Lone Star Legend (30 page)

Dear Ms. Saavedra:

I wrote to you a while back about doing a feature on what happened between you and your ex-boyfriend online.

However, after reading more of your work, I’ve decided that the LA Chronicle has an opportunity I think you’d be perfect for.
Would you please call me?

It was signed Jim Mayer, Online Features Editor, and gave his office number and cell. Overcome by curiosity, Sandy called
his cell.

“Jim Mayer.”

“Hi, Jim. This is Sandy Saavedra, from Nacho Papi’s Web Site. I just got your e-mail.”

“Sandy!” His voice was genial, warm. “I’m glad you called. Are you someplace where you can talk?”

“Yes,” she said. He must have meant somewhere other than the Nacho Papi offices. Now she really was intrigued.

“Good. Well, as I was saying in the e-mail, we’re looking for an online writer for our new culture blog. It’s a full-time
position. Philippe recommended you, and I’ve been looking at your work and think you’d be perfect for this job. It’s similar
to what you do for Nacho Papi, but a little less snarky. And for a much wider audience, I imagine. I hope.”

Sandy felt a shiver of excitement travel through her. She was being offered a job by a major LA newspaper! “I’m very flattered,
Jim, but unfortunately, I have a non-compete with Nacho Papi that precludes me from accepting other assignments.”

“I understand that. This is more than an assignment, though. It’s a full-time position. We would be paying you to spend all
your time writing for us.”

Sandy caught her breath. He was asking her to leave Nacho Papi. A real newspaper editor was trying to steal her away! “Would
I have to relocate to Los Angeles?”

“It would be easiest, yes. Would you be willing to move?”

“Maybe.” Sandy knew better than to give a definite answer either way. “How soon are you looking to fill the position?”

“The blog launches in August, so you have some time to think it over. I hope you will. And that you’ll send me a résumé and
some formal clips, to show my manager in the meantime.”

Sandy agreed to do so and hung up, already feeling her elation subside. Unless they were going to pay her way more than a
standard staff writer’s salary, there was no way she could afford to move to Los Angeles. She knew this from secondhand experience
because her friend Veronica had tried it a few years ago and failed miserably.

Granted, Veronica had moved into an expensive loft in Hollywood with a flaky boyfriend and not into one of the cheaper areas.
But still. Sandy was just cementing her reputation at her current job. It’d be foolish to leave now.

S
o my question is, what do you do when you feel like you can’t share anything, good or bad, with anyone anymore?”

“M’ija, you forgot to turn on your camera.” Tío Jaime’s smile poked gentle fun at her. They were on his porch. His foot was
stretched in front of him in its new blue temporary cast. Cano lay next to it as if he were its guardian. Except that, for
the moment, he was snoring.

“I know. I just thought I’d try out some of your advice that’s so popular with the kids these days.” Sandy teased back. “Now
that I have your signature, I might as well take advantage of it, right?”

He chuckled. But suddenly Sandy didn’t feel like laughing.

In fact, she had an idea. She stood and moved her chair so that it was next to Tío Jaime’s. Glancing down at herself to make
sure she was presentable—no sugar-free banana bread crumbs on her T-shirt—she turned on the camera and took her place next
to the Chupacabra.

“So, I’m thinking today’s ‘Ask the Chupacabra’ will be special,” she said. “This time, it’s all about me.” She turned to the
camera and added, “Your hostess, Sandy S., in case you don’t recognize me in a T-shirt and jeans, without all my makeup.”

Tío Jaime smiled, his eyes twinkling like a rustic Santa Claus’s under his straw hat. “What do you need advice for, m’ija?
You’re doing real good, aren’t you?”

“No. That’s the thing—I’m doing real bad.” Sandy shook her head. Leaning back in the patio chair, she crossed one leg over
the other, startling Cano awake. “I haven’t been a very good person lately.”

“What do you mean?” the Chupacabra asked.

Sandy considered her next words for a moment. This was strange, being the one answering the questions. “When I first started
writing for Nacho Papi, I was an unknown writer. A hard worker, a nice person. It was important to me to go out and find out
the truth about things, and to tell true stories to other people.”

