Playing for Keeps Page 3

  “My size?” Carmen asked. She was model thin and nearly six feet tall, which meant that not everything that fit her friends looked good on her.

  “Your size,” Jamie said.

  That was all it took.

  “I’ll be over in twenty minutes,” Carmen promised.

  She hung up the phone, and it immediately started ringing again. Alicia! Carmen had completely forgotten she was on the other line.

  “Sorry, chica,” Carmen said. “Jamie and I were talking eBay finds.”

  “This is no time for eBay!” Alicia shouted, still pacing the room. Carmen could hear her kitten heels click-clack-click on the floor.

  “Come pack for me,” Alicia begged her. “It’s our first Amigas Inc. trip, and I’ve got to bring my A game.”

  Carmen laughed, mostly because the idea of Alicia’s bringing less than her A game was so ridiculous. They didn’t call her Type A Alicia for nothing.

  “Well, Jamie just offered me a vintage treasure to come and help her pack,” Carmen said. “What you got, chica, to make me come to your house, too?”

  Alicia raised an eyebrow. “How about my unending friendship, my deepest loyalty, and my most profound respect?”

  Carmen giggled. “Throw in a plate of Maribelle’s empanadas and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

  “Done! See you soon!”

  On the other end of the line, Carmen shrugged. “Just don’t blame me if Jamie complains I didn’t spend enough time on her.”

  Alicia nodded on the other end. “I’ll take the heat. Now enough talking. Get over here. The clock is ticking!”

  At seven the next morning, they all met up at Miami International Airport. Their flight didn’t leave until nine, but check-in began two hours before, and Alicia’s mom liked to be on the early side. She had told everyone else’s parents to do the same.

  Thanks to Carmen’s wardrobe consultations, each of the female members of Amigas Inc. were not only efficiently packed, with one carry-on suitcase each, they were also perfectly dressed for the trip in cute and comfy leggings, long, embroidered T-shirts, and airplane-friendly cashmere wraps. Gaz carried an impossibly small duffel bag and wore his standard uniform: jeans, a blue cotton button-down shirt, and old-school high-tops.

  Even after Carmen had visited both Jamie and Alicia to help them pack, the three girls had stayed up texting until almost two in the morning. As they’d gotten a grand total of about four hours of sleep, they greeted one another with yawns and sleepy whispers.

  Gaz, on the other hand, was wide awake and raring to go. He was so pumped about the South by Southwest Festival that at one point, before he could be stopped, and much to Alicia’s chagrin, he jumped on a chair in the airport lounge and screamed, “We’re going to Austin, everybody! The home of the indie music scene.”

  He was only a little embarrassed when Alicia’s mother motioned for him to get down and said, “No more coffee for you, Gaz.” There was no way his mood was getting dimmed. Not even by a calling-out. Or the prospect of a long flight with Alicia giving him the cold shoulder for embarrassing her.

  Luckily, once they got on the plane, the trip went smoothly, and exactly two hours and forty minutes later, and three bags of M&M’s, eight sodas, a lot of peanuts, and one teeny-tiny incident involving a mixed-up seating assignment, the plane touched down in Texas, where everything—including the quinceañeras—was bigger. It was time to start planning—once they found their ride.

  “Let’s head to baggage claim,” Mrs. Cruz suggested when everyone was safely off the plane and accounted for. “Ranya said she would meet us there.”

  Turning, she led the group, like a mother duckling, through the terminal, following signs to the baggage claim. After what felt longer than the flight itself, they made it.

  And boy, was it a sight.

  Crowds of people dressed like extras in a Western, with cowboy hats, leather boots, and big belt buckles, looked for their loved ones.

  Ranya was easy to find, though. She was holding a sign that read: TEXAS LOVES YOU, AMIGAS INC.!

  Valeria, or the girl Alicia assumed was Valeria, stood behind her. She was wearing a pair of black combat boots, graffiti-print leggings, and a T-shirt that said, KEEP AUSTIN WEIRD. Her eyes were hidden beneath bushy eyebrows, and her pale face was framed by hair that could only be referred to as a wild mess, except for one braid that dangled over her left eye.

  From the way her mother was jumping up and down while Valeria hung back, slouching and looking embarrassed, there seemed little doubt as to who had made the sign and was most excited about the quince.

