>>10294334>>10294340>>10294347A day later, Misquita was back in her apartment, cracking open a glass bottle of iced coffee from the supermarket to help get her morning started. She had not heard anything from La Jefa since their deal was brokered over margaritas, and at the boss's insistance, she had toned down her partying.
Then, the phone rang. The same number of Dr. Friedmann, who would call her now and then to ensure she was being "correct."
>Buenas noches, les habla Lula Salgado...There was nothing on the other end.
>Hello? Doctor?Another moment passed, before she heard breathing. Heavy breathing. She could even notice the sound of the phone shaking in the caller's hand, vibrating with distress.
>M-Miss Salgado... I'm calling to let you know, um, you are cleared. N-No more sensitivity training. The papers have been faxed to the WWA offices.A wide, eager grin spread across Misquita's face.
>Thanks, doctor. I'm clean as a wheestle.Her thumb pressed against her phone, ending the call without care for the state of the therapist.
>Muy bien, Jefa, usted hizo su parte, ahora haré la mía.>De hecho... ¿Qué me impide anunciarla personalmente?>¿Quién me va a detener? >¡Nadie!