Playing for Keeps Page 12

  THE NEXT DAY, the Castillo family arranged a special good-bye for their guests and friends. As the sun set over the ranch, two pickup trucks drove up, ready to take everyone on a tour. The Amigas Inc. team and their new friends piled into the backs of the trucks, huddling under blankets and admiring one another’s new looks. Everyone’s outfit had a bit of Western flair, from Jamie’s beautiful turquoise-colored vest to Carmen’s long plaid skirt to Alicia’s studded black leather cowboy boots.

  As they rode deep into the property, they passed all kinds of animals they’d never seen live and in person before, from armadillos to Mexican tree frogs and big brown bats. Gaz and Saniyah played songs on their guitars. Alicia was happy to realize that Saniyah seemed to be entirely smitten with Omarion’s best friend, Christian, with whom she had spent all night dancing at Valeria’s quince. The others on the Amigas team were equally happy that Lici was leaving the singing to the professionals.

  Valeria gave each of the Miami girls a special cowboy hat, explaining that in Texas there was a saying that some people were “All hat, no cattle.” She wanted the Amigas group to know that their hats meant just the opposite—they were all hat, all cattle—meaning that they were the real deal.

  Watching the sunset, Alicia, Carmen, Jamie, and Gaz all smiled. Texas had certainly left its mark: Gaz was no longer a member of Amigas Inc. Alicia had learned she couldn’t control everything. And Jamie and Carmen had discovered new skills and friends. Valeria had said Texas would always have room for them, but more importantly, they would now have Texas in their hearts—always.

  When I first came up with the idea for the Amigas series, I thought about the many Latina women who, like Alicia, Jamie, and Carmen, had started out as entrepreneurial teenagers. Who, through hard work, imagination, and dedication, were able to take their passions and talents and become role models and successful adults. For me, Jennifer Lopez is such a woman. She has incredible drive and an amazing work ethic, qualities she shares with the girls in Amigas. They, too, needed an equal amount of determination to turn their quince-party-planning business into a huge success.

  So, to get a better sense of this connection, I sat down with Jennifer, and we talked about quinces and what it was like for her as a Latina girl growing up in New York City. Here are some more of her answers…

  —J. Startz

  1.The Amigas are fortunate enough to have formed their own business, which provides them with summer and holiday employment. When you were a teenager, did you have any summer or part-time jobs? If so, what were they like? Were any of them memorable—because they were either (a) so great or (b) so bad?

  My first summer job was sweeping up hair at a beauty salon. I was about twelve or thirteen years old. I really looked forward to going to work every day. Not because the job was so glamorous, but just because I always loved work. I loved getting my little ten dollars at the end of the week.

  2. As a teenager, did you and your family or friends ever take car trips or vacations together? If so, what was the farthest you traveled away from home, and what kind of a trip was it?

  Our first car trip was a vacation to Florida, to go to Disney World. We drove all the way from New York, which took two days! It felt like it took forever to get there. We drove in a station wagon, so my sisters and I would go lie down all the way in the back of the car sometimes. My mom loved listening to the radio, so we would sing a lot of songs and play games while we were on the road.

  3. How did you get your start as a performer? Were you discovered, or, like Gaz, did you work on demos and try to shop them around to the industry? Did you have to deal with a lot of rejection? And, if so, what motivated you to keep at it?

  I was like Gaz—I worked hard and tried to dance and perform wherever I could! I knew from the beginning I didn’t want to do only one thing—I wanted to sing and dance and act. So I worked on it all the time. I took classes and took small dance gigs in clubs or [for] music videos, until bigger jobs came along. This business is definitely one where you have to deal with rejection—even after you become successful. If you can keep going from there, that’s what can separate you from someone who might not make it.

  4. Saniyah, the Austin musician Gaz meets at South by Southwest, advises him that it is very crucial as a young artist to network with other people in the music industry. Do you see this as part of your job? Do you think this is an important skill for any professional to develop?

  Yes, I think it’s important to network, no matter what your profession is. When people know the person you are—that you are a good person—and they also know the talents that you have, that can give you an advantage.

