Claiming Carlos

by Rachelle Ayala

She swirls around showing her dress and giggling. “I heard what happened to Johnny and his mommy. Can I see the video you took?”

  “It’s on my phone in my purse in the office.” I don’t have time to fetch it for her. “I still have the tables in the bangus room to set.”

  “No worries. I’ll get it for you.” She struts past me. “Can you take some shots of me to post on Instagram? I want to make sure Steve sees me.”

  “Uh, Julia?” I nab her in the corridor. “Why would you care for him to see you? I thought we’re over that.”

  “You might be able to get over a guy you loved for six years, but not me.”

  Oh, no. Julia’s not in a healthy mental state. Her borderline disorder could spiral out of control with the stress of being engaged to Carlos. The fear of Tita Gloria alone would cause a mighty breakdown.

  I pat her back. “It’ll be fine. You’re marrying Carlos. He’s so much better than Steve.”

  “Really? How so?” she snaps at me, her red lips snarling. “How dare you foist Carlos off on me? You want to know something? He’s boring. All he likes to do is stay home and cook.”

  “Ssshhh …” I guide her into my father’s office and hug her tightly to calm her. I can feel her heart racing and the sweat on her skin. She’s petrified, scared, probably reliving the day she heard Steve wasn’t showing up for the wedding.

  After a few minutes she draws away. “I’ll be fine. Sorry. Let me see that video.”

  I hand her my cell phone and unlock it. “I have to set up for the party, so put it back when you’re done.”

  “You’re the best. I wish I can be happy for you someday.”

  “Yes, well, maybe my luck’s changing. Did you see those guys from the band?”

  “Oh, yes, all hotties.” She fans herself daintily. “I saw the drummer staring at you.”

  “Ahem, I gotta go.” I scurry to the bangus room and find that Mama had already opened the doors. The Sunshine Retirement Center’s bus is double parked outside, and the seniors are disembarking. Mr. Dee holds the door like he always does for the ladies. Everyone is dressed in Filipino party clothes, the women in ternos and Maria Clara skirts and blouses, and the men are wearing white barongs and black pants.

  I rush to the door and greet all our loyal customers: Titas Grace, Thelma, Velma, Erlinda, Lia, Rosalind, Yoly, Josephine, Clare, and the guys, Titos Benito, Roly, Jon, Nino, Roger, Mo, Bunzo, Rolando and of course Mr. David Dee, our faithful customer and friend. How could such a nice man have such creeps for offspring?

  “So glad Barrio XO’s back,” Tita Velma exclaims. “We were all so sad when your father told us he was improving the menu.”

  “I dieted all week to come here,” Tita Grace says, shaking her hips. “When I want buko pie, I want buko pie!”

  “A round of calamansi juice and ice tea on me,” Mr. Dee says. He stands and loops his arm around my shoulder. “Here’s our heroine, Choco Sánchez.”

  “Hooray!” the seniors cheer. “Choco, Choco, Choco.”

  I’m flabbergasted. I didn’t do anything to stop Johnny. In fact, I went along with his ideas and supported them. “It’s my mom who deserves the credit. She refused to cave in. And even more, it’s Carlos. He never gave up on Barrio XO.”

  “Yay! Carlos, Carlos, Carlos.” The men thump the tables. “Bring him out here.”

  “He’s probably busy. There’s a buffet set up in the kare kare room, but don’t get up. I’ll serve you all personally. A platter of lumpia and chicharon coming up.”

  “Whoo!” they cheer and hoot.

  The next half hour or so, Genie, Livy and I shuttle back and forth from the buffet stand to the bangus room delivering food and drinks. Julia’s recovered from her hysteria and floats from table to table smiling and greeting the customers.

  All the men are clearly smitten and the women smile tolerantly, but dart narrowed eyes at their men if they linger on her too long.

  The kitchen is hot, noisy, and steamy. I barely have time to remove the entries from the pick-up window and serve them before fetching another order. I can hear Carlos bellowing at the top of his lungs and the pots and pans clanging among the sizzling, cracking, and frying sounds.

  “Choke, lechón kawali coming through.” He pushes a platter through the window. I hurriedly garnish it with cilantro, shredded lettuce, and pineapple circles.

