Disclaimer: Do we need to keep repeating the disclaimer? I don't think so, either. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Expect the Unexpected Chapter 21
Manny's Story
by Alfonsina

She packed four bags and three carryon bags for this trip. When she went to yoga, I evaluated the contents. I put most of it back and replaced the items with similar things from her side of the closet. I was almost done repacking her into two bags when she caught me.

"What did you do? You promised I could take more this trip," she said wagging her finger in front of my face.

"I never promised how much more you could take; you assumed you could take significantly more. Besides, two suitcases are more than one. I'm not dragging the entire closet with us. In the event we need to leave quickly, it's easier if there are fewer bags. Who do you think is going to have to lug them all?"

"Fine. Let's see what you put in the bags."

She scrutinized everything and made a face. "You took out the cute shorts and the camisole tank tops. Where are all the bikinis? Why do I have only one bikini and two one-piece bathing suits this time? I thought you liked me in a bikini."

"You're taking less revealing clothing this time. If I'm not going to be with you and you aren't with the family, I don't want anyone hassling you on the street. The more touristy and sexy you look, the bigger a temptation you are for either pick pockets or the seedier element. Trouble just finds you. If I'm worried about you, I'm distracted from the job at hand."

"But-" she said building a head of steam.

"Nieves, you don't speak the language. I'm not trying to make you upset, I'm just looking at it from the male perspective." I ran my fingers through my hair and took a deep breath. "You make a beautiful peacock, but you shouldn't show all of your feathers when you are alone and possibly vulnerable."

"Fine."

"Good."

"But the panties and bras are going to be sexy even if I'm the only one who knows it." If I hadn't known better, I would have thought she was getting ready to stick her tongue out at me.

I looked at her and shook my head.

"Okay, you'll know about the sexy stuff underneath, too," she said.

"I haven't taken that many things out of your bag." I removed about half, I still left twenty pairs of underwear and three bras. She could rinse the delicates out in the sink, besides, we were going to need to do laundry while we were gone anyway. "Remember, you promised not to wear panties under your skirts and dresses anymore, unless you are in church."

She licked her lips slowly, bit the lower one and said, "Oh yeah. Kind of forgot about that."

"See? That's why you like me. I think ahead." It was also the reason I'd packed more skirts than shorts or pants for her this trip. She probably wouldn't live up to our agreement, but I could still hope.

~x~x~

The flight was a commercial nonstop between Newark and Cancun. We were flown first class this time; it was much smoother than the chartered puddle jumper. I wasn't nearly as nervous, but that doesn't mean I enjoyed myself. Before we left, I got something from the doctor to reduce my nausea. Stephanie let me use her as a pillow again; there are a few benefits to not being the world's greatest passenger.

We were met by Albie and David at the airport and taken to a small hotel in town; it wasn't on the beaten path for tourists and didn't have an overabundance of amenities which was actually just fine. I wasn't going to spend a lot of time in the room except to sleep. We were still supposed to be in attendance for the evening meals and family get togethers.

The hotel was near the pier so I could walk from the room to go to work. There was even a little café I could use if I wanted to take a load off or meet Stephanie if she didn't join the other wives on a day trip. It was tiny, only about ten or twelve rooms total with a communal lounge. No pool, no Jacuzzi, no tennis courts; if Stephanie wanted the amenities, she was welcome to use them at the compound.

Arrangements had already been made at the front desk that we were to get the VIP treatment. Anything we wanted was to be made available to us at any time, no questions asked and no expense spared. All of our expenses were being billed to the Russos, per our agreement.

We weren't out of the woods when it came to the bugs or other recording devices though. We were staying at the facility of someone else's choice and at his expense. No doubt the room had been altered to observe us, maybe not as many bugs but bugs nonetheless. I know Stephanie was aware of it, just like I was.

The room was decent sized with a small sitting area, writing desk, and queen size bed. It was all very standard, we did get extra pillows and towels.

"The bed is bigger this time," she said sounding a little disappointed.

I shrugged my shoulders; it didn't matter to me as long as the mattress was decent.

"I kind of liked the smaller bed last time," she said wistfully. "It was kind of cozy sleeping on a double."

"It isn't that much bigger," I said. "Did you notice, its a slotted headboard. That could be fun."

"Is that why you packed so many scarves for me?" she asked not meeting my eyes.

"I only packed five scarves and it was probably just wishful thinking, unless you're game later."

"We'll see."

~x~x~

Nothing went well the first day. My helpers didn't help. My sun block didn't block anything. The café didn't want to serve the workers from the pier or me until I had a rather animated conversation with the owner and I produced my ID. I was a little resentful and out of sorts as I headed back to the room. I still had to go to dinner with Stephanie and the family. I wasn't in the mood, not even close, to cope with anything else. All I wanted was a shower and clean clothes, maybe a short nap.

