Chapter 10: Dinner and Dancing

Charlie Acevedo waited anxiously in the front foyer of Ceiba's, a sleek and stylish Latin American restaurant on the corner of 14th and G street, and he nervously adjusted his tie. He shifted the single red rose he held for her to his right hand and checked his watch again.

She was now ten minutes late.

He took a calming breath and exhaled deeply, trying to push away whatever panic was building up in him. He considered giving her a call, just to see if everything was all right. Nothing to worry about, he said to himself. She's just running a little late. That's all.

He wasn't concerned about her safety, at least not yet. No, his biggest worry was that Anton was right about her. "Don't try it," his coworker had said to him the first day he worked with her. "She won't be interested in you. Not unless you have something she wants."

She's not like that anymore, he told himself. She's changed. Ever since her epic blow-up and quitting her job back in July, Charlie had followed Tricia's career closely, reading everything about her and watching her interviews of the homeless on her YouTube channel. She has so much passion and dedication for doing the right thing. She is so different from the stories I heard about her. He still had a hard time believing she had called him.

The panic bubbled up. "Don't try it. If there is something she wants, she'll come to you," Anton's warning echoed. "She will give you the greatest fuck of your life, but she won't let you in her heart. There's no room for you in there."

Charlie was starting to believe the warnings. It did make sense after all. It was the only explanation he could think of for why she called out of the blue, acting all close and interested suddenly. She wants something. She wants a favor. That's all she wants. She's not interested in me. He looked at the single red rose he had bought for her. I'm being such an idiot.

It also explained why she was late. It's not like I'm that important to her either.

He sighed, and brought her image to his mind. Tricia Sanchez was a beautiful, exotic woman with sparkling blue eyes, wild hair, an infectious laugh, vivacious energy, and a killer body. She commanded every eye in the room, and every man wanted her. She could have any man. Why me? Does she just need a cameraman?

No. She's changed, he reminded himself. She works for the homeless now. She raises awareness and money for them. She's trying for respect. Anton is wrong about her. No one at the station ever bothered to give her a chance. But I will.

The doubts crept up again. I'll bet if she just wants to seduce me to get some favor, then she's probably going be all dressed up in the skimpiest, tightest, and sexiest dress she has, he reasoned. But if she's just in normal clothes, it means she's actually interested in me.

He said a silent prayer.

The front door opened, and Charlie looked up and saw her. Tricia Sanchez walked in wearing a oversized checkered flannel shirt, an unflattering drape vest, and loose slacks. Her long luscious hair was pulled back and held in a tight scrunchie, and her face was devoid of makeup. She had the slightest scowl on her face for a brief second, which vanished when her eyes met him. Her face looked hopeful.

Charlie Acevedo's heart soared, for in his eyes, Tricia Sanchez had never looked more beautiful.

Hate this shirt! Hate this whole outfit! I look like a butch lesbian folksinger, and not the good kind. Tricia stepped into the restaurant and found Charlie waiting for him up front. She immediately slipped into her performance mode, dropping the attitude about her clothes, and plastered on a smile.

"Hi," Charlie said, standing quickly.

"Hi," she responded.

He looked her up and down. "You look wonderful."

"Eh," she scoffed. "I'm okay. I would have been here earlier, but I had a little wardrobe issue." How the hell does Matilda think she's going to get any good photos of me if I'm dressed like this? Who is she going to sell them to? Farmer's Almanac?

Charlie shook his head. "No, I mean it. You're looking good." He stepped forward and offered her the rose. "Here. For you."

Tricia blinked at it stupidly for a moment. The flower caught her completely off-guard.

He shifted nervously. "I would have brought you a dozen, but I thought that would be premature."

She studied the flower, and an actual smile broke out on her face. "Thank you," she said. "How ... nice." She took the flower and smelled its sweet fragrance. This is new, she reflected. She actually couldn't remember getting flowers before.

Charlie looked proud. "Shall we get our table?"

She nodded. "Oh, can we get a table by the window?"

He looked puzzled, but shrugged and turned to the hostess. "Can we..."

"Right this way," the hostess said. And she led them into the dining area.

