King of Swords

While he was eating, an orange Honda Civic parked next to his Mustang and a woman got out and came towards the restaurant. Latina, about his height, slim but with broad shoulders. She had long curly black hair down past her shoulders, copper-coloured skin, gold hoop earrings, black jeans and a denim blouse tied over an inch of bare waist.

He noticed they were wearing the same colours, only she wore hers better.

She sat down a few tables away from him. When the waiter came over she waved away the menu and ordered in Spanish. He hadn't touched his food since he'd seen her, not even chewed what he had in his mouth. She sensed him looking at her and turned around to meet his stare. She had big round brown eyes, long dark eyebrows, high cheekbones, a wide mouth with large lips protruding in a natural pout.

Then she looked away. She was just about the most beautiful woman he'd seen since he could remember, and that was saying something because Miami was filled with them.

Max weighed up his options. He could try and talk to her, but he was in such a shitty mood she'd probably pick up on it, and he didn't think rejection the best way to round off a lousy evening. So he carried on eating, looking straight ahead of him. Her face stayed in his mind's eye like a retinal

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1 imprint of the sun, taking its long sweet time to fade. He read her license plate and unconsciously memorized it. She was local. The car was a “I 5 or '76 Civic, reliable not flash.

When the waiter came back with her order, he stole a quick glance at her to see what she was having — a Cuban sandwich with a Diet Coke.

He thought about talking to her again. They were the only people outside. But before he could make his mind up the rain suddenly came down. A handful of huge drops scattered across the table and on his plate and then the sky opened up and spilled a tidal wave.

Max grabbed his beer and ran for the restaurant entrance.

The girl was already there, standing under the awning, eating her sandwich.

'Hi,' Max said.

'Hello,' she returned. Formal and distanced. Close up and in the light she was even more of a knockout. He told himself not to gawp and looked back ahead of him, where the rain was pounding the tables. He saw his paper plate floating away fast.

'There goes my dinner,' Max said. She didn't reply, biting into the sandwich.

He waited until she'd finished chewing and swallowing before speaking again.

'Heavy rain, huh?'

'Sure is,' she said.

'Did you have a good night?' he asked

'It was short. A friend of mine's getting married this Saturday, but I couldn't stay out too long 'cause I got work tomorrow,' she replied. She was holding his stare. There was a seriousness about her under all the beauty. He detected a slight hint of Spanish in her accent which was otherwise pure Dixie.

'What is it you do?' he asked.

'I'm an accountant.'

23 5 'Downtown?'

'That's right.'

'What firm you with?'

'Why?' she asked, frowning, but there was a curiosity in her tone, tinged with amusement.

'I work around downtown too.' Max shrugged. 'I might know it.' He took a pull on his beer.

'Should you be drinking and driving, Detective?' she asked, surprising him.

'That obvious, huh?'

'Clear as if you'd switched a sign over your head saying “poh-lice”.' She smiled and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

'This is my first and only,' he lied. 'I'm under the limit, I'm off-duty and it's Detective Sergeant to you.' He smiled and winked at her. 'We're kinda touchy 'bout rank.'

'Sorry, Detective Sergeant,' she said with jokey sarcasm.

'I'll let you off with a warning.'

She finished eating her sandwich.

The rain hadn't let up at all, still pounding down. The water levels around the tables were rising.

'You local?' he asked.

'Yeah, I live real close to here,' she said. 'Kinda wish I hadn't stopped now.'

'I'm kinda glad you did,' Max said, without thinking, regretting it as he realized how sleazy it sounded. He saw the smile start to leave her face and did his best to mop up the slime. 'I mean I wouldn'a had no one to talk to out here.'

'Right,' she said and looked out towards her car. The rain was coming down so fast and thick it was hard to see more than a few feet ahead. A nearby drain was overflowing, bubbling up at the opening like an overactive tarpool.

'So, your folks, they what? Cuban?'

'My mom's Cuban-Dominican, my dad's black.'

'Nice mix,' Max said. 'You speak Spanish at home?'

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I 'I don't live with my parents any more. But yeah, when I was growing up it was Spanish in the house and English everywhere else. My dad learned to speak Spanish so he could talk my mom into dating him.'

'He musta been real serious about her,' Max said.

'He still is.' She smiled.

'So they still together?'

'Yeah.' She nodded.

'That's nice. How long they been married?'

“You ask a lot of questions.'

What do you expect? I'm a cop.'

'You're off-duty.'

'I'll be a cop again in a few hours.'

She laughed. She had a small gap between her front teeth.

'My parents have been married thirty-four years,' she said.