by Tori Alvarez
The evening continues to be busy. I stop by my second party often, always noticing when someone is running low.
Back at party one, I smile. “Gentlemen, the bottles are looking low. Is there anything else I can get you?” I had refilled different men a few times. Each time, they were polite but didn’t really engage in conversation or flirtation.
“It’s about time,” the head guy replies sarcastically.
“I’m sorry. Did I miss you calling me?” I answer, confused by his statement. I have been attentive but didn’t stick around since they did not seem interested in my company.
“No, but I notice the group over there has your full attention. I expected that you would have been solely catering our table. Instead, your attention to detail has been less than expected.”
“I didn’t know anything was needed. What can I get you to make your night more enjoyable?” I respond, surprised by his no fun attitude.
“Nothing now. We refilled our own drinks several times already. The check and a manager, now.” I look at the men again, and each is ignoring the interaction, not one intervening.
At the bar, I call Sasha over. “The bachelor party with the bottle service is unhappy. They said I was not attentive enough.” I roll my eyes. “The Amex cardholder has a stick up his ass.”
“What the fuck? Does he not see the craziness in here tonight? I accommodated his last-minute request and he’s still bitching? I’ll handle it in a minute.”
I pull his check and walk it to the table. “Here is the check, and my manager will be by in a second.”
As I’m turning around to walk away, Head Guy states very loudly, “I asked for a manager, and I should not get this bill without speaking to them first.” I turn back around and the man has stood up. “I realize you are uneducated and don’t know the ways of the world, but if I’m dropping my money, I expect the service to be impeccable.” He shoves the bill back at me. Another first.
I stand in a stupor for a moment, not knowing the correct response for his rudeness. I finally turn back around, but before I can, he grabs my shoulder to keep me in place. “You will go get your manager and be back with him.”
“Get your fucking hands off her.” I hear Mark’s voice above the music, but before he can do anything else, a bouncer arrives and tells me to walk away.
I quickly head to the back, composing myself. Drunk guys being overly friendly I can handle. This—whatever this was—shook me. Uneducated. He believed I was beneath him. I have always known I was born at the bottom of the totem pole, and it has never bothered me—until tonight. Why tonight? I take a couple of minutes to shake off the feeling, straighten my back, get my chin up, and walk back out there. No one is going to make me feel less than. I don’t care who they are.
I walk out and bump into Mark. “Are you alright?” he asks, hushed and hurried.
“I’m fine. I was pissed he thought he could put his hands on me. That’s all. No reason to catch a case over a dumbass,” I lie. My boldness is my saving grace. “Go back to your friends before someone notices us.” I give him a soft shove away. No man is going to rescue me. I am my own knight in shining armor.
The tables where the party was sitting are now empty and needing to be cleared. I walk to the bar to pick up a tray and rag. “Toni,” Sasha stops me before I can walk away. “I handled it. It’s not the best tip, but I did get something out of that asshole.”
I nod my head slightly at her, not knowing why this feeling is lingering.
Chapter 4
Hiding
Garrett
Walking into my apartment, I toss my overnight bag on the floor and fall into bed. I knew the weekend was going to be hard work, but damn, I’m exhausted. I pull my phone from my pocket and check messages. Still no text from her. I ponder whether I should send another text. I drop it on the bed, deciding against it. If she likes The Coffee House, maybe I can catch her tomorrow between classes again. It’s harder to ignore me in person than over text.
I rush to The Coffee House after class, wanting to be the first one there if she shows. I find a table in a cozy corner not visible until you are in the café, playing it safe in case she decides to turn around if she sees me through the window. I scroll through the news apps while drinking my coffee, waiting. After sitting for about 15 minutes, I’m beginning to think this is a bunk mission. About to pick up my backpack, I hear the door open, and I see her walk through. Her long hair is pulled up in those crazy buns girls like to wear. She’s more casual today than she was last week, jeans and a faded t-shirt. Knowing she dressed for me places a smile on my face.
I let her place her order then surprise her. “Hi, Toni.” I raise my voice to ensure she hears me.
She pauses before turning around, her lips pulling into a forced smile. “Hi.” She stands, unmoving.
“Come sit. I was about to grab another cup.” The white lie slips past my lips. I stand to order another.
“That’s okay. I was getting mine to go.”
“Toni,” the barista calls out, holding a ceramic saucer.
“To go?” I ask, looking at the mug.
“Was this to go?” the barista asks.
“Please. Have a seat,” I say, nodding my head in the direction of the table.
She grabs the cup from the counter and sits at the table. As I place my order, I watch her from the corner of my eye. She looks uncomfortable, nothing like the girl from last week. How could she go from confident to unsure in a week? Kevin is the only explanation for this strange behavior.
“How was your weekend?” I ask to break the ice.
“Uneventful. No parties.” Her eyes fall to the table. “And you? Another frat party?” she asks with a bite in her tone.
“Nah. I went home to help my parents. My dad needed help with some fence repairs.” This is technically the truth.
“Wow.” Her caramel-colored eyes come back to mine, wide with wonder. “You actually went home to help? Where’s home?”
