Binky smiled, looking more like her usual self. “Thank you, guys. I didn’t realize when I hired Amigas Inc. that you would be translators, party-planners, cultural guides, dance teachers, and therapists all rolled up into one.”
“We’ve got to be,” Alicia said as the girls stood up and began to walk back into the offices. “Everyone looks at the pictures and thinks a quinceañera is dressing up like a princess and all the fabulosity. But just the fact of presenting yourself to your family and friends as a young woman tends to stir things up emotionally.”
“Trust us,” Carmen added with a mischievous grin, “Lici nearly lost her mind on our first quince.”
“And she wasn’t even the birthday girl!” Jamie said.
“No me digas,” Binky said, pushing Alicia playfully.
“O-o-o-o-o, nice interjection of español,” Alicia said. “I’m impressed.”
“Well, I’ve learned a thing or dos o tres, hanging out with you chicas,” Binky said saucily, putting her hand on her hip in a Jamie-like stance.
“Okay, okay, enough mocking,” Jamie said. “Should I go get Tilda?”
“Sure,” Binky agreed. “But fíjate, I was serious before. Those cafeteria white plates aren’t going to cut it.”
Alicia laughed. “We’ll look into the Kate Spade. But we’re going to have to talk to your dad, because that’ll definitely throw us off budget. I’ll set up a meeting.”
She whipped out her cell phone and secured a five-minute appointment from Mr. Mortimer’s secretary.
They were in the hallway of the caterer’s office when Jamie pulled Alicia aside.
“Hey, would it be okay if I did the meeting with Mr. Mortimer? Dinner at the country club was a bit of a disaster, and I feel like I owe him an apology.”
Alicia frowned. “Disaster? I don’t even want to know,” she said. “Go ahead and take the meeting. But can you promise me to keep that Jamie-from-the-Bronx temper in check? This is our biggest account ever; I don’t want to mess it up.”
Jamie nodded. This was something she knew…all too well.
Mr. Mortimer’s office building was all glass and polished steel. Jamie found herself surprised to be directed to an ordinary bank of elevators. She almost expected a space pod to whisk her up to the thirty-first floor.
Walking into Mr. Mortimer’s office, she could tell he was surprised to see her and not Alicia.
He rose from behind his desk. “Miss Sosa,” he said, addressing her as if she were a grown-up, there for a typical business meeting. “I was expecting your colleague, Miss Cruz. Please have a seat.”
He directed her to a seating area in which she instantly recognized the expensive black leather Mies van der Rohe club chairs. And the sofa on the edge of which he perched retailed for five grand.
“I wanted to take this meeting because I felt I owed you an in-person apology,” Jamie said. “My behavior at the club was out of line. It was not a reflection of the opinions of Amigas Inc. or of my feelings for your son.”
Mr. Mortimer was silent for a moment. “I must admit I was taken aback by your choice of outfit that night,” he finally said. “I can’t imagine what would have led you to believe that it would be appropriate to dress so casually, more casually than I’ve ever seen you, at our club.”
Jamie could feel her face getting hot. While she wanted to put the blame on his wife, she knew she couldn’t. She had to own up to her bad behavior.
“I know. And as I said, I’m sorry. It was disrespectful,” Jamie said. “But it wasn’t what I meant.”
Mr. Mortimer turned and went to stand looking out the window over the Miami skyline. He motioned for her to come and stand next to him. She was fairly certain she’d never seen the city from a vantage point like this. It was spectacular. They stared out, silently pondering.
“I learned a lot from Bianca’s mother. It was she who introduced me to Miami and its Latin community,” Mr. Mortimer eventually said. “Just as it’s a tremendous asset to be bilingual, it’s a valuable thing to be bicultural. If you can be just as much at home at a place like the West Side Country Club as you can on Calle Ocho, then you’ll have twice as many doors open to you. Do you understand?”
“I think so,” she said, hesitantly.
“Yes, the idea of a dress code is a little staid,” Mr. Mortimer continued. “But as I’m always telling Bev, it’s just clothes. And now I will tell you, it’s just a club. And there are rules, but they don’t mean you have to change. You just have to bend.”
