“Yes, if you can spare a hand.” Choco’s voice was decidedly clipped and unfriendly. “Miranda is applying to be the new expeditor.”
“What about you? Are you going somewhere?” Carlos blurted.
“I’ll be concentrating on my managerial duties and taking more classes.” Choco ran her thumb over her brightly manicured nails. They had to be extensions because there was no way she could have grown them in a few days.
Miranda scanned the cook top, her eyes busily recording every splat of grease and burnt remnant.
“I’m sorry,” Carlos said. “It might be better to come by tomorrow. We have a lot of cleaning to do.”
“My father’s leaving for a conference tomorrow morning.” Choco crossed her arms and tapped her stiletto heel. “He was hoping to fill the position before he leaves.”
“So, why does she need to see the kitchen?” Carlos took a dishrag and wiped down the food preparation counter.
“It’s not the kitchen, per se.” Choco followed him. “She wants to see if she gets along with you.”
“I don’t see why that’s a job requirement.” Carlos’s throat tightened. “You don’t seem to get on with me and you do the job just fine.”
Miranda cleared her throat. “Perhaps Carlos is right. I can come by tomorrow.”
“Fine.” Choco glared at him. “My father’s putting you in charge of this position. We never had an official expeditor, but lately it looks like you could use the help.”
“I’m not sure I understand.” Carlos squeezed the dishrag to hide his boiling frustration. “We never needed an expo because you were coordinating everything.”
“I was in charge of the wait staff. I can’t help it if the kitchen’s in chaos. Miranda will make sure food is delivered and presented in an orderly fashion. She will communicate with the wait staff, not you. The main reason we need her is to organize your cooking processes from the time a ticket is taken off the wheel to when the food is ready to be served.”
“It always worked before. You yelled at me, and I yelled at you, and everyone was happy.” He added a grin and a wink to lighten the mood.
When her face remained immobile, Carlos felt his heart tumbling into his intestines.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed Miranda slipping out of the kitchen. Good, it was about time he had a conversation with his former best friend.
“Things change.” Choco pressed a nail extension on his chest.
He grabbed her wrist and held it steady. “Choke, this is me, Carlos. I haven’t changed.”
“That’s the problem.” Pinpoints of sweat dotted her nose. “We’ve been stuck in a rut. The restaurant, my family, everything.”
“Why? What do you want?” He handed her a tissue and she dabbed her nose, exposing some of her cute freckles.
“More than what’s going on here.” She drew back. “If you’re not going to speak to Miranda tonight, I’m going back to the videoke party.”
He felt her slipping from his grasp. His pulse lurched and he lunged to block her way. “Wait. Please. Let’s take a walk.”
“Aren’t you busy with whatever it is you have to do before closing for the night?” She eyed the messy kitchen and stepped over a bucket of discarded bones.
“The guys will take care of it.”
“I have to get back. I promised to sing a duet with Johnny.” She pulled a compact from her purse and fixed her makeup.
Sing a duet with her new man? It had always been Choco and Carlos singing duets. Everyone expected it. Now, it was Choco and Johnny?
“Who is this Johnny to you?” His voice came out gruffer than he intended.
“A friend.” She snapped her compact.
“Like me? Am I a friend too?”
“Of course you are. Why do you ask?”
“Prove it.” Carlos leaned to kiss her.
She shoved him with both hands. “Stop, you’ll ruin my makeup.”
“Since when have you cared about makeup?” He trapped her with both hands against the wall. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
He dipped his head and kissed the side of her neck, lingering at the scent of jasmine. She gasped and squirmed, but didn’t wrap her hands around his neck, nor did she turn her cheek toward him. Damn. Had Johnny left his mark on her? Had he …
“What do you want?” Her voice hissed from gritted teeth.
He would not be discouraged. He wasn’t the type of man to go down without a fight.
He straightened and tipped her chin to look up at him. “You, the way you were. The way we were always meant to be.”
Her eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowed. “There never was a ‘we.’”
“Prove it. Go on a date with me. One date, then tell me if there isn’t a ‘we.’”