As they walked through the colorful and lively restaurant, Tricia lazily spun the single rose in her hand and eyed the other patrons. I am the worst-dressed person here, she lamented. But I guess it doesn't matter too much as long as Jacques gets some shots of us with no one better dressed behind me.

The hostess seated them, took their drink orders, and left. Tricia smelled the rose one more time and placed it on the table with a slight smile, and then glanced out the window onto the streets of D.C. She couldn't see Jacques.

"So," Charlie opened, drawing her attention. "It's good to see you again."

Tricia leaned forward on her elbows, a maneuver originally designed to frame her breasts and enhance her cleavage assuming they were visible, and looked him in the eyes, giving him a coy smile. "It's good to see you too," she said in a husky voice.

Charlie blushed a bit. "I, um ... I honestly was a bit surprised when you called me."

She cocked her head at him. "I was thinking about you."

"Yeah. That was the surprising part." He chuckled. "I never got the impression that you had really noticed me."

Tricia gave him a low growl. "I certainly saw you noticing me."

He nervously cleared his throat. "Well, that hardly counts. You saw everybody noticing you."

She giggled delightfully at the compliment, and glanced out the window again. She thought she saw Jacques, and angled her body towards the window slightly. "So how are things back at the station?"

Charlie inhaled and gave it some thought. "Different. Marty's gone. Apparently that little stunt you pulled when you threw him in the dumpster didn't go over too well with the station owners. He's been replaced. A lot of the guys are depressed and in the doghouse since you left. I mean, everyone kind of knew what you were doing, but nobody ever talked about it openly until you publicly admitted that you ... um..." He blushed and looked embarrassed.

She tilted her head and nodded. "Gave out favors?"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought that up."

Tricia shook her head. "No, it's okay. That's my past, and I'm not proud of it, but I'm proud that I'm past it. I don't do that anymore."

An odd look crawled over Charlie's face, one that Tricia couldn't quite place. She took it as disappointment, and leaned closer on one arm, angling her body to give him a better look at the profile of her chest. "At least not indiscriminately," she amended suggestively. "Were you feeling left out?"

Charlie blushed again and took another deep breath. "Let's just say I have mixed feelings on the subject." Tricia giggled, and he continued. "But I'm proud of you. You saw something you were doing wrong, you took a stand, and you decided to work for your principles. That was inspirational."

Tricia beamed. "Thanks," she said quietly.

"I will admit that it was confusing and surprising to watch you march out of Marty's office with goop all over your face..." She burst out laughing. He continued. " ... but Anton came clean about it. Confessed it was just mustard. He said it was just a joke, and you really didn't care what we thought of you."

"It was a stupid thing to do. I really don't know why I did it." Tricia confessed.

"You have a silly side. It's good to see it every once in a while. But I think the truth is you do care what people think of you. That's why you left, and that's why you do the work you do now." He paused. "A lot of the women at the station were proud of you, and gave Marty and the others hell for a while. I overheard a couple 'good riddance' comments, but it mostly 'You go girl!'"

She smirked and chuckled. "That's sweet. How's Judy?"

Charlie raised his eyebrows. "She's doing good. She got a lot of flack and attention from being your assistant. Got a lot of questions, but she refused to bad-mouth you. She just moved on. She's got your desk now, and she made her debut appearance on camera about a month ago. Did you see her?"

Tricia shook her head. "No. I can't bring myself to watch anymore. How did she do?"

He nodded. "Good. She was nervous, but she's getting better."

Tricia paused and reflected, remembering her time at the station, and her smile fell a bit. She remembered the lights and the camera, posing and showing off as she reported her stories. The stories were stupid, but there were times when it was fun.

Charlie cocked his head. "Do you miss it?"

His question pulled her out of her reverie. "Hmm? Oh god, no." She chuckled and glanced out the window, and saw Jacques for certain this time. "I'd much rather be doing this." She flashed a smile aimed at both men.

As the waitress came by with their drinks and took their orders, Tricia kept a careful eye out the window, watching Jacques as he took several shots. A titillating thrill bubbled up inside her as she thought about the young man with the camera watching her, eyeing her, and shooting her. She pulled her scrunchie off and fluffed her wild hair out, pushing her hair back so her face was more visible from the streets.

"So how about you? What's your life like?" Charlie asked, drawing her attention back to him. "How is working with the homeless?"