He walked back over to his desk and sat down. “Now, what did Amigas Inc. need?” he asked.
“We wanted to get your budget approval,” Jamie said when she found her voice. “Binky would like Kate Spade plates instead of the white plates the caterer provides.”
“And how much will that set me back?”
Jamie handed him the estimate.
“That’s reasonable,” he said after briefly examining it.
“There is just one more thing,” she said.
Mr. Mortimer glanced at his watch. “Only if you can be quick. I’ve got a six p.m.”
“I’d like to create something special for Binky’s birthday and could use your help.”
He looked at her quizzically, and she quickly told him her idea and what she would need. When she had finished, he made a few phone calls and sent a few e-mails.
“Done,” he said, finally.
“I think she’ll really like it,” she said.
“I’m sure she will,” he said. “Thank you for being so thoughtful as to give Binky such an incredible gift.”
Jamie was surprised at his enthusiasm. Nothing, however, could have prepared her for his walking out from behind his desk and embracing her—in a giant, Binky-style hug.
THE WEST SIDE Country Club felt like a totally different place to Jamie when she arrived that sunny Sunday afternoon. There must have been a hundred kids running around the course with little golf clubs in one hand and cans of golf balls in the other.
For the past two years, Dash had hosted something called the Luz Invitational, where he invited underprivileged kids from all over the city to come to the club. “It’s the best day of the year for me,” he had told Jamie. “Seeing all those kids running around, laughing and playing and falling in love with golf. It’s like Christmas to me. I would love for you to come and see it for yourself. It would mean a lot to me if you were there.”
When Jamie found Dash, he looked excited, exhausted, and slightly overwhelmed, like a combination of Dr. Doolittle and Willy Wonka. He was demonstrating a swing to a little girl with thick Coke-bottle glasses as a little boy tried to climb up his back. When he bent down to clean up the divot the little girl had created, two other little boys—on a dare—tickled him, while a third grabbed his cap and took off running.
Jamie watched the scene, amused, until Dash spotted her. Freeing himself and running over, he gave her a quick kiss. “I’m so glad you’re here. Listen, I’ve got to do another demo in five, but I’ll see you at lunch. Okay, querida?”
“No problem,” Jamie said, stealing another kiss. “I can keep myself busy. Where’s your sister? I brought the seating charts to go over with her.”
“Of course, a party-planner’s work is never done.” Dash pointed to the pro shop. “Last time I saw her, she was over there, giving out fashion advice.”
Saying good-bye, Jamie walked over to the pro shop, where Binky was indeed involved in a fashion undertaking. She was surrounded by a dozen hyperactive-looking girls who looked to be between ten and twelve years old.
“Okay, girls, listen up!” Binky cried, clapping her hands and trying to restore order. “I will buy each of you one outfit. Let me define outfit. It’s a top, bottom, hat, socks, and shoes.”
The girls squealed in delight.
“Or, option number two: dress, cardigan, hat, socks, and shoes. Five pieces. Your choice. But don’t be greedy. You cannot take five pairs of sneakers and sell four of them on eBay.”
The girls n
odded.
“And there’s a twist. You’ve got exactly five minutes to pick what you want and get it to the register,” Binky said. “By my clock. On your marks, get ready, set, go!”
The girls took off in all directions. Within seconds, the tiny shop looked as if it had been hit by a cyclone.
A tall girl with long hair, an athletic build, and an armload of clothes headed for the dressing room. “You don’t have time to try on clothes!” Binky cried.
“But I want to make sure it fits,” the girl said shyly.
Binky sighed. “You can always exchange it later. To the register! To the register! You’ve only got two minutes left.”
The girl ran to exchange the shirt, then ran faster when Binky called out, “Sixty seconds…Thirty seconds…Ten seconds. Okay, you’re done.”
Binky handed her credit card to the saleswoman, and one by one, each girl was handed a kelly green shopping bag with the club’s logo printed on it in white.
Jamie was frowning as she watched the antics, but she didn’t know why. She loved free clothes as much as the next girl, but something about Binky’s gambit didn’t sit right with her.
