by Jesse Jordan
“Ah, that's much better,” I joke, rubbing his brown hair. Unlike the other members of the Rivera family, Angel's got medium brown hair instead of black, and he's nearly as pale as a white guy, unlike my natural light tan. He's really the embodiment of his name, he's got an angel face and a grin that is going to melt hearts when he hits his teenage years. I'm going to have to watch him to make sure his good looks aren't used to get himself into trouble. “Hey, where's Maria, anyway?”
“Mommy went to the store to get things,” Angel says. “Gramma is on the computer. She's been there for like, hours!”
“Thanks, little man,” I reply, heading towards the back. It's only a three-bedroom place, but I let Mama keep the computer in my room, mainly because I'm out of the house a lot when we tour or are in the studio, so it’s a home office for now.
I find Mama typing away. Her hair is pulled back and has a gray streak that hits me in the stomach like a fist. She didn't have that streak when Papa was alive. It wasn't until after Papa died, and Mama had to work so hard to keep Maria and me fed and clothed, that the gray started to work its way into her hair. She's not that old really, but she looks a lot older until you see her in action. She's still got lots of energy and strength, and she's as much my hero as Papa was.
“Mama, what are you working on?” I ask, leaning down and giving Mama a kiss on the cheek. “Angel says you've been back here a while.”
“Just trying to figure out the fire inspection requirements,” Mama says. “Whoever wrote these was definitely a lawyer.”
“You mean they're complicated,” I tease, reaching forward and hitting the power button on the monitor. “Come on Mama, I told you, I can hire a lawyer now that will help us with all of this.”
“I don't trust lawyers, you know that baby,” Mama says as she gets up. “Not since they screwed us on the taxes.”
“Mama, I know. But if we must work with snakes, it might as well help us to have a snake of our own, and I can pay for it with my next quarterly check,” I reply. “I know, I know, you want to argue me on it. Let's just go play with Angel instead, okay?”
“Si, mi pequeno,” Mama says, giving me a hug. “So, tell me about your studio session today. I've got a babysitting job tonight, and I want to hear all about it.”
“Well..” I start, but before I can go on, the front door opens, and I hear Angel go tearing towards it, hollering for his mother. I give Mama a glance, and we both smile. “After I help Maria unload the groceries.”
It's with pride that I see that Maria followed my advice and went shopping at the good supermarket I found near the house, with real cuts of meat from the butcher's section and fresh produce. Yeah, it means that I must carry four more bags of things, but I'm so happy to do it. These fresh broccoli heads and bell peppers? Yeah, we busted our butts, and my nephew's going to eat them, not crappy canned goods or welfare cheese like Maria and I did. Setting the last bag on the kitchen counter, I take out the gallon of milk, nodding in approval. “Whole milk. Nice.”
“I just know that you like working with good ingredients, Joey. And you did promise to cook dinner tonight,” Maria says, giving me a kiss on the cheek. “You're the best, bro.”
Maria leaves the kitchen and goes in to play with Angel. I watch them for a moment before Mama interrupts my thoughts. “They're doing just fine, Joey. I know you've been worried about the move, the new neighborhood, you going back on tour next year, all of that.”
I nod, letting Mama see my tension. “I know Mama. I guess I was just worried that Angel would have a problem, leaving his friends behind. But I guess if he's got Maria, he's good. And she's...”
I go silent, not trusting my voice. Instead, I turn to the kitchen countertop and take out the packet of chicken thighs, taking a look. Okay, I can do something with these. Mama watches me for a minute, then pats me on the shoulder, letting me be. I start seasoning the chicken before putting it in the casserole dish that I'm going to bake it in, adding a nice chunk of butter that will melt slowly while the oven warms up. As I move onto the vegetables, I think about Maria. She was just getting into being fourteen, the one night I messed up as a big brother.
I was in high school, and Mama had to work a long shift that night. We decided to get together at Ian's place in Huntington Beach to practice for a paying gig coming up. We had just rebranded less than a year ago as the Fragments and were jumping at any chance to get paid and make our name. What I hadn't known was that Maria didn't want to hang around the house. She asked to go with me, but I said no. I knew I'd be out late, and I didn't want her to struggle in school the next day. She was the one with the brains after all.
