Claiming Carlos

by Rachelle Ayala

  Carlos followed Rey into the office. “You may deduct the fees from my wages.”

  “That won’t be necessary. Please, have a seat.” Rey gestured to a metal folding chair.

  “Thanks.” Carlos’s throat tightened as he unfolded the chair and sat. Usually his boss never interrupted him during the lechón preparations. The roast suckling pigs were the main attractions for the mostly Filipino dinner and party crowd, and every care had to be taken to ensure perfectly sweet and crispy skin over the moist, succulent flesh.

  Rey remained standing as he looked down at Carlos, his hands on his hips. “Before we renew your visa, I want to know your intentions for my daughter.”

  Carlos felt the air escape his lungs. During his six years at Barrio XO, he had always been respectful of Rey’s three daughters. Sure, he’d flirted with Evie because Rey asked him to bolster her self-esteem. And he’d diligently watched over Choco when she got her apartment.

  “What exactly do you mean?” Carlos kept his voice level and steady, though his stomach clenched.

  “I don’t like what’s going on.” Rey thumped his fist on the wooden desktop. “You’re supposed to act as an elder brother to her.”

  Now was not the time to tell him that Choco threw herself at him. Nope, that wouldn’t go well at all.

  “I believe I have been. Whatever you’ve heard were misunderstandings.”

  “Are you saying my wife lied when she saw the two of you necking in the natural preserve?”

  “No, it might have been the angle. I stumbled while jogging backward to talk to her and she fell on top of me.”

  “That’s your story?” Rey tilted his head and narrowed his eyes.

  “It’s not a story, sir. I respect your daughter very much. We’re very good friends. Nothing more.”

  “Keep it that way.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. I’m glad we understand.” Rey stared at him for several moments, as if testing his resolve. “You’re a budding chef with great potential. When I open my second location in San Marcos, I’ll need Choco to either stay here to manage this location or migrate up north. Her choice. I haven’t told her yet because I’m waiting on the consultant’s recommendations.”

  “I’ll support whatever you decide to do.” Carlos spit out from behind gritted teeth. Rey never considered him good enough to date his daughters. Sure, use him for an escort or a chaperone, or an emergency fake date, so they’d never be without dates, but a real suitor, with possible marriage intentions? Not good enough.

  Not that he was complaining or even angling for the job of son-in-law. Rey had been good to him, and an immigrant employee dependent on Barrio XO for sponsoring his work visa should know his place. If he lost his job, he’d have to leave immediately and return to the Philippines. No grace period. All they owed him was a one-way ticket.

  Rey put a hand on Carlos’s shoulder. “Get back to the pigs. We had a customer complain that the skin wasn’t crunchy enough.”

  “Sure. I’ll have Danny supervise the spritzing.” Carlos stood. “Don’t worry about the lechón, it’ll be perfect.”

  “It better be. Johnny has some survey results he said I’d be interested in seeing. He’s at his office preparing the presentation.” Rey palmed his forehead. “Maybe that’s why Choco isn’t here. Let me text her and tell her she can have Johnny’s parking spot.”

  “I’ll be getting back to my pigs.” Carlos slid out of Rey’s office. No need to let him know Choco’s Toyota was in the apartment complex garage without Choco.

  He wasn’t her keeper. Why should he volunteer any information? Choco pushing him to date Julia meant she didn’t have feelings for him. She was too busy batting her eyes at that poser Johnny Dee. Who was he anyway and where did he get the money for those designer suits? He must have locked up her brain and sweet talked her into missing the softball game last night, an activity she religiously attended.

  Where was she? Seemed awfully convenient that she was absent at the same time as Johnny. A shot of fear pierced his gut. What if Choco took off with Johnny or was at his place? What if they were together in bed at this very moment?

  Carlos blinked as his stomach tumbled. From the minute Johnny met Choco, he was bent on seduction. Choco was way out of her league. No matter what, Carlos couldn’t let the likes of Johnny use and abuse her. There had to be something he could do to rescue her from that phony baloney.

  What if it were too late?

  # # #

  After the pigs were trussed and turning on their spits, Carlos checked the progress of the soups, noodles, and meat stews. The lunch crowd trickled in around eleven, and he had to anticipate the most commonly ordered dishes to deliver them speedily.

