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against the roof of her mouth. “Of course you don’t.” She shook
     her head. “Man, I’d love to see the applicants who didn’t make the cut.”
    If Paige was offended, she didn’t show it. She nudged her head toward the argument.
     “So? What’s he going on about?”
    Cat shushed her so she could listen in. “He wants a car.”
    The man reached over the clerk’s desk in an attempt to grab a key from the hooks behind
     him. The clerk pushed his outstretched hand down and yelled for security. Another
     clerk grabbed the phone and a page rang out over the airport speakers.
    “Cuerpo Especializado en Seguridad Aeroportuaria!”
    Despite her incredulous eyes and the initial impression of wanton amusement, Paige
     seemed genuinely concerned. “I’ll say. Poor guy. What’s it saying?”
    “They’re calling for Airport Security.”
    Two officers in blue jackets marked CESA rushed past the girls and grabbed him. As
     they secured his arms, the boy’s eyes met Cat’s. He handed her a business card.
    “!Ayúdeme por favor!”
    Cat wasn’t sure what she could possibly have done to answer his cry for help. She
     scanned the card: Worldwide Baseball Talent Management.
    The guard ripped it out of her hand before she could read any further.
    “Sorry to bother you, señora .”
    “What was that?” Paige asked.
    “I don't know.”
    The guards pushed him forward and she backed into Paige in an awkward attempt to avoid
     them.
    “Ouch!” Paige pulled her toe out from under Cat’s foot.
    “S-sorry.” She watched the boy and the guards disappear into the crowded airport.
    Paige pushed her toward the rental counter. The clerk took a deep breath before issuing
     them a smile of relief. “ Señoritas , hello.”
    Cat tried to forget the melee and shuffled through the paperwork, handing him an order
     form written in a shaky hand. “We’ve got a reservation for a midsize sedan.”
    Paige ripped the paper out of her hand before he could take it. “What?” She shook
     her head at the clerk. “I don’t think so. We’re going to need a convertible uh, how
     do you say … pronto ?” She snapped her fingers.
    Cat gritted her teeth and spoke through them very slowly. “The reservation is for
     a sedan. It was made by the team.”
    “The reservation is wrong.” Paige smiled sweetly at the clerk. “Can’t you help us
     out? We don’t mind paying extra; you can just charge it to the account.”
    “It doesn’t work like that.” Cat rubbed her forehead and smiled apologetically at
     the clerk. He, however, was focused on Paige’s smile, which was less of the “I’m sorry”
     variety and more of the “You give me a key and I’ll give you a key to my hotel room”
     variety. She formed her full lips into a fetching moue and peered up at him through
     her ridiculous lashes, taunting him to give into her demands.
     
    Ten minutes later, the convertible Mustang sped down the Autopista de las Americas with Paige behind the wheel and Cat frozen in the passenger seat, gripping the door
     handle with white knuckles. The Atlantic Ocean was a mere hundred feet away but Cat
     didn’t dare take her eyes off the highway as Paige weaved in and out of the three
     lanes.
    “Now this is what I’m talking about.” Paige adjusted the rearview mirror, smacking
     her high glossed lips at her own reflection. “I can’t believe you wanted a sedan.
     What are you, sixty years old?”
    Cat frowned at the roadway signs as they flashed by. She hesitantly took her eyes
     off the roadway to monitor the GPS navigator. “Can you slow down?” Her head bobbed
     up and down from the map to the screen. “We’re going to miss our—that’s it, turn right!”
    Paige cranked the wheel, cutting across the right lane and rocketing off the exit
     with a hard squeal. Cat braced herself as the momentum threw her shoulder into the
     door. Horns blasted from the two cars left in the convertible’s wake.
    “Okay, where to now?” Paige