To get to the room, I had to walk across the lobby. A very well dressed man almost ran across the space to talk to me. He spoke to me in Spanish, in an incredibly condescending tone, and said I wasn't presentable. He said I shouldn't let the tourists see me.

"Why not? My woman looks at me when I'm like this," I said. "She doesn't mind."

"Your personal life is your own, but this is a respectable facility."

"I'm respectable."

"We have very important guests staying with us for the next several days. I don't want them bothered by staff."

"Important guests? Good for you. Excuse me." I continued my attempt to cross the room. He got in front of me again.

"I can have you fired if you don't leave."

"I'd like to watch you do it."

Just then Stephanie appeared at the far side of the room. She wrinkled her nose as she walked toward me. I don't know how she expected me to look, but it was obvious this wasn't it.

"See, you're offending one of our important guests," he said.

"No, I'm not and I can prove it," I said. In English I called, "Hey, mamacita, how about a little kiss?" Then I waggled my eyebrows for good measure and made kissy-lips at her.

The man looked horrified, even more so when she actually crossed the lobby and gave me a quick peck.

"You'll get a better one after you clean up," she said. "Cariño, I was just coming to look for you. We need to be at the Russo's in about an hour."

Her eyes were sparkling, light but vibrant; somewhere between the color of a pale blue topaz and one that's called London blue. Her eyes are the most expressive part of her face, nothing is ever hidden if you just have the courage to look.

The manager apologized profusely in English; he was horrified when he connected the dots and figured out that we were Mr. Russo's guests. I guess when I'm in cutoffs, old shoes and a dirty wife beater that's full of holes I don't look like anyone's guest, much less an important one.

I accepted the apology and said, "No pasa nada."(no problem; not a big deal) It was then I realized that I had lost the cultured accent that all the expensive tutors the company paid for; it was gone. I sounded like a kid from a border barrio, and that is who I am. The more Spanish I used with the various workers, the more I sounded like myself. The slurring of words, the contractions, the idioms of my youth were back and in full force. I realized I spoke proper Spanish when I was with authority figures or people I didn't know.

The whole lobby scene made me think of a scene from Pretty Woman, except I was Julia Roberts. Wonder how Stephanie might look in boots like that? Now that could be fun.

Dinner that night was basically a progress report on the overall status of the boats, the pier, my workers, and the conditions. The last time we were treated like family; this time it felt like employer/employee meeting, and that's what it was. It made things awkward for the others around the table; we left as early as possible. There were no open sneers, but I could feel them from David, Albie and Chris nonetheless.

~x~x~

"Stephanie, can you please stop using my razor?" I asked as I plastered the third piece of toilet paper to my face the next morning.

"Sorry." Did she sound penitent or contrite? No.

"Didn't you pack your own razor?" She did the last time, and about a dozen blades for the thing, too, all for ten days.

"My blade is too dull to use anymore," she said. "And you hate it when I go to bed and my legs are all prickly. You weren't complaining about the smooth shave last night."

No, I hadn't complained, but I didn't realize she'd dulled my razor to get it. Next time I shave I'm going to check whose razor is dull and whose isn't. "Put a new blade in yours," I said getting a closer look at myself in the mirror. When did those lines start to show beneath my eyes?

"I don't have any."

"If you quit using my blade, you can use my razor. I've got spare blades."

"Deal. Just remember, you were the one who wanted me to cut down on the number of things I take when we travel."

"I didn't mean your razor blades." I meant the extra shoes and all of the body lotions.

"Promise. But hurry up. We're going to be late."

That morning Stephanie didn't want to join the wives or do anything at the compound, she wanted to watch me work, cuts on my face and all. After breakfast and mass, I walked her to the café, set up a tab, and asked the manager to hold her table for her for the day even if she wandered. I ordered lunch for the crew and me to be delivered around noon; they treated me more seriously when I was clean and smelled fresh than they did yesterday. I had my hair pulled into a leather thong to keep it out of my face when I looked down, and I had another leather strap around my neck with my ring knotted into it. The only thing about me that looked expensive were the sunglasses, designer and mirrored.

Things go more smoothly when I decide to slow down and take my time. I'd rather be methodical and meticulous the first time than go back and constantly find things I missed because I was in a hurry. I hadn't gone into the engine room for the day yet when I heard the guys evaluating the local talent. I was fiddling with the wires on a couple of gauges; the wiring was good but needed a little tightening.

"Hey, boss, what kind of woman is your type?" Martin asked.

