“I’d be happy to say it for her,” Jamie teased. Then she asked Valeria, “Speaking of which, how was our cowgirl in the saddle?”
“It was just a short ride, and, given the time she had to get used to being back up on a horse, she did pretty well.”
Alicia emphatically shook her head. “You guys have seen how she is at measuring distances! It was a two-hour ride, at least. I could qualify for the Olympics with the amount of time I spent in that saddle.”
Valeria leaned back to whisper to Carmen, “Is she always this dramatic?”
“Oh, yes,” Carmen replied. “Our Lici is quite the actress.”
“Hello, sitting right here!” Alicia protested, trying to shift her sore body into a more comfortable position.
“Valeria did tell you not to wear those skintight fancy jeans while you were horseback riding,” Jamie reminded her friend.
“Hey, not fair,” Alicia muttered. “They’re not skintight. They’re my cowboy jeans.”
“Speaking of cowboys, where’s Gaz?” Carmen asked.
Alicia shifted the ice pack. “Since the restaurant is pretty close to the conference center, he’s going to meet us there.”
“Well, you won’t have to wait much longer,” Valeria said. “We’re here.”
The group—except for Alicia, who was a bit slower and took her time—all scrambled out of the van and headed toward the rather unassuming building with the flashing sign that read: bbq*beer*ribs. home of the hot stuff!
Jamie was the first to get to the restaurant doors. When she opened them, she let out a long, low whistle.
Alicia, who had finally gotten out of the van, looked over. “Is it that bad?” she asked, assuming Jamie’s reaction was to the decor.
But the decor had nothing to do with it. Jamie had been stopped in her tracks by the people. One person in particular. “Just wondering…who is she?”
Alicia followed her friend’s gaze and suddenly understood her reaction. The Castillo family had booked the Hacienda Cafe’s largest table—a long wooden table on a raised platform, covered with a canopy of twinkling lights. And, at one end, Gaz sat, laughing and talking… with a girl whom none of them recognized.
He rose as they approached. “Hi, Valeria, I hope it’s okay if I brought someone. I called your mother and asked for permission, and she said it was fine with her. Saniyah has been such a huge help to me at the conference, I invited her to have dinner with us.”
“Okay by me,” said Valeria. “Nice to meet you, Saniyah.”
If Alicia hadn’t been suffering from a severe sunburn, the sight of Gaz huddled at a table chatting away with some unknown hottie would have made her deathly pale. Summoning up all her self-control, she put on her best game face and went over to greet Saniyah. Alicia was dressed in her best version of southwestern chic—a strapless denim dress, a red bandanna headband, and her red sandals. Unfortunately, that didn’t help the fact that her riding injuries made her hobble over to the table in what could only be called a sad impersonation of Hopalong Cassidy. She straightened and held out a hand. “I’m Alicia,” she said, smiling as she added, “Gaz’s girlfriend.”
It was clear from the tight expression on Saniyah’s face that Gaz had neglected to mention having a girlfriend. Carmen and Jamie exchanged nervous glances.
Unaware of the drama brewing, Valeria’s parents and Alicia’s mom made themselves comfortable at the opposite end of the table from Gaz. Valeria and Jamie took seats on either side of Saniyah. And Carmen, in hopes of being a stabilizing influence, sat between Alicia and Gaz.
To Alicia’s annoyance, after her first reaction, Saniyah didn’t seem to give much thought to Gaz’s relationship status. “Well, it’s really nice to meet all of Gaspar’s friends,” she said, once everyone was seated.
Alicia smiled thinly. “How interesting. It seems you and Gaz have become close. Yet, we know absolutely nothing about you. Enlighten us.”
Before Saniyah could answer, the DJ started playing a song, and she jumped up. “Do you guys know this song? It’s a classic. ‘That’s How We Country Boys Roll.’ Gaspar, wanna dance?”
Gaz shrugged but found himself being dragged onto the dance floor. Alicia stayed where she was—for all of five seconds. There was no way she was letting her man dance with another girl. She got up and started to hobble after them.
“Hey, Alicia,” Carmen called, “if you’re still hurting from your horseback ride, no shame in sitting this one out.”
