El Sabueso

Though David’s daughter, June, was apparently still attending class during her namesake month, it seemed that other families were not so bound by a school schedule and had decided to head to Cabo for some fun on the beach. The majority seemed to be from the good old U-S-of-A, given their waistlines and propensity for ninety decibel conversations. Though, in truth, I was just deflecting my own frustration with being stretched thin on my new craving for blood whilst walking through the bright sun in search of the cantina MJ mentioned.

When we arrived at the cantina, I indulged another vice and ordered a margarita to enjoy in the shade while Carter found a spot slightly down the beach where he could enjoy the shade provided by the sail of a beached catamaran.

In typical criminal fashion, Sabueso didn’t adhere to our schedule and, after a second margarita, I ordered grilled chicken and had to switch to my less preferred caffeine source, diet cola.

It was nearly sixteen hundred and I was checking my email on my phone in boredom when a stranger set a fresh pair of soda bottles on my table and sat down in the empty chair across from me.

“American?” he asked in an accent that seemed a strange mix of Spanish and English.

“You can tell?” I asked, reaching across the table and taking the bottle nearer to him.

“Yes. And it seems you’re more cautious than most of your countrymen.”

I sighed and weighed the best approach to get rid of the guy who had invited himself to my table. His face was almost plain, but something about him just came across as sharp, like it was honed to a knife’s edge, but that edge wasn’t readily visible.

“My name’s Christian,” the man said, giving me a disarming grin.

“Sorry, but I just got through a bad {if husband==true}divorce{else}breakup{endif} and I’m not interested.”

“Sure, sure,” he said. “I’m not looking to impose, just figured that I’d buy a lady a cola.”

“Thanks for that, Christian,” I said as his phone rang.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting a call, just let me turn it off,” he apologized and fiddled with his phone.

I took the opportunity to pop open the bottle and, confident that he was neither Australian, nor Sicilian, I drank from the bottle which had been in front of him.

“Where were we?” he asked.

“I was saying that I’m not looking for a rebound relationship.”

“Then, how about a rebound fling…” I began to glare in disapproval, so he added, “…or a vacation friendship?”

I sighed, “Thanks, Christian, but I don’t think I’m up for it.”

“Okay. Well, if you get bored or just need a lift, here’s my card,” he said. Flipping a card across the table, he rose and left.

Stunned that anyone still used physical social cards any more, I took it and texted Carter, “Any news?”

To which, Carter responded, “MJ says that there was a brief ping on the tower, but it’s gone.”

“So, we missed him.”

“It looks that way, unless your new admirer was him.”

“He wasn’t any of the people in Miguel’s photos. Little suspicious if he happens to find me while I’m looking for him.”

“I got his photo. Hopefully MJ can verify his ID.”

“Right, let’s meet at the car.”