  5. Valeria’s family are very proud of their Mexican heritage, and they all have a real love of authentic Tex-Mex foods. Your background is Puerto Rican. What are the traditional dishes from Puerto Rico that are your favorites? Does your family have any favorites?

  I love all Puerto Rican food! I love pernil, arroz con gandules, platanos maduros. My mom is the best cook—she makes a yummy pastelón, which is one of my favorites. But if she just makes white rice, red beans, and chicken cutlets, I’m still the happiest girl in the world.

  6. Gaz is torn between following his musical passion and helping with Amigas Inc. Were you like that or more like Alicia, who seems to know exactly what she wants?

  I think I was more like Alicia. I always knew this was what I wanted to do. When I was about seventeen or eighteen, I had a dream one night that I was supposed to be an entertainer; I was supposed to be in this business. So, when I got old enough to choose between going to college and going out on my own to start working on my career, I chose working on my career.

  7. Valeria’s a unique character with an array of interests and hobbies. What about you?

  The hobbies that I had were mostly sports: running track, softball, tennis. I loved to do things that were athletic. I still do!

  8. By the end of the trip, both Alicia and Gaz feel really comfortable in Texas but at the same time excited to be going home. Have you ever found a place like that?

  I felt that way in Miami. From the first time I went there, I felt like I was home. I think it was maybe because I didn’t get to go to Puerto Rico much as a child…but Miami felt like it was part of me. It was partly because of its Latin culture, partly the tropical air; the sand and beaches. It wasn’t until I went to Puerto Rico later on my own that I realized how similar they were—and that’s why I felt connected to it. It was something innate in me; from my parents, from my heritage and upbringing. So I always felt like I belonged there, when I was in Miami. But, coming home is always the best, of course!

  IT WAS A PERFECT October day in southern Miami. Cool and just breezy enough for the palm trees to sway, but still early enough in the season that the rains hadn’t begun yet. Carmen Ramirez-Ruben walked down the hall of her school, Coral Gables High. At her left was her best friend in the entire world, Alicia Cruz, and at her right was her second bestie, Jamie Sosa.

  One of the coolest things about living in Miami was the diversity of its people. This mix of peoples and cultures was truly reflected at C. G. High, where you really couldn’t judge a book by its cover. There were Indian students who were of Arab descent and Pakistanis who were Hindu. Black students might be Latinos from the Dominican Republic and Panama, or African Americans, or Jamaicans or Saint Lucians. A blond, blue-eyed girl might be from Venezuela, and a dark-haired girl with olive skin might be from Kansas.

  All this diversity didn’t mean that there weren’t cliques—the worst of which was the SoBees. They called themselves that because they planned all of the school’s socials and benefits. Like the partners of Amigas Inc., the SoBees were a multicultural and multitalented crew. But unlike the amigas—who, though well liked by their fellow students, were not interested in being part of the superpopular C.G. power elite—the SoBees were zealously dedicated to maintaining their elevated social status.

  One member, Maya Clark-Hayward, was a tall, thin African Americ
an girl with café au lait skin and thick curly hair that looked like something out of a shampoo commercial. Her mother owned a string of radio stations nationwide, and the inside of Maya’s locker was covered with photos of her and the singers and stars whom she had met when they stopped by the locally owned station to do promotions.

  Another SoBee, April Yunayama, was Japanese American, and third-generation Miami elite. A collector of designer clothes, she was petite in stature and rail thin. April also loved to discuss people’s looks and would ask her two BFF SoBees over and over, on a daily basis, whether the outfit she was wearing made her look fat.

  And the third SoBee, Dorinda Carrassquillo, was a Dominican, who was notorious for being the most sarcastic person at C. G. High—and the unofficial head of the group. Her father owned several luxury-car dealerships all over the city. Though she only had a learner’s permit, Dorinda had received a car—a Kelly green Escalade—for her quinceañera. And because she was too young to drive without an adult with a driver’s license accompanying her, the family’s maid, Jacinta, was forced to ride along with the SoBees everywhere they wanted to go.

