She insisted good Mexican food was hard to find, and I’d understand that more once I had eaten there. It was a bold statement to make to a New Yorker, coming from a place where the best food was just waiting to be discovered around every street corner. But the moment I started digging into the assortment of dishes she ordered, I realized she was right. It gave new meaning to the idea of “authentic” Mexican cuisine, and I found myself wondering if I had ever even really had it before.
“Too bad this place is in this part of town,” I noted as we cleaned our plates. “It could be a real hit if it was downtown.”
She smiled lightly, almost pityingly. “It’s already a hit, believe me. The fact that you have to travel a little to get to it only makes it better. For truly good food, people will go to any part of town.”
“But just imagine the potential if it was somewhere like...oh I don’t know, the spot the diner is in.”
Her eyes darkened even more. “If you put anything but the diner in place of the diner, you’re just asking to be the most hated man in town and no one will go, out of protest. And this place sits right here because the owners live on this street. So do all the employees. You move it, you lose half the workers and all the charm. The food suffers. The prices go up for crappy food, and the whole thing is ruined.”
I considered this scenario carefully and decided she was probably right. I had other plans for the diner’s spot anyway – whether it made me the most hated man in town or not. After dinner, we drove back to the main strip and walked around. She took me into a joint that was a lunch spot by day, and a bar by night. But not just any bar. They served exclusively moonshine. She ordered us a round, assuring me it was the highest quality, locally produced moonshine I would ever find.
I felt pretty confident in my tolerance level until I threw back the first shot, which felt nothing short of swallowing a swig of burning gasoline. It tasted like it too, and it went straight to my head. While I was coughing and pounding on my chest to help it go down, Delilah threw hers back without so much as wincing.
“Damn, woman,” I rasped. “How do you do that?”
“Many years of practice,” she grinned before turning to order us another round.
“Oh no...I don’t think I can handle more...as embarrassing as that is to admit.”
She handed me a glass anyway, but this time it was a brownish concoction. “Don’t worry. That was just an initiation of sorts. A rite of passage. This stuff goes down smooth as butter.”
I took a sip, eyeing her skeptically, but felt relieved and surprised when it hit my throat. Smooth as butter was right. It felt like drinking down a warm slice of apple pie, but she assured me it was still moonshine. They went down easy, which was dangerous. After a few of those, we were both swaying down the street and slurring our words.
I wanted to see Cherry Falls through her eyes...her big beautiful brown eyes that were a little too mesmerizing for comfort. Maybe it was the moonshine, but as the night went on, I was feeling awfully tender toward this spunky little woman who hated my guts. She was a vision in her little green mini dress and stiletto heels, but man, could she ever drink. And the more she drank, the more her southern drawl began to seep from her voice. She swore like a sailor, and laughed the most intoxicating laugh I had ever heard.
She was in the middle of one of those laughs as we walked through the streets of Cherry Falls when I found myself completely entranced. I had been stealing long glances at her all evening, taking her in and trying to figure her out. But this time I wasn’t quick enough to look away before her laughter faded and she was staring right back at me.
Our eyes locked and the moment suddenly became heavy. We both smiled and laughed a little more, trying to lighten it. But suddenly the air was thick and our sloppy steps seemed to be bringing our bodies closer together – whether we liked it or not. We kept walking with our shoulders bumping every few steps, and the warmth of her skin against mine felt as good as the warm apple pie moonshine.
Following her lead, we walked to the edge of the city where you could see the mountains in the distance. Even in the dark, you could see how massive they were. Only the base of them was lit up with twinkling lights of houses and businesses. Unlike New York City where there wasn’t an inch of pitch-black darkness to be found.
“I’ll take you there sometime,” she decided. “We’ll go hiking. There’s nothing like that fresh mountain air.” But a sadness washed over her face as she looked away. “Whatever is left of it anyway. Thank goodness most of it’s a protected nature preserve. Or else all those buildings would keep creeping their way up until nothing is left of it.”
I stared off at those black mounds across the sky, thinking again what a sight it was compared to the neon lights and concrete of where I came from. Suddenly, I had a longing to be off in those mountains with the trees blacking out any light of the moon, just to experience that kind of nature, because I never had before.
Then I looked down to the lights of the tall buildings popping up at the bottom of them, and oddly enough, found myself feeling grateful that a big portion of the mountains was protected as well. A thought that I, as a real estate mogul, had never had in my life.
For the first time, I felt a pang of guilt.
9
Delilah
After a long pause as we stared out at the distant mountains, Nick and I finally turned back to walking through the streets of the city. I was feeling like an idiot for blurting out that bit about taking him hiking into the mountains sometime. He had made it clear his only interest in me was to show him around for the evening, and one evening only. And even though I was having a surprisingly good time with him, I didn’t have much interest in hanging out with him like this again. At least I didn’t think I did.
So going back to walking was a relief. It was like an escape from the stupid suggestion I had made and the fact that he didn’t respond to it. But as we continued walking, I was noticing more than ever the way he kept looking me over. Each time I turned and our eyes met, he’d grin and look away.
“What is it?” I asked finally.
“Nothing,” he said at first, but then added, “you look stunning tonight.”
He had said something about how great I looked when he picked me up. But pointing it out again brought up a rise of frustration. What was with all the compliments and bashful smiles? And all the long stares? And what were we doing out here anyway? I couldn’t help but feel like every spot I showed him was just giving a map over to the enemy. Here are all my most beloved treasures in town – so you can take note and start plotting on how to ruin them with something more “trendy” or “hip” and expensive.
“Hey, Nick? Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Why did you want me to show you around tonight? I mean, I get that you want to know more about Cherry Falls...but...why me? And...well, why do you care?”
He considered it for a moment. “I can tell everyone cares about the town. But you’ve been so protective and defensive of it...and you’ve been more outspoken about it than anyone else. I guess I wanted to better understand my opposition’s perspective.”