Claiming Carlos

Home > Romance > Claiming Carlos > Page 19
Claiming Carlos Page 19

by Rachelle Ayala


  “When will she quit? She’s driving the customers away. I think she’s doing it on purpose.”

  “What would she gain?” Mama grabs my arm. “There she is. Keep an eye on her. We had another toilet mishap this morning. Someone peed all over the seats and a customer sat on it and ran out screaming. They refused to pay the check.”

  “You think it’s Miranda?”

  “Or one of the waitresses,” Mama whispers. “Carlos thinks they’re trying to drive down the valuation of Barrio XO.”

  “Are you saying someone here is in cahoots with the buyers?” My nose itches and I sneeze.

  “Looks that way. This morning, someone called in an order for a large amount of food and failed to pick it up.”

  “How much did we lose on it?”

  “Hundred fifty dollars.” Mama’s eyes shift toward the door.

  A man and a woman dressed in business suits step through the doorway. The woman, a tall redhead, removes her sunglasses and rolls her eyes at the décor. “Is this the right place?”

  The man checks his phone. “Seems to be. Let’s see if it’s any good.”

  Mama presents them with a pair of menus and greets them. I decide I better get to work, so I head for the kare kare room. Good. No sign of Johnny Jump Up. How that guy can continue to send me roses and embarrass me in front of the patrons is beyond sick. Last night he serenaded me in his Adam Levine-ish falsetto, and I almost puked. Should have, but I didn’t want to clean the carpet.

  I straighten a few placemats and pour ice water for the two new customers. “Can I get you something from the bar?”

  The redhead looks down her nose at me. “No wonder you’re having cash flow problems. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be wearing ghetto clothes. What’s with the all black?”

  “Be nice, Rebecca,” the man says. He’s quite a bit older than the female and turns his megawatt smile and shining blue eyes on me. “We’ll have a bottle of your finest white wine.”

  “Sure. And have you had a chance to look at our appetizer menu?”

  Rebecca wrinkles her nose as if she smells an odor. “I hear you guys eat pig snouts here, or is it ears?”

  “May I recommend the shiitake mushroom caps with vegan crab?” I figure I’ll foist one of Johnny’s creations on them. They seem to be exactly the type of upscale Rolex wearing pimps he markets to.

  The man puts on reading glasses and peruses the menu. His lips tighten, and he flips through all the pages, his mouth down in a disapproving arc.

  “Let me get you that wine.” I retreat hastily to give them time and privacy.

  I dig through the wine cellar.

  “Need any help?” Jake, the soup and sauce chef, asks from the door.

  “What’s our most expensive white wine?”

  “Haven’t you heard? A case of French wine was stolen along with the Patron tequila.” His dark brown eyes are hooded. He rubs his nose. “They tried to blame the black guy, of course.”

  I straighten up from my crouch. “Look, if you didn’t take it, no worries. I haven’t heard anyone blame you except to say you’re putting Tabasco sauce in the pancit.”

  “Hey, it makes it taste better. Gives it a punch.” He sneers, his expression darkening.

  I turn sideways and step away. “What do we have left?”

  Casually, he rolls a bottle from the rack. “Russian River Chardonnay. Goes well with shrimp sinigang and steamed tilapia.”

  “Wonderful.” I take the bottle from him and exit posthaste. Kid seems to know a lot about bartending and Filipino food. Wonder where Carlos found him?

  I pull the cork from the chardonnay and collect two wineglasses. When I return to the table, the two occupants are glaring at each other.

  “Tell me when.” I pour for the snotty woman first.

  She pushes out her hand at one-third, and I turn to the gentleman. He flashes me a rakish smile. “Rebecca’s right. You’re way too pretty to hide behind that mortician’s uniform. I’m Rich Jewell, by the way, and you’re?”

  I immediately recognize his name as the one on the business card, and my heart rate goes to warp speed. This guy is the owner of a private equity fund. He raises tons of capital for large tech businesses. Why would he care about our little restaurant?

  “Choco, er, Concha Sánchez, the owners’ daughter.”

  He winks. “I hear the restaurant’s for sale.”

  I glance around to see if anyone’s within earshot. He senses my nervousness and swirls his wine, then takes a sip, his mouth tipping with amusement.

