Livy shakes me and claps her hand over her mouth. She’s in a fit of ecstasy. Across the room, the waitresses are swooning. Johnny slaps off his belt. My father laughs.
Laughs? I can’t believe he’s letting this go on. What will happen to the reputation of our restaurant? This isn’t a strip club. I peek in Carlos’s direction, but he isn’t there anymore.
Johnny struts around the stage, singing and wiggling his butt. He stops with his back to the audience, stepping up and down waving his hands. He crouches to the ground and when he springs up, he kicks his pants into the crowd.
I almost swallow my tongue. He isn’t kidding about being properly manscaped. He’s wearing nothing but lowcut Speedoes and there’s not a hair in sight. His groin region, belly and legs are bare, plastic looking.
The roar of the audience crests in the finale of the song. There’s so much foot stomping and cheering I’m starting to get a headache.
Johnny flexes his muscles and saunters toward me.
“You’re next!” Livy squeals. “Oh, look, here he comes.”
Somehow I’m not sure a twelve-year-old like Livy should be treated to this show. I know her father’s on a business trip and she’s staying with my parents, but I can’t believe my mother brought her.
But then again, who’s home to babysit her?
Johnny reaches my side and takes my hand.
“Oh, no, no. You have to put on clothes.” I push away.
He calls out in the mic. “The lady wants clothes.”
“No clothes, no clothes,” the crowd chants.
I cross my arms and hold firm. Tita Gloria already thinks I’m a slut. Scratch that, she knows my past. My mother has such a big mouth.
“She’s classy, she insists.” Johnny shrugs and catches a shirt. “That enough?”
“Pants, you need pants.”
The music for the next song is already playing. I think it’s “Love is an Open Door” from the movie, Frozen. What a cheesy song.
One of the cooks tosses Johnny his pants. I’m quickly running out of excuses.
“Uh, I want Carlos,” I say just to put up a roadblock. “Carlos is my duet partner.”
I doubt he’ll come out now. He’s probably back there mopping the kitchen or taking out the trash. I look around for Julia, but can’t find her. What if Carlos is with her? Eek. Why am I worried? They’re supposed to be perfect for each other. Only he says he’s too dangerous for her. Does it mean he wants sex and thinks I’m the easy one?
Johnny takes my hand. “It’s no more Choco and Carlos, oh no, at the new Manila Cloud, it’s the Concha and Johnny show.”
Someone restarts the music, and the words flash onto the screen. I spot several familiar faces in the crowd, Mr. Dee, Johnny’s grandfather, and Tita Elena, Romeo’s mother. Across from them, Genie and her boyfriend Greg are sharing a private joke. Everyone’s having a good time, and I’m a good sport. It’s only a Disney song. What can go wrong? Besides, Carlos is nowhere in sight.
I take Johnny’s hand and wiggle my way up to the stage. I love singing and dancing. I’m such a ham. Whereas Evie hated the spotlight, I always craved it, even when I was the ugly duckling. And now, well, I’m finally up there with the models and starlets.
Johnny and I trade off on the light lyrics. We hold hands and sing to each other as if in conversation. He swings me around and we sway to the music. It’s a sweet tune, cute and popular. The crowd claps along. I glance toward my mother. Even she has a smile on her face, but is studiously avoiding looking at my father who’s still hanging out with Johnny’s mom. Is there something I should be worried about?
Johnny says something crazy and asks me a question. I lose my place in the lyrics. He repeats it, “Will you marry me?”
The lyrics have finished and the music has stopped. All eyes are burning at me to answer the question. I dimly remember the girl in the movie says ‘Yes.’ But I can’t. I wave him off and smile to the audience.
“Answer the question, answer the question,” they chant.
Someone helpfully replays the last segment of the video and when Johnny sings the question, all the women in the audience yell, “Yes.”
My face is hot as I step off the stage and bump into a man’s chest.
Carlos!
He doesn’t speak to me. In fact, he jumps back as if he touched a live wire. The fierce look he gives me is enough to turn my stomach to stone.
“Why didn’t you answer the question?” he sneers. “You’re obviously his type.”