“Friends don’t date.” She wouldn’t meet his eye, her gaze dropping to the vicinity of his throat.
“Then be my girlfriend.”
Her lower lip trembled and she bit it, leaving lipstick on her teeth. “I can’t. Julia likes you.”
“I’m not the right guy for her.” He was too much of a gentleman to come right out and say Julia didn’t do a thing for him. Pretty to look at, but no spark, no fight, an embroidered pillow instead of the prickly hellcat in front of him.
“Julia could use someone to heal her broken heart.” Choco shrugged as if this conversation were a bore. “You’re the right guy to do it. You’re considerate, kind, and nonthreatening.”
Gee, thanks a lot, so now he was the go-to guy for broken hearted females. It was always the same, Carlos do this, Carlos do that. Carlos serve the Sánchez family. So she thought he was nonthreatening, huh?
He gripped her around the neck and turned her toward the hallway mirror. “I’m way too dangerous for Julia, but I can take whatever you dish out. Look at us and tell me we aren’t meant to be together.”
Part III - Choco / Chapter 17
My heart’s thudding a mile a minute. Carlos tightens his grip around my neck. What is going on? Has he cracked under the pressure?
Strangely, I’m not afraid. I cover his hand with mine. “We’re not together. It can’t happen.”
He leans and presses his cheek against my temple. “Why? Give me one reason.”
“No.”
“I’m waiting. One reason.”
Oh no. He’s so close, his five o’clock shadow brushing my ear. Voice husky, scratchy. My breathing quickens, and I’m finding it hard to stay firm.
“No.”
I don’t trust myself to answer coherently. Carlo’s rough, smelling like cooking grease and smoke, sweaty, and his T-shirt is splattered with oil and sauce. I should be disgusted. I should push away and scream for help. He works for my father. He can’t be trapping me in the kitchen hallway while everyone’s out front partying.
“Explain this.” He kisses beneath my ear, his lips caressing the sensitive spot behind my jaw. He lets go of my neck and his hand wanders down to my waist.
The music pounds out front, and my body relaxes into the heat surrounding me. I close my eyes and inhale his scent. Nothing makes sense. But I can’t think, not when his lips are nibbling my neck and his fingers trailing sparks from my waist to the area between my legs.
I’m helpless in his embrace, and when his fleshy lips tickle the corner of my mouth, I tilt my head toward him. Sparks of excitement pulse in my chest.
Don’t think, Choco. Let it go, for now. It won’t be long. Seize this moment.
I take the last breath of my life and lock onto his lips, tugging his hand to my breasts, willing my recurring dream into reality. I’m trapped in a shiny, deluxe restaurant kitchen with a celebrity chef. He dips his tongue into chocolate whiskey pots de crème and licks the line between my lips. I eagerly sweep the taste from his mouth into mine, sucking the tangy, bittersweet aroma from his breath.
I can’t get enough of it. He’s so much of a man, so hard, strong, edgy, rough. And he’s not compl
aining, he’s moaning, hands and fingers busy over my stretchy red-hot slut dress.
Does he know how expensive it is? How much I paid to look this hot? How high Livy squealed when she saw me, saying even her mother wasn’t as awesomely chill as I am? Even the gleam in Papa’s eye, appraising me as finally worth it, shows how pleased he is of my new appearance. All thanks to Johnny.
My lips freeze, and my breath hitches. Johnny. I lurch back. I owe my newfound image to him, not to this growly, messy brute pawing me. The one who was never attracted to me, who pined for my sister Evie and is now Julia’s boyfriend. And now he thinks to take advantage of me? After Johnny got me all dolled up? Shows how shallow he is. Like everyone else. After a woman’s looks and not who she really is.
“Stop, stop.” I swat Carlos’s hands and clamp my mouth shut.
“Choke, don’t push me away.”
“No, you’re just another horny guy. Johnny told me to beware of guys who only look at my clothes and makeup.”
“I don’t care what Johnny says.” He makes another grab at me. “I want you back.”
“You never had me.” I twist from his grasp. “Never.”
“You kiss me like you want me. Don’t deny it.”