  “May I give you some advice?” he says.

  “Uh, sure, Mr. Jewell.”

  He shakes the flimsy menu. “People come to a quaint little place like this for real Filipino food. The kind you get at home, or find on the streets. The lumpia, pancit, adobo, comfort food. What’s this asparagus and walnut soup, the butternut squash ravioli with Fingers Lake grapes?”

  I’m not sure I like him thinking of Barrio XO as quaint, but he has a point.

  “If you’d like the home-style food, I can have something cooked for you. What would you like?”

  “None of it.” The sour-faced redhead yawns and pats Mr. Jewell’s arm. “You have to watch your cholesterol, honey. If you want to buy this restaurant for your son, you’ll have to raze it to the ground and expand out. The location is prime. Petco Park, Symphony Hall, the waterfront with summer concerts by the bay, the yacht club.”

  “I appreciate your business acumen.” Mr. Jewell smiles indulgently at her. “But Jack needs to get back to his roots, not gallivant around like some fanboy of the stars.”

  “Well, whatever, he’s your kid.” The redhead shrugs and turns to me. “And seriously, is a fifty dollar bottle of wine really your most expensive?”

  Rich Jewell winks at Rebecca in a way that tells me she’s not his daughter. “I told you to wait on the yacht.”

  He reaches into his pocket and hands me a wad of cash. “We’ll take the bottle to go, and if you don’t mind, a copy of your menu.”

  “Oh, won’t you please try a sampler of our appetizers? We still have lumpia Shanghai, chicharon bulaklak. I can ask the cook to fry you up a batch.”

  “I’m afraid the little lady needs her beauty nap.” Mr. Jewell smirks at Rebecca. “I’ll call you, Concha, and discuss the asking price. Here’s my card.”

  “Sure, thanks.” I run to the serving stand and retrieve the cork. “Enjoy your stay in San Diego.”

  The nasty piece of goods, Rebecca, stands in a huff, flinging her multihued reddish hair over her shoulder. She brushes off the lapel of her blazer and saunters toward the door.

  Mr. Jewell picks up her snakeskin purse and hurries after her. Why would a handsome and insanely rich man like him put up with the airs of that bitch?

  I stuff the bills in the register and walk toward the bathroom to wash my hands. Footsteps stomp down the narrow corridor.

  “Choco!” one of the new waitresses calls. “I’ve had it.”

  “It’s her fault,” the other one yells.

  “What now?” I turn toward the commotion.

  Both Susie and Sarah huff to a stop in front of me.

  “I’m not going to work with her one more minute.” Sarah points to Susie. “She tried to trip me and I almost spilled soup all over Mr. Dee.”

  “It was an accident,” Susie says. “You stole the plate of gluten-free bangus from under my nose.”

  “You idiot.” Sarah stabs a finger at Susie. “Johnny Dee is more important than those old fogey customers who tip like church mice.”

  My eyes lob back and forth between the two. Sarah’s shorter than Susie and built like a wrestler, but Susie’s no slouch either. She has piercings traversing her entire face like a railroad track from her eyes to her lips.

  “Both of you, shut it!” I shout to separate them.

  Susie pushes me aside and bends so she’s in Sarah’s face.

  “Just because you’re sleeping with him, or want to, doesn’t me
an my customers get short changed.”

  “Boy, are you stupid.” Sarah rolls her eyes. “Johnny’s going to be the owner of this restaurant, and once he’s in charge, he’s going to fire you.”

  “Wait, wait, time out!” I scream at the top of my vocal cords. “One at a time.”

  Sarah’s chest heaves and her nose flares. “She assaulted me. I’m filing charges.”

  “Go ahead, slut. You do that and I’ll kick your ass so hard my toes will protrude out your belly button.”

  “Apologize.”

  “Never.”

  I stick two fingers in my mouth and let out an ear piercing whistle. “Listen up, both of you. Get back to work.”

  Sarah huffs disdainfully, trying to look down on Susie who towers over her. “I may be a slut, but I’m cleaning up on the tips, Metal Maid.”

  “I’ve got a big tip on my switchblade with your name, or should I say, blood on it.” Susie lunges for Sarah and I execute a body block.

  Ow, ow, ow. Susie’s hard elbow knocks the wind from me as she shoves me into Sarah, who squeals in my ear.