Tricia lifted her arms high over her head and stretched sensuously, arching her back and thrusting her impressive chest forward. She could see Charlie's eyes bug out as he watched her, and could also see her gaining the attention of many other people in the room. "It's a lot of hard work," she practically moaned, stretching and twisting her torso, and glancing out the window. Jacques was taking pictures furiously. She dropped her arms, ending the stretch. "I spend a lot of time cleaning and organizing," she said with a sigh. "Scrounging for food, clothing, supplies, and medical services. Hardly exciting, but oddly fulfilling." She raised an eyebrow and gave him a coy stare. "I'm surprised you asked about that, and not about EarthGuard."

Charlie managed to regain his composure. "I um, figure most people ask you about that, and I also figure there's just a lot you can't talk about." He sipped his drink. "So I'm not going to put you in an awkward position of asking you things that you can't answer."

"Oh, that's sweet of you," she said, batting her eyes.

He blushed. "And besides, I can tell you're serious about your work. I've been watching your interviews."

"Really?" she asked, suddenly interested.

He nodded, and looked concerned. "You didn't call me because you wanted feedback, or a cameraman, did you?"

Tricia looked puzzled. "No?" She became concerned as well. "Why, do you think I need one?"

Charlie took in a cautious breath, and mulled it over for a second. "Honestly, yes," he admitted. "Look, the stories you're doing are good. You're getting the details, getting the emotions, and presenting these people with dignity and compassion. But there are just a couple little things you should be doing differently."

She eyed him curiously. "Like what?"

"Well, for starters, you're on camera far too much." Tricia startled at that. He continued. "I mean, you look great on camera, but the story isn't about you. It's about them. It's best if you just show up as little as possible." Tricia frowned at this suggestion. "Also, your framing needs some work. For your medium close-ups you need to put one eye on the horizontal center of the screen. Points of interest need to be at the thirds. For a stronger emotional impact, try putting your subject on the right side facing left. This highlights the left side of the face. The left side shows negative emotions more than the right side. Also, consider using a warm lens when wrapping up with a hopeful message. Richer warm colors makes the viewer feel more welcoming to the idea of donations and volunteering."

Tricia blinked and reflected on Charlie's advice for a moment. "Wow," she finally said. "That's ... helpful." She thought about it some more. "That's really helpful!"

"Really?"

She nodded, looking bewildered. "Yes. Thanks. I didn't know there was so much involved."

Charlie smiled proudly. "You're welcome." He thought about it for a moment, and appeared to come to a decision. "You know, if you would like, I could, you know, come over and help you with this some time."

Her eyes brightened. "Really?"

He nodded. "Sure. Help you with lighting and blocking. And whatever else you need done at the shelter."

She gave him a warm heart-melting smile. "That would be wonderful," she said sincerely. She cocked her head at him, looking at Charlie from a different angle. "So there must be a whole art to using a camera that I wasn't aware of. I guess it's a lot more than just putting it on a stand, pointing, and focusing."

He nodded. "Yeah. Cameramen are more than just human tripods."

A sly grin slowly crawled across Tricia's lips and she raised an eyebrow. "Human tripod?" she asked lewdly. She gave him a sparkling, seductive look and then dropped her eyes down as if to look through the table at his crotch. She squirmed in her seat.

"Ohhh, really?" she purred.

Charlie balked and gave a quick, nervous laugh. "I didn't mean that..." he started, but that was as far as he got. Under the table, Tricia had slid one foot up his leg sexily. His eyes widened and he stammered.

"Umm..."

"So tell me more." she whispered, oozing forward and eyeing him hungrily. She licked her lips and cocked her head. "You know, I've always admired the way you handle huge equipment with a steady hand," she practically moaned. "But I always wondered ... Like, I've always heard the camera adds ten pounds." Her eyes darted down and up his body. "Where exactly do you plan to put them?"

He opened his mouth, and could go no further, completely overwhelmed by the turn of the conversation, and Tricia couldn't take it anymore. She fell back in her seat, breaking her seductive stance and collapsed into giggles, clasping her hands over her mouth in mirth.

"Oh!" she laughed and shook. "You should have seen your face!"

