A five-piece band rocked out a vaguely familiar Spanish tune, one she’d probably heard Tomas listening to in the car. The electric guitar player hunched over her instrument, face scrunched into concentrated lines while customers stood on their feet clapping and cheering. Manny waved them over and introductions were made. Of the nine people at the table, Talia recognized four from the birthday party. In addition to pitchers of margaritas, everyone had their own drink—mojitos, Cuba Libres, and for the less adventurous, good old Georgia sweet tea. The waitress came over. “What can I get you two to drink?” “A Cuba Libre for me, and a piña colada for her,” Tomas replied. Manny shouted across the table to be heard above the music. “Bring out more appetizers. Empanadas, a couple more shrimp cocktails, and stuffed avocados.” “Manny, where are we supposed to put all this food?” Talia teased. He leaned forward with a twinkle in his eye. “The party’s just getting started, querida.”