Chapter 19
“What’s going on between you and Carlos?” Mama follows me to my room after we return home from the restaurant.
“Nothing. I’m just tired.” My stomach cringes at how cruel I had been, telling Carlos I was thinking of someone else while kissing him.
“Gloria said she gave you a talking to. What was that about?”
Looks like Mama has her radar detector on, and she’s not letting it go. As always, she’s good at ignoring her own problems.
“Nothing.” I yawn, hoping she’ll get tired by osmosis. “Something about not praying the rosary and going to confession.”
“She can get to be a bit much sometimes.”
“You’re telling me.” I twist open a jar of makeup removal wipes. “She says every freckle on my face is because of a sin.”
Slowly, my freckles come into view as I remove the cover up foundation.
Mama stands at my side in front of the mirror. “She said that to you?”
“And more.”
“Like what?”
“She wants me to stay away from Carlos.”
“Why? Is there something going on between you two?”
“Nothing.” I dab at the smudges over my eyelids and wipe away the runny mascara under my eyes. “In her eyes, I’m an unwed mother, not good enough for her son.”
My mother shudders and her breath seethes through her teeth, but she doesn’t contradict me. It’s unspoken. The ideal Filipino wife is a virgin, pure, and even if not, it’s hidden from the relatives. Truth is, most young women have had premarital sex, but the thing is to not leave evidence. They take care not to get pregnant, attend Mass every week, go to confession, and they still wear white and the virginal veil at their weddings.
Mama rubs my shoulder. “It’ll all work out. Sometimes it’s better to hold onto a friendship than ruin it for more.”
“I know. Carlos and I will never be together.” The words hiccup as my throat catches. “We’re not even friends anymore.”
How can we be after I dissed him? He thinks I’m into Johnny.
“What happened?” Mama asks.
“Nothing. He’s dating Julia and Tita Gloria wants to be sure it stays that way. She says she’ll tell Carlos about Livy.”
The colors change on Mama’s face going from hot red to deathly pale. “She can’t be threatening you with Livy. That’s not fair.”
“Oh, Mama. You know all’s fair with love and motherhood.” I throw that line back at her, the one she uses to justify her snooping and meddling.
“If she wants to stay my best friend, she better stop.” Mama opens my door and steps into the hallway. “I’m going to call her.”
“No, don’t, please.” I drag her into my room. The last thing I want is for my mother to break her lifelong friendship for me. “It won’t work. I don’t love Carlos, okay? I love Livy and I can’t risk it.”
The guest room door cracks open and Livy steps out, wearing her Wonder Woman pajamas. “I thought I heard my name.”
“It’s nothing, go back to sleep.” Mama pats her on the back.
Livy seems to know I need consoling. She leans over and gives me a sweet kiss and hug. “I love you, Ate Choco. Good night.”
Tears seep from behind my eyelids, and I kiss her quickly, then hide my face until I’m in my room. I can’t lose Livy. If she ever finds out who I am, her father will make good his threat and rip her away from me. No more outings, no more interaction. That was
the deal my parents struck with my cousin Olivia and her husband when they adopted Livy. Never let Livy know the circumstances of her birth.
My chest heaves as sobs slam me, shaking me from head to toe. The last time I broke down and cried was when I was forced to give Livy away, when my mother tore her from my arms shortly after she was born and handed her to Olivia.
I lost Livy once, and I can’t lose her again, not even for Carlos.
# # #
In the morning, I meet Papa in his study to go over the expansion plans. He’s in a jolly mood and seems oblivious to my mother’s snippy remarks over breakfast about Johnny’s behavior during karaoke night.
“We need a complete overhaul.” Papa rubs the sides of his face. “Miranda has a background in marketing. It’s better that the customers don’t associate Manila Cloud with the old Barrio XO.”
Miranda, Miranda, Miranda. Why do I get the feeling Miranda’s not just an ordinary employee? Could she be a former girlfriend of his? I mean, seriously, why the favoritism to her and Johnny?
“Why would we do that?” I retort with a sharp voice. “Don’t we want crossover customers between the two?”