The memories of what happened when I got home still haunt me. Mama was still out and Maria was upset, sniffling and crying. She flinched when I sat next to her on the couch, and she wouldn't look at me. When I asked her what was wrong, she started sobbing, saying she was so sorry. Maria, my lovely little sister, sorry. Sorry for going to the corner store, sorry for not running away when she heard the two men... sorry for getting raped. She never told me who, I don't think she even knows, but when she turned up pregnant from it, it hurt her so badly. Mama though, Mama was our rock, and she just hugged us both and told Maria that it didn't matter, she loved us.
I've been in and out of the church a long time. But Maria is a strong Catholic, and abortion never even entered her mind. So, at three weeks after turning fifteen years old, Maria gave birth to Angel. Maria's been a great mother, and Angel is a true blessing. I’ve even started going to Mass with my family occasionally, and I started going back to confession if only to help get some guidance from Father Riordan, one of the priests at the church Mama likes to go to.
I get the chicken in the oven and start slicing up bell peppers and olives to mix in with the saffron rice that we're going to have on the side while Mama starts the water on the stove. “So, are you going to tell us?”
I shake away the bad memories, trying to focus on the good news that I want to share with my family. “With dinner, Mama. I know Maria's going to want to hear this, and I might be busy after dinner.”
I finish my vegetables, cooking them a little in butter before adding them to the rice. Mama watches, then smiles. “You know, when you were kids, I didn't know if keeping the cable for the apartment was a good idea or not. Considering the number of cooking shows you watched and what you've done with them... I'd say it was worth the money.”
Mama leaves the kitchen while I finish up dinner, sprinkling just a pinch of dried chipotle powder for Mama and me. Maria's got a sensitive stomach, and Angel's too young yet. It's with pride that I bring the dishes out to the dining room table in the first real dining room we've had. “Time to eat, guys!”
Angel takes a big helping, but I'm not worried, Maria's told me that he always eats a little bit extra when I cook dinner. After Mama says the blessing, we dig in, and I get the biggest compliment that really any cook can get, four whole minutes where the only sound in the room is the spoons and forks scraping on plates. Finally, Mama sets her fork down and gives me a look, one that I know means it's time to talk. Maria catches it too and looks over at me. “Joey?”
“Well, you remember last week I had that interview for the newspaper?” I ask, and Maria nods.
“I'm looking forward to it. When's it coming out?” she asks. “I keep checking the website, but nothing yet.”
I shrug and take a drink of milk to encourage Angel before his mouth is too full to fit any more food in it. He's like his mother that way, Maria's horrible at talking with a mouthful of her food and has been since she was a little girl. “I don't know. But... well, the reporter and I kind of hit it off. She asked me out on a date for tomorrow.”
“Is she cute?” Maria asks, giggling when I blush. “Really?”
“She's more than that,” I protest before Maria can ask more. She knows I've always had a thing for blond women, to the point that I can't go long without her asking if she's a guera loca, the slang Mexican Spanis
h for sexy blond that can also mean crazy or hot tempered. Okay, so I have a type. “Seriously, Maria. Yeah, she's blond, but she's smart, she's funny... and she really listened to me, didn't just ask about the surface rock music stuff.”
“Then what's the problem?” Mama asks. “You look unsure of yourself.”
I laugh and set my fork aside. “You and Cora, Mama. She asked me the same thing, I was playing like... well, I wasn't playing my best in the studio. Cora and James, they just said to relax, have some fun. Cora even said that she thinks I'm a catch.”
“I knew I liked her for a reason,” Maria teases. “Not just because Bella and Angel get along well. She's your type too.”
I roll my eyes, shaking my head. “Nah, Maria. I mean, Cora's great, but I've never thought of her that way. She's just my second sister.”
“Which one of us is cuter?” Maria teases, and I roll my eyes.