  “Hey, hey, watch it, hot plate, bangus sisig.”—“No, no, no! No whole pig. This is a buffet not a luau!”—“Ay kabayo! Drain that grease. Fish don’t swim in grease.”—“Cucumber flowers, I need more cucumber flowers. Hurry.”—“Chop, chop, chop. You’re too slow. Move it. Move!”

  That’s the Carlos I know, running the entire show. Rushing from station to station, seasoning the broth, flipping a piece of steak, and yelling his throat raw.

  “Hey, toots! Too hot in the kitchen for you?” Carlos places an ice cold can of calamansi juice in my hands.

  I swipe the sweat from my face. “It’s going great. The customers are so happy. When you get a chance, they want to see you.”

  “Can’t stop now.” He leans in and kisses my cheek, like he did in old times. “Later, I’ll sing with you.”

  “Me, but what about—?”

  He waves me away. “No buts. Turrroooon! Coming up.”

  Victor slides a tray of fried banana rolls onto the counter. Assembly line style, we fill the dessert plates, place a scoop of ice cream in between two pieces of the turon and garnish it with a mint sprig.

  After everyone has had dessert, Jake and I fill in at the bar. My arms are tired, my shirt is drenched, but it’s all good. The customers are having a grand time listening to the band, and the credit card slips flood in.

  People dance in front of the band and every so often, a woman swoons in front of the gorgeous lead singer. He taps the mic after a rousing drum roll. “Dedications and requests! Who’s first?”

  “I hate this part.” Jake nods toward the band.

  “Why? Nobody ever dedicate a song to you?”

  He laughs under his breath, shaking his head. “It’s for all those romantic saps.”

  “It’s good for business.” I polish a rocks glass. “Guys buy drinks for the girls they sing for.”

  “First request comes from Mrs. Sánchez,” the lead singer says. “The absolutely stunning owner of the fabulous Barrio XO! Put it together for Anna Sánchez!”

  The audience is on their feet as Mama takes the mic. She waits and waits for them to quiet down, but everyone’s applauding and wolf whistling.

  After several tries, the cheers finally die down. Mama starts by thanking everyone for their support. She then turns toward the kitchen.

  “The real heroes are back there, behind the ovens, manning the grills, and steaming the rice. Put your hands together for the Barrio XO cooks, Carlos, Danny, Victor, Thomas, and Jake.”

  “Hey, go up there.” I slap Jake on the back.

  “I’m staying incognito.” He ducks behind the bar.

  One by one, the cooks file out, their hair matted under their bandanas, clothes plastered with sweat, looking dazed. They wave and the crowd goes nuts.

  “I say we give them the rest of the night off and let them party!” My mother pumps her fist. “Carlos, you go first. Dedicate a song to your beautiful fiancée. Julia, where are you, honey?”

  “Oh, shit. I can’t watch this.” I join Jake on the floor of the bar.

  “Mm … mm … mmm.” He rolls his shoulders and grimaces. “You don’t look too happy.”

  I can’t face this. Everyone smiling and congratulating Carlos and Julia. I don’t want to hear Carlos’s sexy voice crooning to Julia. I can’t take seeing them hold hands on stage, gazing into each other’s eyes with love overflowing. It used to be me and Carlos, best friends, hamming it up, singing all the duets.

  Crawling around the back of the bar, I duck and run for my father’s office.

  I open the door. Raised voices alert me right before I stick my hand through the beaded cur
tain. My father is arguing with Miranda.

  Quietly, I close the door behind me and sink to the ground in the small corridor. It’s brighter toward the window than the door, and the beaded curtain should hide me.

  “Why? How much longer do I have to wait?” Miranda says, her voice rising.

  “Things are complicated. You don’t understand.” My father appears to placate her, his hands on her shoulders. “We’ll dress up the restaurant like Johnny suggests and we can get a higher price in six months.”

  “Not if your family and that surly cook Carlos ruin it. They’re out there partying like it’s ghetto blasting night. I thought I told you to fire him.”

  Their shadows move across the window lit by the moon. I spy Miranda’s arm wrap around my father’s shoulders. She’s rubbing his neck and cuddling up to him.

