by Tif Marcelo
“But tomorrow’s Sunday.” Pearl whined, then grumbled, acquiescing. “Is this a family or a business meeting?”
“Both.” Mari was too old for this crap, and now that she was in charge—okay, one-third in charge—she would not be pushed around. It was time to get everyone on the same page, sisters and neighbors alike.
two
Mood: “Respect” by Aretha Franklin
I absolutely refuse to spend my days off like this.” Pearl de la Rosa scowled, pushing down on the plunger of Mari’s French press with the same concentration she put into one of her yoga poses. Wisps of steam billowed from the canister’s spout, the scent of java calming her despite the annoyance that had invaded her body. “We can’t live and breathe work. It’s not healthy. Neither is it sustainable, nor realistic. And worse, we’re here for a meeting but all we’re doing is watching her rant.”
“You know that this has been a problem for a while. I’m tired of the noise. Since Ate Mari’s the one willing to be confrontational, I’m all for it. Anyway, it’s good for us to touch base after yesterday. We can’t lose sync during the business transition.” Jane said, eyeing Pearl with a politician’s gaze, as she always did. Unlike Mari, this older sister had the knack of cutting through her emotions right down to the issue at hand. Hence, the reason Pearl confided in her first.
“I doubt she’ll get a positive response with the way she’s yelling at the poor guy. He can’t get a word in,” Pearl grumbled under her breath, not yet ready to concede, despite her sister’s logic.
She felt sorry for 2402’s owner, currently on Skype with Mari, who was seated at the dining room table in her open-concept apartment. For the last ten minutes, Mari’s was the only voice Pearl had heard. Not surprising, because she was an outright nag. Pearl knew this fact well; usually she took the brunt of it.
She poured coffee into three cups while Jane fetched two creamers from the stainless steel refrigerator: coconut milk for Pearl, a French vanilla creamer for Jane. Mari liked hers as black as her heart.
Jane poured creamer into their cups, picked hers up, and leaned her elbows on the white Carrara marble kitchen island. “I think you’ll be surprised. Our sister can be quite persuasive. I, frankly, am fed up with the bass thumping against my headboard.”
Meanwhile, the volume of Mari’s ranting dialed up from two to six, the pitch rising to soprano level. The man on the screen was fuzzy from Pearl’s view, but she bet he was wishing for someone to save him.
“By ‘persuasive’ you must mean ‘bossy,’ ” Pearl said, rolling her eyes, impatience burning at her chest. Mari always took over the conversation. She took over anything and everything.
Their parents had encouraged that kind of role playing. They’d perpetuated birth-order theories that Mari should take the lead, and Pearl, as the youngest, must follow. But being on this end of the equation was like getting the short end of the stick, the last slice of pie people left behind to make themselves feel better. Growing up, she’d gotten all the hand-me-downs. She’d tagged along to her sisters’ activities, from dance recitals to Tae Kwon Do practices and band concerts. Whether she was twenty-five, fifteen, or five, Pearl’s requests had been treated like a child’s pull of a mother’s arm: something to placate, a nuisance.
Through it all, Pearl had kept her mouth shut. She’d known her place in this family. As the youngest, she was doted upon, and she also had the most wiggle room. With less parental pressure, she got away with things her sisters hadn’t. She wasn’t under as much academic pressure. She partied. And despite the crises that befell every family—with an especially memorable one between her and Mari, aka the Saul incident—she had been spoiled, anyway.
But since their parents’ retirement, something new had come over Pearl: a feeling of empowerment.
Her parents awarding the sisters equal ownership meant that they had intended for Pearl to step up, to stand up for herself as a businesswoman, finally, in a tangible way that no one could protest. If they’d wanted Mari to be the boss, they’d have given her a bigger share.
So: Game. On.
Pearl had decided to ask for a high-profile client at this meeting. Her pitch had been honed; she’d practiced answering the hard questions. She’d demand the much-needed promotion that she’d been hinting at for months, from social media manager and day-of event coordinator to full-time wedding planner. Or else.
