Room Service Tacos

"I'm sorry to hear about your lost luggage," Hector said, handing us our keys. "We will call the airport in the morning for an update. In the meantime, if there is anything we can do to provide assistance, the concierge desk will open at seven tomorrow morning and our onsite stores will open at nine."

"Thank you," I said, the fatigue and disappointment noticeable in my voice. "Would you happen to have a toothbrush, toothpaste, and anything to store my contacts in?"

"The suite you reserved will have a variety of complementary toiletries you may find useful. I'm afraid contact storage is not among them. There is an all-night pharmacy up the road that might have what you need. Given the lateness of the hour, I would recommend waiting until the morning."

Hector scanned the lobby and waved over a young man in street clothes.

"Jesus, is your shift done?" he asked.

"Si. I was heading home."

"Our guests have just arrived, unfortunately without their luggage. I'm sure they would be appreciative if you could run to the pharmacy for a few essentials."

"Most appreciative," I replied, giving him the best, weary smile I could muster.

"Of course", Jesus said, bowing slightly. "What do you need?"

I wrote him a list of things I needed for the night -- overnight contact case, two bottles of water, and a bottle of tequila (I was still angry a direct flight could lose luggage). The rest would have to wait for our luggage to arrive, which would hopefully be in the morning.

"Anything you want me to add to the list Aunt Lisa?" I asked, holding it out for her to review. She was already half asleep in the lobby chair and just waved me off. I handed it to Jesus. "Any questions?"

"No," he said. "I'll need two hundred pesos."

I hadn't thought about payment in advance. He wasn't likely to have cash on him. We were so distracted by our lack of luggage at the airport we had forgotten to exchange our dollars into pesos.

"I only have US dollars," I replied.

"No problem," Hector interjected. "I can exchange for you."

I dug into my purse, removed my wallet, and slid two twenty-dollar bills across the counter. Hector made an entry in the computer and counted three hundred and fifty pesos back into my hand.

"Two hundred," I said, handing them over to Jesus.

"They are in room 2034," Hector said, and Jesus scurried away.

******

"What a day," Aunt Lisa said, collapsing onto the couch of our ensuite living room. "An hour delay, lost luggage, waiting another hour for the hotel shuttle. I'm exhausted. I should probably shower, but I'm not sure I can stand long enough for it."

She laughed the high-lilted laugh she does when she's not sure if it's funny or depressing.

"I need one, too," I said. "I need to rinse the stink of frustration off me."

This time, we both laughed genuinely.

"I should probably go first," she said. "I may fall asleep on this couch waiting for you."

"Have at it," I said. "I'll unpack, well, my purse, I guess."

She smiled. "I'm glad you're making the most of a tough situation. I wish this had started better for you. I'm still glad you agreed to do it."

"Me too," I said, sitting next to her on the couch and embracing her in a hug. "Thanks for thinking of it. This was truly a great idea."

"I remember breaking up with my first fiancé, the man I thought I would marry before your Uncle Pete. It was tough. Everything in the apartment, in the city, in my life reminded me of him. I had to get away, but couldn't afford to. Vodka tonic became my escape, and, well, that led to a few bad life choices I figured I'd help you avoid," she said.

"Tell me more," I begged, intrigued.

"Another time," she said, standing up. "Right now, I need to, how did you put it, wash off the stink of frustration."

I watched her walk to the bathroom and close the door. A few moments later I heard the click of a shower door opening and the sound of water flowing and crashing on tile below.

I stood, stretched, and surveyed the room. Our suite had two rooms, separated by a door, and a bathroom attached to the bedroom. The bedroom had two queen beds, a dresser, and flat screen TV. The ensuite living room had a couch, two chairs, a dining table for four, a coffee table, and a larger flat screen TV. A sliding door to my left spoke of a balcony. I opened the curtains, unlocked and opened the door, and stepped out into the night air. It was cool, but not cold, in the upper seventies with a slight breeze coming off the ocean. I could hear the waves and smell the salt, even twenty stories above the beach. A half-moon was still rising over the Gulf of Mexico providing enough light to see the shadows of drunk revelers walking the beach, returning to whatever hotel they had come from. I wondered how many would collapse and spend the night sleeping in the sand.

Once I had my fill of the beach scene, I returned to the room and flipped on the television. Not much worth watching at one in the morning on a Saturday in June. HBO at least had a romcom movie I hadn't seen. I watched that for about ten minutes before there was a knock on the door. Jesus had returned with the list I provided.