  My stomach curdles. Why is he allowing it? Does he enjoy her touch? I can’t see his expression from this angle, but he doesn’t move away. Is my father having an affair with Miranda? Is that why he’s listening to Johnny’s advice despite the customer rebellion?

  “Let’s not rock the boat now.” Papa seems to move away from her, but Miranda’s glued onto him.

  She rubs up against him. “But we have the DNA results. You know you have to do the right thing.”

  “Not now. Things are complicated.”

  “Johnny deserves better. You know that. He’s been waiting patiently, like you said.”

  Johnny’s his son? No way. Can’t be. My stomach cramps, and I hold back a groan. When did this happen? Before or after he married my mother?

  “He can wait longer.” My father flings her hands from him. “I’m not going to disrupt my family with this disgraceful thing.”

  “What’s to stop me from telling everyone? It’s about time the truth came out.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Papa hisses. “Not if you want a chance to be part of the family.”

  What the heck? Is he going to marry Miranda and acknowledge Johnny? How could I have kissed him? How could Papa have let me? Maybe he didn’t know.

  “You’ll acknowledge both me and Johnny,” Miranda orders. “Now, go out there and stop the wild party. What’s wrong with you? Are you the boss here or not?”

  “Fine, but keep your end of the deal.” Papa straightens his tie and looks toward the beaded curtain.

  I squirm to alleviate the pins and needles tingling my feet. How am I going to get out of here?

  “I knew you’d cooperate.” Miranda’s footsteps come toward the door.

  I have nowhere to hide. I should have thought about this. If I open the door now, they’ll notice the sudden explosion of the music. There’s no way I can curl up small enough in this narrow entryway to avoid them.

  Miranda kicks me. “An eavesdropper. Well, well, well, if it isn’t the little troublemaker.”

  I rise to my feet. “What are you talking about? Papa, what’s going on with Johnny? Is he your son? Shit, Papa, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Leave it, Choco.” He pushes past me, followed by Miranda. I have no choice but to trail them to the kare kare room where the party is in full swing.

  The spotlight hits us as we make our way past the buffet table. An eerie hush falls over the room. I hold my head up and stand as straight and tall as I can. Instead of letting Miranda have the advantage, I hook my hand around Papa’s arm and wave for the mic.

  The lead singer hands it to me.

  I clear my throat, my grip tight on Papa and announce, “Ladies and gentlemen, my father is back, and I’m so happy. May my parents delight you for many more years to come with food, family and friends at the fabulous numero uno Pilipino restaurant in San Diego, Barrio XO.”

  The cheers are deafening, people rising to their feet. No matter what I heard back there, I have to pretend our family’s united, that we all want Barrio XO to be back the way it used to be.

  “I love you, Papa.” I hand him the mic. “Tell your customers you love them too.”

  What can my father do? He steps onto the stage and beams at crowd. “Thank you, my daughter. Thank you for believing in me and my vision. Ladies and gentlemen, I pledge to you. Barrio XO will continue serving the healthiest and most tastiest Filipino food on the planet. My wife, Anna, and I am grateful for your support.”

  He scans the audience for my mother who stands, covering her mouth in surprise. “Rey, you’re back.”

  She steps onto the stage and rushes into his arms. The band strikes up the beginning of a love song, and just when the audience is oohing and aahing, Miranda shoves her aside and grabs the mic from Papa.

  “Everyone, listen up. I’m glad you enjoyed the party today. I have exciting news. Rey and Anna have agreed to transfer the new Manila Cloud to me and my son, Johnny. We will truly light the world on fire and issue in the new, green and healthy Pinoy millennium.”

  There’s shocked silence. My mother fans herself and staggers into Carlos’s arms.

  “Not now, Miranda.” Papa tries to grab the mic from her.

  “Barrio XO, Barrio XO, Barrio XO,” the chefs and busboys start the chant. Soon, the crowd joins in and everyone’s clapping their hands in unison. “Barrio XO,” clap, clap, “Barrio XO,” clap, clap.

  Miranda blows on the mic. “Enjoy your last meal here, because Barrio XO’s history. Johnny Dee’s the new owner.”

  “No way, we want our lechón,” someone yells.

  “Lechón, pancit, adobo, lechón, pancit, adobo,” the people shout.

  A man throws his shoe at Miranda. She ducks, but a platform stiletto hits her face.

