Reyna's Anniversary Part 2 (Patreon)

***

She looked at herself, trying to see what Reyna saw when she walked into the office. It’s true that she didn’t exactly inspire confidence. Her red hair was in disarray, and her glasses (one lens had a crack in it that she couldn’t afford to fix) were crooked on her face. Speaking of her face, it was an eruption of freckles, like Georges Seurat starting a painting on her face and got bored halfway through. 

Cute. That’s what her boyfriends called her in the past. Not pretty. Not hot. Not even attractive. Cute. Like she was still seventeen and homeschooled and awkward and … 

Deep breaths, Grace. Keep it together. 

It didn’t matter how professionally she addressed (professional dress was a strange term considering her budget). Today she tried a grey turtleneck sweater, thick and comfy, with a plaid pencil skirt. But it didn’t matter. She couldn’t escape the fact that she looked like a teenager in grown-up clothes. Jeeze, this Reyna woman probably saw through all that. Probably saw right to the little girl that came to help people with her law degree and ended up in a dump getting paid in chickens. What the heck was she going to do with chickens? She couldn’t eat them now, not after she’d named them. 

She undid the messy bun her hair was in, brushed her hair quickly, and then put it back up. Good. No stray hairs. She smoothed out her dress and sweater. Then for good measure, she added a bit of perfume to her neck and wrists. She found out last night her water had been cut off. She didn’t need this Reyna person to know she’d missed a shower. 

Gosh, why did she care so much if she impressed her? The woman dressed like a prostitute. A cheap one. 

Calm down, Grace. Maybe she’s a potential client. Maybe a potential client with an actual income. Think of the hot water. Hot water. Hot water. 

Grace stepped out of the bathroom and back into her “office.” There was new pep in her step. She was conscientious of her gait. Shoulders back, chest forward, hips back, legs close together, one gliding over the other and in front. Click of cheap heels. Make it work. 

“How can I help you Miss …” 

“Reyna will be fine. Feeling better?” 

“Uh, yes,” said Grace. “Much.” 

Reyna made a gesture to her own black hair, in a high and tight ponytail, behind her left ear and made a clearing sound with her throat. Grace mirrored the action and found another stray curl hidden behind her left ear. Dang it! She tucked it away and smoothed out her skirt. Wait. It was already smooth. Jeeze. 

“How can I help you?” 

“You had a client, Guadalupe Ramirez. She works for me.” 

“Uh … right.” Grace sat and her desk and started looking for the right pile. “She needed help with her green card application if I remember correctly. I have the file somewhere around -” 

“Don’t hurt yourself,” said Reyna. “Guadalupe was deported yesterday.” 

Grace froze and turned around, facing the intimidating woman. She had no sadness or venom in her voice. She said it as calmly as stating the weather. Everything she said was matter-of-fact, as simple as revealing reality. 

“What?” was all Grace manage to croak. 

“They said there was a problem with her paperwork. She’s on her way to a holding facility in Louisiana right now.” 

“That’s not possible. I personally -” 

Reyna silenced Grace with a wave of her hand. “No use crying on spilt milk.” 

“Over,” said Grace without thinking. 

Reyna arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” 

“Over spilt milk. It’s an idiom.” 

Reyna’s red lips curled into a soft smile. “Yes.” 

“I’m so sorry. I only met with Guadelupe a few times, but she -” 

“She will be fine back in El Salvador. She picked up quite a few skills in my employ. I imagine she could find work anywhere but the United States now.” 

“Did you want me to look into it? To represent her?” 

“Spilt milk.” Reyna’s smile widened. “Remember?” 

“Right. Um. Yes.” Grace wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt. “Then what brought you in today?” 

“I want my money back,” said Reyna. “I paid for her paperwork. Apparently that was a waste. I’d like it back.” 

“Most of that cost was used for filing the application,” said Grace. “I can’t get it back.”

“That’s what my lawyer said.” Reyna stood. “She would like to meet you.” She unclipped her handbag and handed Grace a tiny card. “Tomorrow. 2 o’clock. Here.” 

Reyna turned and stepped out of the office without another word. Grace sat there, stunned. Guadalupe’s paperwork hadn’t been correct? That was impossible. That never happened to one of her clients before. Never. 

And what? Reyna was suing her? She practically worked for free. She’d already spent the money from the Ramirez case fixing her car. She couldn’t give it back. Nor could she afford the court fees of a lawsuit. She’d fallen behind on paying her malpractice insurance. 

Shoot. 

She flipped over the card she’d been handed. She needed to handle this before it became a thing. Perhaps she could work something out with Reyna, find some compromise. There were two addressed on there. One was embossed, and the other was handwritten. She took out her phone. The embossed one was some ritzy manor close to midtown. That must be where Reyna lived. The other was a few blocks away. 

Holy crap … 

***

Where does Reyna want to meet her?