“I was only imagining you were someone else. Don’t pride yourself.” I smooth my dress and glance in the mirror. “You’ve messed up my makeup.”
I pick up my purse and make for the powder room.
Carlos yanks my arm. “Who? Who were you thinking about?”
“Not you.”
“Liar.” He crosses his arms, biceps bulging under his sweaty stained shirt. “Choco, tell me.”
I push open the women’s room and sneer at him. “I’m Concha, and it was definitely not you.”
# # #
I slam my back to the bathroom door and catch my lying breath. Carlos is the last man I expect to ask me to be his girlfriend. We’ve been friends forever, always laughing and joking about our nonexistent love lives. We’d talk about our dream dates, how we wished men and women wouldn’t play games, and we’d brag about our future families.
My kids are going to be superstar athletes.
Mine are going to be smart, engineers and doctors, not a cook like me.
Mine can do anything they want, as long as they love it.
I won’t let mine run wild.
And every time he said that, my heart would shrink and I’d feel like crying, because I’ve been wild and crazy and out of control. And I have to live with the consequences of running wild.
So I’d retort, I’ll feel sorry for your kids. You control freak.
And he’d say, Better than screwing up their lives.
And he’d grin that goofy grin of his and tickle my cheek, not knowing the queen of screw-ups was sitting in front of him.
He always liked Evie. She was wild and crazy, riding off with Romeo, the twerp with a motorcycle. I feel sorry for Carlos, pining for a girl who saw him as a piece of furniture, a cook who’d make her favorite dishes, a backup date when she and Romeo were fighting.
But at least he’s led the perfect life. Dutiful son, protective big brother, talented chef, and good friend.
The bathroom door nudges, and I realize I’ve been blocking it. I step aside to let whoever it is enter.
“There you are.” Tita Gloria lowers her glasses. “Hiding.”
“Sorry, I’ll be out of your way.” I move to the sink and dab my runny makeup with a napkin.
“You should be hiding for shame.” Gloria stomps to my side. “I don’t know why your parents aren’t saying anything, so I will. You look like a painted harlot, dressed indecently.”
“Tita, but … I …”
“Don’t Tita me. Stay away from my son.” She shakes a finger at me. “I saw you two in the hallway.”
“What? I … we … were talking.”
“I know what I saw, so stop lying.” Tita’s face is twisted in a fierce scowl. “You might be able to tempt him, but he’ll never respect you, and he’ll never marry you.”
My mouth gapes. What business is this of hers? I’m still trying to figure out what just happened out there.
“I don’t want to marry him, so you can put your mind at ease.”
“Then stay away from him.” She slams her purse onto the counter. “I don’t care if you’re Anna’s daughter and my goddaughter. No one messes with my children.”
Well I don’t care if she’s my god-dammed godmother, she can’t treat me like scum either.
I snap open my compact and fix my makeup. “This conversation is over.”
Gloria doesn’t retreat. She stands behind me, glaring over my shoulder. My hand shakes when I reapply my mascara and eye shadow. Why does she have to stare? She’s freaking me out, giving me the evil eye.
“You can cover up your freckles, but you can’t cover your sins,” she intones, her voice scratchy.
“Why, thank you, Tita.” I try to pass it off as advice.
“You’ll burn in hell if you don’t repent.”
“Thank you, Tita.” As calmly as I can, I lick off the lipstick on my teeth and reline my lips.
“You may mock me, but God is not mocked.”
Red heat boils in my gut. She’s the biggest reason not to marry Carlos. What happened out there was just a temporary lapse. Perhaps he also saw me as the painted harlot, and men, being what they are, he couldn’t help but want a piece of me.
“Good advice, Tita.” Now for the piece de resistance. I pluck a can of hairspray from my purse and a styling brush. “Stand back, Tita.”
“Don’t call me Tita,” she screeches.
“I’m warning you.” I wave the hairspray without pressing the button.
She sticks to me like a banshee on a dragon’s scale. “I’m warning you. I know your transgressions and your sins are like scarlet. If you go near my son again, I’ll tell him how you got pregnant, how you screwed so many boys that poor Livy will never know who her real father is.”