Charlie finally grinned and laughed along with her. "Yeah, I guess I set myself up for that, didn't I?"

Tricia giggled delightfully and flipped her hair back in triumph. "You are so cute when you blush, you know that?" She glanced out the window and saw Jacques taking her picture, and impulsively winked at him.

"I ... didn't," he said, noticing the wink.

She clasped her hands together and leaned forward with her chin on her fingers. "So! Tell me more! Any notes about my opening credits?"

Charlie looked out the window, distracted. "Who's out there?"

She reached over and playfully cupped his cheek, turning his face towards her. "Hey. I'm over here!" she said, smirking at him.

He gave her a glance, and then peered back out the window. "Is there someone out there?"

"Don't pay any attention to him. So tell me, do you think..."

"Who is that?" he demanded.

Tricia sighed. "Look. He's just a photographer. I'm a bigger celebrity now," she said with a shrug. "They're always around. I can't get rid of him."

Charlie looked back at forth between Jacques and Tricia a couple times, processing this. "What do you mean, can't get rid of him?"

"Just don't pay any attention to him."

"No! I don't like being spied on!"

"Charlie. It's not a big deal! You're not being spied on. It's not like he can hear us. Just ignore him."

He stared at her accusingly. "But you're not!" He pointed one thumb towards the photographer. "You're practically flirting with the guy! You ... You knew he was there all along, didn't you? That's why you wanted to sit by the window, isn't it?"

She reached for his hand. "Can't we just..."

"No," he demanded, yanking his hand back. "Tell me! Is he the reason why you wanted to sit by the window?"

Tricia groaned. "All right. Yes, but it's just for a few shots. It's not like he's going to watch us all night long."

Charlie glared at her. "You don't know that ... unless..." He sat back and thought. "You know this guy, right?"

"Charlie, please..."

He leaned forward and stared at her challengingly. "Tricia, what is going on? Why did you call me?"

Tricia sighed and groaned. "Fine," she said. "Look, I was having a real shitty day, and I just needed to get out and have some fun. But my publicist found out, and she wanted some shots of me out dating, so she made me change into this getup and sent her photographer out to follow me." She gave him a resigned look. "It's just part of the deal I made with her."

Charlie listened and nodded, and waited. "And?"

She squinted. "And what? That's it." She cocked an eyebrow at him. "You should have seen what I was GOING to wear tonight."

He stared at her, unmoved, and leaned in. He was not happy. "That's nice, but you didn't answer my question." She frowned in confusion. "Why did you call ME?"

"Well..." She eyed him perplexedly. "Didn't you WANT to date me?"

"A lot of guys want to date you. Why did you pick ME?"

She faltered for a moment. "I was thinking of you."

"And what were you thinking exactly? That you could convince me to do your camera work for you?"

"No! I just..."

"What were you thinking then?"

Tricia blew out a breath of frustration. "Fine! You got me! I wasn't thinking that much about you specifically. And you're right! A lot of guys are interested in me. I've got a list, okay?" She sighed and looked down at the table for a moment, and then back at him. "I needed a guy, and I picked the guy at the top of my list. But Charlie." She reached out, took his hand, and caressed it tenderly. "You were at the top of my list. That should count for something, shouldn't it?" she asked with a tender smile.

Charlie didn't smile back. He simply leaned towards her and said "So tell me, Miss Sanchez. Why exactly is Mr. Acevedo on the top of your list?"

Her smile fell.

Charlie dropped her hand and stood up. "You know, that's it! I was warned about you!" he said loudly, attracting everyone's attention in the restaurant.

Tricia looked about nervously at all of the other people. "Charlie, what are you doing?"

He opened his wallet, pulled out a fifty, and slapped it on the table. "I was told specifically. 'Don't do it. Don't try it. She won't be interested in you. She's only interested in what she can get from you.'" Every other diner in the restaurant was now silent and was watching intently, while Tricia burned from embarrassment. "But I didn't want to believe it! I was willing to give you a chance, to show that you really were a decent person. Oh, I was worried that all you wanted was a cameraman, but I was hoping that you were interested in me. I didn't want to believe that you were that selfish, that self-centered. But it turns out that the only reason you called me was that you needed a warm body. Someone to look good against."

