The ladies chatter around their table in Spanglish, pecking away at the plastic dish of tortilla chips between them. One of the older women undresses the waiter as he approaches, giving him a wink when he refills her water glass. Bonnie watches out of the open blinds as Mariana, escorted by yet another housekeeper, scuffles in through the front doors of the restaurant. It isn't but a few seconds later that the two turn the corner and spot the black and gold balloons tied to an empty chair.

"Here she comes," announces one of the ladies at the table. They all turn their attention to the approaching Mariana, whose surprise is evident.

"Happy retirement!" the women chime almost in unison.

"Wow! Muchas gracias, ladies!" She gasps as she squats down into the decorated seat carefully and spots a boxed cake, iced with a clock face reading, "NOW THERE'S TIME FOR EVERYTHING".

The women talk about their husbands and their children. They complain about their supervisor Linda and discuss the latest bullshit tabloid news. Bonnie remains mostly wordless, as she hasn't much to say about any of it. She on occasion speaks quietly to Mariana about her upcoming plans, but for the majority of the time keeps entertained listening in to coworkers Rosa and Jimena following their routine riffing. It is now that the table shifts its attention, as the two best friends' voices become central to the conversation.

"Mari, a lot of clients are gonna be disappointed you're leaving," Jimena states, dipping a couple crumbs into a little cup of salsa as if it were a whole chip.

Mariana raises her hands sarcastically. "This company's going to fall apart without me, girls. I'm sorry."

"That new girl's taking on a handful of your clients—the white one." Rosa adds, directed at Jimena, "¿Cúal es su nombre?"

"Alexandra."

"Right."

"Every little gringa is named Alexandra," Jimena jokes, causing the women to snicker.

"She's taking the Pollos guy?" Rosa prods.

Mariana shakes her head. "No, that's miss Bonnie over here."

"Lucky lady," Rosa grins, causing the girl to smile back uncomfortably and go in for a sip of ice water.

"Dios mio, I wanted to fill in on that one," Jimena sighs, resting her chin on her fist disappointedly. "He'll take a liking to you—you got a boyfriend, chiquita?"

Wide eyed, Bonnie shyly shakes her head and hides behind her now empty glass.

"Look, she's blushing," Rosa teases. "Working for that man, you might just have one in a few weeks."

The women collectively chuckle and Bonnie cannot distinguish exactly what for. She sighs silently in relief when the waiter stops at the table-side with a tray of margaritas, derailing the conversation into excited hoots.

Cynthia feels her cheeks burn as she approaches the table. Despite years of food service experience, she still finds herself somewhat apprehensive about confronting customers for fear of aggressive retaliation. Still, she marches valiantly towards the two stiff men at the table, her patience for them freshly worn out.

"Excuse me, gentlemen?" she commands. The men, unmoved, stare back maliciously. "These booths are for paying customers only—"

"Cynthia, it's okay." She turns to find Gustavo behind her, a comforting smile across his face. "I'll handle this."

She nods, slightly defeated, and strides back to her station.

His expression drops instantaneously and he returns their dead-eyed glare, his voice falling low. "¿Como se puedo ayudar?" he demands.

One of the two looks up and acknowledges him. "Tu sabes."

Gus sighs and clenches his fists, exhausted of dealing with these two.

"Cuando baja el sol."

She knows it would be polite of her to stay for a minute—he surely has already seen her Volkswagen parked at the curb. However if there is one thing Bonnie hates it's interacting with clients. The main reason she wanted the job, she told herself, was to be left alone and work at her own pace, not having to put on her prettiest mask of a smile and force a pointless amicable conversation with a stranger. Though it isn't nearly as mentally taxing as the waitressing job she'd held previously, the few minutes she has to spend on occasion talking to or even greeting the homeowners seem all the more strained the longer she goes between social interactions.

She hoists up her supply caddy in one hand, rolling her vacuum cleaner in the other. A book bag filled with rags hangs tighly on her shoulder, the strap digging into the soft flesh under her pink uniform blouse. She hurries towards the front door, hoping to simply avoid contact with the man entirely.

But the door swings open.

Briefly a bit startled, Gustavo nods to the young woman politely.

"Pardon me."

A stunned Bonnie freezes like a rabbit in headlights, her social ineptitude rearing it's shameful face with a nervous, "hi."

She swears even her voice is clammy.

"You must be Bonnie," he greets, reaching his hand out to shake hers. "I've heard many good things about you."

"You're Mr. Fring?" she assumes, not quite knowing how to respond to the compliment.

"Please, just call me Gus." The man smiles and holds unwavering eye contact, a fact that makes Bonnie want to jump out of her skin. "I'm sad to see Mariana go, but I have no doubts you'll fill in nicely."

"Thank you," she murmurs, her brown eyes darting away unintentionally as the words exit her mouth. He does not look anywhere but her, even as an uncomfortable silence fills the air.

"I've—I've—" she stutters, starting to blush, "gotta head out now..."

"Of course, me as well," Gus immediately reaches for the heavy vacuum she had now set down, picking it up like it's nothing. "I'll take that for you."

Down the driveway he follows as Bonnie strides down the incline to her car. He raises the vacuum up into her trunk, even taking the caddy from her hands and placing it inside neatly.

"I shall see you next week then?" he asserts smoothly, his chin tilted slightly but his posture perfectly upright.

"Yeah," she nods, gripping her car keys in the pocket of her apron. "Have a good night, Mr. Fring."

Gus, she chastises herself mentally.

He politely ignores the mistake and grins, his hands behind his back. "You do the same. Thank you, Bonnie."

She nods and enters the driver's side of her car, feeling a bit perplexed as to why he was still standing there. It must be, she thinks to herself, because he was going back out. As the beetle rolls down the street, she wonders why he even returned home if he was simply to leave immediately after arriving.

Suspicious, she looks in her rearview mirror, feeling as if he may still be standing there, watching.

But he has disappeared.

"El nombre de la gente es...Hank Schrader," Gus announces to the brothers, facing them confidently. Every word he speaks, he emphasizes. The sun falls quickly on the desert horizon, threatening to steal any and all heat with it as it descends. A golden evening breeze catches his dark jacket.

"Que su muerte les satisfaca."

It is now approximately twelve forty-six in the morning. Gus lies awake on his back, a single top sheet only covering up to his pelvis. His fingers graze the fabric of his white t-shirt over his chest as he stares at the still ceiling fan.

He cannot get her out of his head. Hard as he tries to refrain, the images swirl before him tauntingly.

Her features are those of a porcelain doll—dainty and petite. Her thin eyebrows frame her round face with a delicate, feminine grace he does not see often in his line of work. And her lips—he had to restrain himself from reaching out and touching them—soft and plump, flushed pink as her cheeks; the physical aspect of her job proven in their color. And her timid demeanor only serves to strengthen his desire.

It is now that he finds himself accepting this one simple fact as truth, which is that Gustavo Fring wants this little girl all to himself.

And he will get his way by any means necessary.