Claiming Carlos

by Rachelle Ayala

  A hard object pokes my shoulder blades, and another one nudges my belly. Whoa. Too fast.

  I stiffen and shove him back. Who the heck does he think he is?

  Chapter 2

  “Good heavens! She didn’t just kiss him.”

  It’s Tita Gloria. Oh, shit. I bounce away from Johnny Dee-licious and wipe my lips with my wrist. How dare he pop a fresh one on me? Especially when I’ve never met him before.

  Tita Gloria pokes me again with her ever present parasol and scowls. “Whatever is this world coming to?”

  “Oh, Tita. Come with me to the Hangout.” My cousin Julia tries to divert her. “We meet there after the game.”

  Tita juts her jaw, clearly not about to move. She’s my godmother, and even though I barely see her except on her visits to Carlos, she still butts into my business.

  “Concepción Madalena Apostol Sánchez.” She grasps my wrist, the same one I used to wipe up the evidence of spit-swapping I didn’t just do. “Your mother might not mind, but I’m your godmother, and you’re going to have to go to confession for this.”

  “Typical. Named after a Filipina saint.” Johnny chuckles and rolls his eyes at Tita Gloria’s pointed stare.

  Julia shakes her finger at him. “And who are you? Mr. Whatever You Are? Pinoy or Kano?”

  “Try both.” Meaning he’s both Filipino and American. He twists his wide and sexy lips, the ones I just finished sampling.

  Before anyone can say anything, he dematerializes into thin air by sliding between two parked vans, leaving me to face my irate godmother.

  “Sorry, next time I go to Mass, I’ll confess or whatever. Mano po?” I ask for Tita’s blessing.

  She begrudgingly extends her hand, knuckles first, and I touch it to my forehead in the traditional greeting elders bestow on the younger generation.

  “Come on, let’s go to the Hangout,” Julia says, tugging Tita Gloria’s arm. “It’s happy hour.”

  “Don’t tell me my Carlos goes there after the game.” Tita’s eyes pop in an alarming manner.

  “We all go,” Julia explains. “It’s where we meet other local business people and socialize.”

  “Are there alcoholic beverages?” Tita blinks, looking more agitated.

  “Well, yes, it’s a bar,” Julia mumbles.

  I elbow her. “Actually, Carlos heads straight for church to pray after the game to give thanks. It’s the rest of us sinners who go drinking and carousing.”

  Julia’s quick with the pick up. “Yes, very true. Carlos goes to Bible study every night. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday—”

  I jab my elbow into her ribs. “In fact, he’s on his way now. But I should probably drive you to his place since he’ll be staying real late.”

  “Yes, lots of studying and praying,” Julia says, barely able to keep a straight face.

  Tita Gloria’s face brightens with a serene smile. “My Carlos is a good boy. I’ll wait for him at the apartment.”

  “Great.” I shoot Julia warning looks, hoping she’ll tell Carlos not to drink tonight. “Why don’t I drive you since I live in the same complex?”

  Tita Gloria’s eyebrows crease. “Why aren’t you living at home with your parents?”

  Julia does a finger wave and slips between the two parked vans, doing her own disappearing act.

  “I’m taking night classes three times a week downtown.” I don’t know why I have to explain to her. Being godmother doesn’t afford her the right to inquire into all avenues of my life. Yeah, right, that’s my American way of thinking.

  Oh, and despite me calling her Tita, which means Auntie, she is not related to me. She’s my mother’s oldest friend, manang of their barkada, or friendship group, and self-appointed big sister to my mother while growing up.

  “Doesn’t seem safe,” Tita says as she follows me to my Toyota. “A young woman living alone in the middle of a city.”

  “I carry pepper spray. Besides, Carlos is down the hall.” Not like I want him to be there. When my parents gave up arguing with me about moving out, they simply recruited Carlos to rent a unit down the hall.

  Tita Gloria yawns and shakes her head. “Back in the Philippines, young women live with their relatives or family. They don’t go around kissing men in the middle of a parking lot, and they don’t miss Mass.”

  “Tita, you must be exhausted, flying halfway around the world.” I unlock my car and help her in. “Let me help you unpack and brew you some herbal tea.”