"I brought you two shot glasses, too," he said, showing me the tourist souvenir shot glass with 'Playa del Carmen' emblazoned on the front in bold, red letters. "You will need them for the tequila."

"Yes, we will," I said. "Muchas gracias." I tipped him another fifty pesos and shut the door.

"Who was that," Aunt Lisa asked, emerging from the bathroom in one of the hotel bathrobes.

"That, was tequila," I replied, setting the two shot glasses on the table, twisting the lid off the tequila bottle and pouring us each a double shot.

"Did you wash those?" she asked.

"No, but I'm sure this cheap tequila just did," I said, handing over hers. "To forgetting old flames."

"To forgetting old flames," she agreed, clicking glasses and downing her tequila in one gulp.

"I found a romcom if you're interested," I said, setting my shot glass on the table. "I'm taking my shower now."

"I'm ready to crash," she said through a yawn. "I'm going right to bed."

Finishing my shower, I stepped out and examined my pile of clothes on the floor. I hadn't thought about what I would put on after the shower. I wrapped myself in the other bathrobe and peeked into the bedroom. Aunt Lisa was rolled up in the queen bed nearest the window, her bathrobe tossed over a chair in the corner of the room.

"Aunt Lisa," I whispered, "what did you end up wearing to bed?"

She didn't reply.

I collected my pile of clothes, tucked them in a dresser drawer, tossed my robe onto the same chair, and quickly climbed into the bed nearest the bathroom naked. The tequila shot hit me harder than I had expected, and my head was spinning for a few minutes before I finally drifted off to sleep.

********

The ringing of a phone woke me from a hard sleep. On the third ring, at least the third ring I heard, I cleared my disoriented fog enough to know I should answer it.

"Hello?" I said, trying to sound as awake as possible.

"Hello Miss Frye, this is Sara from the front desk," the bubbly, slightly accented voice said. "Hector left a note to call you in the morning with an update on your luggage. I hope I didn't wake you?"

"No, it's fine. I needed to wake up," I said, sitting up and looking around for the clock. Saw it on the dresser and squinted to try and read it, wishing I had packed my glasses in my carry-on. Ten in the morning. We'd certainly slept in later than we planned when we'd mapped out our trip.

"I'm sorry to inform you the luggage did not arrive on the morning flight. The airline has assured me they have found it and it is waiting for the next flight down, which will arrive this afternoon around four. They will have someone bring it here for you, so we should have it in your room by six this evening," Sara explained.

"Thank you," I said, collapsing back on my pillows. Now what?

"Is there anything else we can do for you?"

"Does your onsite store sell clothing?" I asked.

"You will find a variety of beach- and loungewear, as well as swimsuits and locally themed t-shirts and hats," Sara replied with what sounded like a well-rehearsed answer.

"Great. That is all," I said, replacing the receiver before I could hear what she said in response.

"Was that about our luggage?" Aunt Lisa replied, still wrapped tightly in the covers, her head on the pillow facing me.

"Yeah. Won't get here until around six this evening," I said, still lying on my back, staring up at the ceiling.

"That sucks. Now what?"

"Hector mentioned that store in the lobby, and the woman I just spoke to, Sara, said it sells resort wear and swimsuits. Let's go buy a new swimsuit and spend the day at the beach sipping daquiris and watching for good-looking men to help us forget, well, at least help me forget, old flames," I said, turning to face her.

"I'm married, not dead," she replied. "We'll both look."

"You want to get anymore sleep?" I asked.

"It's ten. I think we've already missed breakfast. I'll feel like a bum if I don't get started now," Aunt Lisa said. "Let's get up. But can I ask you a favor?"

"Sure," I said.

"I...didn't really have anything to wear to bed. Do you mind getting me my robe?"

"Aunt Lisa!" I exclaimed, feigning shock. "Are you telling me you are naked under those sheets? I don't know what to think!"

"Quit kidding around and just get me my robe," she said, clutching the sheets tightly around her shoulders and turning away from me.

"Ok, no problem," I said. Tossing the sheets aside, I hopped out of my bed, walked over to the chair, grabbed her robe from underneath mine, and stood next to her bed, completely naked, holding it in my hand.

