This is chapter one of Turning the tables. It’s available now on Amazon for 2.99.

Cover by the incomparable Tina Michele Read on and please let me know your thoughts….

“Come on.” Cash Dunleavy stared at the unanswered video call. “Fucking pick up.”

But the call remained unanswered.

“Fuck,” she tossed her phone onto the dining room table and grabbed another beer from the refrigerator. “Fuck my life.”

Her phone vibrated and she saw a video call from her best friend, Candy Sullivan.

“Where were you?” She greeted Candy.

“In the bathroom, if you must know.”

“You could have answered.”

“Yeah, but I chose not to. Now, what’s up? How was your set?”

“It fucking sucked. Small group. Very little interaction. I’m seriously considering my nonexistent DJ career over.”

“I’ve heard this before,” Candy said. “Your career is not nonexistent. You get out there all the time and play at venues.”

“Small venues with even smaller crowds. Let’s face it, I’m getting nowhere in Portland.”

“Ay chihuahua! You have to be the most impatient person I’ve ever met. Keep doing what you’re doing, Cash. You’ll get your big break.”

“I don’t know. I’m old. No one wants to take a chance on me,” Cash said.

“You’re only thirty-five.”

“Thirty-four for the next month. That’s old for DJing.”

“So what does this mean? You quit and just work full time at the auditorium? That sounds exciting.”

“No,” said Cash. “I can’t do that. I fucking hate my job. And Portland. And my life.”

“You’re burnt out, babe.”

“You can say that again.”

“Get away. Come down to see me. Please? I’m only asking for a week. Take PTO and come down. Mexico is amazing. Puerto Vallarta is incredible. You’ll love it here.”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re fried,” Candy went on. “You need a change of scenery. It’s still slow season here so we could have a blast.”

“You really do love it there. Hell, I can’t believe you’ve been there over a year now.”

“Right? And with the moron in the White House, I’m not going back any time soon. So, if you want to see me, you’d better get your ass on a plane.”

“Let me see what I can do.”

“Yes. If I were there right now, I’d give you a big old hug.”

“Then I’m glad you’re not here,” Cash said. “Okay. It’s time to get some sleep. Thanks for the talk. I’ll let you know when I can get down there.”

Two weeks later, at three o’clock in the morning, Cash paid her Uber and went inside the airport.

“Three hours early for an international flight? Whose brilliant idea was that?” she muttered to herself as she approached the luggage drop off. The blowing rain cut through to her bones. She checked weather on her phone. Eighty-seven as the high in Puerto Vallarta. She couldn’t get there soon enough.

Her plane touched down in the late afternoon. Even inside the airport it was hot. Cash was still in her jeans and a hoodie and was carrying her coat. Everything annoyed her. Baggage claim was a zoo. Customs was irritating. And, after customs, she felt like she was running the gauntlet passing all the salespeople pitching rides and timeshares. She turned to go down the last hallway and braced herself for more chaos. 

Instead of another line of people, the hallway was thankfully empty and quiet. There was a crowd in the distance, but she paid no attention to them. She just wanted to get in a cab and go to Candy’s place. The sound of her name shocked her out of her annoyance.

“Cash you idiot! Over here!”

She followed the sound until she saw Candy standing there, looking divine in short shorts and a bikini top.

Cash enveloped Candy in a bear hug before stepping back to admire her.

“Damn, woman. Mexico looks good on you. Check you out, you bronze goddess.”

“I know, right? You’re going to love it here. You’ll be bronze by the time the week’s over.”

“With my Irish heritage? I’ll be a lobster.” Cash laughed.

“Use lots of sunscreen.”

“I didn’t pack any.”

“My dear, you’re in Puerto Vallarta. You can buy sunscreen all over the place here.”

“Good. But enough chatter. Get me somewhere where I can get out of these hot clothes.”

The drive to Candy’s condo was a real eye opener for Cash.

“It’s for damned sure I’m not in the states anymore,” she said.

“No. Welcome to Mexico, amiga.”

“Are you fluent in Spanish yet?”

Candy laughed.

“Hardly,” she said. “But I’m much closer than I was a year ago.”

“My Spanish sucks. Am I in for a lousy trip? Like, will I understand anything that’s happening?”

“Most people in Zona Romantica are bilingual. A lot of them speak English.”

“The what?”

“Zona Romantica,” said Candy. “It’s the neighborhood I live in.”

“I’m not convinced this trip was a good idea.”

“You need to take a chill pill, sister. We’re going to have a great time. You need to relax though. Seriously. I don’t want any uptight, stressful vibes from you.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Okay, so we’re about to leave the big businesses behind.”

“Why is your car shaking? Is it going to break down?” Cash said.

“No, silly. We’re on cobblestones now.”

“How long do they last?”

“They’re pretty much everywhere in this area. Now look around because you’re about to see the water and the Malecón.”

“The what?” Cash was getting more confused with everything Candy was saying.

“The Malecón. It’s basically the boardwalk. Now look to your right.”

Cash did as she was instructed and was awestruck at the view. 

“It’s so peaceful,” she said. “Nothing like Oregon’s ocean.”

“Right? Same ocean, but much calmer here.”

“This is the Pacific?”

“Do you know anything about geography?” said Candy.

“Fuck you. So what are all those statues about?”

“Patience, Grasshopper. All in due time.” 

