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stuck-up Latino hired hand-there was simply no reason why he shouldn't fall madly in love with her!
As for Don Ernesto, the cultured art dealer was the kind of man she didn't know how to cope with. He
was the perfect gentleman at all times, and he couldn't have been nicer or more hospitable. Yet she felt
like an awkward little girl around him, all too aware of the gulf between them by virtue of both
background and experience. Though she found him devastatingly appealing, she couldn't quite picture
herself in bed with him. She realized then, that she felt inferior to the aristocratic Colombian.
"Have you ever been to the bullfights, Jill?" Garcia asked her.
"No ... never," she shook her head.
"Good. We are going this afternoon. I have an interest in bull raising. It is my custom to go every
Sunday during the season. In my youth I wanted to be a matador. But my family had very strict
objections." He sighed deeply. "So I never got to wear a Suit of Lights. But as a breeder-it is a little
sideline, a hobby, so to speak-I have professional justification for maintaining close contact with the
corrida. Take along a wrap-nights are cool in Mexico City at this time of year. The altitude, you know.
Afterwards we will meet some friends at the Cortijo La Morena. One of them will be the man who will
give you a job at his club, so be sure to have your portraits along ... Senor Valdez does not yet know
you are to be his employee!
Chapter 10
The next morning she was again awakened by the telephone. This time Garcia said, "I hope you won't
be offended, Jill, but it seems that you have clothes that are not entirely suitable for Mexico. I think we
must do some shopping. Are you agreeable to that?"
Was she! It was a fairy tale, a dream. She couldn't believe how fortunate she was to have found a Fairy
Godfather like Ernesto Garcia, a man who was not only very rich and very prominent in his field, but one
who was terribly generous as well!
"That sounds absolutely great, Ernesto. Will you give me half an hour?"
"An hour would be even better. I have several long distance calls to make, and the Mexican telephone
system is not as efficient as Ma Belle!"
Jill was smiling as she hung up. Ernesto had a way of making everything seem so easy, so smooth. He
was commanding, authoritative, and yet so nice to her! She was faintly surprised and almost
disappointed that he hadn't yet made a pass at her. She couldn't figure it out. As for Senor Valdez, the
fat niteclub owner, she was sure he would try to paw her the first chance he got. The leering man, who
wore diamond rings on his pudgy fingers and clear nail polish (she hated men who had professional
manicures) almost drooled at the mouth when she was introduced to him at the bullring. She felt uneasy
about her new "employer," though she had been too embarrassed to communicate her fears to Garcia.
The job was easy-she would solicit portrait work from the club's patrons as they sat enjoying cocktails
and listening to music. An easel set up in the lobby would show samples and advertise her work. Valdez
thought it was an intriguing gimmick, something that hadn't been tried before. Jill would wear a long
gown under a plastic smock and wear a lightweight easel-board that was hung around her shoulders by
a cloth strap. With pastels and pencils in the easel tray and sketch paper clipped to the board, she was
totally equipped to earn money as a quick portrait artist! Best of all, Garcia had told her that many
prominent people frequented "La Jacaranda," the most famous niteclub in Mexico City, and who knows
... she might get a commission for a portrait in oil! The sketches would sell for the equivalent of five
dollars in American money, with three dollars going to her. And, she could expect generous tips-it was
the custom in such establishments!
Of course, wardrobe was a problem. She didn't even own a long gown, except for a very girlish one in
cotton gingham. Perhaps that is why Ernesto had so tactfully suggested taking her shopping.
Driving along the Paseo de la Reforma in her mentor's midnight blue Mercedes 600SL was a thrilling
experience in itself. Julio threaded the shiny limousine through the crazy Mexico City traffic with aplomb.
How, she couldn't guess; she was on pins and needles most of the time for fear that twelve cars would
plow into the costly machine at once. Instead, she noticed traffic deferring to the obvious symbol of
wealth and prestige. Don Ernesto had special license plates. She found that he was known to many, and
in every one of the exclusive boutiques they visited the clerks would gush over him while they treated her
with restrained professional courtesy. Only once or twice did she notice a cluster of salesgirls whispering
behind their hands at a safe distance.
Don Ernesto, besides being an elegant dresser himself, had exquisite taste in women's clothes as well. Jill
was flabbergasted at the array of parcels Julio placed in the trunk of the limousine, and in less than two
hours of shopping! Garcia knew exactly what he wanted, and he wasted no time in indecision. There
were dresses, both long and short, skirts, blouses, evening pajamas, shoes for dancing, sandals for
casual wear, scarves and some lovely jewelry. (Many of the salespeople commented that she should be
a model or, was she perhaps a young American film star?) It suddenly occurred to her, however
fleetingly, that Don Ernesto was her Henry Higgins, and she, his Eliza Doolittle. Or was he her Svengali?
"Ernesto, I'm overwhelmed," she breathlessly confided when they were once again seated in the plush
back seat of the luxuriously appointed Mercedes. "I just can't believe this is really happening to me, an
art student from Kansas City, Mo! Nothing like this has ever happened to me before, and in my wildest
dreams, I never expected anything so marvelous!"
Garcia patted her hand paternally. He gave her a bemused and enigmatic smile. "Jill, you must always
expect marvelous things to happen, otherwise you will find yourself settling for the crumbs of life. You
are much too lovely-and too talented-to allow that. Just wait, nina-there are many more marvelous things
to come ... things you truly never expected. This is only the beginning ..."
He gave her hand a squeeze, and Jill felt a little flutter of sexual excitement from her chest down to the
valley between her legs. She blushed and happened to look up quite suddenly to catch Julio's eyes in the
rear view mirror. Their glances locked for one long instant, then the quiet young chauffeur again directed
his eyes forward. She could not fathom his expression, but for some reason it troubled her faintly.
At length the sleek Mercedes pulled up in front of a splendid white edifice that was starkly modern. Even
in her brief journey along the streets of Mexico City, Jill had already formed the impression that it was a
city of contrasts: the very old and the very new, the terribly poor and the terribly rich, the clinically clean
and the appallingly dirty. She read the script on the white canopy: GALERIA GARCIA.
"Oh Ernesto, this is your gallery!" the wide-eyed girl exclaimed.
"Yes. And you shall see it now. I hope you approve, Jill," he said, flashing her a devilish smile. Again, the
little tremors of excitement. Garcia said something in Spanish to Julio as they got out of the car. The
taciturn young man barely nodded. He seemed always to know exactly what was expected of him.
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