Alicia tried to rein in her jealousy as he gushed about the other girl. Her mom’s words echoed in her head.
Gaz took her hand, his expression serious. “Lici, before yesterday, I didn’t even know what a music publishing deal was—or how to get major artists to hear my songs. You helped me get to the conference, and now Saniyah’s helping me to take advantage of it. I’m grateful to you both. Coming here is the most important thing I’ve ever done for my career. I think I downplayed us because I didn’t want it to seem that I landed in Austin just for some girl’s quince, even though both you and I know that’s the truth. I wanted to pretend, for at least a little while, that I had the focus and the drive—and the talent—to get here on my own.”
Alicia squeezed Gaz’s hand and leaned over to kiss him gently on the lips. She knew the feeling he was describing, the desire to make it on one’s own. It was the same feeling that had pushed her to form Amigas Inc. It was what pushed her every time they sat down with a new client and she vowed to give each girl the best Sweet Fifteen she’d ever seen. She couldn’t fault Gaz for feeling the same way, even if it made her feel left out.
“You may not have come here on your own,” Alicia said, “but you’ve got what it takes to make it, Gaz. And I’m glad Saniyah is helping you out.”
The last part wasn’t entirely true, but the sentiment behind it was. Alicia wanted Gaz to succeed, and if that meant others had to help him, well, she’d suck it up. As much as she could.
“And I owe you an apology, too. I’m sorry for acting like such a jerk last night,” she went on. “Please forgive me?”
“I was never even mad at you. Not really,” Gaz said, smiling and sending shivers through her. “So we’re good.” Then, as if to seal the deal, he kissed her with lips that tasted of chocolate and cinnamon.
She nodded. “We’re definitely good.”
While they were talking, the sun had risen over the horizon. Gaz looked at his watch. It was 6:58. “It’s just about time for the show.”
“What show?” Alicia asked.
Gaz looked to his left toward the stream and indicated that she should do the same. “Wait for it…Wait for it…Here it comes.”
Alicia let out a small shriek as half a dozen black and white antelopes charged by her, dashing across the field before disappearing into the hills. They were bigger than she would’ve imagined—like small ponies—and their coats were shiny and glossy, as if they’d also discovered the formula for Indian paintbrush shampoo. She took it all in—the wild majesty of the antelopes racing, the warm colors of the rising sun—and then, way too soon, it was over.
“That was awesome!” Alicia said, hugging Gaz. “How did you know? We just got here. How could you possibly know where to sit, what time they would come?”
Gaz smiled. “Luis told me. I sat next to him on the ride home last night, and I asked him if there was a good place for us to take a morning walk. He told me about the antelopes. They’re actually blesboks, a rare African antelope that’s somehow become part of the Texas Hill Country landscape. They belong to the neighboring ranch, but they like to come to the Castillo stream for their early-morning drink. Luis said that watching them with a special person is the best way to start the day.”
Alicia smiled and squeezed his hand. “I think he’s right.”
ARM IN ARM, Gaz and Alicia returned to the guesthouse. After a breakfast of huevos rancheros, topped off with home-grown salsa made from fresh tomatoes and jalapeño peppers picked right out of the Castillo family garden, Gaz went back to the conference to attend a panel on composing music for mobile applications, while Alicia took a shower and got dressed. It was time—no, it was past time—to get down to serious business.
After Gaz left, the remaining members of Amigas Inc. had a strategy meeting and then, around lunchtime, walked the short path to the Castillo family house to meet with their quince and hammer out details. On the way to dinner the night before, Valeria had mentioned wanting to show them something that would give them a sense of what she wanted for her party. They were curious to see what was in store.
Inside, the group congregated in what Valeria called the great room—a giant space that seemed part living room, part ballroom, and part family room, with thirty-foot ceilings and a giant stone fireplace.
Four giant sofas—each could easily have fit three Texas linebackers and their coach—made a square around an oversize wooden coffee table. The low table was covered with plates already set for lunch—guacamole with serrano chilis, freshly made tortillas, manchego cheese with figs, and a pitcher of cactus lemonade.
