, “Instead, JZ, our hero, ran him off before he became any more vulgar!”
“Rescuing damsels-part of my resume. Actually, the man was very rude.”
“So now we’re indebted to you, Mr. Zayas,” Qui replied rather formally.
“No indebtedness, not my intention. I, too, dislike pushy people.”
Liliana reminded him, “Besides, rescuing ladies is part of your job description, right?”
“I’m sure this is a habit with Mr. Zayas,” said Qui, “You American men’re always swooping in to save us poor, weak, defenseless women.”
JZ was disappointed at the taunt, caught off guard, and unsure how to respond to this challenge.
“Sounds romantic to me, JZ, but with Qui here, you can do all the swooping and swooning you want, but when her duty calls, forget about it,” Liliana laughed again, “she’s all business!”
Qui glared at her friend but decided not to chide Liliana for her zeal, settling for a kick under the table.
“So I take it, you don’t like ‘knights in white satin’ stories?” asked JZ, catching Liliana’s lighthearted mood.
Qui frowned. “The time of knights is long gone.”
“I should think my shiny armor at least good enough to have earned me a dinner with you, lieutenant is it?” JZ asked.
Qui’s eyes lit with fire. “A moment ago, I was in no one’s debt-least that’s what I heard.”
“C’mon, join me for dinner; I’ll pay. I’m still a stranger here and eating alone is getting really old.” He flashed his best smile at her. “Besides, I’m one of the last of the good guys.” He looked from one to the other, noting their expressions. Qui’s smile was reserved, polite. A feeling of distance had come between them, and any camaraderie they’d earlier shared had dissipated. He decided this was her leftover antipathy toward the lecherous tourist.
“Dinner? Dinner…” she’d sat musing over the word. “Well as to that, they tell me the baked lobster here is terrific, and that it is best consumed in private, due to the mess you make devouring it.”
He caught the slight twinkle in her eye as she suggested this. She had beautiful dark eyes.
“Qui, how mean of you!” Liliana burst out. “Don’t listen to her, Jazzy. The lobster’s perfectly dreadful. No real Cubanos eat here.”
“Is the food that bad?” asked JZ, easily taking direction from Liliana. “My breakfasts have been OK.”
“Breakfast food is not the same, not like real Cuban food,” countered Liliana. “Trust me, the food here is much too bland. Don’t eat here. Take Qui elsewhere.”
“So where should we eat?” he asked, his eyes meeting Qui’s as he and Liliana plotted dinner.
“Qui, take him to the Professor’s,” encouraged Liliana. “Go. Call and see if they have room.”
“The Professor’s?” he asked.
“It’s a paladares. Haven’t you been to one yet?”
“No. Not sure I’d be welcome, or how you go about it.”
“For extra money, believe me, you’d be welcome. It’s a private home where they serve dinner to tourists,” explained Qui.
“They’re usually excellent, better than the hotels and restaurants.” Liliana added, “This is at the Varela’s, they’re both professors at the university…friends of ours.”
“Offering a few dinners a month to tourists gets them more than their salaries,” Qui added. “They both love to cook, so I don’t understand why they don’t quit their jobs and do this fulltime.”
Liliana checked her watch. “It’s not so late, Qui! Go call! Take Jazzy. He’ll enjoy the food and the company.”
JZ waited for Quiana’s response. From the look on her face, she’d been caught off guard by this exchange between him and the ever-impulsive Liliana. He worried that Qui now felt obligated to go to dinner.