by Dylan Allen
28
Lucía
The Carras’ home is nothing like Reece’s place in Calabasas. Just a mile down the same street as Spago, it’s Beverly Hills grandeur at its finest. Black wrought iron gates open up to a long, manicured bush-lined drive. The drive crests near the front door of a red brick mansion.
“This is where you grew up?” I ask Reece as he parks his car on one side of the massive drive.
“Yeah, my parents have lived here for almost thirty years. They moved here when I was little. It was my mother’s grandmother’s house before it was theirs.”
“Stay there.” He opens the car door for me and takes my hand to help me out.
“You’re very gallant today,” I joke. I have butterflies in my stomach as we approach the door, I tug his hand and come to a stop. “Reece, I’m nervous. I’m not sure I’m ready to meet your parents.”
“Why not? They’re just regular people.” He grabs my arm and tucks it into his side.
They’re the furthest thing from regular, it’s laughable to hear him say that. My insides feel like jelly, but I plaster a smile on my face as I walk into the house with Reece.
It’s like stepping into another world.
The floor is cream-colored stone, punctuated with black diamond-shaped tiles every five or six feet. The entryway’s huge crystal chandelier hangs from a huge silver dome in the thirty-foot ceiling. The stairs look like they’re carved out of ivory and the rails are wrought iron and glass. Everything is so ornate. The flower arrangement on the table in the middle of the foyer is the size of some of the small trees we have in our yard in Los Feliz. I’ve never seen this kind of luxury in person.
Reece heads up the stairs and beckons me to follow.
We get to the top and walk down the longest hallway I’ve ever seen in a home. “This place is like a palace,” I mumble to Reece.
“Yeah, it is. Growing up here was fun, but it was too big for us.” We walk all the way to the end and he opens two double doors.
“My parents have been spending a lot of time in the viewing room. My dad is finally taking his doctor’s orders seriously and Mom takes three days a week off to keep an eye on him.” His voice drops to a whisper as we enter a huge room.
“It’s why I’m still in LA. I’ve had to work with the rest of the executive team to come up with a plan for my dad’s absence.”
The room has three walls that are movie screens. The screens all have their own seating area. In the one that’s across from the doors, I see two heads, bent together in one of the huge reclining chairs. Playing on the screen is of all things, Love Actually. The scene where the office worker chick finally gets it on with the guy she has a crush on is playing. There is no sound coming from the screen.
“They’ve got earbuds in,” Reece explains. He walks over, lays a hand on the woman’s shoulder and says, “Hey, you two, I want you to meet someone.”
Reece’s mother pops out of the chair and turns around to face us. She pulls her earbuds out of her ears and glares at Reece.
“Are you trying to kill your father? Why would you sneak in here like that?” she yells at him.
“Diana, darling. You’re going to kill me with that screaming.” Reece’s father stands up and smiles at his wife. I stare at Reece’s mother. If I wasn’t sure that’s who she was, I wouldn’t have recognized her as the woman I’ve seen in magazines and on TV. She looks so young and relaxed. Her dark hair is down. She always has it up or back. Her usually expertly made-up face is completely natural. She’s wearing a white T-shirt and some colorful leggings. She’s barefoot.
I realize I’m still staring when Reece comes to put his hand on the small of my back.
“Mom, Dad, I’d like to introduce you to Lucía Vega. She’s the author of the book we’re scripting for production and she’s the sister of Julian Rios.”
His mother gasps, but so do I. I had no idea he was going to tell them who I was.
His father’s eyes narrow on me but otherwise, he doesn’t react.
I step toward them, my right hand outstretched to shake her hand. She hesitates, glances at Reece and then reaches out to shake it.
I turn to his father whose eyes are still narrowed. I think he’s going to leave me hanging when he reaches out and hugs me instead.
“I read your book. I think you’re remarkable.”
I look at him curiously.
“Reece only told me about you,”—he gives his son a stern look— “last week. I’ve been reading your book and I have to tell you, Ms. Vega, if you lived a tenth of what Maria has, then it’s a miracle you’re even standing here.”
A rush of pride has me straightening my spine and look him in the eye as I say a very heartfelt, “Thank you.”
I look back at Reece’s mother. Her expression is not even close to warm.
“Reece, why are you and Ms. Vega here? It seems a little odd for you to be spending time with a screenwriter that you’ve hired.”
The effect her words have on me remind me of the first time I got caught in the sprinklers at school. I was startled, chilled and embarrassed.
“Di . . .” Reece’s father says, his tone chiding.
“Mom,” says Reece at the same time, his tone angry.
She looks at both of them with annoyance and then sighs. She puts a hand on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Lucía. It’s been a very stressful month, but you didn’t deserve that. Please, come sit,” she says as she leads me to one of the sofas in the seating area. I go only because I think it would be rude to say no.