I panic. Carlos can’t know about Livy. He’ll realize I’m not the kind of woman he wants to hang around with. And if word gets out, Livy’s adoptive father will disallow me from associating with her. Quickly, I press the button full blast. Tita fans her face, coughing, then stomps out of the restroom.
I drop the hairspray as soon as the door shuts and close my eyes. What have I just done?
When my eyes open I see what she sees. A woman who looks like a geisha doll, a painted toy with flawless skin and perfect eyes. Lips red as crimson and not a spot on her face. A beauty. I touch my reflection in the mirror.
But is this me? Tears seep behind my eyelids, threatening to ruin the painted perfection. Is it so wrong to be wanted? Desired by men? Admired by women? To feel like a million bucks and know I’m turning heads. To walk with a classy man down the red carpet of a five star hotel. To wine, dine, and cruise in a luxury car and stay in rooms surrounded by marble and antiques.
That look of respect from the valet, the concierge, the patrons, the narrowing eyes of other women, the tint of jealousy and emulation that marks me as a star—what’s so wrong with it? Finally, I get the heated look of desire from men who in the past never acknowledged me, a woman in jeans and flip-flops, a background prop for my two beautiful sisters.
I have what I always wanted. Don’t I?
Chapter 18
“Ate Choco, er Concha.” Livy enters the bathroom. “Kuya Johnny’s looking for you. You guys are up next for the duet.”
I don’t know how long I spaced out in the bathroom, but several songs have gone by. A few ladies have come in and out and still I stand, staring at the mirror.
I plaster a smile on my face and hold my arms out for Livy. “You want to come on stage with us and sing?”
“No, I’ll watch.” Her eyes are bright and glossy. “You’re so pretty. I wish I looked like you.”
“You’re naturally pretty.” I skim my fingertips across her temple and mess with her hair. “Let’s rock down the house.”
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We walk arm in arm back to the kare kare room. Laser lights flash over the ceiling, and the giant video screen projects Johnny on stage with pre-recorded backup dancers dressed in fantasy wings and see-through garb. The cue screen flashes colorful dancing ‘M’s with the words of the song, “Move Like Jagger.”
Johnny struts barefoot on the stage, singing the words. He flaps his hands and wiggles his hips. Some of the waitresses are dancing behind the tables and screaming as if he’s a rock star.
Energized by the crowd, Johnny thrusts his groin and rubs his body while throwing his head up and down. The audience screams louder.
Livy tugs at my sleeve and gushes, “He’s so hip. I wish we could keep him here forever.”
From the corner of my eye, I spot Carlos with his arms crossed, looking belligerent. He glowers when he catches my gaze, so I quickly turn toward Livy. “Johnny’s nice, isn’t he?”
“Yep, he is. He bought this for me.” She holds up a jeweled necklace that looks like a two hundred dollar one we saw at the museum store.
“Whoa, no way. Where?”
I’m not sure Johnny should be getting cozy with Livy and buying her gemstones. The girl is only twelve, and by the way she’s buzzing about Johnny, I’d say she has a crush on him.
She gives me a close mouthed smile like she’s not telling and points back to the stage, jumping and clapping.
Oh, really? Johnny shimmies off his silk Gucci suit jacket and tosses it to a blonde sitting at the table near him. His hips gyrating and legs popping, he loosens his tie, slips it off and twirls it over his head.
The waitresses scream, and I catch my father smiling and talking animatedly with Johnny’s mother. Looks like she’s going to get the job without Carlos’s interview or approval.
Where’s my mother? I turn toward the entrance where I’m sure Tita Gloria is standing, and sure enough, she’s next to her. Uh oh. She doesn’t look happy.
Livy taps me. “Oh, look, he’s taking it all off.”
The music bops with its thin jingo and monotonous beat. Johnny unbuttons his shirt and displays his smooth chest. Oh my.
A few slides and hip thrusts later, the shirt’s off and Johnny parades around flexing his muscles. Not bad. Not bad at all. His six-pack is lean and defined, and his smooth, shiny chest glistens with a sheen of sweat.
Claiming Carlos Page 12