“Of course. How could I not help my dad?” This is what has impressed her. “My parents live in a small, no-name town south of here. You know, the one-light, blink-and-you-miss-it town.” I wink, not wanting to give too much of my family away.
“Cute. Small-town boy. I would have never guessed.” Her smile returns. What I wouldn’t do to keep that smile on her face permanently.
“I guess you could call me that.” Letting her believe this is easier.
“So, how was the manual labor?” She takes a sip of her coffee.
“Hard work as usual. Nothing like finishing a project well.” I surprise myself, sounding a bit like my father. Biting the bullet, I decide to ask her about the radio silence after the text. “I hope I didn’t cross any lines asking Kevin for your number. Since you didn’t respond, I thought you may have been uncomfortable with my getting your number.” Her eyes widen a bit.
“Uh…no. Uh…” She stumbles over her words. The confident woman falters a bit. “Sorry, no, not uncomfortable, just surprised. I didn’t know anyone there, so it caught me off guard, that’s all.”
She straightens her back slightly and pushes her chin up a fraction. A pose meant to intimidate. She is trying to exude confidence, but I can tell she’s uncomfortable. It’s something in her eyes. Most wouldn’t take the time to look hard enough, backing down from her stance. She has me hooked. I want to know what is making her tick.
“Kevin asked me about you last week. He saw us talking outside. When I found out he knew you, I took my chance asking for the number.” I tell her the truth minus the interaction I saw of them earlier in the evening. As much as I want to know their history, I need her to trust me. I’ll be shot down so fast if I push too hard.
Toni
I can relax ever so slightly. I can’t believe Kevin would ask about me and jeopardize outing himself and me in the process. I’m really regretting attending the party. Should I acknowledge this? I don’t want to admit seeing him at the party. Our exchange was in private an
d not one to share.
“That’s cool. Did he say anything else?” My curiosity is on overload, trying to figure out how much damage control I have to do.
“Nope. Just mentioned he saw me talking to you.” He pauses, and when I stay silent, he asks, “So no parties for you? Get studying done instead?” He continues the conversation as if he didn’t walk centimeters from a landmine which would have me sprinting from my seat in record time.
“Some studying. Mainly just bummed around.”
He is veering this conversation too close for comfort. I’m not telling him I worked because the inevitable question of where I work would come up, and I’m not about to admit it to him or anyone else. If he’s asking, Kevin has kept his mouth shut.
“Did you go out while you were at home? Meet up with any of your old friends?” I move the conversation back to him.
“Not really. Remember, small town. Not much to do out there. Hung out at the house.” Gosh, he’s cute, and this small-town-boy charm is somewhat addicting. It’s quiet for a moment, and my phone vibrates. I glance to see an email come through.
Why am I getting the red notice email warning my grandmother’s power is going to be shut off due to non-payment? My cousin is usually good about taking care of this bill—not always on time, but it gets paid. I’m not even going to bother calling him, because I’m too pissed to talk to him. This needs to be taken care of today before it closes.
“I’m so sorry, I’ve got to go.” I pick up my coffee to pour into a to-go cup.
“Is everything okay, darlin’?” There’s that word again. Each time I hear the word darlin’ I swoon a little, and I’m not even the swooning type.
“Yes, sorry, I just have to take care of something.” Not wanting to expose myself, I keep things vague.
“Anything I can help with?”
“No, I’m good. It just needs my attention now.” He has followed me to the bar to get the to-go cup. He actually looks concerned.
“Can I call you later?”
“I would like that.” My honest answer surprises me.
Driving to my grandmother’s house, I am stewing. I have all her bills going to my email. This way, I can ensure everything gets taken care of. I love my cousins, but they still need reminding. My uncle and my mom are fucking leeches. Always with their hands out. Even with the miniscule amount my grandmother makes, they ask her to fix their problems. Alex and I have begun to take control of my grandmother’s bills and money so she has what she needs.
Thankfully, this house has been in our family forever, so it’s paid off. It’s small and run down, just like all the other houses in this neighborhood. I would love to take her out of here, but I know she won’t leave. She’s still taking care of my uncle and cousins. I hate my cousins moving weed through her house, but since I don’t live there anymore, I don’t get a say.
My grandmother cleans houses. Uneducated, her options for a career were very limited. She is on a tight budget, and she does not need any unexpected bills.
“Guela, I’m here!” I yell as I walk through the front door. I called her on the way to let her know we would be going to pay the electricity bill. “Let’s get going and I will take you to a late lunch after.” I don’t want her to worry about this. Maybe a meal will ease her mind about the red notice.
“Mija, no tienes clases? (You don’t have classes, dear?) It’s fine. Alex is coming.” She’s walking out of her bedroom in the back. Our use of Spanglish is common, mixing Spanish and English in the same conversation and even the same sentences sometimes.
“I’m done for the day. Let’s get going. I don’t want to risk the power getting turned off. We don’t know what time Alex will get here,” I respond, wanting to take care of it now. Just then, my phone rings, and Alex’s name appears.
“Hello?” I answer even though I know it’s him. I’m still pissed.