“Did you see that?” Binky asked when Jamie joined her. “I just did three thousand dollars’ worth of good.”
Jamie had just figured out what bugged her about the scene. She chose her words carefully. “Did you take time to really connect with any of these girls?”
“They connected with my money, silly. That’s what counts.”
Jamie sighed. “Is that what you think? Really? The tall girl over there. What’s her name? How about the girl with the braids? What does she want to be when she grows up? Six months—no, six days from now—you won’t remember any of them. And while they may remember your money when they put on their fancy kicks or their country-club polo tops, they won’t remember you. You’re a cool girl, Binky. You’ve got a big heart. You should let people get close to you, not just close to your pocketbook. You’re better than that.”
Binky looked stunned for a moment and then said, quietly, “What do you mean by that?”
“Let me show you.”
She went over to the saleswoman, asked a few questions, and then called out to the girls, who were beginning to file out of the store. “Wait a second, chicas, we’re not going back to the golf course yet. We’re having a powwow outside. I want you all to get to know the girl who just gave you such lovely gifts—Binky Mortimer.”
The saleswoman accommodatingly led the group out to the country-club veranda. It was basically a gigantic, luxurious back porch with huge wicker sofas upholstered in bright, tropical fabrics. Low wooden Balinese tables were piled with board games, playing cards, and coffee-table design books. There was also an exquisite view of the country-club lake and the eighteenth hole.
Jamie ordered a couple of pitchers of lemonade, then encouraged the girls to “sit down, get comfy, and chill out.”
Binky took a seat on a sofa next to her. Her hands were clasped tightly on her lap, and she was unusually subdued.
“So, chicas, this is the dealio,” Jamie began. “Let’s get to know each other. Why don’t we go around the room and answer two questions: where do you go to school? And…what’s the name of your crush?”
The girls giggled and blushed.
Jamie pointed to a girl with long, Leona Lewis–style curly hair. “How about you first?”
“My name’s Thandie,” the girl said shyly. “I go to West Park Elementary. And I have a crush on a boy named Peter.”
Jamie clapped, and the other girls joined in.
“Peter, huh?” Jamie said. “Love it! Good luck with that!”
The tall girl, who’d wanted to try on her outfit, was next. She said, “My name’s Lesley-Ann. I go to Opa Locka Middle School, and I have a crush on a boy named Seth.”
The girls all clapped and said, almost in unison, “Seth! Good luck with that.” They continued around the veranda, revealing their schools and their crushes. One girl bravely admitted to having a crush on another girl, named Penelope.
Then it was Binky’s turn.
“Me?” she asked Jamie.
Jamie squeezed her shoulder. “Yep, your turn.”
“My name’s Bink—” Binky began. “My name’s Bianca. I go to Everglades Academy, and I’m crushing on a boy named Tino.”
The girls all clapped. “Tino!” they cried in unison. “Good luck with that.”
Binky laughed and poked Jamie in the ribs. “Okay, smarty-pants. Your turn.”
Jamie began to speak, unaware that Dash had come out onto the veranda and was now standing behind her.
“My name is Jamie,” she said. “I go to C. G. High, and I have a crush on a boy named Dash.”
She almost jumped out of her seat when she heard said crush say, “Good luck with that.”
As everyone else giggled, he leaned down to kiss her cheek. This prompted the younger girls to start singing, “Dash and Jamie sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S…”
He held up a hand and they quieted down. “Okay, okay, we know how that song goes. I actually came over to tell you all that lunch is being served.”
As the girls stood up to leave, each of them came over and gave Jamie and Binky hugs.
When Lesley-Ann approached, Binky gave her an extralong hug. “I apologize for rushing you in the store before,” she said sincerely. “Come find me after lunch; we’ll make sure you get the size you need.”
Dash squeezed Jamie’s shoulder. “Looks like you and Binky made some new friends.”
“Actually, it’s ‘Bianca,’” his sister said, turning to look at him. “That’s my name, after all.”
Dash nodded. “Bianca, huh? I’m going to have to get used to that.”
