I seethe, my teeth grinding and my hands clenched in tight fists. If Carlos isn’t going to help me find out about Johnny, I’m going to take matters into my own hands.
After a quick trip to the bathroom where I unplug the toilet after thirty minutes of strenuous plunging, I fix up my makeup and change into a hostess gown.
Suitably transformed, I glide past the kitchen with my nose in the air, lest Carlos thinks I care, and sweep into the bangus room. Ah, my luck is in place. Mr. Dee, Johnny’s grandfather, and our loyal customer is sitting there with Tita Clare. They’re usually with the Sunshine Retirement crowd, but today they’re alone, looking suspiciously cozy.
I’m torn about interrupting their meal, but I pick up a pitcher of ice tea and head their way.
“Hey, Mr. Dee, Tita Clare, refills?”
“Yes, thanks,” Mr. Dee says, twirling his mustache. “I was just telling Clare here how each time I see you, you get prettier and prettier. What’s your secret?”
I blush and pour the tea. “You’re just being nice, Mr. Dee. How did you like your food today?”
Always the gentleman, Mr. Dee tilts his head toward Tita Clare. “How did you like your salad?”
“It’s absolutely fabulous.” She spears a shrimp from her mango salad. “Your Carlos came by and exchanged it. Such a gentleman.”
“Exchanged it? What happened?”
Tita Clare and Mr. Dee swap glances.
“You don’t know?” Mr. Dee wipes his mouth with a napkin.
Uh, I hate to admit I’m in the dark, because I’m usually the one everyone turns to when there’s a problem.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” Tita Clare says. “This one is great. Spiced just right.”
“My apologies.” I press my palms on my skirt. “Would you like some dessert? On the house.”
“Oh, we couldn’t do that to you,” Mr. Dee says. “You have your hands full with my daughter and grandson making changes.”
“So, you’ve heard all about it? What do you think?” I try to keep my voice casual.
Mr. Dee adjusts his glasses, his eyes big and bugged out behind them. “They don’t involve me with their business.”
“True, but do you like the changes they’re making to Barrio XO?” This is about as forward as I can get without hinting there is anything wrong.
His lips purse and he gives a barely perceptive shrug. “They’re always up to some scheme or other. I suppose Miranda has some sort of deal with your father, and Johnny’s trying hard to do the right thing.”
A chill drills its way up my spine. What has Johnny done wrong? And why is Miranda making deals with my father? Could she be an ex-girlfriend? But why would my father want any dealings with her now? Unless she was threatening to expose him? My imagination runs to secret babies and pregnancies. Could Johnny be? Oh, no! But then why hadn’t Papa said anything when Johnny kissed me?
My face must have taken on a horror stricken mask because Mr. Dee pats me reassuringly. “Your father has a good business head. I’m sure everything will work out.”
“Yes, thanks. So, how about dessert? Some ube ice cream or buko pie?”
Ube is a brilliant purple yam which lends its purple color and sweetness to delightful desserts.
“The ube sounds great,” Mr. Dee says, rubbing his belly. “Clare?”
“Oh, I’ll pass on the dessert. A cup of tea will suit me just fine.”
I rush to the kitchen and fix the desserts, dropping two calamansi muffins onto the plate. If Miranda knew my father from way back, this is worse than I thought. I can’t believe my father would bring an ex-girlfriend back into his life, unless he was planning on dumping my mom. This is awful. Horrendous. Disastrous.
When I return to the bangus room, I almost drop my tray. Mr. Dee and Tita Clare are kissing in the middle of a busy restaurant. What are they thinking? I’m not sure if I should interrupt or back away. I set the tray on an empty table and grab the water pitcher to check on the other customers.
Talk about bad timing. Just as I’m about to return to Mr. Dee’s table, Johnny saunters through the door. He grins widely at me. “Concha, my beauty.”
His wolf whistle amuses the family sitting in the corner. Their little boy bounces up and copies the whistle.
Oh no! Last thing I need is the guy who gives me a C+ in kissing. I duck when he leans in, and twirl myself under his arm to escape his puckered lips.
He places his hand over his heart and pouts. “My lovely rose, what have I done to earn your scorn?”
Now, all the customers in the bangus room are looking at us with varying degrees of glee.
“Psst, Johnny.” I jerk my head toward his grandfather’s table. At least the pompous entrance of slick-haired Johnny has stopped the elderly necking show. Sheesh, you’d think they didn’t have private rooms at the retirement community.
“Lolo, Tita!” Johnny stretches his arms their direction. Without waiting for an invitation, he plops his lanky body onto the vinyl booth. I see he’s still Pinoy enough to extend his knuckles to his grandfather and say, “Mano po,” but other than that, he’s insolent, disrespectful, and cocky.
Yeah, and a day ago, you thought he was hot shit. Remember the Concha and Johnny show?
I pinch myself, wishing I could slap myself comatose, and pick up the dessert tray. “Mr. Dee, your ice cream, and a calamansi muffin for you, Tita. Johnny, are you having anything?”
The thing about being a waitress is I have to be friendly and fake a smile even if I want to explode and kick ass.
“Caramel macchiato with a sprig of mint.” He leers at my hips and winks.
“I’m sorry, it’s not on the menu.”
He knew that, of course.
Making a big show of contemplation, he tips his head and tickles his chin. “Ah, but the Manila Cloud coffee bar will be a caffeinated dream. Lattes, mochaccino, chai, matcha-tini.”
“Coffee, tea, calamansi juice, mango, or coconut water. Take your pick.”