  If things went well, he might have a slight break between lunch and dinner to look for Choco. His latest text remained unanswered, and her phone went directly to voicemail, as if she were purposely ignoring him.

  Darn it, the place was a mess. Genie had misserved a large platter of Chilean sea bass, which meant they had to discard it since the customer had touched it. Food was delivered unevenly. Some diners had to wait for their dish while their fellow tablemates’ food got cold. Choco needed to be here. She usually directed the order flow between the kitchen and the wait staff.

  “That’s my lechón kawali,” one of the new waitresses screeched.

  “No, I put in for it first.” The other one shoved her aside and made a grab for the plate.

  The first waitress whose name badge said Sarah elbowed the second one and ran from the kitchen with the lechón.

  The larger woman who’d said she ordered first tackled Sarah. They both tumbled to the floor with a loud crash.

  “Serves you right, bitch.” The tackler got up first and strode off, dusting her hands.

  Carlos ran to help Sarah who was flat on her face in hot, steaming lechón.

  “Ow, ow, ow!” Sarah yelled. “My face, my face.”

  “Hurry to the vegetable sprayer.” Carlos grabbed Sarah by the arm and dragged her to the sink. “Close your eyes.”

  The commotion drew Mrs. Sánchez and his mother, who was serving as hostess, into the kitchen.

  “Twenty minutes,” Ma proclaimed loudly.

  “I think we should take her to the walk in clinic,” Mrs. Sánchez said. “Covered by our workman’s comp.”

  “No need,” Ma said. “Twenty minutes under the cold water. Here, let me take over, you get back to cooking. The crowd out there’s restless. Big tour group from Korea. Want to try authentic Filipino food. Ordered the blood stew and lots of lechón.”

  Carlos handed the sprayer to his mother. How come no one told him about the tour group? Oh, right. Choco wasn’t here.

  “Danny, how much lechón did they order?”

  “I can’t hear you,” Danny yelled from his station in front of the sizzling woks. “I’m frying it as fast as I can.”

  Just then, the soup pot boiled over, hissing and splattering. Carlos ran to the stove and lowered the heat.

  “Jake,” he called for the soup and sauce cook. “Don’t let the blood burn. Who told you to turn this up so high?”

  Jake rushed to the pot and stirred it. “I had it at simmer. What the heck?”

  The lower layer of the soup pot was burned, ruining the taste of the blood stew.

  “You need to watch your pots. What the hell were you doing?”

  “Susie needed help at the bar, so I turned it to low before going.”

  “Make another batch, quick.” Carlos took the lid off the pot of sinigang and dipped the ladle to taste.

  He blew until the broth was cooled and lapped a sample. Alarm bells and steam whistled from his burning tongue out his ears. The tangy, savory broth wasn’t supposed to be spicy. This one topped the Chinese hot pot spicy level ten.

  “Who dumped hot spices into the sinigang?” Carlos poked Jake. “Re-do this. Next time, don’t leave your station.”

  “Someone pissed in the salad dressing.” Genie c
harged into the kitchen and pushed her way toward Thomas, the vegetable, noodle, and salad chef. “Smell it.”

  “No way.” Thomas grabbed the plate and sniffed it. “Ewwww.”

  Rey Sánchez stormed in. “What the hell is going on in here? The tour group just left. Do you know who they were? Influential bloggers for an Asian travel network. They found hair in the lumpia, disgusting smell in the salad, and watered down drinks. Carlos, I blame it all on you. Get control of the kitchen or find yourself another job.”

  “It won’t happen again. I promise.” Sweat boiled under his bandana, but he kept his eyes lowered and bowed his head. Usually, Choco was here to expedite the flow and keep an eye on things. But he wasn’t about to blame the boss’s daughter.

  Rey marched around the kitchen and dressed down every worker. When he got to the tainted salad dressing, he took a sniff and threw it at Thomas, drenching him. “You’re fired. Get out of here.”

  Crap. Carlos was already short handed. How could he throw Thomas out at the height of the lunch rush?

  After Rey exited the kitchen, Carlos grabbed a towel and wiped off a despondent Thomas. He was on a work visa, and his wife was eight months pregnant.

