Casa Lupita was a real, grown-up restaurant, something a step above the little diners and family restaurants Steven and Conrad normally frequented. No ties, of course, but they got out of their normal jeans and work pants. Conrad wore a moss-green polo shirt that stretched against his beefy arms and set off his caramel-colored skin. At a thrift store three blocks from their motel, Steven found a pale blue dress shirt to wear. With his summer tan, it sharpened his blue eyes and he figured for two bucks, why not?
Steven drove them to the beach and they enjoyed the real Mexican food: spicy tortillas, the guacamole was chunky with avocado bits, the rice was brown with cilantro and chiles. Steven started to sweat at the dinner table.
Afterwards, Steven turned to the setting sun. “Let’s walk o