  As the three amigas neared their classroom, the SoBees were putting up posters for the winter formal. “Hola, chicas,” Dorinda said, handing the amigas a snowflake-shaped Save the Date card. “This is going to be the best winter formal ever. You all will probably learn a thing or two for your little party-planning business.”

  At the words little and party-planning, Jamie lurched forward ever so slightly. Carmen put a calming hand on her shoulder and subtly shook her head. Now was not the time or place.

  “Thanks,” Alicia said, taking the card. Smiling, she began walking toward the classroom again, her friends close behind.

  The SoBees were safely out of earshot when Jamie went ahead and let her Bronx show. “Amigas Inc. is huge. It’s no ‘little party-planning business.’ Girls like her work my last nerve!”

  “Forget about it,” Alicia laughed. “They’re just jealous. This is going to be our first school formal and I’m totally psyched. Even the SoBees can’t ruin that for me.”

  “I agree,” Carmen said. “And of course they’re jealous. All they know how to do is spend their parents’ money to make an event fabulous. They don’t worry about budgets or making sure other people are happy.” She cast a disapproving eye as the SoBees teetered away in their five-inch gladiator heels. “We have a real company. Our quinces are off the hook, and we make all our own loot.”

  The summer before, the three girls, joined by Alicia’s then close friend—and now boyfriend—Gaspar (Gaz) Colón, had formed their own business, Amigas Incorporated. In what seemed like no time at all, they had become one of the most popular quinceañera (Sweet Fifteen) planners in the city—and beyond. Recently, Gaz had decided to quit the business to concentrate on his music, but he still provided playlists and performed at all of Amigas Incorporated’s gigs. In an ironic twist, since leaving, Gaz’s romance with Alicia had really bloomed; in large part it was because they no longer had to deal with the added tension of having to work together.

  As Latinas, Alicia, Carmen, and Jamie knew firsthand just how important a quince was, not only to the girl who was turning fifteen, but to her entire family. Traditionally, a quinceañera marked a Latina’s transition from child to woman, and the ceremony, which started at the church and often culminated in a huge party that lasted until the early hours of the morning, could be as big an event as a wedding. Some parents started saving for a girl’s quince from the moment she was born. Amigas Inc. had planned quinces that ranged in budget from $1,000 to $25,000. It was pretty heady stuff for three girls who themselves had all just turned fifteen in the last year. But they had never backed down from a challenge. Ever! When they got together, there wasn’t anything they couldn’t do. Each girl brought with her to the business a rich cultural heritage and a unique talent.

  While the three amigas had worked hard over the last year, that didn’t mean they hadn’t played hard, too. Every chance they got, they took off for the beach, hung out at Alicia’s house, or checked out one of their favorite hotel pools.

  And then there was the dating. That had to be fit in between school, the job, and friend time. But they made it work. Alicia and Gaz were going strong and were the longest lasting couple of the group.

  Even the impossible-to-please Jamie was hooked up with someone. Amigas Inc.’s resident artist had grown up in the South Bronx, or the boogie-down, as she liked to call it. A dark-skinned Latina whose family came from the Dominican Republic, she had a blunt and sometimes brutal take on things, which she called “keeping it real.” Amazing though it seemed, Jamie was still dating Dash Mortimer, the salsa-dancing, Spanish-speaking, top-ranked teen golf star she had met when Amigas Inc. had been hired to plan a quince for his sister, Bianca. Although Jamie was loath to admit it, it had pretty much been love at first sight for both of them, and they had been nearly inseparable ever since.

  And then there were Carmen and Domingo. The gorgeous computer nerd–über hottie and Carmen were practically attached at the hip. Domingo had become a fixture at her house; the couple spent hours together, and when they couldn’t see each other, Domingo would send Carmen little love texts to let her know he was thinking about her. It seemed picture perfect.

  But at that moment, standing in the hall, when Carmen knew she should have been smiling and laughing and planning for the big dance, she wasn’t. Her smile seemed frozen, forced.