Jamie lay down across the couch nearest the fireplace. “This is what I’m talking about. Wake me when it’s time to go back to Miami.”
Carmen took a seat next to Valeria, whose long, unruly hair looked as if it hadn’t seen a brush in days. The quince-to-be was wearing a black T-shirt that said, barbie was a vampire, and displayed a picture of a doll sporting fangs.
“Cool T-shirt,” Alicia said, plopping cross-legged on the floor in a position strategically located between the guacamole and the chips.
Valeria smiled. But they could tell she was a little nervous. She pulled her laptop out of her bag and said, “So, like I said, I have something I wanted to show you. It’s a PowerPoint presentation I made for my mother when we first started discussing this female ritual. I support the tradition and the ceremony one hundred percent, but it’s the big party element about which I remain deeply ambivalent.”
Jamie sat up and clapped her hands. “So, we’re going antiestablishment quinceañera? I love it!”
Alicia looked skeptical. “Um, great. You know, we’re kind of antiestablishment, too.”
“Not really,” Carmen muttered, “but please, let’s roll the tape.”
Valeria hit a button, and the slide show began. The first image was a picture of her, wearing a fake mustache and poufy pink dress and holding a sign that said: ALWAYS A DAMA, NEVER A QUINCE.
Valeria hit the button again. “Exhibit A, my cousin Laura.” In the picture, the quince was heavily made up, with Rapunzel hair down to her waist. She was wearing a white dress with exaggerated raglan sleeves, elbow-length gloves, and a giant rhinestone necklace.
“Her hair is so long,” Carmen said. “Are those—”
“Yep,” Valeria said. “Extensions.”
The next picture was of Laura and her court, all wearing shiny silver dresses that looked as though they were made of aluminum foil. Valeria was front and center among the damas, a tortured grin substituting for a smile.
“OMG,” Carmen said. “Her dress is bad, but those dama dresses are hideous.”
“It’s like something out of a sci-fi film. An alien quince,” Alicia said, shivering slightly.
Jamie stood and did a robot dance, saying, “I have come from the planet of the worse quince ever. Please meet our leader, Laura.”
Valeria hit the button yet again. “Exhibit B, my cousin Loretta.” In what was clearly a Western-themed quince, Loretta wore a big white cowboy hat, a short strapless dress with an abundance of fringe, and white cowboy boots.
“Are those buttons on her dress?” Carmen asked, peering closer.
“Nope, them be studs,” Valeria said, putting heavy emphasis on her Texan twang. “’Cause Loretta’s totally boy crazy and has always been interested in collecting studs. Get it?”
The other girls groaned.
“Oh, but there’s more,” said Valeria. She pulled up the next picture. All the damas wore white tube tops and prairie skirts emblazoned with the Texas state flag. And standing in the middle of her court, showing the camera her booty, Loretta let the world know that her panties had a Texas flag on them, too.
Carmen stifled a laugh. “Well, she’s nothing if not patriotic.”
“No need to be so polite,” Valeria said, shaking her head. “She couldn’t help it. She was really drunk. As part of the theme, the fruit punch was served in big ceramic jugs that said, ‘moonshine.’ Some of
the losers from Loretta’s school thought it might be funny to spike the punch, so it actually was as potent as moonshine. My poor cousin has trouble toning it down under the best of circumstances. You saw her dress. She chose it when she was sober. But she didn’t stand a chance once she got a couple of drinks in her.” She looked back at the keyboard, finger poised. “I have plenty more to show you. My dad has three sisters, and my mom has five brothers, so there are lots of quince pictures to share.”
Alicia put the lid of the laptop down. “I think we’ve seen enough.”
“We get it,” Carmen said. “You’re quince-party-averse.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Valeria said with a sigh. “My cousins turned their quinces into total spectacles. They didn’t even seem to care about the tradition that makes the whole event so amazing.”
“But the quinces we plan are cool,” Jamie pointed out. “And they are all about the girl, not some demented attempt to impress people.”
Alicia scooped some guacamole onto a chip, her expression thoughtful. “I have an idea,” she finally said. “Why don’t we do some serious damage to this guac while you go upstairs and bring back three items that represent your style?”
