"I need to find a job," I said to myself. I grabbed the newspaper and looked through the want ads. I didn't see anything that appealed to me. "Of course there isn't anything. This is just a small town, not a big city, like Mexico City. What was I thinking moving here? I should've listened to my father and stayed in Texas."

I must've sounded pretty crazy, sitting in a small cafe at 8am, talking to myself. Well, I guess I should tell you about myself. My name's Rosary Novales, I'm eighteen years old, and originally from Mexico. I was born in America, but when I was still a baby, my mother and father decided to move back to Mexico City. I had just finished my freshman year of college, the first of my family to go. I have five brothers: Miguel, Jamie, Juan, Felipe, and Jose, all named after saints of the Catholic Church. I have one sister and she is my other half: Constanza, my twin sister. My parents couldn't afford to send both of us to college, and Constanza knew how much I wanted to go, so she let me have to chance.

Anyway, college wasn't what I thought it would be. I didn't want to go anymore. I told my father and he went crazy. When I told him I wanted to move to Florida, he told me I would be foolish to do so. Now, I'm sitting in a cafe, with no job, no means of support, and living in a motel until I could find a place of my own, which doesn't seem likely at this point. But nothing could get me to call my father. I would rather be homeless than hear him say, "I told you so."

"Yup. I should've stayed in Texas, stayed in college, then I wouldn't be having this problem," I told myself again.

"Excuse me, but are you talking to a ghost? Or are you just crazy?"

I looked at the person sitting behind me at the next table. My heart seemed to stop beating for a second, then it seemed to be going a mile a minute. He was exactly what I thought angels from heaven looked like: blonde hair, blue eyes, tall, and handsome. I muttered a few words in Spanish.

The guy looked at me then said, "Um, hola, como estas?"

"Muy bien, y tu?" I said back.

"Bien. Um...." He got this expression on his face as he went into deep thought. Then he muttered something under his breath. He started speaking real slow to me. "Do.... you.... speak.... English?"

"What country do you think this is?" I said in perfect English. The only thing different was I had a slight accent.

"Oh, good," 'Blondie' said in relief. "I sucked at Spanish in school. I guess that's why I don't speak it well."

"Really? I never would've guessed," I said, sarcastically. "And to answer you question, no, I'm not crazy. I'm just scolding myself for not listening to my father."

"Do you always listen to your father?"

"No. That's why I'm always in trouble."

"Well, tell me about it. Maybe I can help."

"I don't know...." I looked at him skeptically.

"We won't find out unless you tell me."

I looked at him for a second. "Okay. It goes like this. I quit college after my first year, moved out here, and now I find myself with no job, no place to live and no money. This is what I get for not listening to my father."

"See? That wasn't so hard. Now, I know I can help you."

"How?"

"Well, I need someone to look after my house when I'm gone. I just bought it and I know I'm not going to be spending much time there. I need someone whose willing to be sort of like my house sitter. You know, keep it clean, make sure all the windows and doors are locked at night, stuff like that."

"What do I get if I agree to do this?"

"I'll pay you $300 dollars every two weeks."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. You could live there while I'm gone, rent free, until you save up enough to get your own apartment or whatever."

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"I swear to God, my offer is given to you with the utmost honesty. I could really use the help."

"No need to bring God into this. Okay, I'll take your word for it. When do I start?"

"When can you move in?"

"Tonight if you want."

"Perfect. How about you tell where you're staying and I'll come pick you up at about 3pm? Would you have all your things ready to go by then?"

"Of course." I took a pen out of my little backpack and wrote down the name of motel and the room number on a napkin. I was about to give it to him when a thought occured to me. "What makes you think you can trust me? You don't even know me."

'Blondie' looked at me for a minute, studying me. "You have that 'angelic' look about you. I can trust you. Do I have any reason not to?"

"No. I'm the most honest person you will probably ever meet."

"There you go." Then 'Blondie's cell phone rang. He answered it, said a few words, then hung up. "I have to go. Business to take care of. I'll see you at 3pm?"

"I'll be waiting."

He got up, grabbed the napkin, and started walking away. Then he turned back to me. "I never did get your name."

"Rosary Novales," I said, holding out my hand, smiling.

"Nick Carter. Nice to meet you," he said as he shook my hand, smiling back. "I'll see you at 3pm."

"Sure thing."

I watched him walk out of the cafe. He climbed into a black Camaro and took off down the street. I walked over to the curb and hailed a cab driving by. I got in and, on the way back to the motel, I closed my eyes and thanked God for sending me this person named Nick Carter, who was willing to help me get started in my new home.