Sal rushed to the restroom and threw up. With the water running while he rinsed his face, he hadn’t heard the door open.
“How you feeling?” He spun around, and the room spun with him, causing him to nearly lose his balance. It was a good thing he held on to the vanity for support, because his legs almost gave out on him when he saw her. This was even worse than what he’d imagined.
“Have you ever been to Juarez, Mr. Moreno?” She spoke almost through her teeth. Sal wondered if she’d ever looked into interview etiquette. Did she really think her constant interruptions were going to buy her points?
“Yes, I have, actually.”
“It doesn’t get more fast paced than that, when it comes to preparing Mexican cuisine, Mr. Moreno.”
“Can you stop calling me that?” Unlike his brothers, Sal had never been short on patience, but something about her refusing to call him by his first name had begun to get to him.
Graciela slid out of the booth. Sal hurried to slide out of his side and stood up ready to face off with her.
“Will you be considering me for the position?”
“As a head chef? No. But I do need a bartender.”
If looks could kill, he’d be a stinking corpse. “When can I expect an answer?”
“Well, I’ll have to discuss it with my brother but I’ll get back to you.”
“Thank you.” With that, she spun around and walked away.
Sal bolted out of his chair in reaction to that news. The guy was there all fucking weekend and he’d spent the night at her place? He ran his hand roughly through his hair. “And you’re sure it was Nevada plates?”
“Yep, I mean it could be a coincidence but—”
“Nah, it’s no coincidence that’s his car.” He couldn’t believe he could be so wrong about her.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so either. So whatta ya want me to do? I could still look into it but I mean… this pretty much says it all.”
He stopped pacing and shook his head. “No. Don’t waste anymore time on her. I don’t need to know anything else. But thanks.”
The second he hung up he picked up the coffee mug on his desk and flung it across the room. Hearing it smash into a million pieces was what he needed at that moment. But it did little more to calm him.
Oscar rushed in the room. “You okay in here?”
Sal could barely control his breathing much less talk. He nodded and pointed at the door. “Just close the door will you? I need a minute.”
Oscar stared at him for a moment without moving.
“Close the fucking door!”
Oscar flinched at his booming voice but reached for the knob and walked out closing the door behind him.