“Whatever.” Cash crossed her arms and closed her eyes.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m tired.”

“I don’t care. Open your eyes, sit up straight, and prepare to be in love.”

Cash blew a long breath, but she sat up and looked around.

“This area seems legit.”

“We’re in the Zona Romantica. Of course it’s legit.”

“No shit? You live in this neighborhood?”

“Indeed I do—”

“Holy fuck,” Cash exclaimed. “Look at all the fucking rainbow flags.”

“I’ve been telling you about this for a year now. Of course you would forget. Anyway, welcome to the gayborhood, lover girl.” She turned between two small brick buildings and pulled into an incongruous parking garage.

“This looks out of place. With all these old buildings around? A high rise seems weird.”

“Look past the rainbow flags. Look all around the neighborhood when we get to my place. Condos everywhere.”

“Hm.”

With the car parked, Cash followed Candy to her condo. Candy opened the door and Cash stood there, amazed at what she saw.

“Damn, woman. This place is awesome. Like, it’s huge for starters. It must have cost you a fortune. And the décor? Totally authentic Mexican, right? Shit. Where did you find the money to do this?”

Candy laughed and before she could answer, Cash had crossed to the large window walls.

“Holy fuck! Look at your view,” Cash said. She stepped back and took in the spacious living room. “So, I take it this couch is mine?”

“Don’t be stupid. Come on. I’ll show you your room.”

Cash dragged her suitcase down the hall and stepped past Candy into the bedroom on the left. There was a queen bed, dresser, and desk, all with dark wood that Cash didn’t recognize.

“What type of wood is this?” she said.

“Parota. It’s native to this area.”

“So have to taken to selling your body or what?”

“No.” Candy laughed again. “All of this was very reasonably priced. Puerto Vallarta may be expensive by Mexican standards, but it’s still way inexpensive compared to the states.”

“Damn. I think I’m going to like it here.”

“I think you’re right. Now, hurry and shower and change. You need to explore the nightlife.”

When Cash was refreshed, Candy guided her as they walked through the neighborhood. Cash stopped to look in the windows of myriad shops. Finally, Candy’s stomach growled loudly.

“Look, you’re here for a week. Please can we get some food now?” she said.

“Oh, sorry. Yeah. Take me to the place with the best enchiladas, please.”

They walked another block and Candy turned into a doorway that Cash hadn’t even noticed. As soon as they entered, the smell of spices made Cash’s mouth water.

“Where are we?” she said.

“At the home of the best enchiladas in Vallarta. Now sit down and prepare to be amazed.”

After they’d ordered, Candy broached the subject they’d avoided until then.

“So, what’s going on, Cash? Why the desperate phone call? Why are you so discouraged?”

“Oh, fuck. I don’t know. I just feel like I’m going nowhere and it’s getting depressing to play to like crowds of twenty people.”

“That’s twenty people more than zero.”

“Very funny. I’m fried. I’m over it.”

“So music doesn’t make your blood boil anymore?”

“It totally does. But I need to let it go. I’m going nowhere fast and I’m getting older so my chances of making it big are slim and none.”

“Well,” said Candy. “Puerto Vallarta has a hell of a DJ scene. Maybe you should seriously consider moving here and playing.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. I’m sure the weather up there isn’t helping your depression.”

“You’re not wrong there,” Cash said. “So where can we listen to DJs here? I’d like to check some places out.”

“There are so many. But I’d like to hang in the gayborhood tonight.”

“So, no DJs tonight?”

“I didn’t say that,” said Candy. “There’s an LGBTQIA venue right here in the Zona Romantica that I’d like you to check out.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Dinner was served and Cash proclaimed her enchiladas were the best she’d ever had.

“Told you,” Candy said.

“Yeah you did. How do you keep your girly figure with this kind of food all over?”

“You know my metabolism. Plus I walk it off. I walk pretty much everywhere here.”

“I can see that. Okay, dinner is on me. Then we’ll head to see some DJs.”

“This place is cash only and you don’t have pesos, do you?”

“Uh, no. I guess getting pesos should be the first order of business. I noticed we passed an ATM somewhere along the way here.”

“No. You don’t want to use street ATMs. We can go by a bank and you can withdraw pesos.”

“Got it. Then DJ?”

“Too early for DJs,” said Candy. “We’ll wander around and I’ll take you to some of my favorite bars. Around ten, we’ll go see the DJs.”

“Fair enough.”

With pesos in her wallet, Cash followed Candy through town. Candy stopped and hugged a guy sitting on a barstool.

“Candy! Cómo estás?” the guy said.

“Doing well, thank you. English tonight, mi amigo. I’m showing my friend from the states around the hood.”

“Welcome.” He hugged Cash. “My name’s Carlos. Welcome to Catrina’s.”

“Nice to meet you. Catrina’s?”

“Only the most fun place around,” Candy said. “Come on. Let’s see what’s going on tonight.”

It was only six thirty but the little bar up the stairs had a decent crowd. A man with long dreads was singing. His voice shocked Cash.

“Damn. He’s good.”

“That’s Marlon. He’s a great guy and yes, an amazing singer.”

“You know him?”

“Yes. I know a lot of the performers here. I come here a lot to get my nights started.”

“Aren’t you just the celebrity? Can I touch you?”

“Fuck you.”