  Because she and Domingo were over. And she had no date for the dance. And even though she would never have dared admit it out loud, thinking about Domingo still hurt…a lot.

  IT HAD BEEN two months now, but Carmen still couldn’t believe that she and Domingo were done. And the worst part was, she had been the one to initiate it.

  Domingo had been a chambelán—sort of like a knight, without the shining armor—at Carmen’s quinceañera, a Lati-Jew-na affair that Amigas Inc. had planned to reflect all the different elements of her background. Domingo had also been the first boy that she’d kissed, the first boy that she’d ever taken home to meet her parents, and the first boy who had motivated her parents to call out, “Leave the door open,” whenever the couple went upstairs to her room.

  Then Domingo had gotten into his dream school: Savannah College of Art and Design. In Georgia. A full 485 miles away. He planned to study interactive media and video-game design. Although he hadn’t chosen it because of her, it was also a school with an excellent program in fashion, and Carmen was a gifted designer. She sewed all of her own clothes, and everything she wore looked as though it had come straight from some major couture house. If in two years, when Carmen was ready for college, they were still together, it might be nice if they were to go to the same school. That was what they told each other: It might be nice. No pressure. No heavy-duty plans. Just an open door that beckoned with possibility.

  At the beginning of the summer, before Domingo left for college, they had sat side by side on Carmen’s bed, cell phones in hand, open to their calendars. They had mapped out trips that would lessen the amount of time they’d be separated from one another. He would come back to Miami for a weekend at the end of September, so they’d never spend more than twenty-one days apart. Carmen’s mother, under the impression that they’d be starting college visits early, had agreed to take Carmen to Savannah for a weekend in late October or early November. Domingo would be back for Thanksgiving, and after that it was a short sixteen-day sprint until he was home for Christmas break. It was going to be so simple, really. They’d concentrate on work when they were apart. They would focus only on each other when they were together. And thank God for Skype and free rollover cell-phone minutes. They would make it. They had to…Things were so good between them.

  Together, they could spend hours, working side by side, speaking in a kind of abbreviated sign language. Domingo would tap away at his computer. Carmen would jump from her sketchbook to her sewing machine. Every once in a while, they stopped to
show each other something. One or the other would nod, offer a suggestion, walk over, and plant a kiss on their beloved’s lips. But mostly, there was this beautiful silence. The hum of two people who needed few words to communicate what was in their hearts.

  Which was why, a few weeks before Domingo was scheduled to head to Georgia, Carmen started to have a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach. She’d begun to feel that, as much as she loved Domingo, they were Alicia and Gaz in reverse. Alicia and Gaz had first spent years as best friends, with a frisson of tension underneath the surface, but never enough to spark anything real—until finally, they got it together and started dating. Carmen feared that she and Domingo were the exact opposite: all sparks at the start, but, with the increased distance between them, bound to fall into the just-friends category, until there was nothing but the memory of romance.

  Because she’d sensed it, because she’d spent so many quiet hours with Domingo, she wasn’t surprised when he rang the doorbell unexpectedly one hot August afternoon. It was as though she had willed him to come over. And the look on his face didn’t surprise her, either. It mirrored her own—a desire to be together forever, mingled with the realization that they needed to break up.

  “Go on a boat ride with me?” Domingo asked. He handed her a hastily wrapped bouquet of wildflowers that looked as though he might have picked them himself. They were her favorite kind.

  “Of course,” she answered as she took the flowers into the kitchen and looked for just the right unfussy vase to put them in. Settling on a butter yellow ceramic pitcher, she put the flowers into water and grabbed her keys as she walked out the door.

  In the boat, Domingo rowed, as he usually did. She liked to watch him, marveling at how his light brown arms moved with such graceful precision. On especially hot days, like this one, she could see his sunglasses begin to steam up. She wanted to be patient, to let him be the one to raise the topic of separating, of them each beginning school with a completely fresh start. But she couldn’t help herself. In the Ramirez-Ruben household, you spoke early if you wanted to be heard.