Margaritas, Water Woes, Church Scandals, and Massage Parlor Busts: The Ladies of Laredo Face a City in Crisis
Margarita stood in front of the kitchen island, the heart of her home. Dressed casually but stylishly in a leopard print romper, she poured mango margaritas into hand-blown deep blue glasses, their rims glistening with chamoy and Tajín. The doorbell rang, echoing through the house. Guests had begun to arrive.
Without glancing up, Margarita called out, “Come in! The door’s open!”
Cori, her cousin, was the first through the door, her laugh spilling into the room before she did. She strutted in with her bright orange knockoff Chanel purse swinging at her side and oversized sunglasses perched on her face, barely clinging to her small features.
"Prima, I don’t know how you do it," Cori said, a bit breathless from laughing. "But those margaritas better be as good as last time!" Her eyes darted to the drinks. "Chamoy and Tajín? Ay, you're getting fancy, huh?" She dropped her purse onto the island and leaned over to admire Margarita’s handiwork.
Margarita flashed a grin, giving the rim one more flourish of Tajín. "You know I don’t mess around when it comes to margaritas. Just wait until you taste it, prima. Te vas a chupar los labios."
A few moments later, Cande arrived. Tall and elegant, she moved with the calm confidence of someone used to commanding a room. She approached Margarita with a small, knowing smile. “I could smell those margaritas from the driveway. You really know how to tempt a girl,” she said, leaning in for a kiss on the cheek. “My head’s spinning from all the chaos at the news station this week.”
Margarita handed her a glass. "After the week we’ve all had, we need these."
Lupita followed, bouncing in with her usual energy. Still in her scrubs, she wore new tennis shoes that squeaked against the tile as she stepped inside. "This is exactly what I needed! The Lord told me to relax today, and who am I to argue with that?" She spotted the drinks and let out a gasp. "¡Qué ricas! Look at these! Margarita, you’ve outdone yourself again.” Her voice dropped. “It was madness this week with that water contamination. Dios mío, the emergency room was packed.”
Lastly, Estella walked in, more reserved than the others, though her eyes lit up at the sight of her friends. She adjusted the loose bun atop her head as she approached the island. "Looks like I made it just in time." Her smile was small but genuine. "¡Qué bonita presentación! You should do this for a living."
Margarita laughed, passing out the last of the drinks. "Alright, ladies, here’s to surviving another week in loco Laredo. Let’s go sit outside and enjoy the evening breeze."
The women took their margaritas and headed to the patio, settling into the cushioned chairs around a glass table. A soft breeze rustled the leaves, carrying the scent of mango and chamoy. They clinked their glasses together with a chorus of "salud" before taking their first sips.
Cori sighed dramatically after her first taste, licking the chamoy and Tajín from her lips. "This is better than therapy. I needed this." She leaned back in her chair, her voice dropping slightly. “Even though there wasn’t any drama at the school this week, this water crisis is dragging on forever. It’s been almost two weeks, and now all the gossip at church—híjole, this town’s on fire.”
Cande nodded, her expression serious. “You’re not kidding. We’ve got a lot to talk about tonight.”
Margarita let out a long breath, setting her glass down and picking up a bottle of water from the ice bucket on the patio table. “If I have to boil one more pot of water, I swear I’m going to lose it. How are we supposed to live like this?”
Cori chuckled darkly. “Girl, you’re telling me. I had to clear out the water aisle at Walmart just to keep my boys from complaining. You know they won’t drink agua unless it’s in a bottle.”
Cande shook her head. “Juan’s been saying this would happen. The city’s been ignoring those bad connections for years. It’s not just the E. coli; they need to replace the entire system. These pipes are ancient.”
Lupita crossed herself and looked up as if praying. “We’re praying for a miracle at church. This can’t go on much longer. What about the abuelitos who can’t boil water all day?”
Estella sipped her drink quietly before chiming in, her voice soft but pointed. “Mario’s been helping with water deliveries in the neighborhood, but it’s a mess. The city’s overwhelmed. They’re bringing in the state now, but who knows when this will be fixed. Did you hear Governor Abbott declared a state of disaster in Laredo?”
Cande gave a small nod. “We reported on that last night.”
Estella rolled her eyes, licking the rim of her glass. “And you know what that means—higher taxes. Mark my words. Where else are they going to get the money to fix this mess?”
The group fell into a brief silence, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air. For a moment, they sipped their drinks in thought, the only sound being the clinking of glasses and the soft rustling of the wind through the patio.
Then, as if cutting through the tension with her usual bluntness, Cori leaned forward and asked, “So, Lupita, since you’re so involved with the church, what’s going on with Father De Leon? Are we Laredo folks going to burn in hell for something he did?”
Sofia leaned in, raising an eyebrow, her voice laced with dry humor. “Maybe we’re already paying for it with the whole water situation. Karma, no?”
Lupita, visibly uncomfortable, sat up straighter and shook her head. “All I know is that he’s been officially dismissed by the Vatican. It’s done.”
Cande’s eyes widened, shock flickering across her usually composed face. “The Vatican rejected his appeal? I thought it was still under review!”
Margarita, her face falling into a look of quiet disappointment, shook her head slowly. “Ay Dios, what’s the church going to do now? This is going to devastate the whole community. He’s been our priest for so long.”
