wiggle my fingers at her. “Maybe it’s my magic hands.”
“Maybe. You know the boys just won their draw as well against Juventus.”
I don’t have to ask what team she means when she says the boys.
“They’ve always been one of the best teams,” I tell her.
“Isn’t it weird now that you’re not there anymore?” she asks, leaning in as if I’m going to let her in on a secret.
“It was at first, but your allegiances change. Players have to go through it all the time when they get transferred, and if they can do it, I can do it.”
“What happens when Man U plays Real Madrid?”
I can’t say I haven’t thought about that. A lot.
I shrug. “Then they play each other.”
“Oh, I really hope they do. Makes things so much more interesting.”
Interesting wouldn’t be my first word, but I let it slide.
“Meet-cute!”
A strangely familiar voice interrupts us, and I swivel in my chair to see Sergio approaching us.
“Who is that?” Helen hisses.
“Sergio,” I whisper back.
“Buenas noches, meet-cute,” Sergio says to me. “What a surprise to see you here. I assume your Spanish must be perfect now or else you would have called me.”
“No perfecto pero lo…suficientemente bueno,” I say, wishing it rolled off my tongue like a native, but at least I’m trying.
“Hey, not bad,” he says, and then he says something super fast in Spanish that I don’t understand.
“Pollas en vinagre,” I tell him.
He stares at me for a moment with big brown eyes before he bursts out laughing. “Do you even know what you said?”
I shake my head. “The chicken is in the vinegar?”
“Chicken, no. Cocks in vinegar. Pollas is penis.”
“Jeez, you should know that one,” Helena comments, amused.
I shut my eyes and put my face in my hands. “Why on earth did Alejo teach me that?”
“This Alejo is your Spanish teacher?” he says. “Sounds kind of immature.”
“Hold on. Alejo as in Alejo Albarado?” Helen says, pressing her hands into the table. “The boy with the knee you’d been working on for the last two months is also your Spanish teacher?”
“It’s just a way to pass the time,” I say as nonchalantly as possible.
“Wait a minute. You work for Real Madrid?” Sergio asks, and then I can see it all come together in his eyes. “You’re the girl. The woman. The physical therapist.”
“Cat’s out of the bag,” I say before I take a distracting sip of my martini. I cough. “Know a Spanish equivalent to that saying?”
“Wow, so funny to know this about you,” he says. “Of course, I am an Atlético fan, but I can cheer for Los Blancos sometimes.”
“Why don’t you sit down and have a drink with us?” Helen asks.
“I will. Can I buy you ladies another?”
“Sí,” Helen says, and when I don’t say anything she kicks me under the table. “One for Thalia too.”
“Thalia,” Sergio repeats thoughtfully. “So now I know your real name.”
Then he turns around and heads to the bar.
“Okay, spill the beans,” Helen says to me in a hush. “Who is this man and why are you being so weird about him? You already sleep with him?”
I give her a look. “No. I met him last month or something, when I was jogging. We bumped into each other, dropped our phones, he gave me his number in case I wanted to learn Spanish. That was it.”
“You do realize that learn Spanish actually means have sex, right?”
Boy, do I ever know that.
“Yes, I’m aware. And anyway, so I never called him.”
“Because you have your own Spanish teacher?” she says, eyeing me suspiciously.
You see, earlier today I thought that maybe if things went well with Helen, and we were back to being old friends, I would confide in her about Alejo. I’m fucking dying to talk to someone about him, and I have no one, and I figured maybe, just maybe, she would understand.
But now, I have no plans to do that. I don’t think she’d understand at all.
“Because I’m busy,” I tell her. “And believe me, if you’re upset I’m not calling you or my mother, then I’m definitely not calling some stranger I ran into.”
“Hmmmm…” Helen makes that musing sound again.
Sergio comes back with our drinks, and for the next hour he does a lot of asking me questions about football and the team. You know, what it’s really like. And as much as I thought he was into me, it turns out he’s way more into the football aspect of it.
Which is fine by me. When Sergio finally leaves, he doesn’t