  “Why isn’t my son here?” She rubs her eyes blearily. “Oh, that’s right. Bible study. He’s a good boy.”

  Blech yeah. That’s what she thinks. Although being the eldest of four brothers and three sisters, he has to keep up appearances.

  “How long are you staying?” I slowly and carefully back my car out of the spot.

  “Until I find Carlos a wife.” She lifts her chin in a manner reminding me of a determined bulldog. “He’s twenty-six, and it’s high time he settled down. You’re going to help me.”

  “Me?” I squeak, my voice annoyingly like a high-strung cockatiel’s. “I don’t know any suitable candidates.”

  “Psst.” Tita cups her hand, as if someone’s spying on us inside the car, stuck on a one-way street deep in the heart of San Diego. “That cousin of yours, Julia. She seems to be a respectable young lady. Wasn’t she left at the altar a month ago?”

  “Well, yeah, but I don’t know if she’s ready to start dating again.”

  Frankly, I’m surprised I hadn’t thought of this. Am I losing my touch? I, Choco Sanchez, matchmaker extraordinaire. How can I not be concerned about my favorite cousin, Julia Jimenez?

  Tita Gloria does that tsk sound annoyed titas make when they think you’re slow or stubborn. “She’s a sweet girl. I think my Carlos will be good for her. He’s stable, reliable, and honest. He wouldn’t leave her at the altar.”

  No, Carlos wouldn’t, but he’s not at all ready to settle down. He once told me he wouldn’t marry until he owned his own restaurant. Still, it might not be such a bad idea, except Carlos is too busy to date. He doesn’t get weekends or holidays off. Come to think of it, other than escort me or my sisters to social functions, which he does as a favor to my father, he doesn’t go out much.

  I’ve never seen or heard about Carlos dating anyone. It’s strange. We’re best friends, but the one area off limits has been about who we’re seeing. Maybe I don’t know him as well as I think. Although right now, I can swear he doesn’t have a girlfriend. This Julia thing might work.

  “You’re a good friend of Carlos,” Tita Gloria says as I turn into the parking garage. “Why don’t you set it up? I’ll work on Carlos and you can pave the way with Julia. The best way to heal a broken heart is to find new love.”

  “True. Leave it to me.” There’s nothing like seeing new love blossom, especially between my best buddy and my best cousin.

  Chapter 3

  I’m glad I skipped the Hangout last night. Even though helping Tita Gloria organize her underwear and clothes in the dresser at Carlos’s apartment wasn’t the most fun a girl can have, it gave me time to kick myself for letting Johnny kiss me. Not that it wasn’t completely delectable, but this has never happened to me before. It’s not like I’m the type to get swept off my feet. That stuff’s only in the movies and happens to flightier chicks than me. I’m the responsible big sister who takes care of everyone.

  Plopping myself at my kitchen table, I wake up my laptop. Now that I have my own place, I don’t bother cooking breakfast. I watch news videos while eating a bagel, down a glass of orange juice, and wait for Carlos to knock. Among the list of promises I made to my parents for living downtown was that Carlos would drive me to and from work. It’s not part of his job description, but since his mother is my mother’s oldest best friend, he agreed. That and the fact my father’s been dangling a possible partnership once he has his green card.

  Carlos knocks at ten minutes to nine, as always. He’s already been downtown to the wholesale p
roduce and meat markets at six in the morning, picked up the food, and delivered it to the restaurant where his assistants are prepping it for the day’s cooking.

  He works hard—six days a week, but plays harder on his one day off. Hopefully Julia let him know he was supposed to be at Bible study last night. Ha, ha.

  I open the door. My dutiful friend stands there with his Padres baseball cap tilted to the side and dark wash jeans hugging his lean hips. A half unbuttoned chambray work shirt over a black T-shirt stretches tightly over his nicely defined chest. My gaze wanders below his waist before I jerk my eyes aside and let him in.

  He smirks. Caught my greedy eyes touring.

  My face heats, and I make an excuse. “Just a minute. I forgot to water my plants.”

  I must be really sexually starved if I’m checking out Carlos. He’s my best friend in the world, and there’s zero attraction between us since he used to like my younger sister Evie before she went off to medical school.