"I see you made the same decision I did," she replied, quietly. Was she embarrassed she was being so proper? As if to answer, she sat up, allowed the sheets to fall to her waist and took the robe from my hand. She stood from the bed, wrapped it around her shoulders, and disappeared into the bathroom without another word.

A few moments later she emerged wearing the same sundress she had traveled in. I was seated in a chair, facing the open balcony.

"Not what I had hoped to wear, especially not 'commando', but it's the best I can do at the moment," she said. "Are you ready?"

"Not quite," I said, standing up from the chair, still completely naked.

"You're a wild child," she scolded, half serious, half joking.

"I'm a free woman," I corrected her. "But I can learn. I like your commando suggestion."

I slipped on the shorts and t-shirt I had worn on the plane, emerged from the bedroom and said: "Let's go."

The hotel store was typical of what you would find in any entry-level luxury resort. A lot of overpriced t-shirts, sunhats, trophy-wife sized bathing suits, some locally themed beach wraps, and a collection of shorts and sundresses you would never wear anywhere but on vacation where no one you would ever see again could see you in them.

"I'm thinking bathing suit and a beach wrap," I said, looking through the selections of the latter.

"What if our luggage doesn't arrive as expected? Again," Aunt Lisa replied. "I think we should buy at least something we can wear to dinner in the hotel restaurant."

"Makes sense," I said, moving on to the swimsuit. I found the skimpiest bikini I could find, a thong back, loincloth front, and two tiny triangles for a top. I held it up in front of me, modeling how it would look. "What do you think? Should I embrace my wild child?"

"You do whatever you need to," she replied. "I'm happy with this one."

She held up a red ensemble that had so much cloth I was surprised it was actually two pieces.

"Are you that old already?" I teased.

"I'm that married already," she replied.

"But, you're 'not dead', if I recall," I said.

She gave me a look of death, but put back the red atrocity and, after scanning through a few options, held up an olive-green suit that matched her skin tone.

"Does this one meet your approval?" she asked.

"Show me the back," I said. "Suns out, buns out."

She flipped it over, and I nodded. "That will do fine," I agreed. "I can be seen with you in that."

"Perfect. Go find something to wear to dinner," she said, examining their collection of coverups.

I opted for a spaghetti-strap yellow dress with the perfect combination of sultry and sophisticated. Aunt Lisa found her evening attire and joined me.

"Shall we try them on?" she asked.

"Would you wear something in public you haven't seen yourself in first?"

"Right," she replied and walked to the dressing room.

Everything fit as designed. Aunt Lisa wasn't thrilled with her high-cut bottoms, but bought them anyway, and paired them with a pair of shorts she felt more comfortable wearing walking to and from the beach. We each tossed in a pair of sandals we could wear walking in the sand. We returned to our room and hung our new dress purchases in the closet, donned our suits and cover-ups, with Aunt Lisa adding her pair of shorts, and headed for the beach.

"I'm hungry," Aunt Lisa said as the elevator doors closed. "Think lunch is ready?"

"It is almost eleven-thirty," I replied. "I bet they even have margaritas ready to go."

"I like the way you think."

It was nearly one by the time we had finished our three-margarita lunch and were ready to tackle the beach. A beach attendant ran to greet us the moment he noticed us descending the stone staircase from the pool to the beach.

"I am Marcello and will help you on the beach today. Need chairs and an umbrella?", he asked, motioning with his arm to an open set of chairs halfway to the surf. They were set between a young couple lying so close to each other they could only be on their first trip together or a honeymoon, and an older couple with two teenage boys preparing to snorkel.

"Yes, that would be wonderful," Aunt Lisa replied.

"Room number?", he asked, grabbing two towels from the hut at the bottom of the stairs.

"2034," I said.

He wrote the number on a clipboard and led us to the chairs. He covered the chairs with the towels and began adjusting the umbrella.

"Sun, or no sun?" he asked.

"Let's start with sun," Aunt Lisa said. "Do you serve drinks, too?"

"Anything you like," he replied. He closed the umbrella, lifted the back of the chairs so they had a slight lean, and motioned us to sit. I lifted the coverup over my head, folded it into a square, and collapsed back into the chair, using the coverup as a pillow. Despite his best efforts to remain professional, I felt Marcello's gaze linger on the small triangle of my suit and the thin cut of my thong longer than he probably should have. He would never know it was the confidence boost I needed to kick start our fun.

"The margaritas we just had at the Taqueria were delicious," Aunt Lisa said, removing her cover up and sitting on her chair still wearing her shorts.

