Chapter 3
On the taxi ride to the Las Olas Hotel, on a two-lane mountain highway overlooking the bay, Acapulco, in all its glory, unfolded before him: the salty ocean air, the warmth of the sun, the cry of seagulls.
A mariachi band played at a cantina, while a man wearing sandals led a donkey up a hill.
Acapulco Bay sparkled below as speedboats cut across its waters.
Hotels dotted the shores of Acapulco Bay, which was surrounded by a mountain, part of the Sierra Madre del Sur range.
Along with palm trees and thorny shrubs, the mountain was covered with Copal trees with their gray papery bark and Trumpet trees, which bloomed pink trumpet-shaped flowers.
Interspersed between the vegetation were the mansions of Acapulco’s owners and the shacks of their workers.
The weather, as always, was warm, sunny, and dry.
Acapulco really was The Pearl of the Pacific, just like the man said.
As they rounded the mountain pass, the Las Olas Hotel emerged.
Built into the mountainside, the hotel was a collection of pink buildings overlooking the bay.
The taxi pulled into the hotel's driveway which was bordered by beige stucco walls. A bellhop stood waiting at the lobby. He smiled as he opened the car door for Scott. A soft wind blew the few gray wisps of hair left on his head. Wrinkles like dried up rivers ran across his forehead. The hotel’s uniform, a pink collared shirt and white pants, fit loosely around his hunched-over frame.
While the years had taken their toll on the man’s body, his eyes were bright and youthful.
“Chino?” Scott said to the old bellhop, who froze as he reached for Scott's suitcase.
He looked back at Scott and squinted. “Scott? Dios mío!” He put his hand to his forehead.
“I didn’t think you’d come after your father’s death.
” Chino’s eyes welled with tears as he hobbled toward Scott.
“I’m sorry,” he said, dabbing his eyes with his shirt collar.
“But you know Latins. We are so emotional.”
Scott laughed as he wiped a tear from his own eye. “How’ve you been, Chino?”
“You know me, Scott. Still kickin’ but not as high. Just happy to be alive. Life has its ups and downs but mostly ups, no?”
The ups and downs of Chino’s life were the stuff of local legend.
He won the Mexican lotto years ago and came into a considerable sum of money.
But long-lost relatives soon showed up. So did friends he never knew he had.
Poor investments followed. As the saying goes, a fool and his money are soon parted, and sure enough, after a few short years, Chino was broke again and back where he started, working as a bellhop at the Las Olas Hotel.
Despite it all, Chino never bemoaned his losses, nor lost his signature smile.
“I’m sorry about your dad, Scott, but I’m glad you’re back.
” Chino turned toward the lobby. “There’s somebody else who will want to see you.
Come with me.” He led Scott into an open-air lobby where hibiscus plants dotted the cream-colored marble floors.
Waves crashing against rocks echoed in the distance.
At the front desk, a small woman with black and white hair typed at the computer, her hair tied back in a ponytail.
“Anpara, is that you?” Scott said.
Her eyebrows jumped. “Scott?” She came from behind the desk, her arms wide.
Her head pressed against his chest as she hugged him.
“There’s no other place that your father would want you to be on Christmas than right here.
” She closed her eyes and grabbed his hands.
“I can feel his presence now.” She inhaled deeply.
A knot grew in his throat. “How are things at the hotel?” he managed to say.
“Some things are the same, others different.”
“What’s different?”
“You will see.” She let go of his hands and went back to her computer.
“Scott, I’m upgrading you to the ocean suite.
I wish I could give you a VIP suite but they’re all taken.
” Her fingers pecked rapidly at the keyboard.
“Your room is not quite ready, though, so in the meantime you can relax by the pool.
“We’re so happy to have you back, Scott,” she said. “And just in time for the Christmas party.”