Instead, they were listening to Mari berate 2402’s owner. Sure, once, Pearl had stepped on vomit at their own front door. Another time, one of 2402’s guests had streaked through Duchess Street. Residents turned over twice a week, sometimes three times. Not quite the Old Town vibe. But Mari herself had done her share of partying, some putting 2402’s to shame, and yet here she was, acting righteous and unforgiving.
With annoyance now bursting from her, Pearl was going to stop this madness so they could get their meeting started.
Pearl circled the island and approached her sister from the right side. Now closer, the outline of the man on the screen focused, and uh-oh, he had a huge placating grin on his face.
No wonder her sister was pissed.
Mari was rattling off demands. “I’m asking you to put a no-party clause on your rental agreement. The HOA has specific quiet hours in our residential area. We live in a historic district, Mr. Quaid. Beyond that, we’re a home of professionals that need our sleep. We need to feel comfortable in our own home.”
Pearl inched forward to get into the camera’s view, and once she detected her shadow in the box on the top right corner of the screen, she raised a hand and waved. Mari flashed her a look, the kind that said that she’d do all the talking. But, oh, it was a dare. Pearl pulled up a chair next to Mari and purposely willed a relaxed voice. “Hi, I’m Pearl. I’m Mari’s sister and also a resident of 2404 Duchess Street.”
“Hello, Pearl. I’m Reid.” Humor played across his face. The man was handsome, clean-shaven, and wearing an open-collar oxford shirt. He had wrinkles around his eyes, his expression sincere. Behind him were the gray walls of what looked like a home office. “I apologize for the inconvenience my guests have caused you.”
“It’s not all your guests. We just don’t want the behavior to escalate.”
The man smiled. “Point noted. As I told your sister, um . . .” His gaze cut to Mari.
Mari’s face clamped down into a frown, no doubt perturbed that Pearl had interrupted her speech and now had gone Benedict Arnold by having a decent conversation with the man. “Ms. de la Rosa.”
It took all of Pearl’s patience for her not to roll her eyes.
“As I told Ms. de la Rosa, I was unaware of all the commotion. I’ll look at our rental process ASAP. I don’t want to upset the Old Town crowd. Or any one of you ladies.”
“Thanks, Reid. That’s good of you,” Pearl said brightly, turning to her sister. “Right, Ate Mari?”
Mari ignored Pearl, shifting away slightly. “Mr. Quaid. I hope this is the last time we have to see one another.”
“The feeling is mutual.” He pressed his lips down into a tight smile. “But, Pearl”—he turned to her on the screen—“I wish you a wonderful morning.”
Mari harrumphed at the man’s jab. After she shut down the chat, she glared at Pearl, a lecture surely at the tip of her tongue.
Great. Wonderful was going to be stretching it.
“You know she hates to be talked over or corrected.” Pearl’s best friend, Kayla Young, said before she sipped her vodka raspberry mojito. A mischievous grin played across her mauve-stained lips. “Remember the time we were in the sixth grade and you helped her with her algebra homework and she lost her mind?”
“Yeah, I do.” Pearl matched Kayla’s smirk and licked her lips, relishing the citrus and salt of her Salty Dog. She leaned back and relaxed into the plush seating of the Coronation, a recently remodeled Euro-Asian fusion restaurant she was scoping out for Jane. Jane’s top wedding client wanted a local DC “blazer-and-jeans with a hint of bling,” as desc
ribed by the client herself, venue for their reception, and so far, this place was spot-on. The restaurant had filled considerably in the last ten minutes, though it could have accommodated another hundred people. The vibe was upscale but accessible, the space furnished with black tufted leather seats, floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over CityCenterDC, crystal chandeliers, painted cement floors, and hand-scratched tables. But she digressed. “I was sorry about it, but not sorry. I love my sister but—”
Kayla held up a hand; thin rose gold bangles jingled at her wrist, a rich contrast to her dark brown skin. “Please, I’m not judging. No need for caveats. You remember I have a twin, right? Who I love dearly but has crashed with me ‘temporarily’ and is already cramping my style? You’d think that he would have let up by now since we’ve lived apart, but nope. Trenton is all in my business about having a boyfriend. He sat Calvin down to, and I quote, ‘get to know him better.’ I am too old for this.” She scrunched her nose. “By the way, I hope you don’t mind I invited T to crash girls’ night. My call schedule has been bananas, and in my lack of sleep I totally forgot to text you to make sure. This pediatric residency is kicking my ass.”