  “Girls, girls, girls.” Johnny Dee steps down the corridor from the bangus room toward us.

  My jaw falls to scrape the floor. His hair’s spiked so high he looks like a cross between an anime character and a wasted porcupine. But what has my chin dragging the carpet is the tights he’s wearing, black and white leopard spotted leggings.

  He swings a studded clutch around his wrist and props one hand on his hip. “Girls, hold the catfight. My soup’s cold, and I found meat in the vegan spring rolls.”

  I can’t help it. My eyes immediately gravitate to his groin region to see if I can trace an outline through his tights. Why would any normal guy risk wearing something that’ll have a piece of him popping out at the waistband? The leather vest covering his torso is high enough to show his belly button.

  Sarah pushes past Susie and touches Johnny’s bare bicep. “I’ll have a word with the kitchen staff on that no-fry spring roll.”

  “No-fry?” I follow Sarah to the kitchen. “Since when did we serve no-fry spring rolls?”

  “Stop.” Miranda waves a spatula and blocks our way. “No members of the wait staff allowed in the kitchen.”

  “I need another order of vegan spring rolls. No meat!” Sarah yells.

  “She stole my gluten-free bangus.” Susie pushes her way past Miranda, who bounces against the door to the cold room, opening it.

  “Out, out of the kitchen.” Miranda sticks a finger in Susie’s chest. Big mistake.

  Susie’s nostrils flare and her piercings dance. “Out of my way.”

  With a hefty push, she shoves Miranda who stumbles back into the cold room. Her arms windmilling, she falls in between the sides of raw pork belly hanging up to dry.

  “Ai ya!” Miranda slaps at the pork bellies and pulls on a trussed whole duck for balance, right when a wooden tray of balut, fertilized duck eggs with the intact embryo, falls and splatters over her. The slime and partially formed embryos ooze down her hair and face.

  Everyone except Johnny bursts out laughing. I whip out my cell phone and snap as many pictures as I can before Johnny blocks my view to help his mother.

  Out of nowhere, Carlos appears, and he gives Johnny a kick on the back of his tight leopard printed butt, sending him sprawling against the skewered suckling pigs. They tumble like dominoes, knocking Johnny on top of his balut-covered mother.

  Carlos picks up a tray of the Vietnamese style transparently wrapped no-fry spring rolls and flings the contents into the cold room all over Johnny and Miranda. “Vegan spring rolls is off the menu.”

  I’m laughing so hard I can’t keep my phone steady, but I turn it to video mode to get the best action. I should have unloaded my two dozen black century eggs at them too.

  Susie and Sarah seem to have forgotten their enmity and are busily taking pictures and texting or tweeting or Instagraming. Oh, gosh, poor Genie and Livy are missing this, the best show since the lechón kawali food fight we had when Evie was here.

  Bang, bang, clang. Mama hits two pots against each other. “Everyone, back to work. Some customers have left their tables. Others are complaining about the non-Filipino food. It’s time to take back Barrio XO. Tomorrow, we’re going to prepare a traditional Filipino buffet for karaoke night.”

  Muffled voices come from underneath the piles of pork bellies, duck eggs, and leopard spotted tights. Like Godzilla emerging from the mucky swamps, Miranda rises from the pile lathered in yolk, feathers, beak and shells.

  She swipes debris off her brow and advances on Mama, her fists clenched at her side. “You don’t give the orders around here. Rey left me in charge and I want you and your daughter to leave.”

  “We’re not going anywhere.” Mama stands her ground, looking ravishingly beautiful in her silky turquoise dress. “You and your son are not welcome here. Leave now, or I’ll call the police.”

  “Not when I’m the rightful owner of this place. Maybe Rey forgot to tell you, but he’s filing for divorce and handing all his assets to me and Johnny.”

  “You’re a crazy bitch. Get out of my restaurant.” Mama points her chin at the cooks. “Kindly escort Ms. Dee out the back.”

  Carlos gestures toward the door. “Follow me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Miranda slaps at his hand.

  Danny and Victor take a hold of Miranda’s arms, one on each side. They pick her up and swing her, a one, and a two, out the back door and pitch her into the dumpster.

  “Mom!” Johnny races to her rescue.