My marketing course tells me that cross promotion, especially for a new business, is key to building clientele.
Papa’s lips press together for a few seconds. “According to Miranda, the downtown area has become more gentrified with the erection of Petco Park and the new luxury condominiums. When people pay fifty to a hundred dollars per ticket to see a baseball game, they want to be able to dine at an upscale restaurant, one that serves healthy food and has the right ambience.”
“But what about the people who sit in the fifteen dollar bleachers or the ones who hangout at the park?”
“Johnny did a computation that negates any loss of traffic there. In fact, those people are costing us money. They tend to sit longer, get loud and boisterous, and scarf up all the complimentary appetizers while taking advantage of the free refills.”
Wow, great way to turn against the little people who made Barrio XO their favorite Filipino hangout.
“What does Johnny recommend?” My heartbeat is unsteady, dreading Papa’s pronouncement.
“Close Barrio XO while we remodel it into Manila Cloud.”
A shockwave slams my heart. Didn’t he and my mother build Barrio XO from the ground up, back when the East Village was a dump of warehouses and seedy dive bars?
“How can you close Barrio XO?”
Papa pulls on his mustache, a defensive mannerism. “I’ve decided against the San Marcos expansion. It’ll be too costly and split our resources. While we’re shut down, Miranda will build marketing momentum and hype the grand opening of Manila Cloud both here and in the Philippines while Chef Enrique Mendoza will lend his name to the enterprise and handpick the new cooks.”
“What about Carlos and the cooks? Will they lose their jobs?”
“They’ll interview with Chef Mendoza. If he thinks they’re trainable, we’ll retain them, but anyone who resists will have to find another job.”
“Carlos? You’ll let Carlos go? How could you? Papa, tell me this isn’t true.”
He lowers his eyebrows and tightens his jaw, his head shaking. “It’s the only way, Choke. Someday when you own your own business, you’ll understand. You can’t give way to sentiment. Carlos will have a chance to interview. That’s all I have to say.”
A heavy, dark cloud swamps over me. Everything I’ve always known: the family restaurant, the longtime customers, Carlos’s cooking, the laughing and joking between the kitchen and the wait staff, the kids’ parties, screaming for Manny Pacquiáo on fight nights when the beer is free, even the crazy karaoke hour will be gone.
“Why hire Miranda as expeditor if you’re shutting it all down?” I know I’m pouting and sounding like a spiteful child, but this is all Miranda and Johnny’s fault.
“We still have a few months to line up the remodeling contractors, and I need to keep the cash flow going. She’ll help the customers adjust to the new menu items.”
“Why her?” I stiffen my voice to challenge him. “What’s so special about her and Johnny Dee?”
“I thought you liked Johnny so much you ran off with him to Beverly Hill and slept with him.” His breath steams and his mustache twitches.
“Where did you hear that?” My jaw drops and my gut clenches. “It’s not true.”
“Spare me the details.” He stands, signaling the conversation is over. “Go help your mother. I have a plane to catch.”
# # #
Twenty minutes later, a taxi pulls up on our sloping driveway, and my father gets in. I watch as the car disappears down the road.
I can’t believe Papa’s going to hand Barrio XO to Miranda and Chef Mendoza. This has got to be my worst nightmare. Never in a million years did I think we wouldn’t have Barrio XO: Carlos, the parties, and all our loyal customers.
Mama didn’t mention it last night when we spoke. Is she onboard with this? And the way Papa flirted with Miranda, I’m sure she noticed. Is there something going on? Whatever. I can’t let Papa shut Barrio XO. Mama’s my last chance.
I head to the kitchen to look for her, but everyone’s already finished breakfast. Genie and Brian are outside with Livy playing with Hilda, Brian’s Great Dane puppy.
I figure Mama’s in her room so I knock on her door. “It’s me, Choco.”
“Come in.” Her voice is creaky. “What’s going on?”
“Are you okay? Where’s Papa going?” I sit on my parents’ bed.
“Everything’s fine.” She keeps a stiff upper lip like she always does.
“Are you okay with Papa’s plans to shut down Barrio XO?”