Alicia turned and glared at her. “I never sit a dance out. Dancing is my thing.”
Valeria had been up talking to her mother. Now she walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. “Chica, I saw the blisters you’re sporting, and I think at the moment, sitting might be your thing.”
Alicia looked over to where Saniyah was teaching Gaz a basic Texas line dance. “Oh, my God, it’s like a country-and-western Macarena.” She rolled her eyes. “I can do a Macarena with my eyes closed, doesn’t matter how sore my feet and butt are.”
Valeria tried to warn her. “It’s actually a little more complicated than it seems…” But Alicia just ignored her.
Carmen shook her head. “It’s no use trying to talk sense into her.”
“Once Lici’s made up her mind, there’s no stopping her,” Jamie said. “Might as well join her, give her moral support. She’s going to need it.”
Back in Miami, discussing their trip, the group had agreed that line dancing had high cornball potential. Saniyah, however, made it look graceful. Therefore, they were unprepared for just how hard it was. They all tried to keep up as she tapped her heels and sashayed this way and that, but the most they could catch was a hip swivel here and a hop there. Still, they were having fun. The group danced their way through Josh Turner, Billy Currington, Alan Jackson, Carrie Underwood, and Tim McGraw.
One by one, though, they each dropped out. Valeria was hungry and wanted to order food. Carmen wanted to text Domingo before dinner started, which reminded Jamie that she wanted to call Dash. Gaz, who had never really gotten the hang of the moves, bowed out, too. Soon, it was a very uneven dance-off between Saniyah and Alicia, who was scooting around like a grandmother on her way to Tuesday-night bingo.
Saniyah looked as though she could have danced all night.
“We call this one the Wild Wild West,” she explained as she began a new step.
“That looks a lot like a merengue to me,” Alicia snapped, trying to add some Latin flavor to it. But she succeeded only in causing herself pain, as her shirt chafed against her sunburned skin.
Carmen and Jamie, having contacted their sweeties, came back and stood on the sidelines cheering their best amiga on. “Go, Lici, go, Lici,” they cried as their friend gave every move her best shot. They exchanged looks when she got distracted. They hated to admit it, but if this had been an official dance contest, Saniyah would have been cruising to first place.
On the next song, Saniyah changed things up again. “This one is so old-school! It’s called the Cowboy Charleston.”
Alicia had welts on her feet, her inner thighs were saddle sore, and her sunburned face, arms, and legs ached even more intensely. All she wanted to do was lie down in a cool bath, then take a three-day nap. But she was beginning to feel as though this were the finale on Dancing with the Stars. She’d come too far to quit. Out of sheer desperation, she began to do the dance that required the least amount of movement—the Robot—which drew a huge whoop from the small crowd that had gathered to watch her and Saniyah work it out on the dance floor.
When the song ended, Alicia was sure there would be no more. That she could finally sit down. But then Billy Ray Cyrus’s “Achy Breaky Heart” came on, and the crowd roared. Alicia seriously considered getting down on the floor and doing an old hip-hop move called the Worm. She figured she could scooch across the floor to the rhythm, and, if nothing else, she’d win points for originality. But just as she got to her knees, she heard her joints crack and she realized that if she got down
, she might not be able to get up.
“Help,” she said in the tiniest of voices. Carmen and Jamie rushed to her side and helped her over to the table.
“You okay there, Achy-Breaky?” Jamie asked when they were safely seated.
“If I ever go on Survivor, I’m taking you,” Carmen said. “You are a girl who doesn’t know the meaning of the word quit.”
Alicia groaned. Looking at the dance floor, where her rival continued to sway, she wished that that were true. But sometimes, even the best of boots were meant for sitting.
A while later, a waiter sporting a felt ten-gallon hat with the words BOSS OF THE PLAINS cross-stitched across the brim, arrived with baskets of warm bread and dipping sauce.
Alicia reached for a piece of jalapeño corn bread as Valeria started to say, “One thing about the corn break…”
Too late. Alicia had popped it in her mouth and started chewing. Her face immediately turned bright red. She downed a glass of water, then knocked back Carmen’s, too.