  Johnny kissing me must have stirred dormant hormones. Besides, Carlos is the spitting image of that Enrique Mendoza, the oh-so-handsome but oh-so-unavailable celebrity chef who has his own show on the Asian Food channel.

  Carlos clears his throat. “What are you staring at?”

  He sounds like he’s gagging. That’s when I realize my eyeballs are auto-locked onto his groin region.

  “Nothing, I was just in a daze.” I grab the watering can and fill it at the kitchen faucet. “Thinking. I was thinking.”

  Carlos hooks his thumbs around his belt loops. “Pure thoughts, right? What’s with telling my mom I go to Bible study?”

  “She was talking about sin and going to confession so I distracted her.” I pour water into the bromeliad’s pot.

  “You shouldn’t overwater it.” Carlos lifts the watering can spout and glances at his watch. “We’re going to be late.”

  “Go ahead without me.” I wonder if he knows about Johnny and THE KISS. Why am I capitalizing it? Maybe because the last time I was kissed was the last Ice Age? Ooph. I hate it. I’m lying. There was that small incident at my youngest sister Genie’s prom in the broom closet with the non-celebrity chef standing in front of me. But that was Carlos. That didn’t count.

  “No can do,” he says. “I promised your father.”

  I mouth the “your father” words under my breath. Talk about overprotective family. I’m the eldest child, twenty-six years old, college graduate, but for all they care, I might as well be a sixteen-year-old virgin. Not that I am. Neither.

  “Fine, let me get my stuff together.” I unplug my laptop and slide it into my backpack.

  “You made my mom happy last night.”

  “Really? I thought she … never mind.” Maybe she didn’t tell him about my kissing binge with a stranger. I still don’t know what brought that on. “How long is she staying?”

  “She didn’t say. She’s making the tour visiting the kids in the United States, and since I’m on the West Coast, she’ll start with me and work her way east.”

  “Bet your father isn’t happy about it.” I chuckle, since this isn’t the first time Carlos’s mother made long trips, leaving his father with the rest of the brood.

  He clears his throat and is about to say something but clams up. Instead, he hefts my backpack over his shoulder while I lock up.

  We walk down the hallway in silence. He doesn’t say a word to me all the way to the elevator. Awkward. We’re usually ribbing each other.

  I press the button for the garage. “How’s Papa taking the loss last night? Broke our undefeated streak.”

  “I wasn’t going to say anything since you struck out,” he grumbles.

  “Hey, if you hadn’t swung and missed twice, Johnny wouldn’t have walked you. Wonder who clued him in that I was next?”

  “Try you and your loud mouth.” He crosses his arms and leans against the panel. “You’re on first name basis with him already?”

  I turn my face to hide any possible blushes. Not having the dark tan camouflage of most Filipinos, I have to watch any tell-tale cheek reddening—especially since I have high cheekbones. Mama and Evie think I’m cute with my chinita looks, but frankly I wish my eyes were bigger.

  “Choco?” Carlos grabs my attention as the door opens. “Did you know him from before? Seems like you wanted him to strike me out and he struck you out instead, after serving you some nice and easy pitches.”

  “Never met the guy.” I stomp out of the elevator and head toward the Barrio XO delivery van he drives.

  “Could have fooled me. No guy kisses a girl he never met before.”

  “Apparently he did. Besides, it’s not like I was an active participant.”

  “Really?” Carlos unlocks the van and opens the passenger door for me. “Is that your go-to excuse?”

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He gives me a lift to help me in. Why are these full sized vans so high?

  “I think you do.” His hand lingers on my arm. “When are we going to talk about Genie’s prom night?”

  Never, if we want to remain friends. I tap my watch. “We have to open up. My father won’t like it if we’re late.”

  He grunts and goes to the driver’s side. It’s going to be a long day. I hate being at odds with Carlos, but ever since the interlude I had with him in the janitor’s closet while we were supposed to be chaperoning my youngest sister at her prom, he’s been bugging me. It’s not like he’s attracted to me or anything. If anything, he wants to let me down easy, explain that he only thinks of me as a friend and apologize for his lapse, blame it on the bottle of gin we confiscated from a student.