“No, I don’t mind at all!” Pearl’s answer came out louder than she’d intended. She lowered her voice despite her racing heart. “I mean, it’ll be good to catch up.”
Pearl shifted in her chair. Crap, was she sweating? At the mention of Trenton, she was catapulted back in time, her squabble with Mari all but forgotten.
The Youngs and the de la Rosas were thick as thieves; she’d known Trenton and Kayla since kindergarten. Pearl’s mother and Mrs. Young had bonded at the Filipino-American club in Alexandria, and when they’d found they lived within walking distance of each other with kids the same age, the bond was soldered. Together, the mothers had dragged the American-born Filipino de la Rosa girls and biracial Black-Filipino Young twins to Fil-Am cultural events with the intention of educating them on their Filipino roots.
There had been a period of time in middle school when Pearl had thought Trenton was “gross,” but ninth grade did something, turned him into her Prince Charming and childhood crush. Tall, dark, and handsome. A gentleman. Beautiful to watch on the lacrosse field. The right guy to study with because he’d been as serious as a heart attack when it came to school.
Pearl hadn’t seen much of Trenton since he left for the Army seven years ago. Scratch that—she’d seen pictures, of course. They were friends on several social media platforms. She’d kept up with where he’d moved and deployed. Kayla had relayed all the necessary gossip. But tonight, right now, any second would be their first face-to-face since high school.
“Speak of the devil.” Kayla broke through Pearl’s train of thought with an impatient sigh at the end of her sentence.
And when Pearl spotted Trenton in the crowd, her heart did something she had yet to accomplish at yoga: sirsasana. It flipped upside down, on its head.
Dressed in a light blue button-down and slim-fit jeans and leading with an infectious smile, Trenton screamed born and bred in DC, like he’d never left. “Sis.” He leaned down and kissed Kayla on the cheek. Then, he turned to Pearl. “And my sister from another mister.”
By God, he was going to kiss her, too. She stiffened at first, but relaxed as she took in his scent of laundry detergent and body wash, of what was undeniably him: unpretentious, silly Trenton.
You’re a grown-up. He called you his sister from another mister. If ever there was a shove to the friend zone, that was it.
“It’s so good to see you! What’s up? How are you?” Pearl recovered and took a sip of her drink to ease her parched throat. She waved their server over. She was going to need another drink. In a taller glass. With more alcohol.
“Nothing much.” He shrugged, nudging his sister. Kayla sighed dramatically and shifted to make room in the booth. He sat across from Pearl. “Old-fashioned, please,” he said when their server was at their table.
Of course an old-fashioned. Because he was exactly that: classic, chill, steady. Unlike Pearl’s brain that was ping-ponging with questions about his life. Like, did he currently have a girlfriend?
“I’ll take another mojito,” Kayla chimed in.
“Surprise me with something festive and sweet,” Pearl cooed when her turn came. Part of picking a venue was ensuring that the establishment’s bartenders could deliver a variety of crowd-pleasing cocktails. Not forgetting about Trenton, she narrowed her eyes in jest at him when the waitress left. “Um, seven years isn’t nothing.”
“You’re right. But it’s all boring stuff.” He waved the question away, as if two deployments, three moves, a full marathon, getting out of the Army, and finding a government job just like that was nothing.
Not like she was keeping track.
Not really.
Pearl’s cheeks burned.
“I wanna hear about you, Pearly-Pearl. I hear you’re moving up in the world,” he said.
Pearl dipped into the last bit of her drink, keeping her grin at bay at the nickname he’d given her in grade school. But two could play at that game. “Nothing new, Triple-Threat Trent. Still just planning the small weddings. Still the day-of coordinator. Still the social media director.”
“You did not just call me that.”
