Antonio was already there, hands resting on the keys.
They met by accident. Rae was hiding out from a bad deal gone worse, her last few crumpled euros stuffed in her boot. Antonio found her asleep against a stone wall, her leather jacket dusty, her braids tangled with dry leaves.
Rae’s throat tightened. “You don’t know me.”
“The groves have tunnels,” he said. “Old Moorish irrigation channels. They lead to the next valley, where my cousin has a boat. It’s slow, and it smells like wet earth, but it’s safe.”
Here’s a short, interesting story featuring Lil Rae Black and Antonio Mallorca. The Echo in the Orange Groves