Damas, Dramas, and Ana Ruiz by Belinda Acosta

Author:Belinda Acosta [ACOSTA, BELINDA]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC000000
ISBN: 9780446550826
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2009-08-11T04:00:00+00:00

The pachanga grande started at six o’clock. By six thirty, the place was packed, the booze was flowing, and everyone was in what Beatriz called high schmooze. Cynthia’s harp sweetened the air above the bubbling crowd. Everything was going well until Ana looked at her watch. She pushed through the crowd to find Mocte.

“Shouldn’t you have picked up Montalvo by now?”

“He said they would get here on their own,” Mocte said. “He’s staying at the Guenther Hotel this week. It’s not that far, miss.”

They? Ana wondered.

“Do you want me to go over there anyway?”

“No, no. We’ll give him ten minutes.”

“Hey, dónde está el hombre de la hora?” Beatriz said into Ana’s ear. “The prez has to be at something else later this evening.”

“The dean isn’t even here yet,” Ana said. She was getting anxious.

“Don’t worry. I’ll feed him another martini. That should buy some time.”

Ana didn’t want to be, but she was curious: Who was Montalvo coming with? She and Beatriz were worming their way to the bar on the main floor when Beatriz motioned for Ana to look toward the entrance. There they saw the dean and his wife coming in with Montalvo, who was dressed muy elegante, in a white tuxedo jacket and black slacks. A photographer who had been waiting for him started taking photos before he even knew he was the guest of honor. Montalvo was gracious, smiling that handsome smile of his, then he reached behind him and pulled forward a young woman. Híjole! La mujer was la mamasota! Todo hot stuff, como un siren, wearing an emerald-green dress that followed every curve (and there were many). The dress plunged deep in the front and deeper down her back. Montalvo asked the photographer to take a photo of them together. The young woman smiled como un movie star, and the photographer was suddenly more interested in his work. The flash of his camera brought the attention of the other photographers, who began to snap their own photos.

“Oh, please tell me that’s not a student,” Beatriz whispered to Ana, as she handed her another martini. The thought came to Ana, too, but something about the young woman’s way didn’t seem to her like that of a student. For one thing, she didn’t shrink into the background, and Montalvo made no effort to hide her. The young woman was todo stylish and confident, posing for the cameras like she was used to having all eyes on her.

“He should be ashamed of himself,” Beatriz hissed. “I’ll get the prez and meet you upstairs. You snag the cradle robber.”

Montalvo’s private life was none of her business, Ana told herself. She pushed through the crowd to greet the dean and his wife, and then Montalvo, who was just about to introduce la mamasota to her when she stopped him.

“Perdón, pero the president is anxious to get started. We must go upstairs now.” The group followed Ana through the crowd to the Montalvo gallery and to the riser where Cynthia finished playing a Peruvian song con mucha alegría.

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