  “I’ll speak to the boss after work. Go home, take a shower and come back for the dinner prep.”

  “I hate him.” Thomas shook his fist. “He holds that visa over us and makes us work like slaves.”

  Carlos put his arm around Thomas’ shoulder. “Someday I’ll get my own restaurant. You want to partner with me? Okay?”

  “I’ll work for you any day. Let me prepare a new vat of dressing and keep the pancit going.”

  Poor Thomas. His visa was also up for renewal, and Rey had been dragging his feet. It was almost as if he were looking for a reason to fire them.

  Which meant Carlos had to find out who was sabotaging the food. He wandered back to the grill area and glared at his assistant cooks. “Whoever’s been screwing with the food, I’ll kill him.”

  Jake was busy stirring his pot and not meeting his eye. Carlos stopped in front of him. “I’m going to be on you like flies on pig shit. No more flirting with the waitresses and mixing drinks. We didn’t hire you to be a bartender.”

  “Yes, sir.” The young man’s voice was tinged with an edge of resentment.

  “You’re the only non-Filipino in the cooking staff.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jake’s face darkened under lowered eyebrows. “You have a problem with me being black?”

  “I don’t,” Carlos said. “Although I don’t know why the boss hired you. If you know anything about the piss in the salad dressing you’d better tell me.”

  “You’re not going to pin this on one me.”

  Carlos leaned close enough to sniff Jake’s breath. “Then help me catch the creep or I tell the boss the reason the drinks were watered down is because you were sampling them.”

  “I was tasting them to make sure we got it right, just like I taste the soup.”

  “One more thing. This is a Filipino restaurant. We go easy on the hot sauce. From now on, Thomas is going to taste everything you stir up.” Carlos made a show of dipping a ladle into the ginarep, a savory chicken and corn soup. There was a bite to it, but not bad. “Who told you to add Tabasco sauce?”

  Jake shrugged. “The customers like it.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m Pinoy, and this is my heritage.” Carlos threw the ladle into the sink.

  Chapter 14

  Carlos knocked on Choco’s door and waited. It was Thursday, and she was still missing. No text message, voice mail, nothing. He thumbed a message to Choco’s younger sister, Genie. Heard from Choco yet?

  There was no reply. Genie never liked him anyway. Eight years younger than Choco, she lived on an entirely different planet of social media and boyfriends. Unlike Choco, the responsible older sister, Genie was spoiled and aloof.

  He dug into his pocket for a pen to write a note. What could he say? Missed you, let me know when you’re back.

  How utterly pathetic. No one else seemed worried about her.

  A message popped onto his cell phone from Genie. Check out Johnny Dee’s Facebook page.

  Useless suggestion. Carlos had been stalking Choco and all her friends’ pages, even Johnny, and there had been no updates.

  He brought up the app and browsed to Johnny’s page. Heated fury welled up from Carlos’s belly when he spied the first post.

  She’d been with him. They were in a fancy looking hotel room taking selfies and making faces at the camera. Bags of clothes and towels were reflected in the mirror. If they weren’t both in their mid-twenties, he’d put it down to a case of playing dress up.

  But the sultry poses, the hot looks, the glammed makeup had nothing innocent to them. Johnny’s hair looked like a woman had run her fingers through them, all spikey and disheveled.

  Choco looked like a movie star or model. Painted to perfection, her skin was flawless. Black eyeliner tipped the corner of her eyes into a catlike shape and streaks of glittery blue and purple highlighted her upper lids. Damn, but she was beautiful.

  His heart ached as he flipped through the pictures. One showed Johnny bending her back in a hot, passionate embrace, his lips locked onto hers.

  Carlos blinked back disappointment, a lump blocking his throat. He needed to get to work, and it was obvious she wasn’t missing him. By the looks of it, she and Johnny were already a couple.

  When Carlos arrived at work, the boss was taking delivery of the pork bellies. The Sunshine Retirement Center was having a party later in the afternoon for one of their residents, and everyone’s favorite dish was lechón kawali.

  “Choco will be back tomorrow,” Rey said. “She went on a business trip.”

  “What was she doing there?” Likely excuse. Had Rey set Choco up with Johnny, or did he truly believe it was all business?