  Yeah. That’s it. Nothing to it. Just a friend. Always a friend.

  # # #

  My parents’ restaurant, Barrio XO, is the premiere Filipino restaurant in San Diego. Located near Petco Park, we cater to everyone in need of a lumpia fix and serve avid baseball fans before and after a game.

  Carlos and I arrive and go our separate ways. He heads to the kitchen to start on the food preparation while I go to the dining area. My family is there already. Genie and my mother are folding napkins.

  “You’re late,” Mama says.

  Genie smirks and flips her hair. “Heard you met Johnny already.”

  My brother, Brian, grabs a tablecloth and flips it over a table. “Johnny Dee sounds like an action figure.”

  I roll out the caddy full of silverware. “I don’t see why we need a consultant.”

  “It’s for the expansion to San Marcos,” Mama says. “The clientele might be different. Less Filipinos up there.”

  “Why San Marcos?” I race around the dining room setting paper placemats, forks and knives on the covered tables.

  “Tita Elena wants to open a branch of her bakery. North County’s growing, and a lot of restaurants have branches there.”

  Ah… Mama’s other close friend, the stylish Tita Elena, owns the stylish Golden Dreams Bakery in stylish Mission Hills. She’s godmother to Genie and Brian, my two youngest siblings, whereas Evie and I got stuck with Tita Gloria and her old-fashioned ways.

  Mama walks toward the kitchen. “Since you’re late, I’m going to check on the bread delivery.”

  The next few hours are crazy busy. I have to mentor the new wait staff, serve as hostess to greet the lunch crowd, and answer the phones.

  I had just cleared a table of retirees from the Sunshine Retirement Center when Johnny Dee steps through the door. Yikes! My pulse leaps. Is it possible for any man to look hotter? Biceps bulge from the shortened sleeves of his stonewashed polo shirt. His hairless legs are rippled with the sleek muscles of a runner. The relaxed fit denim Bermuda shorts drape low on his hips, and he wears navy boat shoes without socks.

  I catch myself from staring as I meet his knowing gaze and greet him. “Welcome to Barrio XO.”

  “It’s my boy, Johnny,” one of the retirees, Mr. Dee, says. “Choco, have you met my grandson?”

  I give a noncommittal
hum.

  Johnny extends his hand and grins. “Nice to meet you. Lolo, what did you say her name is?”

  Mr. Dee adjusts his thick glasses. “Concepción, but everyone calls her Choco.”

  Yeah, yeah, rhymes with Yoko, or as Brian would say, “Yokel.”

  Johnny gives me a slow, firm shake, firing impulses through my fingertips to weaken my knees. “How nice to meet you, Conchita.”

  Urgh, as hot as this man is, he’s presumptuous if he thinks he’s going to rename me. “It’s Choco. That’s what everyone’s called me since I was little.”

  “When she was three, she choked on a peanut.” My brother appears behind me. “And get this, she thought it was a penis. Peanuts, penis, you know, sounds the same, get it?”

  “You! Get back to clearing the tables.” I shake my fist at him.

  Both Mr. Dees laugh so hard they’re holding their stomachs and wiping their eyes.

  Johnny puts a hand on my shoulder. “I bet you don’t make that kind of mistake anymore.”

  Ahem, how am I supposed to respond to that? I cast around for a hostess thing to say when the elder Mr. Dee opens the door. “Gotta go, Chita.”

  Oh ho. So he’s going to play that name game along with his grandson?

  I say goodbye to him and watch him step into the Sunshine Retirement Home bus, then turn to Johnny. “Looks like you missed lunch with your grandfather. Table for one?”

  “Actually two. I’m having lunch with you.” He props his hands on his hips. “My treat, Chita.”

  He drags out the nickname, making it sound like Cheetah. Although now that I think about it, it does sound a heck of a lot sexier than old Choco.

  I glance nervously around the dining room. We’re not supposed to eat until at least two, after the lunch crowd is gone and the cooks take their break.

  “It’s not my break yet.” I grab a menu and motion him to follow me. “Would you like to sit in the bangus room or the kare kare?”

  The bangus is our more traditional side with a relaxed, island style décor whereas the kare kare side is hipper, resembling a sports bar.