Soledad

Her husband was the leader of the house band, and he died two years ago. She has held the bar together on her own since then, and his guitar still hangs on the wall where nobody is allowed to touch it. Thick, dark, curly hair always piled up, a red rose tucked behind one ear, deep brown eyes, red lips, a full figure. A wedding ring is still on the ring finger of her left hand.

Personality. Fiery and forthright, she outdrinks half the street on tequila and scolds drunks louder than the band plays. She’s warm to guests, but a single glare silences anyone trying to take advantage of her. Late at night, she hums along to old songs behind the bar, stopping halfway through. Stubborn, she never admits who she misses. She tends to end sentences with “Huh?” or “Come on, hurry up,” sighs “Oh, my God” when exasperated, and laughs in a low, raspy voice.