"Make that two," I said, smiling at Marcello as much as I dared.

"Right away," he said, and disappeared back to the hut.

"You made quite the impression," Aunt Lisa said, nodding at my swimsuit. "Though I think that was likely your intention all along with your suit selection."

"Really?" I said with a nonchalant sigh. "I hadn't noticed."

I was already sweating and ready to turn onto my stomach when Marcello returned with our Margaritas and a table to set them upon. He pushed the table into the sand, leveled it, and set the drinks on top.

"Anything else I can bring you?" he asked with a smile.

"I just realized we forgot suntan lotion," Aunt Lisa said. "Any chance you can bring us a thirty SPF?"

"I'll take an eight," I interjected. I made a display of motioning to my suit, giving Marcello permission to take another, longer look. "I didn't buy this to avoid getting a tan. Also, I'll take another margarita. This one will be gone by the time you get back. And maybe two shots of tequila?"

"Slow down," Aunt Lisa said. "We have all week."

"Start strong, finish stronger," I replied.

"Need to be awake to be strong," she replied. "I'll take a shot, too. But I'm fine with just the one margarita I have."

"Be back soon," Marcello said, darting once again across the sand and up the stairs.

"I hope you're tipping him well," I said, rolling over to tan my back.

"You have a new audience," Aunt Lisa said, nodding in the direction of the ocean. I strained my neck to look where she was indicating.

"Those young boys?" I asked, laughing. "They wouldn't know what to do with me."

"I'm sure they'd take direction well," she replied. I couldn't contain the shocked expression on my face. "What? I think they'd do whatever you told them, was all I meant."

"You're more full of surprises than I am," I said, "Mrs. 'I'm married, not dead'."

"Behave yourself," she replied, leaning back on her chair and closing her eyes.

"You leaving your shorts on, old lady?" I teased.

"I'm just balancing us out. Between the two of us, we have the right amount of cloth on our bodies right now," she said.

"I take it back. You're not as surprising as I thought." I laid my head down on the chair. The four margaritas were now sending waves through my head in rhythm with the those crashing on the shore. I was enjoying the hot, Mexican sun, the cooling effect of the ocean breeze across my sweaty body, and the swimming sensation from the tequila in my blood.

Marcello returned just as I felt I had spent too much time on my stomach and needed to flip over.

"Number eight for you," he said, handing me a bottle of Tropicana suntan lotion, "Number thirty for you, patron silver for both of you, and an extra margarita to share."

He set the shot glasses on the table and placed two large bottles of water next to them.

"Hot sun mixed with tequila, I thought you would also need water so I don't have to carry you back to your rooms," he explained.

"What if I wanted you to carry me back to my room?" Aunt Lisa shocked me again by asking.

"That can be arranged," Marcello replied, showing he knew how to flirt when the situation called for it.

"I'll let you know," she said. "Keep the tab open. I'm sure we'll need more from you later."

"You know where to find me," he replied, and returned to his station.

"Quick, let's finish these shots before I get any more crazy!" Aunt Lisa said, lifting hers in the air and handing me mine.

"Toast!" I replied.

"To an exciting, relaxing adventure," she said.

"To a great tan, better stories, and the best company," I said.

"I'll drink to that!" she said, and finished her shot in a single gulp without the normal grimace. I finished mine, slammed the glass on the table, and swung my legs over the other side of the chair to begin applying the newly arrived lotion.

"Now that I have the sunblock, I can take these shorts off," she said. "And since I'm in Mexico, I don't need this."

I turned around to see what she didn't need. Apparently after four margaritas, a shot of tequila, and sunblock, what she didn't need was her top.

"Aunt Lisa!" I exclaimed. "Won't you be arrested?"

"In Mexico?" she replied, "not a chance. Didn't you ever come here on spring break?"

"You know I couldn't afford that," I said.

"Well, if you had, you would know, in Mexico, anything goes," she said. She squirted a long line of lotion across her breasts and began rubbing it in to her skin. "Besides, didn't you toast to a great tan and better stories? This gets you both!"

"Can't argue with that," I replied, removing what little there was of my top. "I hardly had one, anyway."

The sun was just starting to rest above the top of the hotel when I finished the last of my water.

"Shall we call Marcello over for more drinks?" I asked.

"If we do, he'll definitely have to carry me up," she said.