The Chupacabra and his dog said nothing. They simply sat and listened. So Sandy went on. “Now I write bad things about people
for money. I don’t search for anything. I look at a picture of someone and make up a bunch of new ways to say they’re ugly
or stupid. I point out that they’re hypocrites.” She laughed a little at that. “And, worse than that, I started thinking about
people that way in real life, too. My friends. My family.”

Sandy turned to face the camera. She knew, in the back of her mind, that this probably wouldn’t make it to air. Angelica wouldn’t
let it; it wasn’t “Hate-O-Rama” enough. But she was going to say it anyway. Even if no one ever saw it, it needed to be said.
“A long time ago, I started this stupid blog—an online diary—called My Modern TragiComedy. It was supposed to be anonymous,
but it wasn’t, really. How could it be? It was on the Internet. I used to say all kinds of things, really personal things,
in that blog. It was like, I didn’t want to say those things to the people involved, but I wanted to say them to
someone
. I felt like, maybe if I said them to the world, the words would somehow get through to my boyfriend, my parents, whoever,
and make them understand. But without me having to be the one to say it to their faces. You know what I mean?”

Tío Jaime didn’t nod or say anything. He knew, probably, that she wasn’t talking to him anymore. And she knew that the people
she
was
talking to probably
would
be nodding, at this point.

“So of course my boyfriend and my mom eventually found out what I’d written about them. They found out, and so did everyone
else. So I ended up having to deal with the issues anyway, but in a much worse situation than if I’d just talked to them privately
to begin with. And now I feel like an idiot and a horrible person, and I don’t know why I did something so stupid.”

“Did you throw away the blog so no one else could see it?” The way Tío Jaime said the word made it obvious that he didn’t
say it often.

Sandy would’ve smiled if she hadn’t been so focused on the unfunny aspects of the situation. “No, I never threw it away. I
did delete the personal things about Daniel and my mom, but I haven’t deleted the whole thing.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” Sandy sat quietly for a moment and thought about it. “I guess… well, because some people still like it. Some
people seem to get some good out of it, despite the fact that I said a few hurtful things.”

“Hmm.” That was all he said.

“I mean, it wasn’t
all
bad. I did try to write a
few
things that were meaningful at least.”

There was a long pause while they sat together in silence, in thought. Then the Chupacabra recommenced his role as interviewer.
“So what advice do you need? What did you want to ask?”

Sandy did laugh then. “Nothing, I guess. I already know what to do.” Again, she faced the camera. “Daniel, I’m sorry. We weren’t
right for each other, so we broke up, and that should’ve been enough. I shouldn’t have made fun of you online, whether or
not I thought you’d ever see it. I’m sorry.” She took a breath. “Mom, I’m sorry to you, too. We’ve already talked it out,
but I still want to apologize here, so everyone who read what I said about you can see this, too. And, for the record, you’re
an awesome mom. I never said it online, but now I will: You’ve worked hard to keep things normal since Dad left, and you’re
always there when I need you. I know that and appreciate it. Now everyone else knows, too.”

She glanced at Tío Jaime and saw him smiling at her encouragingly.

She needed to apologize to Veronica and Jane, too, but remembered that she’d never said their names online. So she wouldn’t
do it now either. “I’m also sorry to any of my friends I hurt. You guys know who you are, and I’ll be calling you personally
after this.”

And what the hell? Sandy thought. While she was at it: “I also want to apologize to Lucia San Lucas, for making fun of her
plus-size Latina vampire novel on the Nacho Papi site. Lucia, I read your whole novel in the bookstore, in one sitting. I
couldn’t stop reading it. Then I felt embarrassed, afterward, thinking about what other people would say if they’d caught
me with a romance novel. But I’ll be honest now: You wrote the best plus-sized Latina vampire story I’ve ever read, and you
deserve your success. And, um…” Was it starting to be overkill now? Sandy wondered. Well, what did it matter at this point?
“Amber Chavez, I’m sorry I called you haggard and talked so much about your body. I know you’re trying really hard to be a
serious actress, and… uh… I’m glad you’re out there, showing girls what they can do.”

Sandy heaved a great sigh. She felt simultaneously sobered and lightened, like she had after her first confession. She laughed
again, then told Tío Jaime, “You’d make a good priest, you know that? Father Chupacabra.”