“First my legs were on fire, now it’s my mouth. Ohhhh,” she moaned, fanning her face.
“I was trying to tell you, the corn bread is really spicy,” Valeria said.
“Are you okay?” Saniyah asked sweetly, sounding as though she meant it—sort of.
“Fine!” Alicia said, straightening up in her chair. “Just fine. But enough about me. What about you? What’s your life story? How’d you meet my Gaz?”
“Not much to tell,” Saniyah said, avoiding taking the bait. “My mother is Persian and grew up in Mexico City. My dad is from Costa Rica, and he went to med school at the University of Mexico. He’s in public health. My mom teaches in the classics department at UT Austin. And I’m a Texas girl, born to sing and play guitar. Just like Gaspar, music is the most important thing in my life. That’s why I’ve promised to show him the ropes while he’s here in Austin.”
“Fascinating,” Alicia said, studying the menu and looking anything but fascinated. She clenched her teeth. “It’s so generous of you to take him under your wing.”
“How about you guys?” Saniyah asked, not letting Alicia’s attitude get to her. “You’re from Miami, right? Gaspar said you’re here to plan Valeria’s quince. How cool is that?”
Valeria smiled shyly. “I’m really grateful to have them here.”
The tension was still high when the waiter came by to take their order. Up on the stage, the house band, Agua Caliente, was getting ready. To distract everyone from the awkward dynamic at the table while they waited for their food, Jamie started babbling away about the customization details of each sneaker in her collection while everyone except an enraptured Valeria, listened to her with eyes glazing over.
Twenty of the longest minutes ground slowly past. Finally, the waiter returned, with trays of food. “Buen provecho, amigos,” he remarked as he placed several platters filled with steaming Tex-Mex food on the long wooden table.
Smiling, Saniyah asked, “Do you have anything with more heat than the house hot sauce?”
He nodded. “One bottle of Ring of Fire coming right up.”
Seconds later, he returned and handed the bottle to Saniyah, who doused her entire plate of ribs and smashed potatoes with it.
“Wow,” Gaz said, looking impressed. “I tasted the sauce on the table and it was hot. Do you have a four-octave voice to match your four-octave pepper range?”
Saniyah looked down as though embarrassed. “You know what they say about the heat and the kitchen.” Then she began to sing an old blues song, in the loveliest light soprano voice any of them had ever heard.
Not to be outdone, and more than happy to cut off Saniyah’s little sing-along, Alicia signaled for the waiter. “Um, excuse me,” she said. “That Ring of Fire sauce is pretty bland.”
“But you didn’t even try it,” Valeria pointed out.
Ignoring her, Alicia asked the waiter, “What do you have that’s hotter?”
He looked at her dubiously. “Next up in terms of heat is Crazy Mother Pucker’s Maniacal Mustard.”
Carmen put a hand on her friend’s arm. “Lici, don’t do this.”
Jamie, resorting to more desperate measures, kicked Alicia under the table, earning a glare. Alicia, it would seem, was not to be swayed.
When the waiter returned with the sauce, Valeria suggested, “Maybe you should try a few drops, just to taste it.”
Stuck in stubborn gear, Alicia shook her head. “I’m sure it will be wonderful.” She doused her plate with the sauce, cut a piece of chicken, and put it in her mouth. There were exactly three seconds of silence before she began to choke so hard that not even sips of water could help.
“We’ll be right back,” she whispered, dragging Carmen with her to the bathroom.
Once the two girls were safely ensconced in the restroom, Alicia began waving her hands in front of her face. “My mouth is on fire,” she lisped. “My tongue is swollen. Everything hurts. Please! Stop the burning.”
“Give me a second,” Carmen said, doing her best not to add, you idiot. She left and returned a few moments later with a cup of milk, two slices of white bread, and Alicia’s mom.
“Why is my mom here?” Alicia sputtered between gulps of the milk.
“Because you’re a hot Texas mess right now,” Carmen said. “I had to call in serious backup.”
