It was never a dull moment when Sandrita was behind the counter at Chiquitas.  A line formed out the door as the men rushed from work, running red lights, and weaving in and out of traffic just for a glimpse of the natural triple D cups.  She had tetas that looked like they belonged on Azteca statue, simply perfect.  When the men drooled, she’s gently pat their babas with a napkin, like a mother would to her newborn baby.  The accessories in her bag were a glitter wallet with a wad of 1’s; a matching glitter make-up bag; an eyelash curler; a brush kit; a comb; and a pack of peppermint gum.  “I use everything in here,”  Sandrita said looking in the mirror as she applied her make-up during her shifts.    

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Her talents were her body parts and also the most fun.  She’d plant a kiss on the men who left a generous tip, her shinny pink lipstick creeping up their necks.  When the music played, Sandrita would take a break from pouring shots and dance on the bar countertop, lifting her shirt, while the crowd whistled, “Shake it, baby.”  All man where at her discretion, and she’d pick, “Eeny-meeny-miny-moe,”  arranging her men my nickname in her phone, the first contact— “Asshole.”  The men came in all shapes and forms: blue collar to lawyers to cholos, married to divorce, boys barely old enough to buy their first beer to great-grandpas hanging their last thread, but one visit to Sandrita added another ten years to any man’s life.

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And Sandrita never backed down from any jealous bitch.  “What’s this bitch’s problem?  Does she know I’ll fuck her up?”  As a teenager, she fought the other girls in the school bathrooms, the ones that spread rumors running their mouths.  She didn’t give a fuck, fighting bitches in mini skirts and high heels, grabbing them by the grenias, bras flying off, chi-chis flapping in the air.  She may have lost her clothes in the process, but she never took an L.

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When the men proposed, Sandrita had the same response, “I’ve never felt that dumb.”  The manager would have to exchange the cash drawer when it overflowed every couple of hours. She could down tequila harder than any dude at the bar, which made the men love her even more.  Sandrita ran the show.  Everyone knew it, and nobody got in her way.