She smiled. “I think you can manage. You’re a pretty smart guy. Mind if I keep your girlfriend for a second more?”
“We’ll meet you in the dining room,” Jamie said.
“No shopping detours,” Dash warned, racing off to catch up with the other girls, who were headed toward the dining room.
Binky and Jamie walked down the veranda steps. “Thanks for this,” Binky said finally.
Jamie shrugged. “No biggie.”
“It was a biggie. You know everybody always wants Dash to give speeches about his golf career, his life on and off the green. I never thought that anybody would want to hear me talk. Or that I had anything much to offer, besides money.”
Jamie looked at Binky and realized how fragile she really was. Something clicked. She knew that feeling well. It reminded her of being at boarding school. After all this time of thinking they were so different, she and Binky were, well, alike.
“Well, now, you can see how wrong you are,” Jamie said gently. “Let people get to know you, Bianca. They won’t be disappointed.”
“I think the same could be said of you, Jamie from the Bronx,” she said. “You weren’t exactly warm and fuzzy when we first met, chica. My dad always says that we teach what we need to learn. So, you know, I’m here, if you ever want to talk.”
“Point taken,” Jamie said. “And thanks.”
“Now, I’d better get you to lunch before my brother kills me,” Binky said.
“What? No Binky bear hug?” Jamie asked.
Binky threw her arms around the other girl. “You mean, Bianca bear hug.”
“Right,” Jamie said, laughing. “You know it’s going to take us all a minute to get used to calling you by your real name.”
The girl looked down at her name tag, which still said binky in large block letters. “I could start by changing this,” she said sheepishly.
“Excellent idea,” Jamie said. Then, hooking elbows, she and Binky took off toward the country-club dining room.
LATER THAT NIGHT, Jamie was editing a video on her laptop in the studio when Dash called.
“Hey, what are you doing?” he asked.
“Depends.” Jamie asked “What are you doing?”
She loved the way that even the most ba
sic conversations had romantic overtones when you were falling in love with someone. It had taken this relationship with Dash to make Jamie understand the meaning of the term sweet nothings. She could’ve talked to Dash about the weather, the size and shape of the Venetian blinds in her studio, the number of stitches in his golf shoes—and she would have been perfectly happy and entertained.
“I’m talking to my girlfriend,” he teased. “Listen, I’ve got a big game coming up, and I was hoping you could come.”
“I think I can do that,” Jamie said. “When is it?”
“This Friday,” Dash answered. “The twenty-sixth.”
Jamie’s pulse quickened. Friday was the day after Thanksgiving, so there was no school. But it was also the day before Binky’s quince, officially known among the members of Amigas Inc. as Quince Eve. And while on Christmas Eve you generally spent a quiet evening at home with your family, wrapping presents, eating yummy food, and anticipating the big day, things were different on Quince Eve, which meant running around putting out fires and, more often than not, dealing with a late night full of last-minute details. Alicia and Carmen would kill her if she skipped any of it. Maybe if she promised to pull an all-nighter…
“I’ll be there.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. How long could a golf game last, anyway? She’d be away from her Amigas duties for four hours, tops.
“Awesome,” he went on. “I leave for Palm Beach Thursday, but my father and Binky are coming up for the day. I was hoping you’d come up with them.”
“Palm Beach, wow. That’s far away,” Jamie said. “For some reason I thought it would be a nearby thing. I kinda was supposed to work.”
“Totally; I get it. Work trumps cheering your boyfriend on. Your poor, sad, lonely boyfriend, who might just blow the biggest game of his life, because he will be missing you…”
Jamie caved.
“I’m so coming with you,” she said, beaming into the phone.
“That’s more like it. And to thank you, we’ll have dinner at the Breakers afterwards,” Dash said. “Hopefully, it’ll be a victory dinner.”
The next day, Jamie dashed into Bongos for a meeting with Carmen and Alicia. She had called them and told them that they had to talk, but not told them why. She’d dressed for the event in a Lilly Pulitzer dress with a pair of fishnet tights and hot pink combat boots.
She's Got Game Page 12