Mrs. Cruz sat down on the sink next to her daughter. “You know, you’re not the first girl to be jealous over her boyfriend’s female friends,” she said softly. “It’s a tough lesson, but one you might as well learn now. It’s never about the other girl. Just like, if the tables were turned and you met a boy who shared a common interest, it wouldn’t be about Gaz. You’ve got to trust the people you love and wish for them as broad and wide a circle of friends as you’d want for yourself.”
Alicia stuck out her lower lip. “Gaz’s circle of friends is wide enough. I don’t want it to be any wider.”
Her mother gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Maybe not at this exact moment, but someday, you will. How about I take you home?”
“Sounds good,” Alicia said.
Turning to Carmen, Marisol said, “Can you make our excuses?”
“Of course.” Then, hugging her best friend, Carmen said, “See you in a little bit.”
Although she was usually the last to concede defeat, Alicia had to admit it felt good to get into the van with her mother and rest her head on her lap. And while, in classic Texas-speak, Valeria would’ve insisted that the restaurant was “right down the street,” it was actually nearly an hour’s drive back to the ranch. By the time Luis pulled up to the front door of the Castillo family guesthouse, Alicia was sound asleep. And, for the moment, her troubles were forgotten.
THE NEXT MORNING, Alicia woke to a soft knock on the door. It was Gaz, holding two thermoses.
Chagrined by the memory of her hot-sauce bravado, she hadn’t bothered to try to stay up till he got home the night before. She hadn’t wanted to discuss with either Gaz or her amigas the four-alarm jealousy she had felt when she met Saniyah and saw how much the girl and Gaz had in common.
“Get dressed and then meet me downstairs,” he whispered, peeping his head through the door. “Let’s go for a walk.”
And because she was more embarrassed now than angry, she knew the best and only thing to do was to agree.
It was cooler in Texas than Alicia, used to the humid Miami weather, could’ve imagined. Even though it was the spring season, it was certifiably chilly at times—especially during the early mornings and the evenings, after the sun had set.
She quickly brushed her teeth, threw her hair into a messy bun, and put on a thick, soft merino turtleneck over her T-shirt and pajama pants. She stole a peek at the grandfather clock. Six thirty A.M. By all appearances, everyone in the house was still sleeping.
She found Gaz sitting on the top step of the guest-house porch. He was lost in thought and for a moment, Alicia just took in his handsome features. Then she made a noise and he look
ed up. Smiling, he signaled to her that they should be quiet, and they put on their coats and boots in silence.
“Gaz, where are we going?” Alicia asked in a whisper once they were outside.
“Follow me,” he said confidently. He led the way down a winding dirt path toward the working part of the ranch. In his hand he held a giant flashlight, although why that was, Alicia didn’t really know. Dawn was breaking, and they could see well enough not to get lost.
“Gaz,” she began, as the path curved around a field of sleeping cows. “I’m sorry about last night.…”
“Wait,” Gaz interrupted. “We’re almost there.”
The sky was getting lighter, and shadows were giving way to scenes of stirring life. Just ahead, she could make out the red and white henhouse. Was that where they were going? she wondered. To get fresh eggs for the migas?
But they continued on. They passed a parked John Deere tractor, and finally they stopped. Gaz took a seat on a bench near one of the smaller corrals. “We’re here,” he said, triumphantly.
Alicia cocked her head. “Here” didn’t seem all that exciting. Still, she wasn’t one to throw stones. Not after last night. She took a seat on the bench next to him and opened up her thermos. The drink inside was hot and chocolaty.
“What is this?” Alicia asked after tasting the sweet drink.
“Nilka, the Castillo’s cook, called it Aztec chocolate,” Gaz said.
“It’s so good,” Alicia said, leaning against him and feeling blissfully calm.
For a moment there was nothing but the soft sounds of their sipping and the chirps of the early birds hunting the worms.
Then they both spoke at once. “I’m sorry—” They laughed awkwardly, and Gaz went on. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell Saniyah that I had a girlfriend. I’ve been trying to figure out why, and I think it’s just that I felt so out of my element at the conference. Everyone is so professional, so on top of their game. Saniyah is a sophomore, just like us. But she’s already got a regular gig at a local coffeehouse. She’s written a hundred songs and is trying to shop for a publishing deal with a major label.”
Playing for Keeps Page 6