He smiled. “It’s not me. It’s you. I’m just sitting here.”

“No, you’re doing more than that.” She realized then what would make her feel even lighter. “This whole time, you’ve been
listening to our problems—mine and the ones sent in by Nacho Papi readers—and you’ve given us your time and your insight,
and you’ve asked nothing in return. And I misled you. Not only did I record these segments, but we sold T-shirts with your
picture, and we put you on TV without your permission. And, for that, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I appreciate that. And I forgive you.”

After all that confessing, Sandy suddenly felt overwhelmed. Moisture gathered in her eyes and she laughed to cover it, then
wiped her cheek surreptitiously. “Chupacabra, what did we do to deserve you?”

“Nothing, probably,” he said. Then he turned to face the camera directly himself, for the first time in all their interviews.
“All of you people watching this need to stop listening to me. You need to quit surfing on the Nets and get back to work.
Then, when you get off work, you need to drive to your parents’ houses and your grandparents’ houses and listen to them instead.”

He turned back to Sandy. “That’s it. That’s the last thing I’m gonna say here. This is my last interview.” His voice was gruff,
but Sandy saw the twinkle still firmly in his eye.

“Okay. Thank you, then, Chupacabra. It was nice knowing you, and we wish you the best.” She stood up then, and put out her
hand. Cano’s ears lifted. Slowly, Tío Jaime stood to shake her hand. After a few shakes, Sandy let go and reached over to
hug him. “Thanks,” she whispered into his ear.

After that, she turned off the camera.

That was so cheesy and lame. What the hell is this now, the Hallmark Card site?

Monstro

Oh my God! That totally made me cry!!!

Fresa Princessa

Wait, so there’s no more Ask the Chupacabra? What the? Why? What’d
we
do?

Jenny Loves Versace

Can’t say I won’t miss him, but I understand why it has to be done. Bravo, you two.

Boston Mike

This site has totally jumped the shark now. I’m never reading it again.

James Bondo

Shut up, Monstro. Sandy, I’m glad you’re not taking your blog down.

La FiliPiña

This doesn’t make sense. If Sandy’s not gonna talk trash about people anymore, then how’s she gonna keep working for Nacho
Papi?

Diondre

It’s all staged. None of this is real. They’re only doing it for the page views, don’t you people get it?

Taco Belle

Hey, Sandy S, if you’re leaving, can I have your job?

Mensa

Sandy S, please don’t leave! We can’t lose you and the Chupacabra at the same time!

Wholio

She’s not leaving. Look at all the comments she got here. Wonder how much money she’s making on this post, alone?

James Bondo

Hey, James Bondo, I thought you weren’t gonna read Nacho Papi anymore.

Rene Loves Amber Chavez

Somebody please send me the link to Sandy’s personal blog. I can’t find it!

Monkey Girl

The part where Sandy S almost starts to cry? That part made me cry. Sandy, I hope you don’t leave us. But, if you have to,
I wish you the best.

LB

O
n the second blazing hot Saturday morning in July, Sandy sat in her garage apartment and tried not to stress over the impending
evening’s events. It was the day of their big charity date, and all Sandy knew was that she was committed to dinner and a
show with George, a woman misguided enough to bid on a date with George, and a reader who called himself Harvey Birdman.

Angelica claimed that all the auction winners had been fully screened to weed out stalkers or ax murderers. But knowing Angelica
as well as she did by now, Sandy wouldn’t put it past her to let one ax murderer through, just for kicks and higher ratings.

Of course, Nacho Papi readers had been buzzing about the auctions all week, saying that whoever won the date with Sandy should
be prepared to have his “performance” dissected on her personal Web site.

Nonetheless, Sandy’s bid amount had climbed steadily all week and was now second only to La Sirena’s. She didn’t want to think
about what kind of man would pay so much to go out with a woman he only knew from the small screen, but at the same time this
man’s bid was paying a large portion of Tío Jaime’s outstanding bills. And that, Sandy reminded herself as she packed up to
go to the office, made it worth spending the evening with him, however creepy he might turn out to be. They’d be on camera
all night, after all.