"I don't know, long blonde hair, big tits, pale skin. Why?" It was the standard answer to the question.

"Good, she's not your type. She's my type," Martin said.

"Who?" I asked. I still hadn't raised my head to see what they were looking at.

"Just a woman who keeps walking down the pier looking this way," Martin said. "She's hot."

"You're nuts, she's my type," Franco said.

"She'd never go for you," Martin said. "So it doesn't matter if she's your type or not."

The conversation went back and forth all morning, with the passing of time it became more animated and more speculative. It was reminiscent of listening to Lester and Zero make their decisions at a bar on which woman to approach for the evening. While I'd been party to those conversations, I usually kept my own counsel. Today was no different.

Lunch was delivered. I ate. I returned to work. I answered questions about the engines and worked some more. Tomorrow I was going to buy a radio to drown these clowns out.

I walked back to the hotel from the pier alone, Stephanie cut at noon to shop with one of the wives. John's son came by with Matt, the previous mechanic. Since this was supposed to be our initial meeting, we played it very casually. Matt didn't seem overly pleased with the way I was working on the engines or the way I worked with the staff. He never talked to anyone and delegated precious little, it's part of why he'd had the job for so long. I delegated as much as possible, I'd sign off on the work when it was complete, but there was no need for me to do one-hundred percent.

The next day was a rerun of the first, sans nicks on my face. When I was nothing more than a walking hormone, I had Rita. She was the love of my life and the only girl I was with before I got married. I may have looked at the scenery, but I never talked about it in front of strangers. These clowns had no class and less respect.

"She's back," Franco said.

"Yeah, cause she noticed me," Martin said.

"She's here to look at me," Franco said. "She wants me, it's obvious."

"Work or you don't get paid," I growled. I hadn't bothered to look at who they were so intrigued by, it was none of my business. "It doesn't matter who she is or whose type she is. Gawk on your own time."

"But she's fine. I know I could make time with her if I had a chance," Martin said.

I took two steps back and said, "Point her out."

They both eagerly pointed to a woman in a turquoise t-shirt, beige skirt, sandals and a floppy straw hat. She was walking away from us toward the café. She didn't look back and acknowledge any of us. She sat at a table, picked up a book, and appeared to be lost to everything around her.

"Give it your best shot," I said to Franco. "I bet you can't get her to come back here with you."

"What? Of course I can get her to come back with me."

"Yes, go and we'll watch. Let me know what she says when she turns you down."

He straightened his clothes and sauntered up the pier to the café. I would have given anything to have heard his opening line. She remained seated as he came back.

"What did she say?" I asked.

"She smiled and just shook her head."

"Maybe she doesn't speak Spanish," I said.

"I tried to talk to her in English, too."

"That's too bad. Martin, you should give it a try."

Martin didn't have to be asked twice; he flew up the pier and came to a skidding halt at the table. This time she smiled, shook her head, and remained seated. He was more persistent, he tried for three minutes before he threw in the towel.

"Do you think I've got a shot?" I asked. "I'd put money on the fact I can not only get her to come with me, but I can get her to kiss me."

"Not gonna happen. If she turned us down, no way is she going to come with you, much less kiss you," Martin said.

"Sure, she's gonna talk to you; she talked to both of us and we're much better looking. I don't think she'll even smile at you," Franco said. "She's out of your league."

Really? I like a challenge. "Anyone want to put money where their mouth is?" I asked. "You guys can cut out two hours early on me if I lose."

"If you win?" Martin asked.

"Two hours free labor from you," I said.

"It's a sucker bet," Martin said. "I can use with two hours off. I'm in."

"Franco, you in?" I asked.

He nodded.

I didn't bother to straighten my clothes. I did take an extra swig of water before I made the short walk. This was going to be fun and I'm always up for a little fun.

I got to her table, pulled out a chair, and sat down. "Come here often?" It was a lame opening line, but it worked more times than not.

"I'm just visiting," she said smiling.

I picked up her hand and kissed it. "I'll be here for two weeks, if you want to get together. We could be good together."

"I don't know. See, there's this man in my life who's kind of jealous." She twirled a strand of hair around her finger and looked very serious before she continued, "I'd hate for anything to happen to you. You seem like a nice guy."

"I am a nice guy. But I like to live dangerously." I winked at her and gave her what I thought of as a wicked smile.

"How dangerously?" she asked leaning into me. "He's told me to be careful when I'm on my own. He trusts me, but doesn't trust people he doesn't know. He's a little over protective."

"Not a problem. I've been told I have an honest face. I'm a trustworthy guy." I closed the gap between us and kissed her. It was a comfortable and slow kiss, very warm and clingy.