She considers me very thoughtfully. “I have a lot of reservations about this . . .” she searches for the right word, “association. I don’t think Reece should be carrying on with someone our business has a contractual relationship with. You’ll be the talk of the town. I don’t like negative attention.” She looks over her shoulder to where her husband and Reece are still standing. She drops her voice. “But, I can see the way Reece looks at you. So, I’ll just ask this of you.” Her face takes on a softness that is unexpected and disarming. “Be sensible and be discreet. At least until the film is out. Anything that’s said about you or that happens to you will impact it. And it’s my job as the COO of Artemis to make sure that Reece’s division has the operational support to make his films successful.”
Her face hardens slightly. “As his mother, it’s my job to make sure he’s well equipped to navigate life successfully and to advise him when I think he’s making a mistake.”
“Mom,” Reece interjects. I don’t react, what she’s saying doesn’t surprise me. If I was his mother, I might be saying the same thing.
She sighs and says, “It’s clear you make my son happy. He’s been smiling for no reason. All week.” She rolls her eyes and I smile at that. She’s trying. I won’t throw it back in her face. Now I see why she’s so successful. She’s domineering, but knows when that approach won’t work.
She stands up suddenly and walks over to her husband. She doesn’t even wait for me to respond, clearly she is used to being obeyed.
“Reece, you’ve interrupted our movie. Thank you for stopping by to introduce Lucía, but if you could run along so we can enjoy the rest of our afternoon, that would be lovely.” His father lets out a hearty laugh before he grabs his wife and nuzzles her neck.
“Let’s leave before they do something even more embarrassing,” Reece says. They’re totally absorbed in each other as they walk back to the chair and put their earbuds back in and start their movie again.
“Before my dad’s heart attack, they hadn’t set foot in this room for anything other than entertaining,” he says as soon as we’ve closed the doors behind us. “I’m sorry about my mother. This family is her everything. So, she’s very protective of us and of our image. Our studio wants our movies to be in the news, never us. She’s got a good heart.”
“She’s your mother. She loves you. I understand.” I mean it. I didn’t like everything she said, but I’m glad Reece has
parents who love him so much.
“Okay, now that you’ve met them, I want you to show me something. I just want to swap my car for my motorcycle, it’s a nice day for a ride.” He starts to lead me back downstairs, but I tug on his arm to stop him.
“Reece, where are we going? What could you want me to show you?”
“I want to see that playground. The one where that scene in your book happened.”
I stop, my throat tight, not with emotion, but with anxiety. I’m not sure that I’m ready for that. When I tell him that, he turns me to face him and puts his hands on my shoulders.
“Okay, what about it scares you?” he prods gently.
“I’m not scared,” I answer honestly. Unable to meet his eye. “I just don’t want to go back there. I escaped that. I’ve built a new life. That neighborhood, that playground, it’s all in the past.”
He takes my hand and sits back down next to me.
“Okay, I get that. But you have to also know that the life you’ve built, your book, even your new name, can’t be taken away from you. You’ve earned them. They’re yours and always will be.”
When he says it, I almost believe it. But it’s not really my name and I still have moments when I feel like I’m living an imposter’s life. But, maybe I need to prove to myself that stepping back in that neighborhood won’t turn my carriage back into a pumpkin.
“Okay, if you really want to see it. I’ll take you.”
29
Reece
We left my parents’ house on my motorcycle. In Los Angeles, most guys drive Ducatis or BMWs, but my baby’s a Harley. I always love riding her; but, tonight with Lucía behind me, it’s a fucking joyride. Her thighs hug my hips, I can feel the heat of her body through my jacket. My most fervent wish is that we could go straight to my house and take all our clothes off and really get acquainted.
When we get there, there won’t be any going back for me. This tiny, vulnerable, woman with the courage of a lioness has become my hero. I’ve known her for such a short time, yet our relationship feels substantive and grounded. Watching her go after her dreams, has made me want to step up my game. I want to be as badass as she is. I made a decision this week and I’m going to tell her tonight.
We pull off the 101 at Whittier Boulevard in the part of the city that is usually known by the monolithic reference of “East Los Angeles.” I’m familiar with this part of town. I volunteered at a recreation center in Salazar Park before the city shut it down. When Lucía asked me to take us there, I didn’t need directions.
We pull up to the park and it’s as I suspected; the playground is still there, but the equipment is rusty and in desperate need of replacement. The recreation center, once a beautifully maintained building decorated with wall-sized murals has a tarnished chain holding the front doors together.
“See, it’s changed so much. It used to be so beautiful,” Lucía mumbles as she walks toward the playground. She sits down on one of the swings. I’m dubious about its ability to hold her up. The rusted chains creak as she uses her legs to propel herself forward, but it’s clearly sturdier than it looks.
“Push me?” she asks, shielding her eyes from the low afternoon sun. It shadows most of her face, but I can see a smile playing across her lips.
I stand behind her and give her a big shove. A little cry of excitement fills the air as she gains momentum.
“Faster!” She shouts as she swings back to me.
I push her harder and she soars, her hair flying, her laughter ringing out. If I close my eyes, I can imagine a five-year-old Lucía on these swings.
