Taming Romeo

by Rachelle Ayala

  I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll make it back to my room when the doorbell Big Ben’s again. “Romeo, Romeo, why art thou doing this?”

  I pretend to be exasperated, but I’m tickled and can’t wait to see what new surprise he springs. I yank the door open without speaking in the intercom.

  It’s… It’s Clicky Boy?

  I start to close the door, but he sticks his hand in. “Hear me out. I have great news for you.”

  “Romeo’s not here.”

  “I know.” He lowers his brows and wiggles them. “May I come in?”

  “No, you may not.” I speak too late. He’s already shouldered his way in, and he’s carrying a briefcase.

  “This won’t take long.” He studies the wooden fork and spoon decoration near the entry. “Why do you have a giant fork and spoon on the wall?”

  Dweeb.

  “Because we like to eat,” I raise my hands, claw-like, “people like you.”

  “Very funny.” He tilts his head and scratches his chin. “I do believe you have potential.”

  “Okay, what do you want?”

  “Mind if we take a seat in your living room? You have a DVD player there.” He saunters from the tile floor to the carpet without taking off his shoes.

  “Hope you’re not trying to rob me, Mr. What’s Your Name Again?”

  “Oh, I never introduced myself. Mr. Trieber. Dick Trieber.” He shakes my hand and forgets to let go.

  I extract my hand and feel the urge to disinfect it. “Dick? Are you serious? I didn’t know guys went by that nickname anymore.”

  “I’m British. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He picks up the remote and turns on the TV and DVD player, then inserts the DVD.

  “What are we looking at?”

  “You.”

  Sure enough, a clip of me strutting up the snake path in front of the UC San Diego library comes into view. They always say the camera adds twenty-five pounds, but I actually don’t look too bad, if I may say so myself.

  “Here’s a close up shot,” Clicky Dick says. “See how the sun is kissing you?”

  “Well, yes, those were the directions you gave me.” I well remember his instructions to imagine myself having an orgasm in the sun.

  “So, now that you see your potential, I’m here to offer you another role in Romeo’s movie.” He drops the remote and rummages through his briefcase.

  “Wait, you owe me fifty dollars, and to tell the truth, I’m not interested in another fifty dollars to spend hours sweating in the sun.”

  Tricky Dick grins slimily and opens a folder. “This is going to be in studio. My producer has agreed to offer you five thousand dollars for both the snake scene I just showed you and a makeout scene with Romeo on a motorcycle.”

  He slides the contract to me.

  “I’m not going to be nude, am I?” For five grand, they must be getting something out of me.

  “No frontal nudity, but you’re going to be topless, wearing a short moto-jacket, unzipped.” Dicky Boy pulls a cigar from his suit pocket and sticks it in his mouth. “Romeo will, of course, get a great view of your assets, but I’m sure he’s seen them before.”

  “Why, you presumptuous…” son of a…

  “Mind if I smoke?” He lights the cigar before I can get a word in. “Five thousand dollars for a few hours of work.”

  I wrinkle my nose at the pungent, sweetish smell reminding me of a musty basement. Pah. But I sure could use five thousand dollars.

  “You mentioned motorcycles. Is it dangerous? Is that why you’re paying so much?” Picking up a magazine, I fan myself.

  He grabs a glass restaurant candle and flicks his ashes in it. “No danger. It’s a simulated motorcycle in the studio. Of course we’ll run the fans to blow your hair and the machine will vibrate and jiggle so it looks like you’re really riding hard.”

  He snickers as if he’s made a funny joke.

  On second thought, I might just be riding Romeo in a porn movie.

  “Wait. Is this a sex tape?”

  “Do you want it to be?” He smirks and takes another drag on the stogie.

  “Of course not! I’m a respectable medical student.”

  He flicks more ash into my mother’s candle holder. “It’s not a sex tape. Filipino audiences are too conservative for that. You’ll be wearing a leather miniskirt and straddling him while he rides the simulator.”

  I swallow hot, melted drool. I’ll get paid to ride Romeo?