Valeria looked dubious. “Do you mean clothing? Because I’m not that into clothes.”
Alicia shook her head. “I wasn’t being literal. It doesn’t have to be clothing. It could be music, a photo, a piece of jewelry. Whatever.”
About twenty minutes later, the guacamole was finished and a beaming Valeria had returned. “That was fun!” she said. “But I couldn’t choose just three items. So I brought down five.”
“Bring it on,” Alicia said.
“The first item is my skateboard; I couldn’t live without it,” Valeria said. “If you guys weren’t here, I’d be at the skate park right now.”
Alicia scribbled something in her notebook. “Skateboard. Okay, next.”
“This is my birthday gift from my parents last year,” Valeria said. “A black iPod. Limited edition, with an Emily the Strange pic on the back. She’s my favorite character and graphic-design icon. An artist, a skateboarder, and a race-car driver came up with her, and they started a company called Cosmic Debris. All of their products feature Emily’s image and her famous sayings, like ‘Get Lost,’ ‘Be All You Can’t Be,’ and ‘Wish You Weren’t Here.’ My room is full of her stuff.”
“I like this,” Carmen said, assessing the iPod. “She’s got a cool style. Classic black shift. Dark red lips. Love the bangs.”
“The third item is the T-shirt I’m wearing,” Valeria said. “Barbie Was a Vampire is my favorite band. I really believe in feminist goth music with a global consciousness.”
“That’s going to be a challenge for Gaz,” Jamie cracked.
“We’ll make it work,” Alicia said. “You are rocking this assignment, Valeria. We might have to make this an official quince quiz for all our clients. What’s next?”
“This is a photo of my mom on her wedding day,” Valeria said. The girls all oohed and aahed. “That’s a traditional Mexican dress. Doesn’t she look beautiful? She bought it for fifteen dollars at a roadside store in Laredo. She and my father were graduate students on vacation in Baja. They had absolutely no loot. When my father saw my mother in this dress, he proposed. They eloped and got married on the beach the next day.”
The girls were uncharacteristically silent, each lost in thought, transported to a Baja beach and a romantic wedding.
“Wow, that’s an incredible story,” Alicia finally said softly.
“I want a love story like that,” Jamie added.
“You and Dash already have one. Girl defies country-club tradition, amazing athlete falls head over heels in love with her. Your story is pretty good, chica,” Carmen said.
“But Valeria’s parents eloping. It’s like something straight out of a movie,” Jamie said.
“It is so-o-o like a movie,” Alicia agreed.
“I know. That’s why this picture makes me happy,” Valeria said. “They still look at each other in exactly this way.”
Alicia picked up her notebook. “I hate to move on, but the clock is ticking. What’s next?”
Valeria handed her a big old-fashioned silver key. “Big” was an understatement. It looked like something from Alice in Wonderland and was the size of Valeria’s laptop.
Alicia laughed. “I know everything is bigger in Texas, but what the heck is this?”
Valeria nodded. “It’s the original key to the ranch gates. My father gave it to me when I got into my high school, the Ann Richards School for Young Women Leaders. He wanted me to always remember that there was no door that was ever truly closed; it’s always a matter of finding the right key.”
“I’m going to cry,” Carmen said softly.
“Me, too,” Jamie said.
“Okay,” Alicia teased. “You’ve made us all weepy, V. We need to get up and have an Amigas group hug.”
“I’m not a really big hugger,” said Valeria. “But with you guys, I’m willing to give it a try.” Standing up slowly, she edged forward and joined the others in an embrace.
“So, what do we think, chicas?” Alicia asked when they pulled apart. “Where do we go from here?”
“Please don’t be offended,” Carmen said, taking Valeria by the hand. “But I think we need to start with a makeover. You are one of the smartest, coolest girls we’ve ever worked with, but right now the outside is not matching the inside.”
Valeria shrugged. “I like it that way. I don’t want it to seem like the only thing I care about is my looks.”
Carmen nodded understandingly. “But, chica, there’s something between being too vain and, on the other hand, caring just enough to make sure your look communicates all the incredible things that are going on in your big, beautiful brain.”