  Carlos chases him and before Johnny knows what hit him, he upends the black and white leopard spotted legs and heaves Johnny over his shoulders.

  Before letting go, Carlos rips the tights off Johnny’s behind and empties him into the dumpster.

  I’m dying over here, barely able to keep my video straight. Johnny wasn’t wearing anything under those leggings, and he is truly as bald as Kitty Galore, pink balls and all.

  My brother lugs a giant bucket of discarded food and waddles to the dumpster. I can’t catch my breath. This is too much.

  With a flourish, he marinates mother and son with the slop. Pork intestines, fish skeletons, garlic sauce noodles, knuckle bones, tripe, leftover blood stew and slimy squid parts ooze over the screams, hollers, and curses.

  Danny and Victor finish the job by throwing the lid down on them.

  “And that, folks, is the end of the Evil Dees,” Carlos proclaims with the entire kitchen staff cheering and taking bows.

  “Barrio XO is back!”

  Chapter 28

  Livy and Genie are living in social media heaven after posting the videos of Johnny and his mother being dumped. Apparently the hashtag #BarrioDumps is trending and Genie has set herself up as the social media representative for us, firing tweets to invite everyone to the Take Back the Barrio Party, as they’re now calling it complete with hashtag #BarrioIsBack.

  I spent last night at my parents’ home. I wasn’t sure I could resist the temptation of knowing Carlos was down the hall at the apartment complex and alone. Or maybe he wasn’t alone, now that his mother’s gone, he could have had Julia over—a sight I definitely did not want to see.

  Carlos never mentioned his text message asking me to have dinner with him. Maybe it was meant for Julia, not me.

  Stop it, Choco. Be happy you still have Livy. My inner voice reminds me what’s important. Tita Gloria’s message was clear. Carlos can only be a friend, nothing more, no matter how hot he kisses me or how many times I wake up dreaming about him.

  Since Papa’s out of town, Mama shut the restaurant to allow us time to clean and prepare for the evening party. Thankfully, neither Johnny nor his mother showed up today. I can’t believe I had such a crush on Johnny before. Sure, he’s handsome and rich, and made me feel like a princess. But he doesn’t feel real, like he’s putting on an act. To what purpose, I have no clue.

  Susie, Sarah, and I clean the tables, fold
napkins, and arrange silverware. Jake and Brian assemble the buffet trolley in the center of the kare kare room. Genie and Livy are still recovering from their belly button piercings. Neither of them can bend forward, so they’re piling plates into the stacking units.

  In the kitchen, the men are chopping, frying, slicing and grilling. Mama works the phones, calling our longtime customers. She even managed to get a live band, although they’re not Filipinos—a blues rock band called The Licked Blues who happen to be preparing for a concert in the area.

  When Mama called Mr. Jewell and invited him to the party, he offered the band for free and bought barongs for all of them. The lead singer, Dylan Jewell, is totally hot and to die for in a black and gold trimmed barong. And the bass guitarist has the sweetest, most sexy beard. The drummer, wow. His smile’s too knowing, a bad boy through and through, if you go for that scruffy hipster type.

  I can’t stare at them. They’re all swoon-worthy, but their manager, an Asian woman who’s all business, is running around barking orders. She seems very possessive of Dylan, and I don’t blame her one bit. If girls gawk at the cooks of Barrio XO the way they swarm over the band members, I’ll take a cleaver and … never mind.

  Keeping my head down, I watch Julia glide through the door and kiss my mother. She’s hosting tonight, dressed like a Miss Philippines beauty contestant. Her pink pearl chiffon one-shoulder evening gown is trimmed with beading wrapped from the neckline around an empire waist. Dang, she’s so gorgeous it kills me. God only knows what wedding gown she’ll surprise Carlos with. Of course her parents are no longer as wealthy with the recession hitting the Philippines, so I doubt she’ll be weighed down with gold rings like that bride in Shanghai and all her bling.

  Oh, I hate myself. So jealous and catty. I rearrange the napkins and brace myself to greet her. She is, after all, my favorite cousin, and it’s not her fault Carlos is smitten with her. If he can deal with her kind of crazy, more power to him.

  “Choco,” Julia calls me to her side.

  I give her the obligatory hug and kiss. “You look wonderful.”

 

‹ Prev