  Dick Trieber waves the smoking cigar around. “Bumping, and grinding, and tongue jockeying. There’ll be a few lines, about how hot he gets you, how you can’t wait to get back to his place, and then he unzips his pants and well, if you’re not wearing panties, you might have a close encounter. But this would be off camera. We don’t do X- or even R-rated films.”

  My body is already flushing hot thinking about doing Romeo on a motorcycle.

  “How many hours time commitment?” I rein in my lust and curb my nasty imagination.

  “Depends on how many takes we shoot. I have a feeling it’ll be worth your while. The simulator even does road bumps and motor vibrations.” His eyebrows do the caterpillar dance. “Do we have a deal?”

  “Yes, sure. When?”

  “Next week sometime. I’ll call you. Sign here, here, and here.” He stubs the cigar in the restaurant candle holder and hands me a pen.

  Chapter 21

  Papa drives back to pick me up for the evening shift. I’ve already sprayed air freshener and aired out the house, but a faint trace of tobacco remains. My father doesn’t seem to notice.

  He takes my handbag and his eyes linger on me. “The dress suits you well. You have the most beautiful skin tone.”

  Praise from my father is rare, unless it has to do with academics. I raise my eyebrows and peek behind him, wondering if my mother’s in the vicinity.

  “Thank you.” I’m suddenly shy. I’ve always had a warm, golden tan, whether I go in the sun or not.

  “There’s a reason I keep you hidden in a plain black shirt.” He winks.

  I’m sure my cheeks are rosy from the heat. He’s flattering me. This can’t be good. I’m already grounded. What more can he do?

  “How did the movie shoot go? The great reenactment?”

  “It was a lot of fun.” He laughs. “Poor Romeo must have a splitting headache by now. They had to do so many retakes because of all the laughing and giggling. Neither of your sisters could keep a straight face, and Mr. Dee was too much of a ham. They changed the story to have him try and catch the pieces of pork as it went flying.”

  “Must have been a lot to clean up.”

  “Studio paid for it.” He’s still standing in the hallway and hasn’t made a move for the front door.

  “So, should we go now?”

  “Sure, in a little while. Why don’t you take a seat.” He ambles to the living room and waits for me to sit.

  “Is everything okay?” I nervously rub my hands on my dress.

  He clears his throat and tugs his pant legs to sit. Leaning forward he shakes his head. “I can’t blame Romeo for trying. What man wouldn’t want to have you for himself? But, well, let’s just say this will never work.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You and Romeo. It won’t work.” He tightens his lips and stares at me. “It’s a childhood thing you’ve outgrown already. And right now, I see you two caught up in a fantasy.”

  “Honestly, I’m not caught up in anything. I’m taking a mental health break and going back in a few weeks. Can’t I have some fun while I’m here?”

  “Evie, you don’t get it.” His voice turns gruff. “Romeo is serious. He asked my permission to court you.”

  “Court me? What century are we living in?”

  No one takes this seriously. Not these days, but men still ask for a woman’s hand to give honor to her father and allow him to save face. Of course, none of this is binding like it was two centuries ago.

  “I’m glad you th
ink this is a joke,” my father says. “But I’m not giving my blessing. You’ll do whatever you want behind my back, even live with a man. But right now, the most important thing is for you to get your emotions in check and go back to medical school.”

  “And guess what?” I stand, my hands at my side. “I agree. But while I’m here, I would like to go out with him or any other guy.”

  “I’ll think about it.” He stands and walks toward the door. “I don’t want to see Romeo hurt again.”

  Hello? I’m your daughter. What about me? Shouldn’t I get what I want? But then, Romeo’s father died when he was a toddler, and in many ways, my father is the closest father figure in his life, given how intertwined our lives are.

  I’m peeved, but I follow after him and get into the Lexus. “Why did you tell him about Eric?”

  “Romeo needs to know how indecisive you are.” Papa starts the engine.

  “Why are you on his side?”

  My father drives to the gate before turning to me. “Because I was like him once.”

  “Tita Elena?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you guys are all over it, aren’t you?”