Mama crosses her arms and grimaces at her dresser mirror. “Ask your father. He doesn’t care for my opinion.”
I rub Mama’s arm. “I just spoke to him. He’s dropping the San Marcos expansion. I thought you and Tita Elena wanted to do a joint operation up there.”
“That was before Elena pulled the plug. She’s selling her bakery and moving to Boston to be close to her son.” Mama brushes her hair. “After her heart attack, she realized business isn’t as important as family.”
“What are we going to do?”
“What do you want us to do? I thought you were in favor of all this Manila Cloud business. Moving upscale, the country club set, prancing around with Johnny Dee and his Tesla.”
My shoulders slump, and a sinking feeling overtakes me. Johnny’s all about appearance and image. Vapor. What did I ever see in him? I wipe my eyes and exhale as if to rid myself of his poison.
“Uh … Not if it means shutting Barrio XO. I thought Manila Cloud was the expansion.”
“Speaking of Johnny.” Mama’s lips tighten and she slams the brush on the dresser. “I don’t like the gossip that’s going on. Tita Gloria says your relationship with him is a disgrace.”
Urgh. I grit my teeth. How in God’s universe can someone as tolerant and easygoing as Carlos have a mother so stringent?
“She’s jumping to conclusions. I’m not ‘with’ Johnny in any way, shape, or form.”
Mama raises an eyebrow. “You two seemed pretty cozy. I know you snuck off with him. The woman who came to walk Hilda was Miranda, although I didn’t know it at the time. She didn’t hesitate to inform me where you were.”
Miranda? So she’s the supposed assistant Johnny claims he has to do his mundane life tasks.
“Don’t worry. Johnny’s all smoke and mirrors, not boyfriend material.”
“I hope you’re smart enough to use protection.” Mama turns and glares, her hands on her hips.
“Uh, well, Johnny and I never had sex. We kissed, but it didn’t lead to anything deeper.”
Thank God it hadn’t. Not with a guy who criticized me for lapping like a dog and gave me a C+.
“I’m glad,” Mama mumbles. “I’m glad you held back. His kind doesn’t interest me. Slick, smooth, and polished to a spit shine. Fake.”
&
nbsp; “It’s no big loss. After that crazy strip show, I’m over him. He texted me several times last night, but I ignored him. Let’s not worry about him. What do we do about Papa? He told me to help you.”
“He’s as stubborn as they come. But I’m not letting him throw away Barrio XO without a fight.”
That does it. If it comes to a fight, I’m siding with my mother. She gave me her full love and support through the Livy situation and has never let me down.
“I’m in. Let’s go to Barrio XO right now and fix everything. Think Genie or Brian can watch Livy? Shall I ask them?”
Mama pulls her hair into a practical ponytail. “That’s a great idea. Give me a few minutes and we’ll head over.”
I don’t have time to stop by my apartment to put on a designer brand blazer and skirt, or apply my kabuki doll thick slabs of makeup. Instead, I pull on the Barrio XO nondescript black jeans, barong and sneaker combo. I even wrap a black bandana around my head to show solidarity with the cooks.
I flex my puny muscles and make a mean face at the mirror. Oh yeah, Choco’s back and Concha’s gone. This is real. Barrio XO is real. My face is real, freckles and all.
Mama appears from her bedroom with more makeup than usual and an exquisite embroidered silk blouse over a fan pleated skirt.
“You look ravishing.” I give her a thumbs up. “Let’s take our restaurant back.”
“It’s going to take a lot more than beauty to get through this.” She sighs and shrugs. “What’s important is we don’t lose the customers during the transition.”
“There isn’t going to be a transition. Not if I can help it.” I grab the car keys from her. “I’ll drive.”
Mama’s eyes are still watery and the way she is, the more outwardly calm she is, the more she’s dying on the inside. I don’t want to broach the subject about Miranda, and I’m sure she and Gloria have analyzed it to death, but the way my father flirted with Miranda, even singing a duet with her last night, was disgraceful.
“Genie, Brian,” I yell out the French door. “Take Livy to the zoo or safari park and I’ll reimburse you. Have a great day.”
Claiming Carlos Page 13