  “I said she’ll be back.” Rey gave Carlos the clipboard with the vendor’s bill and walked off.

  Obviously the family wasn’t going to discuss their daughter with him, the employee. He’d have to quit obsessing about her. For now, preparing enough crispy, fried lechón kawali was his prime objective.

  The afternoon brought no respite for Carlos and his staff. Sweat streamed down his face, and his shirt was drenched with sauces and oil splatters.

  The Sunshine Retirement Center’s residents had pre-ordered traditional dishes in addition to their usual lechón kawali, but no one had put the ingredients in the morning’s shopping list. To make up for it, Rey gifted the entire table halo-halo with buko in a coconut shell. Where the heck was he going to find enough fresh buko at this hour?

  They were out of frozen pig blood and had to stop serving dinuguan, a pork blood stew. The elders then demanded batchoy, a noodle soup with sliced pig intestines and liver. However, the pig intestines in the meat locker were out of date. He sent Jake out to buy them, but Jake returned with frozen chitlins from a supplier Carlos hadn’t used before. No time to return them. Now he was stuck defrosting and rinsing the intestines.

  “Johnny Dee’s back with the recommendations.” Rey Sánchez marched into the kitchen. “Come to my office.”

  Carlos was elbow deep in a vat of pig intestines. “Now? I need to get all of this cleaned and ready for the evening.”

  “Have Thomas do it since you insisted I reinstate him.”

  Carlos washed his hands. “Thomas needs this job. His wife is due any day now.”

  “What does that have to do with his cooking?” Rey crossed his arms. “When you’re running a business, you can’t let personal feelings take over. He’s been preparing the salad dressings the night before and coming in late instead of making it fresh every morning.”

  “Thomas isn’t the problem.” Carlos dried his hands with a towel and yelled at Victor to take over the chitlin cleaning. “Someone’s trying to make our restaurant look bad. A lot of strange things happened this last week.”
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  “You’re head chef. I hold you responsible.” Rey glowered, his mustache twitching.

  “I’ll find out who did it.” Carlos exited the kitchen so they were out of earshot of the cooks. He pulled clean clothes from the linen closet. “Let me manage my staff. I’ll talk to Thomas about his hours, but I assure you he’s loyal. He’s been here almost three years, and I can’t see him pissing in the sauce.”

  “Then who do you think is doing it?”

  “Jake. Why did you hire him? He’s not even Pinoy. He doesn’t have our taste buds, and he’s not respectful.”

  “You’re not to question my reasons. Keep an eye on him.”

  Carlos stopped in front of the men’s restroom. “I’ve already spoken to him. One more eff up and he’s out.”

  “No more screw ups. None, or you’re out. Be in my office in five minutes.” Rey turned and strode away.

  Totally unfair. Why did Rey hire an insolent street punk as sauce and soup cook and make it his responsibility to bring him in line?

  Jake came and went as he pleased, chatted up the new waitresses and carried a chip as big as St. Louis on his shoulder. Carlos wasn’t prejudiced against anyone, but having a non-Pinoy cook could make some of their longtime customers leery of the authenticity—the added Tabasco sauce being case in point. Those chitlins had better be as tender as the ones he got from the Chinese market. He never bought frozen, only fresh intestines.

  Carlos stripped and wiped himself with soapy water before putting on clean clothes. After combing his hair, he dropped the dirty clothes in the laundry bin and rushed to his boss’s office.

  Why couldn’t they wait until after dinner? But of course, they had to accommodate fancy Johnny Dee, the man in the big suit. Hopefully this meeting meant Johnny’s gig was over, and they could take or leave his recommendations.

  Another thought struck, heightening Carlos’s adrenaline spike. If Johnny’s back where’s Choco? Could she be back too?

  Carlos opened the door and stepped through the beaded curtain. The rattling caused everyone to look up at him.

  Ay kabayo! It was one thing to see Choco’s image in a two-dimensional picture. But now, in the flesh, not a few feet from him was his former best friend—or someone resembling her who’d walked out of a Miss Universe pageant. Her hair was swept to the side, partially covering one eye Jessica Rabbit style, and her skin glowed like the moon, creamy and smooth, with eyebrows perfectly arched and lips dark-red as blood orange.