  “Sure.” My father takes a deep breath. “But it wasn’t easy. She used me as a crutch, but the day she got what she wanted, she dumped me like an overdue library book.”

  “But isn’t that how you met Mama?”

  “Yes, your mother made me whole again. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me, even if it means putting up with Elena.”

  And her son, I add to myself. Maybe there are deeper reasons Papa doesn’t want me to go out with Romeo. He doesn’t seem too enthusiastic about the Genie project either, putting it down as my mother and Tita Elena’s silly notion. As much as my mother and Elena want to be in-laws, I can see my dad dreading it more.

  We drive down the freeway toward downtown in silence. Traffic is congested tonight because it’s game night. My father curses and slams the brakes a little too hard at each stop light.

  The outline of the stadium is ahead of us. Usually game nights mean brisk business for us, but since we closed the restaurant for the wedding, all of the added traffic is an inconvenience without adding to our profits.

  “Papa?” I tap his arm. “I’m not going to use Romeo.”

  “You can’t help it.” His face is twisted in frustration as a crowd of fans take over the intersection, oblivious to the traffic signals. “He will wait for you to his own detriment.”

  “I think you’re projecting your own experiences on him.” I’m quick to retort. “Romeo hasn’t exactly been a saint. You know he was dating his co-star?”

  Papa taps his chest. “The difference is, you’re in his heart. You think it’s a small matter to go to a girl’s father and tell him your intentions?”

  “No, but you didn’t have to to ruin it by telling him how indecisive I am.”

  “That’s because I want you to leave him alone. You’re going back to Harvard and that Harvard guy.” He nudges the large sedan between the pedestrians to our alleyway.

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Eric dumped me. I’m going back to nothing.” I cross my arms to hold back the anger boiling in me.

  “You want Romeo to fill the nothing. He deserves better.” My father calls Carlos on his cell phone.

  A few seconds later, Carlos emerges from the restaurant and moves the traffic cones from my dad’s parking spot.

  Papa cuts the engine. “Have fun tonight, and don’t play with fire.”

  # # #

  Laughter and loud talking punctuate the lively music bouncing from the overhead speakers. The entire restaurant is full from the small groups in the bangus room to folks drinking and hanging round the patio to the steamy atmosphere in the kare-kare room where people are seated two-to-three deep around the tables.

  Waitresses weave around with stacks of food, replenishing the tables while busboys remove dirty dishes. Three bartenders I’ve never met man the bars, and I recognize many of the wedding guests mingling with the film crowd and other strangers.

  “Elena’s here,” Mama says as soon as we step into the kare-kare room.

  Papa sweeps her into his arms and kisses her squarely on the lips. “I was just telling Evie about how sick I am of Elena. Now, where’s her boy?”

  I don’t have to look to find Romeo. He sees us and is already making his way over. He has a gauze pad taped to his forehead and a wide, eager grin on his face. His stretchy black tee hugs his tight muscles and he swaggers toward us, wearing jeans over cowboy boots. He still has stage makeup on, so his eyes are rimmed with black and his face is rosier than usual.

  He stops just short of me and takes a bow, then extends his hand. “May I have the pleasure of escorting this princess tonight?”

  My mother pokes my father. “You did give permission, didn’t you? Elena said you would.”

  I’m unable to hold back my smile as my father turns red, shakes his jowls and clamps his arm around my mother. “They’ll do what they want. This permission crap is all her idea.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Romeo says, still feasting his eyes on me. “You are more than beautiful. Shall we dance?”

  “Dance? I haven’t eaten yet.” I cast around to catch a waitress, but all of the food looks well picked over. The buffet table has the remains of nine whole roasted pigs, and I doubt anyone has left any vegan dishes for me.

  Romeo leads me to one of the larger tables where his crew is sitting.

  Dick points his unlit cigar at me. “Our newest co-star, Evangeline Sánchez. I signed her this afternoon for the motorcycle scene.”

  Everyone whoops and cheers, some raising eyebrows and others standing up and wiggling their hips. “Good job, Dick.”