  Alicia was frankly surprised. From the e-mails they’d exchanged, Valeria had seemed very sure of herself, but maybe that was not the case after all.

  Leaving the others, she walked up to the girl. “Hi! I’m Alicia. It’s great to finally meet you. I feel like we should already know each other! We’re really honored to be planning your quince.”

  “Mucho gusto, Alicia,” Valeria said softly. “I read the newspaper articles, and I have to give you Miami girls so much respect. As I wrote in my e-mail, I’m not much of a party girl, but the quince tradition means a great deal to my family and me, and I’m depending on you to help me throw a party which honors our tradition and makes us proud.”

  Alicia, who knew better than to judge a book by its cover, was impressed by Valeria’s graciousness. She nodded. “That we can do. I have a few questions I forgot to ask over e-mail…” As she began to throw ideas and questions out, the group members began to make their way to the conveyor belt that had just started moving, indicating the arrival of their bags. The moms chatted while Jamie and Carmen sent texts to their boys, and Gaz searched on his phone for SXSW info.

  “Let me guess,” Ranya said, turning her attention from Marisol to Gaz. “I take it you’re a musician.”

  “How’d you know?” he asked.

  “Well, the guitar strapped to your back was a pretty big clue,” Ranya said, laughing.

  Gaz looked a bit embarrassed and reached behind to pat his guitar. “Do you know I actually forget that I’ve got it on? Incredible.”

  “Well, your timing couldn’t be better. We’re having a huge music festival and conference here in Austin.”

  “South by Southwest,” Gaz said, nodding. “Everybody knows about it. But I also know everything is sold out.”

  “Well, you don’t need tickets to get in on the scene,” Ranya said. “Every barbecue spot, coffeehouse, and restaurant is going to be turned into a juke joint this week. There’s going to be music everywhere.”

  Alicia, caught up in quince details with Valeria, hadn’t been listening, but she perked up when she heard talk of the conference. “Sounds like fun,” she said, “but Gaz is going to be up to his eyeballs getting all the music together for your quince. He’s not going to have a minute of free time to just hang out.”

  “She’s the boss.” Gaz chuckled, though he didn’t look exactly thrilled. “But I bet you could already tell that.”

  Alicia gave him a playful swat on the arm. “Gaz teases me for being a mandona,” she pouted, “but he knows how much pressure it is to get a quince up and running. Speaking of the quince, Valeria, I’m so sorry I’ve been hogging you. Let me introduce you to the rest of the team.”

  Going one by one, she made the intros. “This is Carmen,” she said. “She’s our resident dress designer, seamstress, and all-around-quiet-in-the-midst-of-any-quince-storm member.”

  Valeria flicked her long, pin-straight, jet black hair away from her face shyly and waved at Carmen. Carmen waved back and, with a big smile, said, “Nice to meet you, Valeria, I’m looking forward to working with you.”

  “I’m Jamie Sosa,” Jamie said before Alicia could introduce her. “I’m the AV department of Amigas Inc. Everything from oil painting to digital video, I’m your girl.”

  “Hi,” Valeria said. “Cool sneakers. Aren’t those from Tokyo?”

  “Whoa,” Jamie said, clearly impressed. “How�
�d you know that?”

  “I have a little skateboard sneaker collection,” Valeria replied. “Not many, but I love each and every pair.”

  “Mija, that’s a sure sign that you and I are going to get along just fine,” Jamie said enthusiastically. “I’m a complete and total sneaker freak. I bet your sneaker stash is amazing.”

  After Gaz said his hellos, they gathered up their various bags. “Okay, you all,” Ranya said, clapping her hands and bringing everyone to attention. “We need to get this party on the road.”

  Because they were such a big group, two of the ranch managers had driven out to meet the Miami crew at the airport. From the moment the Castillo Ranch vans rolled out of the Austin city limits and onto the I-35, the group was unusually silent. They’d heard about the Texas plains—and seen them, on TV at least. In an effort to “pre-prepare,” Jamie had insisted that they watch half a dozen independent films set in Texas. But it was different seeing it up close. Miami was all art deco architecture mixed with sleek high-rises, surrounded by the glitz of South Beach, the majestic expanse of the ocean, and all of the lush island flora. Texas, by comparison, was like an Andrew Wyeth painting—rolling hills, knee-high grass, hundred-year-old oaks, and Huck Finn–worthy streams.