“Whichever one of you is holding the knife,” I reply in my typical answer, making Angel snort in laughter. “But seriously, Andrea is just... I got a good feeling about her, and I guess I'm nervous.”
“Well, I think Cora is correct,” Mama says, reaching over and taking my hand. “Joey, you've been the man of this house for almost thirteen years now. Never once have you complained, and you're still taking care of things even as you're making it on your own. So, go relax, have some fun, have a good date. What are you two doing?”
“She wants to have a picnic, actually. I was going to make some things after dinner, maybe in the morning. You know, let her get a taste of real Puerto Rican food.”
After dinner, Mama leaves to go do her babysitting, while Maria gives Angel his bath to start getting him ready for bed. I finish up what I'm putting together around eight o'clock, while Maria comes out with a smile on her face. “He wants you to read with him.”
I nod, wiping my hands on the dish towel next to the sink. “Okay. What did he pick out?”
“Harold,” Maria says, handing over the familiar purple backed book. “What else?”
I smile and take the book, heading back to Maria's bedroom, where Angel's waiting in his little second bed. “Harold, buddy?”
“Uh-huh,” Angel says, yawning and smiling. “Joey, if you start dating... are you going to stop spending time at home?”
I shake my head, sitting down and giving Angel a kiss on the top of his head. “I'm never going to stop spending time with you, Angel. You're one of my favorite people in the world. Think of it this way. Before you were born, it was just me, Maria, and Mama. Did you showing up mean I spent less time with them or thought of them less?”
“No, but I live here.”
Good point. “Well, did Rocky and Cora getting together mean that Rocky spent less time with me and Ian? Or that he doesn't like you any less?”
“No... it means I got to make a new friend in Bella.”
I nod, opening the book. “Exactly, Angel. Meeting Cora means you got to make new friends.”
Angel hums, nodding. “Bella's pretty. I'm going to marry her someday.”
I try not to laugh at the matter of fact way my four-year-old nephew says that about six-year-old Bella, but instead just reach over and give him a hug. “Well, we'll wait a few years to see how that pans out. For now, though, let's see. Harold and the green....”
“Purple, Joey. Purple.”
I chuckle and turn to the first page. “I should make you start reading this to me.”
I wake up at nine thirty, enjoying the luxury of sleeping in. Mama was right, I've been the man of this house for over half my life, and a lot of those years were spent working my ass off. And while the Fragments have made it possible for me to not have to work quite so much, with touring, traveling, multiple time zones, and media events, it is a luxury to sleep in my own bed and wake up at my own pace. While the room doesn't quite feel right, the bed is the same, comforting in its slightly lumpy usedness. Rolling over, I stretch and sit up, rubbing at my face. I need to shave. And a shower.
The nerves start to creep back as I shave, and I nick my chin, hissing as the water washes away the blood before I look at the damage in the mirror. Okay, not too bad, but it still hurts. I finish shaving and go out to the living room, where Mama is reading a book. “Maria and Angel left to go check out some play equipment that maybe we can put in the back yard.”
“Sounds great. Just don't let Ian hear about it, after what he got Bella.”
Mama smiles, shaking her head. “Your giant friend has a big heart. Like you.”
“I've got better hair,” I joke, rubbing at my eyes. “Okay, well, last minute prep for my date, I guess. What should I wear?”
“Just be yourself, Joey,” Mama advises. “This girl, she obviously saw something in you, and you've said so many times you just want to be yourself with people. So be Joey with her. He's pretty special, you know.”
“Thanks, Mama.” I go into the kitchen, where on the counter are four wrapped jibarito sandwiches. “Mama?”
“You're a good cook Joey, but I make better plantains,” Mama jokes from the living room. “Never doubt a mother's plantains.”
“Words of wisdom, Mama. Okay. Hey, this evening maybe, I was thinking of some ideas to give the business more space. What about converting the garage into a kids' room, or some sort of play room that the daycare can use?”
Mama thinks, then shrugs. “Maybe, honey. Let's talk about it later. By the way, Maria's got babysitting this evening.”