  They appear to be well past the point of inebriation.

  Romeo pulls a seat for me and waves to one of the temporary waitresses. “A plate of garlic eggplant, tofu, and kangkong with steamed rice and a mai tai with an orchid on top.

  He knows me so well. Introductions are made and Dick mentions that Doris was fired today after the last scene because she kept smashing Romeo well after cut was yelled.

  “I expect combat pay for that.” Romeo touches his gauze pad. “I think I’m suffering amnesia. Who was that again? Doris Had-a-Shit-Day?”

  I spot Romeo’s mother at another table, staring at us with a smitten expression. She waves me over with her fingers.

  “Gotta greet your mother.” I tap Romeo to let me through.

  “Don’t be too long. I get the first dance.” He kisses me on the lips, his tongue giving mine a swirl.

  I’m not sure about all the public displays in front of my parents, but I make my way to his mother’s side.

  After she gives me the mano-po blessing, she touches my pale green silk dress. “You look gorgeous. I’m so glad you didn’t wear bright red, or yellow, or some other tacky color.”

  “Thanks.” I pull up a folding chair and clasp her hands. “How are you feeling? I’m glad to see you up.”

  “I’m doing great.” She leans forward. “I let them say they called off the wedding because of me, but the truth is, Steve got cold feet and drove to Mexico with some friends to go fishing.”

  “Oh, no. How’s Julia taking it?”

  “Not well, but we couldn’t waste the food and the cake, so we’re having a party to celebrate Romeo’s acting success. He’s been nervously waiting for your appearance all day.”

  “I had to keep up with my studies if I hope to go back to school.”

  “Yes, your father mentioned it. When are you going back?”

  “Probably after the 4th of July. I have directed studies with the professor who failed me, and then I have to make up the final exam.”

  “Romeo’s supposed to leave end of June, but he’s talking about staying with me and working at the bakery. I don’t want him to quit his acting.”

  I thought that was her grand plan, but maybe she doesn’t want him to think she’s manipul
ating him.

  “He’s concerned about you,” I say to assuage her feelings.

  “I’ll be fine. I’ve been on my own longer than with anyone. It’s good to be independent. To not need another person.” Her gaze seems to pierce through me.

  Is she giving me a message? Perhaps she also wants me to leave Romeo alone. I don’t blame her. I’m nothing but a walking ball of pain infecting anyone I bounce off of.

  “I agree, Tita.” I lean over and kiss her cheek. “You’re strong and I admire you.”

  Her eyes are damp. “You have fun this evening.”

  “Your food is here.” Romeo collects me from his mother and brings me back to his table. My chair has gone missing, so he flips me onto his lap and tucks a napkin over my dress.

  “What am I? Your big baby?” I poke his chest for fun.

  He slides his hand over my belly. “Are you telling me something?”

  Ugh… Why does he have to remind me? I don’t believe I’m overdue yet, but it’s hard to tell since I stopped tracking after the breakup with Eric.

  “You wish, baby.” I kiss his earlobe and give it a nip. “I’m not going to worry until the end of the month.”

  “Good, because I’m going to feed you your veggies.” He spears a piece of tofu and slips it into my mouth.

  “You two are sick.” Choco slaps my back. I cough, and fortunately, the tofu comes flying out.

  “Are you trying to kill me?” I fan my face while Romeo gives me a sip of water.

  “Get a room.” She laughs. “Papa’s turning on the karaoke machine. Who wants to go first?”

  Carlos wheels the setup out with a dolly and flips open the laptop while Danny and some of the other guys plug in the cords and turn on the flat-screen TV.

  “Come on, you lovebirds first,” Choco says, swinging the mic.

  “Not me. I’m not drunk enough.” I push the mic toward Romeo who takes it.

  He leans in and says in my ear, “Listen carefully to the lyrics.”

  “Yay, Romeo’s going first!” Choco yells to be heard.

  I jump off Romeo’s lap. He stands and sticks two fingers in his mouth, making a shrill, ear-piercing whistle.