“Toni. I’m sorry. I thought I would have it paid by now. I owe you.” He apologizes, the sincerity in his voice apparent.
“What happened? You promised to take care of this for her.”
“My dad. Need I say more? He got arrested again. Of course, he called Guela. She was going to put the house up to bail him out. You and I both know we can’t trust my dad.”
“What?” I ask confused. No one had told me anything about this. “When?”
“A few months ago. You were studying for exams. I didn’t want to throw this at you. He got caught selling at a bar. You would think that pendejo would know better. I had to pony up eight grand and slow the business. I didn’t want any attention turned to me and my brother. I’m still trying to catch up. If he fucks up, at least I’m only out money, and Guela isn’t out a house.”
“I’m sorry. Why didn’t you tell me? I would have handled it. I could have worked extra nights at the club.”
“Fuck that. That money is for you to live on during the year when you can’t work as much. You know I got your back.” I feel like the biggest shit. I should have called him and asked what was going on. Usually, he forgets, and that’s why it’s a few months behind. I should have had Alex’s back the way he has had mine.
“I can’t leave, Alex. What the fuck am I going to do in college? Really?” I roll my eyes and throw my head back into the old couch.
“Toni. You have to. Get the hell out of here. You are the only one that can. Don’t give this up,” Alex pleads with me. “Antonia,”—he pronounces my name in Spanish, knowing I hate it—“or Antonia…”—he says with a long ‘o’ and soft ‘a’—“which do you want?”
He pauses, watching me, waiting for another round of excuses why I can’t leave. I take a deep breath, tears collecting in my eyes. “You and I both know that I will not fit in there.” I want to go, but I’m terrified to admit it. There is so much I don’t know about the world away from this side of town. This is our “Hotel California”; you can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave.
“You are strong. Be a chameleon. Be who they need you to be. Get the paper at the end of your four years and be done. You won’t have to come back here unless you want to.” He smirks. Everyone always talks about leaving, but rarely does anyone really succeed. “It’s a full ride! Tuition, dorm, and books.”
“Yeah, great, but what am I going to live on? I can’t very well have no fucking money for four years.”
“Work. You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you can figure it out.”
“And how am I to get to this job of mine from the dorms?” I need excuses to help me from accepting this as a thing that can come true.
“I’ll get that for you. You will have a car—more than likely a piece of shit, but it will run.” The smile that appears on Alex’s face is genuine.
“I can’t accept that.” Alex is three years older than me. He never graduated but has been on my ass to finish. His brother, Javie, graduated and is working at a tire shop. Alex has been floating from job to job. There is no way he can get me a car.
“You can. And this conversation is over.” He stands up, comes over to me, and kisses my forehead. “You are the only one.” He winks before turning around and walking out.
National Merit Scholar. That is what I have been called since our scores came in. The only one in my graduating class. I don’t know if this says more about the education at a poor school or how smart I am. Because of this, my counselor made me apply to different universities. I filled out each application, wrote each essay, and gave them back to her.
“I’m at Guela’s house now. I’ll take her to get this paid and ensure the power stays on. We don’t need another fee to get it turned on again. I want to take her to eat, and then we’ll meet you back here. Okay?” My anger has evaporated and been replaced with guilt.
“Fine. Text when you’re done eating.”
I scan the room as I’m sitting down at a local hole-in-the-wall burger restaurant. So many familiar faces, older and worn down from the hard life they have lived. The same women since I was younger taking orde
rs, another glaring reminder of the viciousness of poverty.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Tio Alex, Guela?” I have been wondering why she never mentioned it.
“It was nothing you needed to worry about.” She knows my frustration with him and my mom, so I guess it’s her way of protecting her children. I don’t understand how they could grow up to be such assholes when they had a mom who tried to do all she could for them. We grew up in the same shithole, but at least Alex, Javie, and I are trying to take care of Guela.
“Guela, you know I worry about you. Alex told me you were going to put the house up to bail him out. How could you do that? If he jumped, you are out a house.” I am pleading with her to be smarter. She needs to learn when to cut them off.
“Mija, es mi hijo. No tengo otra opción. (Sweetheart, he is my son. I don’t have any other choice.)” She has moved to Spanish. It is time for me to pull back. She is so protective of them, even if they are not in return.
“I know.” I pause, giving just enough time to transition the conversation away so she can relax and enjoy herself. “What else is going on?”
“Have you talked to Javie? He is going to take classes to work on diesel engines.” She smiles proudly.
“Really? Being in school this summer and working so much, I don’t know anything.” I’m flabbergasted by this bit of information and want to be proud, but I need to find out if this is true or if it’s another one of his half-assed attempts at something. “That will be great for him. He enjoys what he does.” I let my grandmother bask in this joy.
He may enjoy working on cars, but he is also in business with Alex. Their illegal dealings worry me, but they need the money to survive. Screw other’s opinions of our family. I’ve heard every take on the evils of what they do. How they can get an “honest” job. How they are contributing to the downfall of our society. All those self-righteous people who look down on us can back up. Until they have spent a week in our lives, they have no right to judge how we survive.