I push her until she tells me to stop and I grab the chain of the swing to slow her down. I hold onto the metal— warm from where her hands had grasped it. I slide my hands down and let them rest on her shoulders. She tips her head and leans back, turning my torso into a backrest. I start to sift my fingers through her hair, caressing her scalps. She moans her approval. A comfortable silence falls between us. We’re lost in our thoughts as we stare out at the park. I see possibility and I want to do something to make this a place that serves the community again.
“You feel okay?” I ask after a few minutes. I know she’d been anxious about coming here.
“Actually, yes. I’m fine. I thought we’d get here and someone would recognize me and call me Ana. I used to think about this park and remember the day that girl hit me and my mother did nothing. Now, I’ll think of it and remember today with you.” She laughs and it’s so light and melodic. “So, thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Luc.”
“I’m Ana,” she declares. “I’m Lucía, too. Neither one cancels out the other. Maybe they can even co-exist. Ana was actually a pretty remarkable girl. This neighborhood was my home. I’m glad to be back,” she says, wonder tingeing her tone.
I almost sag with relief. “I’m glad you feel that way because I have an idea.”
“Of course you do,” she says wryly as she uses her foot to push herself on the swings again.
I speak to her departing back. “I want to make a difference. I want to do more than put a Band-Aid on a problem. Knowing you, seeing how you’re putting yourself out there for the sake of what you believe in—it’s made me want to do the same.”
She uses her foot as a brake this time and stops herself mid-swing. She looks over her shoulder at me expectantly, her expression growing more worried as I speak.
“I’m going to run for City Council. Obviously, I couldn’t run in this district. But the First Council District has a long-time council member who’s retiring. I’ve decided to throw my hat in the ring.”
She pales. “You’re running for office. Public office?” she asks, sounding like she hopes she heard me wrong. There’s silence as I try to decide how to answer her.
I was prepared for this reaction, but actually seeing it makes me nervous. If she and I are really going to be a couple, I need her support in this. I walk around to stand in front of her. I bring her hands to my lips and press a kiss to each of them. I pull her into me, she doesn’t resist, but she’s stiff in my arms. Her hands rest lightly at my waist, and I can feel her heart beating a flagrant staccato against my torso.
“Tell me why that upsets you,” I ask her, hoping she can hear the sincerity in my voice. I won’t do this if she can’t get behind it. I run a hand soothingly up her back.
“Reece . . . I,” she shakes her head in a short, stuttering movement. “No, it’s not about me. I don’t want to make it about me. You should tell me why you want to do this.”
That’s a question that’s easy to answer. I push her back slightly so I can look at her. She closes her eyes and doesn’t open them. “Look at me, please.” I need to see how she’s feeling while we talk about this. She does as I ask, all of her apprehension sitting at the surface of her expression. My chest tightens, this is going to be a hard sell.
“It doesn’t feel like enough to just donate money or time anymore. I want to have a real stake in the future of this city and this country. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll even run for Congress,” I say, my excitement building as I complete the sentence.
“Okay, well, congratulations,” she says, her eyes cast down. “I think that’s wonderful. You’ll win, of course. Who could stand a chance against you?” She’s trying so hard to smile, but I can see the effort it’s taking. I narrow my eyes and cross my arms.
“Now that you’ve gotten that out of your system, why don’t you tell me how you really feel? Or was that promise to be honest you mentioned the other day only meant to apply to me?”
She flushes and pulls away. She walks back to the swing and sits down again, clutching her hands in her lap.
“I feel so selfish for even thinking this way, Reece. If you want to do this, then of course I’ll support you. I’m worried what that means for us.”
If she’d told me she was an alien, she couldn’t have surprised me more.
“What’s this got to do with us? Why would anything change?”
She steps back clearly exasperated. “If you’re running for office, you can’t have a girlfriend or significant other that’s undocumented.”
“Why the hell does anyone need to know? What’s that got to do with anything? I know it’s important to you, but it doesn’t always have to be an issue, Luc. Part of the problem in this country is that people don’t think about this issue. No one’s going to look at you and wonder if you here legally or not,” I say knowing that I sound agitated.
“Says the man dripping in privilege,” she returns acerbically. I flinch at that.
“That’s not fair, Lucía.” My voice is low, and curt.
“Maybe not, but it’s true,” she snaps. She sighs and looks up at me. Her eyes contrite and her lips pursed. “Of course most people don’t walk around thinking about immigration all the time, most people don’t have to.” She runs her fingers through her hair. “I wish I didn’t have to. But I do. And it’s frustrating to hear you say that I shouldn’t worry about something just because you don’t have to. I know that as soon as people hear I’m Mexican, that’ll be the first thing they wonder about.”
I acquiesce. I have no clue what that would feel like.
“I understand. But maybe we can just keep you out of the spotlight when I’m campaigning. If you want to just be there, but not play a public role, we could do that. How many City Council member’s girlfriends can you name? They’re not being drafted to be in the Real Housewives’ shows or anything.”
“Right, but I know the Governor of New York dates some Food Television Network star. I know that the Senator from New Jersey is married to some actress. If their significant others are well-known, they are in the news, too. Reece, you’ve just asked me to stand in an international spotlight to do promo for the film. I won’t be able to step out of the spotlight once I’m in it, will I?”