  When the sound of growling stomachs began to fill the van, Valeria texted her mother, who was riding in the other van with Marisol, to suggest that the group stop for lunch. The Miami guests had been traveling since early morning, and their stomachs could attest to the fact that they were hungry.

  “I need a nap,” Gaz said, nodding. “But I need food more than sleep.”

  “Well, this place is right down the road from the ranch, and it has what the Austin locals think is the best barbecue in Texas,” Valeria said.

  Gaz sat up and rubbed his hands together. “I’ll take your best barbecue, thank you very much. Then I’ll take seconds.”

  Ninety minutes later, despite the beautiful surroundings, the Miami natives were starting to get officially cranky and restless.

  “Where the heck are we?” Jamie muttered.

  “This is hill country,” Valeria replied, turning around in the front passenger seat to face her. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  “What it is,” Jamie said, “is far. I thought you said we were going someplace nearby.”

  “Oh, Driftwood’s not far,” Valeria said. “We should be there any minute.”

  “But we’ve been driving for nearly two hours,” Alicia said, whining just a little.

  “You gotta remember. It’s a big state on a big swath of land. It takes some time to get from place to place.” Then Valeria looked out the window and smiled. “See? We’re here!”

  “Here” was the Salt Lick Barbecue Restaurant. And it was, to put it mildly, a far cry from the group’s favorite Miami hangout, Bongos. Bongos was in the heart of South Beach, on elegant Ocean Drive. The furniture was upholstered in bright tropical patterns, and giant palm trees framed the ocean views outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  The Salt Lick was all outdoors, and all casual. Cooks dressed in kitchen whites tended a giant open barbecue pit, and dozens of people crowded the rustic property, enjoying their meals on weathered wooden picnic tables.

  “I hope you like it,” Valeria said. “It’s a huge family favorite.”

  Standing in the parking lot, looking at the muddy grass fields, the three girls took a moment to consider their footwear. Alicia was wearing mules with two inch heels. Carmen was wearing a pair of sand-colored designer espadrilles, and Jamie, like the majority of the Salt Lick customers, was wearing boots. But Jamie’s boots were made of a very light butter-colored suede that would have been ruined by one trek across the field.

  “Is there a paved walkway to the tables?” Carmen asked, voicing the concern of all of them. “I hate to seem overly citified. But these are my favorite espadrilles, and it took me almost a year to save for them.”

  Valeria, who was wearing a pair of perfectly broken-in red cowboy boots, politely stifled a giggle. “A walkway? You are kidding, right?”

  Alicia’s mother, still talking animatedly to Valeria’s mother, bounded past them. Gaz followed, as if he were being pulled by an invisible barbecue string, with a big, silly, feed-me-now grin on his face.

  The girls stood in the parking lot, torn between the growling in their bellies and the incredible smell of slow-cooked ribs wafting from the open pit, and the very real consideration that they were each about to ruin their favorite shoes, shoes they’d worn with the intention of looking fierce, fabulous, and flawless while visiting a new city.

  Then a table opened up near the parking lot, and Valeria grabbed it; it was now or never. Ever so daintily, they tiptoed across the ground, holding their breath. To strangers, they probably looked anything but fierce. Instead, they looked like timid cats near water.

  “Oh, wow,” Valeria said, when the girls made it to the table, breathing heavy sighs of relief as they sat down, shoes somehow unscathed. “I hope you brought more practical footwear for the rest of your trip.”

  “My other shoes are sandals,” Alicia said.

  “My other shoes are pumps,” Carmen said.

  “We’ve got to get you chicas boots,” Valeria said.

  “But I am wearing boots,” Jamie pointed out.

  Valeria shook her head. “Real boots. Cowboy boots.”

  Before she could further assess—or diss—their footwear, a waitress in a blue and white gingham shirt and jeans looped around their table, passing out menus, glasses of ice water, and baskets of warm corn bread.

  “So, what do you recommend here?” Carmen asked turning to her host. “Everything smells so good.”

  Valeria’s hair was in her face again, and she distractedly pushed it to the side. “By all accounts, all the meat is good,” she said quietly. “But I can’t really advise you, because I’m a vegetarian.”

