Max entered Desert Princess Diner and strode to the same booth he'd occupied his first day. He noticed Pilar was bending over the service counter reaching for someone's order and talking to the chef, a middle-aged Mexican whose penchant for eating was obvious by the extra pounds he carried around his middle. Max's gaze drifted down Pilar's generous posterior and shapely legs. Forcing his gaze back to his booth, he slid in and wondered if she would be his waitress or the tall, skinny gal with bleached blond hair piled high in a style that was reminiscent of a bird's nest. He guessed her age to be over fifty, and then revised that to over sixty. He grabbed his menu and slid next to the wall and grinned. He'd never encountered so many strange characters in his life and he'd traveled extensively.
His musing was suddenly jarred when Pilar slid into his booth and slammed a piece of paper on the table in front of him.
"What the hell is this?" She didn't even bother to lower her voice. Max casually glanced around the room and noticed all the patrons were watching them. When he met their gazes, however, they quickly returned to eating. Easily, because he often dealt with angry men and women in his occupation, he said, "Looks like a letter." He never blinked or flinched returning Pilar's stare.
Now she lowered her voice and leaned forward. "Want to know what I think it is?"
He remained as still as a statue. Angry people usually mellowed when he didn't react.
However, instead of talking, Pilar sat back, lifted the paper, and proceeded to tear it to shreds. Her eyes, the color of espresso, flashed daggers at him.
Max almost smiled. Now this is something I haven't seen before.
She spoke again. "I don't know what the hell is going on and why Princess has allowed you so much leeway, but I don't intend to sit back and let you evict people from the park."
That finally got Max's ire. "That letter mentioned nothing about eviction. It merely states that rent must be paid on time. What the hell is wrong with that?"
"And what happens when Lilac and the others can't pay on time? Are you going to look the other way?"
"Ms. Armstrong, I highly doubt it will come to that. If the late payers continue to pay late, a mere twenty-five dollars will be tacked onto their account."
Pilar's face turned even redder and her dimples kept peeking at him. She said low, "Obviously, you don't know what it's like to live solely on Social Security. For many of the residents, that's their only source of income." She sucked a deep breath and continued, "And as for Lilac, she's supporting a mentally-challenged, forty year old son who thinks he's five. He lives in an institution in Phoenix." She sucked another breath. "Did you ever stop to consider why she's living in a camper shell! Twenty-five dollars to her is like two hundred to normal people. And, as for Goody, he has to take heart medication that isn't fully covered by Medicare!" She leaned forward until her face was in his. "But the late payers always, always, pay their rent."
"And how do you know who pays late and who doesn't?"
"Because I helped Princess with the ledgers when she got the flu a few months back." She leaned back and said softly, "You, sir, are a snake. Why don't you return to the hole you slinked out of and play your paper pusher games somewhere else?"
Max watched her storm away and for the second time that day, he was speechless.
Then he was angry.
Why the hell hadn't Princess told him all this when he'd asked about sending the letter out?
He remained seated for a couple of minutes and then jumped from the booth. He sure as hell didn't have an appetite now. His nemesis, Pilar, watched him cross to the door with passion filled eyes, and heaven help him, he thought she was gorgeous.
Max almost ran the distance back to the RV park. He needed privacy so he could think about this turn of events. He was so distracted that it wasn't until he was standing in front of his RV space that he noticed his RV was gone.