"Charlie. You're making a scene," she whispered, cringing.

"Well I hope they enjoy it! I'm sure they've all seen a woman walk out on a man before, but haven't seen this yet!" He leaned towards her, and she cringed back. "You know, had you just been up front with me and honest with what you wanted, that you just needed to be photographed with someone, I might have been up for it! I would have been disappointed, knowing that that was all you wanted, but at least I would have appreciated the fact that you would have been respecting me. I would have done it as a friend, hoping something else could come from it. But no! You just had to lead me on. You just relied on your belief that you are this beautiful woman that every man desires, and you used that to manipulate me. You lied to me, you tried to use me, and I'm sure that all that flirting you did meant absolutely nothing to you."

Tricia just stared at him in shock and horror.

"Tricia, you may be a beautiful woman, but you are selfish and manipulative. You are NOT that desirable."

Charlie turned and started to march out of the restaurant with most of the other stunned diners watching him intently. Tricia just sat in a traumatized stupor and startled as she saw him stop and turn around halfway through the restaurant.

"Hey Tricia! Try this one on for size!" he yelled at her. "I'M SORRY I WAS LATE! Just TRY it!" He glared at her for a moment as she sat in a horrified silence.

"I thought so," he muttered, and he turned and left. All eyes returned to stare at her.

Her hands shook. Her breathing was ragged and disjointed. She trembled as every eye in the restaurant was locked on her. A dozen different emotions bubbled and boiled within her, fighting for supremacy. Shock, horror, shame, embarrassment, terror, humiliation, pain, sadness.

Rage.

Tricia narrowed her eyes in fury and clawed the table. "Oh..." She gritted her teeth. "You..." Anger flared in her, and her blood burned in her veins. "I ... No!" She shuddered, shook her head in defiance, slammed her fist against the table, and stood up. "That did NOT ... JUST ... HAPPEN!" she yelled at the restaurant. She popped one hip and threw a finger into the air. "¡Que Dios te maldiga! ¿Quién demonios te crees que eres?" she rattled off. "Who the hell do you think you are? Huh? God damn it don't you walk away from ME!" she yelled, marching out of the restaurant. "NOBODY WALKS AWAY FROM TRICIA SANCHEZ! NOBODY TURNS ME DOWN! NOBODY!"

"¡Por el amor de Dios!" she muttered as she pushed a waiter out of the way. "Who the FUCK does he think he is!" She threw the front doors open wide and stormed out of the restaurant, looking left and right. She saw Charlie in the distance walking away from her. "HEY!" she screamed, scaring the piss out of several nearby people. "¡No me des al espalda! ¡Mírame cuando te hablo!" He continued walking, ignoring her taunts. "Get back over here! I'm talking to you! ¡¿Qué coño pasa contigo?! ¡Mira que eres tonto! IDIOT! What the fuck is wrong with you? YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT KIND OF GENETICS YOU ARE TURNING DOWN HERE? HUH? MY FATHER WAS A BRAZILIAN FOOTBALL STAR, AND MY MOTHER WAS MISS MOTHER-FUCKING MEXICO!!!"

Charlie continued walking, and didn't even have the decency to turn around or flip her the bird, which just pissed her off even more.

"AAAAGH!" She screamed and kicked a trashcan. "That's right! Just keep going! IT'S NOT LIKE YOU COULD HAVE KEPT UP WITH ME! ¡Ni se te ocurra llamarme! ¡Hemos terminado!" She turned and defiantly stomped in the other direction for a few steps, stopped, and turned. "¡Métete eso por el culo! ¡Maricón!"

Raging and crazed with umbrage, Tricia stormed the streets screaming and muttering profanity about everyone and everything. "What the FUCK is wrong with people! Huh? Someone explain this to me! God! Give me strength!" She kicked another trashcan, and headed into the parking garage for her car.

As she reached her car she slammed her purse on the top and dug her keys out. "Te crees muy chulo, pero no lo eres," she rattled off. "¡Eres un jodido bastardo! ¡Gilipollas!" She pulled her keys out and unlocked the door. "¿Acaso crees que me importa lo que piensen? ¡No eres más que un pedazo de mierda!" She opened the door, threw her purse in, got in, and slammed the door shut.