  Alicia had mentioned this to Jamie back in Miami, after receiving Valeria’s first e-mail. Even so, Jamie looked a bit surprised, as if it just didn’t seem possible. “That must be hard, living in a place where meat being simmered over a campfire is the norm.”

  Valeria smiled. “Actually, it’s sort of just the opposite. Seeing how closely people here are tied to the land, I respect the fact that many of the people I know don’t eat meat carelessly. They know and care for the animals.”

  A few minutes later, the girls watched as she happily dug in to a platter of potato salad, mustard greens, and baked beans that the waitress had provided.

  Jamie, who’d ordered a side of greens with her ribs, took a bite and then groaned happily. “These greens are more delicious than any leafy vegetable has the right to be.”

  Alicia nodded, her mouth full. When she finally swallowed, she added, “These are the best baked beans I’ve ever had in my whole entire life.” Then she paused. “No one tell Maribelle I said that.”

  Valeria laughed. “All of the vegetables here are cooked with huge slabs of pork. That’s what gives them so much flavor. Technically, the veggies here aren’t vegetarian at all. But I make an exception whenever I come to the Lick.”

  For the rest of the meal, the group focused only on eating. After the flight, and with the time difference, they were all a little worn out. But they had to admit, it was nice to hang out in the fresh air and listen to the chatter around them.

  Later, as they walked—make that waddled—toward the vans, Valeria leaned in toward her mom. “We’ve got to take the girls shopping for some boots,” she said in a stage whisper. “All they’ve got is fancy high-heeled shoes.”

  “I heard that,” laughed Alicia’s mother. Turning to her daughter, she said, “With all the drama you put into packing, I can’t believe you girls didn’t bring practical shoes.”

  “I blame Carmen, she packed for me,” Jamie said playfully.

  “Hey, watch it,” Carmen warned.

  “I also blame Carmen,” Alicia said, winking at Jamie. “She was my wardrobe supervisor as well.”


  “Guess it’s lucky I’m a big boy,” joked Gaz. “I picked out my clothes and packed for myself. And I’m the only one who can get mud on my shoes and not freak out.”

  “You chicas!” Carmen laughed. “So ungrateful! Don’t come looking for me in two weeks, when you’re desperately trying to fit your ten-gallon hat and all of your spring-break shopping into one teeny-weeny suitcase.”

  “She has a point,” Alicia said, “and we’re bound to hear it from her at a later date. I’m sorry, Carmen.”

  “Feeling apologetic, Jamie?” Carmen asked. “It’s not too late to beg for my forgiveness.”

  “Um, I’ll pass,” Jamie said. “I don’t do Western chic, and I won’t be buying a cowboy hat of any kind.”

  “Famous last words,” Valeria said. “I don’t mean to be pushy, but if I can give you one piece of advice as Texas newbies, save yourself a lot of time and heartache. Go ahead and embrace the hat.”

  Hats weren’t the only way the members of Amigas Inc. knew they were definitely not in Miami anymore. When they finally pulled up to the ranch, their jaws collectively dropped. A forty-foot wrought-iron gate emblazoned with a giant cursive C, for Castillo, welcomed them onto the sprawling property. As they took in the view along the long driveway leading up to the main house, the girls—and even Gaz—oohed and aahed. Feeling goofy and just a little sleep-deprived, they waved at the grazing cows, the gaggles of geese, and the ornery-looking goats. When the van turned left and pulled up to the wooded area around the guesthouse where the Miami group would be staying, they clapped and cheered for the driver, Luis.

  As they unloaded their bags from the back, the big Texas sky and the surrounding acres of cedar and oak trees seemed warm and inviting, as if they’d been dropped off at summer camp and each day ahead promised a new parcel of mystery, a new care package of fun.

  THE NEXT morning came all too quickly. After arriving the previous afternoon, the Miami crew had taken quick naps and then, at Ranya’s orders, filed back into the vans to head into town—for cowboy boots. There was no way she would let them wander around the ranch in sandals, she explained. Of course, with three girls, all of whom prided themselves on being stylish no matter what the zip code, the shopping took a lot longer than Ranya might have expected. Three hours and roughly sixty pairs of rejected boots later, Alicia, Carmen, and Jamie all walked out of the store successful. By the time they got back to the ranch, they were officially wiped, and immediately headed to bed.