The cool evening air wrapped around the ladies as they lounged by the pool in Margarita’s backyard, their laughter floating up to meet the fading light. Occasional bursts of traffic hummed in the distance, underscoring the urban rhythm, while a dog barked sharply nearby, quickly joined by others in a chaotic chorus as a stray cat sauntered along the fence, flicking its tail in defiance. The women raised their voices over the din, each trying to outdo the barking dogs, their gossip punctuated by bursts of laughter that only seemed to encourage the barking to grow louder.
Margarita leaned back, her eyes glinting mischievously as she set her drink down. “Did you all hear about the blow-up at the council meeting?” She shook her head, chuckling. “Ay Dios, two women went at it right in front of everyone! And one’s running against the current council member. Talk about making a scene. The police had to escort them out!”
Cori leaned in, her eyes wide. “Typical, right? This town can’t get through one council meeting without someone starting a fight.” She lowered her voice, glancing around with mock drama. “And rumor has it, the one who threw the first push—or punch, depending on who you ask—was a volunteer for Cigarroa’s campaign. Politics here is better than a telenovela!” Her laugh rang out, prompting a fresh wave of chuckles from the group.
Down the street, a car roared to life, revving its engine as if trying to join in the excitement. Estella leaned forward, eyebrows raised in amusement. “I regret missing this one,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “Cori, you’re not wrong! I caught the clip online—Chief Rodriguez himself was there, arms spread like he was separating wild cats! He looked like he was one second away from pulling out a whistle.” She giggled, covering her mouth. “Qué pena.”
Lupita shook her head, smirking as she traced the rim of her glass. “The whole thing’s being kept hush-hush, too. No one’s admitting a punch actually landed. They’re just ‘escorted outside’ where things supposedly got physical.” She rolled her eyes. “Sounds like they’re trying to save face.”
Cande snorted, crossing her arms in mock seriousness. “All this for a council seat. The big issue on the table? Whether water matters more than art! As if Laredo was some art mecca like New York.” She took a sip of her margarita, savoring the tart cranberry, then shook her head. “The incumbent had her own crowd too, already revved up for fireworks before they even stepped inside.”
The wail of a police siren echoed down the street, adding an almost cinematic backdrop to the discussion. Margarita grinned, chiming in. “Oh, and then a reporter had the nerve to ask Chief Rodriguez for a comment!” She leaned back, still smiling. “Can’t you just picture him standing there, silent as a stone, while everyone else’s mouths were running? Poor man was just trying to do his job.”
Cori waved her hand, smirking. “If you’re gonna start a fight, at least make it over something worthwhile! But a council seat?” She rolled her eyes playfully. “Girl, save the drama for election night.”
The group erupted into laughter, each woman savoring the notes of apple cider, tequila, and tart cranberry that lingered on their tongues as they sipped their Fall Margaritas. The barking dogs faded to a distant murmur, and the street settled back into a relative quiet, punctuated by the hum of a passing car.
As the laughter softened, Margarita clasped her hands together, a proud glint in her eye. “But ladies, we did have one real win this week. Vanessa Perez won her seat again in District 7!” Her face lit up. “She’s the first one who actually seems to care about this district. Did you see her statement? She’s already tackling Mines Road and traffic—the issues no one else wants to touch.”
Lupita’s face brightened. “Finally, someone who isn’t just collecting a paycheck. She actually listens to us about how bad the traffic is. Mines Road congestion is a nightmare. About time we got someone who’s serious about fixing it.”
Cande raised her glass in a toast. “Cheers to that! She beat out Michelle Molina by a mile, and poor Flipper didn’t stand a chance. But it just shows people see Vanessa’s putting in the work.” She took a slow sip, licking the salt from her lips. “We need someone who can handle these mandates, who’s ready to get down to business.”
Estella leaned in with a smirk. “And she’s all about plans, too! I heard she’s got a list longer than Lupita’s grocery receipts.” The group chuckled. “She’s not wasting any time, that’s for sure.”
Cori grinned, arching an eyebrow. “Well, if her plans can keep ethylene-oxide and traffic out of our noses, I’m all for it. Let’s just hope she doesn’t get dragged into all the city hall drama, or next thing you know, she’ll be brawling in the parking lot too!”
Margarita smiled, pride evident in her expression. “Ay, no! Vanessa has way too much class for that. I’m just relieved we finally have someone looking out for us. This district’s been ignored for so long. It feels like someone’s finally fighting for us.”
Lupita lifted her glass, her voice warm with gratitude. “Now this is how to celebrate. A perfect Fall Margarita and good news for our district. Here’s to Vanessa Perez—may she keep fighting the good fight, and may the traffic gods finally have mercy on Mines Road!”
The women clinked their glasses, each savoring the blend of flavors and the satisfaction of shared hope. As they settled back, a hush fell over the yard, the shimmering pool reflecting the moonlight in gentle ripples. But peace was fleeting. An engine roared a few houses down, breaking the silence. Margarita sighed, swirling her drink thoughtfully. “You know, I never thought I’d see the day—Webb County going red. Trump winning here…” She glanced at her friends, smirking. “But maybe now meat prices will go down, and the boys around here can get back to their Dallas Cowboy cookouts.” Her eyes softened, touched with nostalgia. “I miss that smell of meat on the grill, the shouts and laughter. And it’s nice having Bernie out there with the guys—it gives me a little peace and quiet, too.”
Lupita laughed, wiping a tear from her eye. “There she goes, still hoping for a Cowboys barbecue revival. And you’re right; things have changed. People are talking about ‘change,’ but going red? That’s big. The last time a Republican candidate won the majority of Webb County’s votes was in the 1912 presidential election.”
Margarita slammed her hand on the patio table. “Yes, I heard that too. That was over 100 years ago.”
Estella sighed, shaking her head. “All this talk of change… We’ve always been blue here. But, I guess, times change.” She lowered her voice. “People say this is only the beginning. Next election could be something else entirely.”
Cande lifted her glass, smirking. “For now, I just hope this ‘change’ doesn’t mean the Cowboys still won’t make the playoffs. They’re the only thing more grilled than the meat every season!”
Cori rolled her eyes, laughing. “Enough about the Cowboys. I’m going home, grabbing snacks, and binge-watching The Lincoln Lawyer on Netflix. Now, that is the kind of drama I can get behind.” She winked.
The group’s laughter filled the yard, politics and tension lifting with Cori’s comment. They took another sip of their margaritas, letting the warmth of friendship, humor, and tequila create a perfect end to their Friday night.
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