“Okay, Mama. I'll be back in time to help.”
I pack up the small cooler that I'm keeping everything in and put it in the back seat of my Buick, buckling it in just to make sure things don't get scrambled all over the place. Getting changed, I decide to go with Mama's idea; nice, normal clothes, a polo shirt and jeans. Looking at myself in the mirror, I ditch the polo shirt for a vertical striped short sleeve button down over a tank-top undershirt. I take a deep breath and look myself in the mirror. “Okay Jose Rivera, just... go have fun.”
My watch beeps, and I see it's already eleven o'clock. Time to go pick up Andrea. I run out to my Buick and hope she doesn't mind a ten-year-old car with a hundred thousand miles on it for a date.
Next royalty check. After I pay for the renovations to the garage for the playroom. And a thousand other things. It's cool, though, I've got a date.
Andrea
Looking in my mirror, I touch my hair one more time, trying to figure out if I want to pull it back, or just let it bounce around my face today. I can't believe I'm this nervous, it's just a date. But it's the first date I've had since Chad, and with him turning up just a few days ago, I've got butterflies in my stomach.
I've had a history of picking bad guys to date. Chad might be the most extreme example, but some of the guys I've dated before Chad weren't good guys either, all smiles until things turn against them. Then they become bullies who yell, talk over you, or start throwing tantrums. All of them were cute at first, all of them charming... and all of them turned into assholes.
Is Joey the same thing? Am I just running from a bad relationship to another after Chad's pissed me off and Joey has a cute smile? Was that magnetic pull I felt nothing more than just my mind wanting to get back at the world's worst boyfriend?
My phone rings, and I see that it's Dad. I sigh and check the time, I've got a few minutes before Joey's supposed to be here, I might as well answer. “Good morning Dad. Or actually, good afternoon in a few minutes.”
“How's your day off going, baby?” Dad asks, setting my teeth on edge. He says baby the way a guy says it to his girlfriend, not his daughter. Seriously, Dad?
“Uh, not too bad Dad. I was just going to take off for a bit, enjoy a day out to relax and unwind. You know, ten straight days of work tends to wind you up.”
Dad laughs, and I can imagine him now in his office, leaning back in his Corinthian leather executive chair in his five-thousand-dollar suit and thousand dollar shoes, glancing out the window towards the plebeians slaving away hundreds of feet
below on the streets of Los Angeles. We live in earthquake country. So why the hell does Dad need a high-rise office anyway?
“You know Andrea, as soon as you get over your phase of trying to fit in with people who will never accept you, you can actually work a regular time schedule,” Dad says. “Get out, have some fun sometimes, have a social life?”
“Dad, my social life is just fine,” I reply, trying to not get upset. I don't want to get into a fight and get my mood broken, not right before a date. “I'm just enjoying a day off.”
“Well, I guess even people like us deserve a little bit of time to go do normal things,” Dad says, making me take another deep breath and count to ten. I am a normal girl, or at least I don't think the word normal is right up there with shit in terms of foulness. “If you're not busy tonight then, stop by the house and have dinner with me?”
“What about Elise?” I ask, referring to Dad's current girlfriend, a twenty-four-year-old model from Lithuania, or Estonia, or one of those Baltic countries. I've lost count, she doesn't speak a lot of English. “Shouldn't you be taking her out for dinner?”
“Elise went to Miami for a shoot,” Dad says easily. “Besides, I can always make time for my favorite girl.”
I shake my head, trying to think an excuse. Finally, I just decide to go with an old standby. “Sorry Dad, I've got a story that I'm working on, something personal. I know you'd like it but with work tomorrow, I really don't have a lot of time to do my own stuff.”
Dad hums, and I can hear him put his feet down on the floor. He's clingy, but he gives me at least a little bit of my own space, and he understands the driving motivation. If he thinks I'm working on something personal, he backs off. “Okay, honey. If you change your mind, I'll be here. Maybe we can go out even, I know some people who'd love to hear your opinion on things. You know, make those connections you keep looking for.”