Jamie held up the iPod. “Like this Emily character. She doesn’t play by the rules, but she’s definitely got style.”
Carmen perked up. “Hey, let me see that.”
Jamie handed it over and Carmen held it up next to Valeria’s face. “Check it out, y’all. How cute would this hairstyle be on her?”
Alicia tilted her head, her expression amused. “And how funny is it that it took you exactly three days in Texas to start saying ‘y’all’?”
Valeria looked doubtful. “You do know that she’s a graphic-novel character, not a real person…”
Alicia stood next to Jamie. She looked at the picture of Emily the Strange, then at Valeria, then back. “You know, it’s genius, really.”
“I think you chicas are amazing. But I don’t know about this whole makeover thing. I haven’t cut my hair since I was in the seventh grade.”
“No offense,” Jamie teased, “but it looks like it.”
“Trust us,” Carmen said. “As long as Alicia isn’t your stylist, you’re in safe hands.”
“That’s for sure,” said Jamie. “Alicia decided to take it upon herself to give Sarita, our first quince client, a new hairstyle, and the poor girl wound up with a seriously bald spot. Alicia was going for the Natalie Portman look in V for Vendetta.”
“I have to admit, it was pretty bad, and, trust me, I learned my lesson,” Alicia chimed in. “I had to do some pretty serious groveling to keep Sarita from first firing me and then taking a contract out on my life.”
“So, if we keep Alicia at a safe distance, are you game, V.?” asked Jamie.
“Why not?” Valeria replied, giving in. “I guess you only live once.”
Alicia made a quick call to Mrs. Castillo to get the okay for Valeria to cut her hair. To which Mrs. Castillo replied, “Yes. Of course. Thank God.”
After that, Jamie called her cousin Anton in New York and within minutes had the name of the best stylist in Austin; but when she called the salon for an appointment, they told her there was nothing available before the date of Valeria’s quince.
“Okay, maybe this is a sign we should leave well enough alone,” Valeria said, s
lumping onto the couch. “I could brush my hair. Condition it. Something.”
“No way,” Jamie insisted. “I’ll call my cousin back. Anton will make it happen.” And he certainly did. An hour later, they had an appointment in Austin for the next day at eleven A.M.
“So it’s really happening. Change is good, right?” a nervous Valeria asked.
Carmen held up the iPod with their inspiration image and said, “No, V. Change is awesome.”
IT WAS VALERIA’S turn to surprise the Miami girls. “I’ll agree to the haircut with no complaints,” she said the next morning when she greeted them. Then she held up a finger as Alicia started to speak. “If we go by the Rutherford Ranch skate park first. I want you to see a little more of my world before I get all into your makeover world.”
“Fair enough,” Alicia said, as they boarded the ranch van. “But our appointment is at eleven, and since it’s a bit of a diva salon, we can’t be late.”
“No problem, it won’t take long to show you how smooth I am on the half-pipe,” Valeria replied, her tone unusually confident and sassy. Although she insisted that she wasn’t into style, Alicia noticed she was wearing a hot pink T-shirt that said, LET’S PLAY TRIKTIONARY and green camo pants with matching green and pink sneaks.
They got to Rutherford Ranch to find a concrete park with half-pipes, bowls, fun boxes, and pyramids. Everyone seemed to know Valeria, and a couple of the guys even cleared off the quarter pipes to give her room.
“Looking good, Lady V.,” said a very, very cute boy with sandy blond hair and the most amazing blue, almost violet, eyes, as soon as they entered the park. The three friends exchanged curious glances.
All thoughts of cute boys vanished as soon as Valeria started ’boarding, and the three friends tried to make sense of what she was doing; it appeared she was defying gravity. From the way the boys in the park were calling them out, the moves she was executing from her “triktionary” included: a Five-Oh grind, a Bert slide, and a 50-50. An hour later, the girls had forgotten about the time…
Until Alicia looked at her watch and nearly freaked. “Yo, Valeria!” she yelled. “We’ve got to go.”
Playing for Keeps Page 7
