Flores and Miss Paula by Melissa Rivero

Author:Melissa Rivero
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2023-09-24T00:00:00+00:00

So that one, I do remember. Vaguely, perhaps, but enough that I can recall him slouching in the sofa behind the deejay table, right next to Starr, his cheek resting on his palm as if he were power napping. I may have even seen him put his head on her shoulder.

“Didn’t he say something to Max about being white and Mexican?” I ask.

“Yes, and then he flirted with the guy’s fiancée,” says Jasmine.

“Well,” Starr mumbles, “Max doesn’t look Mexican.”

“What exactly does a Mexican look like?” asks Jasmine.

“Excuse me, but you thought I was Chinese.”

“Come on, you two,” I say. “Please don’t start.”

“That was my bad,” Jasmine acknowledges. “But now I know more about the beef between Taiwan and China. Anyway, I like a drunk Nik. He’s way more real than the everyday Nik. Did you hear what he was telling Meg?” She grabs the edge of the table and starts swaying as she deepens her voice. “‘We’ve spent millions, and no one knows who the hell we are. You probably didn’t know about us until Jasmine emailed you, am I right?’” She cackles, picks up her glass. “You know that’s gotta hurt his ego.”

“For sure,” I say. “He gets paid stupid money and for what? He’s let marketing run loose with our cash and has nothing to show for it. Then gets pissed when we have to preapprove his spending. He should be embarrassed of the shitty job his team’s doing,” and I could go on, but Jasmine’s eyes widen, and she clears her throat as she nods toward Starr. “For what it’s worth, I do think it’s getting better. We’re making moves with the subway ads and the trade pubs. But that’s all Max.”

“That dinner after the last board meeting crushed him,” Starr says. “Nik, I mean. We went out for drinks a couple of weeks ago, and oof! It was all he talked about.”

“Who went out for drinks?” asks Jasmine.

“Me and Nik.” Starr’s shoulders cave just a little.

Jasmine sets down her glass. “Wait, you went out for drinks with your greasy car salesman of a boss and didn’t tell us? Did you know about this?” she asks me, but I’m just as surprised.

“Well, it was our first official one-on-one,” says Starr. “And I’ve tried to go to the team outings, but every time, Max is all ‘this is just senior staff’ or ‘just sales folks.’ So yeah, if I have a chance to go out with the head of my team, I’m going to. No way is some guy going to sideline me.”

They’d gone into Manhattan, to a speakeasy in the back of a cell phone store. They sat in a booth meant for two—the only one available, apparently. He sipped aged whiskey; Starr made do with a glass of the house red. They munched on a trio of cheeses, roasted nuts, and olives. She did most of the eating and most of the listening. “He said the brother asked some totally legitimate questions about our marketing plans and was very respectful.

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