Cori, ever the skeptic, raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like the church’s way of keeping things quiet. You know people are going to keep talking. He’s been there for years. It’s not something they can just sweep under the rug.”
Estella nodded knowingly, her voice low as if sharing a secret. “Oh, people are talking. My friend at the courthouse said there’s more to the story. They’ve been keeping things under wraps, but this didn’t come out of nowhere. There’s been trouble brewing for a while.”
Sofia leaned forward, concern deepening the lines on her face. “What happens now? Are they bringing in someone new? Or are we just going to be left without a leader for a while?”
Lupita sighed, her expression softening. “I don’t know, but the church is going to need prayers more than ever. This has really shaken up our congregation.” She glanced down at her half-empty glass, swirling the mango margarita absentmindedly.
Before anyone could respond, Cori suddenly burst out laughing, her phone flashing in her hand. “Oh my God, did y’all hear about those massage parlors? The cops shut down four places! I always wondered why they stayed open so late.”
Sofia’s eyes widened, almost spilling her drink. “WHAT? Four places?”
Cori nodded enthusiastically, her earrings swinging with the motion. “Yep, all on the north side of town. I mean, it was only a matter of time.”
Estella leaned back in her chair, a sly smile playing on her lips. “I knew something shady was going on there. You’d think people would be more discreet. I heard that’s why they only accepted cash.” She took a slow sip from her glass, savoring the last bit of chamoy.
Margarita’s eyebrows shot up, genuine shock spreading across her face. “¡Ay no! Prostitution at massage parlors?! Here? In our city? That’s... unbelievable.”
Cande, who had been quietly observing the conversation, let out a low sigh, her expression darkening. “Juan was involved in the investigation. It’s worse than people think. They’ve been under surveillance for months.”
Lupita, her lips pressed tightly together, shook her head in disapproval. “This is what happens when people turn away from God.” She crossed herself, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I pray for the women caught up in that lifestyle. They need help, not judgment.”
Sofia, always the voice of calm reason, leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. “You’d think people would just go to a proper spa, not these shady places. I feel bad for their families. If this gets out… híjole, the shame.”
Cori, still grinning from ear to ear, threw her head back and chuckled. “Well, they sure are going to be the talk of the town for a while with their…happy endings.” She held two fingers with air quotes. “Let’s see how quickly their regulars disappear.” She leaned back in her chair, taking a long, satisfied sip of her margarita.
The conversation simmered for a moment, the women exchanging glances as they absorbed the gossip. The patio lights twinkled overhead, casting soft, golden hues across their faces. A cool breeze swept through, rustling the leaves of the potted plants, as if nature itself was urging them to pause.
Margarita finally broke the silence, shaking her head with a rueful smile. “This town... Siempre pasa algo (There’s always something happening). First, the water crisis, now this.”
Cori snickered, waving her phone in the air. “Laredo never fails to surprise, huh? But you know, people will forget about it soon enough, once the next scandal pops up.”
Cande leaned in, her tone a little more serious. “I’m not so sure about that, Cori. This feels different. People are already on edge with the water crisis, and now something like this—it’s going to stir things up.”
Lupita, still holding her rosary necklace between her fingers, nodded. “It’s a sign, amigas. Things are out of balance. People are desperate. We need to pray harder, that’s all I’m saying.”
Estella, ever the pragmatist, let out a soft chuckle. “Well, praying’s good, but I think it’s going to take more than prayers to clean up this mess.”
Cori broke the silence with a quiet laugh, though her voice carried a serious edge. “Well, it sure makes for interesting stories, spicing up our Friday night get-togethers. Let’s just hope we’re not the next headline!”
The patio door slid open, and out shuffled Cuca, her worn-out slippers dragging across the floor, floral robe swaying with each step. Her hands were firmly planted on her hips, and her sharp gaze swept over the group like a storm gathering in her dark brown eyes.
“Mira nomás. El club de señoras borrachas,” (Just look. The club of drunk ladies) she muttered with a mix of disdain and amusement, her voice sharp but tinged with the familiarity of someone used to making such remarks.
Margarita sighed deeply, rubbing her temple. “Por favor, mamá,” she mumbled under her breath, too familiar with these interruptions to be surprised, but clearly not in the mood to deal with them tonight.
Cori, never one to resist stirring things up, smirked and lifted her glass high, her voice loud enough to cut through the tension. “¡Hey, tía Cuca!,” she called out, her words slurring slightly as her cheeks flushed with the warmth of the margaritas. The other women exchanged glances, barely able to stifle their laughter, their eyes glinting with mischief.
Cuca, unimpressed, waved her hand dismissively as if swatting away a mosquito. “Bah,” she huffed, turning on her heel with a dramatic swirl of her robe, mumbling to herself, “puro relajo,” (nothing but nonsense) as she disappeared back into the house.
The door hadn’t fully closed behind her before the group burst into laughter, the tension melting away in an instant. Glasses were raised once more, the clinking sound of celebration cutting through the night air as they toasted to another evening filled with gossip, camaraderie, and just enough chaos to make it memorable.
...And that’s where the margaritas run out – for now.
Catch the next episode of The Margarita Club coming soon!
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