  “Why you bunch of hoodlums.” Miranda snarls, her hand in her purse. The next thing I know, she’s waving a gun at the crowd. “Get out of my restaurant or I’ll shoot.”

  She points the gun at my mother. “Especially you. Leave.”

  “No!” I block my mother. “Leave my Mama alone.”

  “Choco!” Carlos lunges toward me. He hits me hard and I fall to the ground as the gun goes off.

  Screams rent the air. Plates fall off tables, and chairs are overturned as the stampede of customers struggle to escape.

  Is someone shot? My heart leaps to my throat.

  “Carlos, where’s Livy? Help me find Livy.” My side aches where he rammed me. I scramble to my feet. “Livy!”

  She was sitting right off stage, at the table where the shoes were thrown.

  Miranda is held by the lead singer in a big bear hug, her gun under his foot.

  “You bitch, you slut,” she screams at me. “I know your little secret.”

  “Ignore her,” Carlos says. He takes my hand and maneuvers me through the crowd. “I see Livy with Julia and Genie.”

  “Ate Choco!” Livy runs toward me and hugs me tightly. “I was so afraid you got hurt.”

  Relief spreads through me and floods me with love. Even the sight of Julia frantically kissing Carlos and cooing over his bravery at saving me doesn’t affect me.

  My Livy is okay, and she cares about me.

  Chapter 29

  “What was Miranda saying about the DNA?” I drag Papa to the side of the dumpster. We’re standing in the parking lot waiting for the disaster recovery specialists to board up our windows and install a temporary door.

  The escaping customers caused much damage, busted doorframes, broke pottery, smashed tables and chairs, and cracked windows.

  Papa avoids me, pushing me aside. “Go, wait with your mother. She’s had quite a scare.”

  “So have I. I almost got shot.” My voice trembles and tears wet my eyes.

  He clamps my shoulders. “Pull yourself together. Don’t listen to anything Miranda says. Trust me.”

  “Is it true?” Mama steps behind me. “Are you handing our restaurant to Johnny and Miranda?”

  The rest of the family close in. Genie, Brian, Julia and Livy are all quiet, intent on the answer.

  “The woman’s a lunatic.” Papa dismisses us. “Nothing she says is true.”

  “You should at
least tell Mama.” I hesitate to bring up the DNA. Mama should hear it from Papa. Thank God I never slept with Johnny. Kissing him was gross enough. Yuck.

  “I’ll tell you later.” Papa kisses Mama, his fingers grazing her hair. “Nothing to worry about.”

  Yeah, right. I hope my mother’s heart is strong, that she won’t suffer too much. I blink back tears. How would I feel if Carlos were to tell me he has a son with someone else?

  Carlos jogs out from the kitchen. “Someone busted into the storage room and stole liquor.”

  “Damn!” Papa moves away from Mama. “Who’d take advantage of the situation to steal from us?”

  “It must be Jake,” Genie says. “I saw him loading bottles into his car this morning. When I asked him, he said he was taking them for recycling.”

  “Recycling?” Papa snorts. “We have a glass and can recycling bin near the dumpster. Where is he?”

  “He wasn’t helping with the cleanup,” Carlos says. “Thomas had to go early because his wife isn’t feeling well, but the rest of the guys were in the dining area after the police finished helping the people who got injured.”

  “Thank God no one was trampled or shot,” Mama says. “I’m so glad the older folks left before the karaoke started.”

  “How much is missing?” Papa follows Carlos back to the storage room.

  Because I have nothing better to do, and he’s not answering any questions, I go along, as do the rest of my family.

  “Only the most expensive ones,” Carlos says. “They knew what they were taking.”

  “That’s what Jake was telling me earlier,” I say. “Why would he draw attention to it if he was the one stealing?”

  Genie stamps her feet. “Duh. Because he wants you to not suspect him.”

  Papa whips out his cell phone and calls Jake. After yelling at him and calling him ungrateful, he fires him and says he’s reporting him to the police.

  The disaster recovery truck arrives, and my parents show the team into the restaurant.

  There’s nothing I can do here. I pull the car keys from my purse. “Livy, Brian, Genie, time to go home. Julia, you need a ride?”

  Julia hesitates and glances at the kitchen door.