“What? You’re no longer about love, lacrosse, and the ladies?” Pearl lowered her voice to imitate his freshman year declaration that always made Kayla cackle. Which she did now.
“All right, all right. I see you both still like to pick on me.”
Pearl shrugged.
“But seriously, I hear you’re part owner of Rings and Roses now.”
“Thirty-three and a third percent.” She lifted her chin proudly.
Kayla palmed the space in front of them. “Yes, and our Pearl wants a top.”
Trenton’s eyebrow shot up nearly to his hairline. “Top?”
“Also known as a top client,” Pearl explained. “An elite and all-encompassing client. My current ones only need me for day-of celebration services. I want a client I can follow from start to finish. I want to be right there for every decision. A client with a budget to match the attitude—sky-high.” She raised her hand and Kayla slapped it from across the table.
“You tell it, P,” Kayla cheered.
“I’m ready for it.”
“Yes, you are.”
Trenton assessed this back and forth. “So what’s the problem?”
The round of drinks arrived at the table, interrupting the chatter.
“That was quick!” Pearl mused, impressed.
“We had a couple of free hands at the bar.” The server set a drink in front of Pearl. “A Jack Rose. It’s made of applejack, lime juice, and grenadine.”
“Thank you,” Pearl said. And just in time, because she was going to need the reinforcement to verbalize what she’d kept from her sisters today. After Mari’s conversation with Reid Quaid, and with little time for the rest of the meeting, the business portion was rushed. Pearl had chickened out.
She took a grateful sip, letting the liquid courage flow over her taste buds. The drink was yum—the final passed test for the Coronation as an official reception contender. “My sisters don’t think I’m up to it. And I . . . I think that if they don’t give me the chance, I might ask them to buy me out. So I can start my own business.”
“Oh. My. God.” Kayla choked on her drink. “Are you serious? You’re willing to leave Rings and Roses?”
Pearl straightened her back, though she felt shaky at her sudden burst of honesty. “I don’t know. I think so? I want more, you guys. To be autonomous is the dream, and if I can’t have it with my sisters . . . Anyway, I think I deserve it, and I have to be ready to hold my ground whenever I bring it up. The worst-case scenario would be for me to leave. You all know Mari and how stubborn she can be.”
“When are you going to tell them?”
She swallowed her fear. “Soon.”
While Kayla stared at her with a dumb
founded expression, Trenton responded with a wicked grin, bigger than she’d ever seen. His warm brown eyes reflected back understanding. He raised his drink. “To more, and not being afraid to ask for it.”
Kayla followed suit. Pearl touched her glass to the others’ glasses, this time with bravado. “To more.”
At night’s end, Pearl helped Trenton coax a drunk Kayla out of the Uber and into the Youngs’ town house. Pearl tucked her friend under her white goose down comforter, tempted to jump in with her like they had when they were kids. For a moment she wanted to be back in the comfort of that childhood bubble, of knowing that other people would take care of your needs.
But she was a grown-up now. It was time for her to step out of that bubble fully, even if it was going to be challenging and messy.
Pearl snuck out of Kayla’s room and picked up her purse from the couch. Now in a space exponentially brighter than the Coronation, the truth of what she’d revealed rang clear in her brain.
Holy crap, she’d admitted out loud she was willing to leave the family business. She’d given voice to a thought that had been festering inside her since she graduated from college five years ago.
Was she the kind of person who’d abandon the family legacy for her own success?
Was she that selfish?
Was it right?
Panic rose inside her. A squeak of a voice left her body. “I’m gonna go.”
“You sure? I’m making coffee.” Trenton’s voice drifted from the kitchen. The bones of the Youngs’ house hadn’t changed much in two-plus decades. Mr. and Mrs. Young had preferred a closed floor plan and parquet flooring throughout, but after they’d retired closer to Virginia Beach, Kayla had changed out the superficial necessities like carpet, furniture, and lighting when she took on housemates. She’d stripped away the chintz wallpaper and repainted in light gray.
“I can’t drink coffee this late,” Pearl replied, slipping on her low boots at the front door.