“Concha, what’s happened to you?” He lifts his eyebrow and peruses my un-madeup face. “You were on board with the menu changes. Didn’t you agree to move upmarket? A higher taste in Filipino cuisine, the food and nectar of the gods, a healthy, green beginning for the Pinoy millennium.”
I can’t believe he actually believes his marketing-speak. Calmly, I set the dessert spoons down for Mr. Dee and Tita Clare, and pour the tea. “I’ve changed my mind. I think it’s important to take the best of our traditional foods, cut some of the cholesterol and salt, but keep the taste our ancestors enjoyed.”
“You’re upset, ma chérie.” He bows his head and peers at me with a sad puppy expression. “I abjectly apologize for getting carried away with the singing last night. I thought you enjoyed it.”
“It was just a song, Johnny. Did you want to order dessert or a drink?”
“Sit with us.” He takes my hand. “Lolo, tell Concha how much she means to me.”
Mr. Dee clears his throat and coughs. “Perhaps you should court her in private, away from the prying eyes of the entire restaurant.”
Johnny slides onto his knees and puts his hands together in a pleading posture.
“Get up, you’re embarrassing me.” I feel my face reddening.
“Only if you forgive me.”
“I forgive you, please, get up.”
Johnny takes my hand and kisses it fervently. The entire bangus room breaks out in applause. Someone grunts from the vicinity of the screen blocking the condiment refrigerator.
Too late. I catch Carlos’s glare and wipe Johnny’s lips from my hand. “Let me get you a coffee and a leche flan.”
Flustered, my stomach tumbling like a wobbly egg, I retreat toward the kitchen. Mama’s right. Johnny’s handsome and good for my image. But who is the real Johnny? Besides, Carlos’s pointed stare pierces my heart and I can’t bear for him to think anything indecent happened between me and Johnny. God knows his mother’s been whispering in his ear about our so-called indiscretions.
I fetch the coffee and flan without speaking to anyone. Carlos is not in the kitchen, although I try to appear as if I’m not looking for him.
I ask Jake to tell Carlos to meet me in my father’s office in five minutes. I need Carlos’s advice on how to counter Miranda and Johnny’s moves on Barrio XO. He’s perceptive about people and sees through their fakery. He’s always been my friend from the first time he set foot at our house. It’s impossible for him to not help. He’s just mad at me right now. He’ll get over it.
After serving Johnny his coffee and dessert, I escape down the corridor toward my father’s office. Swinging through the bead curtains, I run smack into Carlo’s back. Julia shrieks and jumps away, guiltily covering her lips.
They were kissing!
A jagged bolt of pure unadulterated pain seizes my heart and shakes every last drop of blood out. I grip my chest, afraid to cry out, unable to catch my breath.
Carlos doesn’t react to my presence. He leans toward Julia and gently sweeps a strand of hair over her ear. “I have the day off tomorrow. Let’s hang out together.”
# # #
Oh the misery. The utter humiliation. The epitome of eating crow. I turn, my tail tucked between my legs, whimpering like a wet Chihuahua. I need air, and distance.
Instead, I get Tita Gloria. She marches toward me swinging a rosary. What now?
“Repent of your evil deeds. Fornication is a deadly sin.”
“I did nothing.”
“Then why was Miranda gloating to your mother?” She loops the rosary over my wrist.
Gloating? That sounds so weird. Is Johnny so hard up he can’t get laid? Why would any mother brag about it?
“I’ll say my Hail Marys if you’ll keep quiet. Promise.”
“Ordinarily, I’d ask you to come to church with us, but Carlos has a date with Julia …” She presses my hand over the crucifix. “Why don’t you stay home and pray instead?”
“Uh, sure. Thanks, Tita.” I have to remind myself. She’s not the enemy. She cares for her son. Julia’s perfect for him. They’ll make the perfect Pinoy family. Four kids, a dog, Little League, and Girl Scouts. Carlos will take them camping and Julia will bake multicolored macarons from scratch. Carlos will open his own restaurant and be nominated the celebrity chef of the Philippines. Julia will chair the PTA and the church charity committee. They’ll celebrate their fiftieth anniversary surrounded by grandchildren and accomplishments. And me? I’ll be locked up in the attic with my neurotic screeching cockatiel, eating bird seed muffins filled with cracked eggshells.
Out of nowhere, Tita Gloria encircles me in a hug and kisses me noisily, breaking the spell on Carlos and Julia’s perfectly sickening life story. “You had a hard day. Go home and spend time with that sweet girl of yours.”
“Thanks, Tita.” I wipe a tear from my cheek. “I’m so grateful to God I have her.”
Gloria’s expression hardens. “Do not mess up Carlos and Julia’s courtship. I’ll pray for you, but if you set your hooks on my son, I’ll make you pay dearly.”
“You have nothing to worry about.” I swipe the back of my hand roughly across my face. “Carlos and I are no longer friends. Maybe it’s better if you’re no longer my godmother. That way I won’t ever get in Carlos’s way again.”
“If that’s what you want.” Gloria makes a hand washing motion. “I’m only sorry you’ve grieved your mother so much. You do take after your father. Unable to control your urges. God knows I tried to set a good example for you.”
Whatever backhanded insult she just lobbed at me, I don’t care. I’m only too eager to get out of her orbit. Shoving the rosary into her hands, I give her the evil eye. “You’ve been a wonderful example of the woman I don’t wish to become. No matter what Livy does, what mistakes she makes, she’ll always have my support and love.”
“Not if her father files a restraining order.” Gloria’s grin widens as her eyes narrow. “Do you ever wonder why she was give up for adoption in the first place? Loose morality is inherited, and your parents trusted Olivia and Kevin to raise her, not you.”