"Oh, you aren't trustworthy at all." She smiled when she said it, a good sign.

"Walk with me for a minute, please?" I asked as I kissed her again just because I could. "I'll make sure you get back to your reading soon. Please?"

She rose from the table and walked next to me down the pier.

Martin and Franco both looked shocked to see that not only could I get her to walk with me, but I'd gotten her to kiss me and I hadn't been slapped for it.

The questions in Spanish started immediately. The questions were rapid fire and tumbled out of them one on top of the other.

"How'd you do it?"

"Why would she agree to go with you?"

"What did you say?"

"Gentlemen, I was just myself," I said.

She looked at me, poked me in the middle and asked, "Introduce us? That's why I'm here, right?"

"No problem. But I need to settle something first," I said as I kissed her on the nose. I looked at the guys and said, "You two will meet me an hour early the next two days."

My comment was met with groans as they reluctantly agreed.

"Franco, Martin, I'd like to introduce you to Stephanie."

She shook their hands and then leaned into me. "Nice to meet you both. Cariño, I should head back now. I'm sure I'm distracting all of you and preventing you from doing what you need to accomplish."

"Back to work," I said over my shoulder to the guys. "No more loafing."

"What was that about?" she asked as I walked her back to the little café.

"They thought you were their type."

"That's sweet."

"Some of the things they said about you were far from sweet," I said. "Oh and wear pants or shorts tomorrow."

"Why?"

"You remember why." I briefly rubbed her bottom through the thin fabric of her skirt. She moved my hands up to her waist and tried to give me a stern look; the look would have worked but for the smile.

"So you decided to lay your claim in front of them?" she asked. "I'm not so sure how I feel about being your private property." She lowered her voice and said quietly, "You just don't like the idea of me being commando when you can't do anything about it. Right?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes. And no gloating. Do you want anything while I'm here?"

"No, I'm good. I'm just about to find out who the murderer was," she said. "Oh and by the way, just because you try to make macho demands on me, doesn't mean I listen to you. I've got on the lacy, pink boyshorts you like so well."

"I think that makes it worse."

"Good. Now off with you."

"I want to play hooky now."

"One of us is supposed to work. Now go."

I kissed her again knowing we were being watched, so while it was nice, it wasn't as satisfying as kisses we shared in private. "Will you wait for me?"

"How long?"

"Should be done a little before five. We're making good time today. We'll make even more time now that they won't be distracted by you."

"I'll be here when you get done, now go. Murder waits for no one," she said fanning the book in front of me. "Shoo."

I returned to the boat and to even more questions.

"Give it up, who is she? Why would she be interested in you?" Martin asked.

"Because she is," I said lifting the leather thong with the ring attached, "mi mujer." (my woman)

"I'm not coming in early," Franco said. "You set us up."

"Yes, you are. You never asked if I might already know her."

"But you're old and she's hot. She should have a young stud," Martin said pointing at himself.

Martin said, "You told us your type had long blonde hair. She's a brunette."

"True, but she is mine. You really don't want to keep your job, do you?" I asked.

"Yeah, but-"

"No buts, work."

The next several days, work progressed at a consistent pace. There were fewer speculations about the women who were at the pier, at least fewer in my hearing. Then again, I had them working in the engine rooms while I evaluated things on the main deck and got pictures of the cabins.

Stephanie joined the wives shopping part of the time, laid out by the pool at the compound, or read at the café. She seemed to split her time fairly equally. The days she was at the café, she made sure to be there for lunch and ate with the three of us; it had a very domestic feel about it. She was getting bored, but her job was to send e-mails every two days and be my cover, nothing more, nothing less.

"It has been so boring this trip," she said one morning after mass.

In her world, it was true. There had been no explosions, fires, stalkers, kidnappings, or even gunshots. She hadn't so much as skinned a knee or ripped a fingernail. The worst injury she'd suffered was a slice out of her shin when she used a brand new blade when she shaved her legs. As far as I was concerned things were proceeding at the designated pace per plan.

"A well run job isn't supposed to be exciting," I said, "or an adrenaline rush."

"But when I've worked with Ranger or Morelli-" she said.

"I'm not Morelli or Ranger. I like things to be smooth. This job is smooth. With a little luck, no one will remember any of the photos that have been taken, where we've been or who we've talked to."

"Without luck?"

"You may as well be working with Ranger."

"You're pompous."

"Yes and I believe in living to see another day. Get used to being bored, Nieves."

A/N: Manny isn't being disrespectful of either Ranger or Morelli - the only place he likes things to be unpredictable is in the bedroom.

Happy Manny Monday to all, and thanks in advance for reading and reviewing.