Melissa Bourbon Ramirez - Lola Cruz 01 - Living the Vida Lola (7 page)

I reconsidered. If we had dinner with Jack, maybe I’d come up with some more questions to ask him about Emily Diggs. Okay, that was an excuse. I
wanted
to see him again. I couldn’t deny it. “You’re right. You raised me better than that.”

She slapped another ball of tortilla dough. “He is your brother’s frie—” she stopped. “What did you say?”

I smiled to myself. God, it was good to throw her off every now and then. “I said you were right.”

Antonio grinned. “Great. He said he misses your cooking, Mami.”

If it hadn’t already been a done deal, that statement would have carved it in stone. Appealing to Mami’s culinary pride—checkmate.

“He will come to Sunday dinner.” My mother squared her shoulders and waved her hand out toward Antonio.
“Punto.”

I heaved a sigh. She was being so melodramatic, even though I’d already given in. Hospitality was the cornerstone of her existence. Magdalena Cruz lived for visitors, and her kitchen had a revolving door.

I had a sudden thought. “It
is
too bad that Antonio can’t find a good woman, what with the goatee and all… .” I trailed off, mirroring Antonio’s Cheshire cat grin.

“Whatever it is, Lola,” he said, peering at me, “the answer’s no.”

Mami looked from him to me. Years of experience had taught her how this worked. “The answer to what is no?”

“I have a friend who has a crush on Tonio.” I spoke pointedly. “A really
nice
girl, Mami. A
secretary.
”

Her face softened as she pondered this. “A secretary. Ah,
much better I think than the—how do you say?—Hooter girl you bring home last month.”

Antonio scowled at me. “I
liked
the Hooter girl.”

“I know!” I exclaimed, smiling at my brother. Sweet revenge. My mother had my back now, so I went for the jugular. “Me, you—and Reilly. We should go out.”

Antonio backed away. “No way, Lola. Not that girl from Camacho’s. She’s—” He looked at Mami. “—short.”

I cocked an eyebrow at him and smirked.
You can’t talk your way out of this one,
hermano. “If she wears high heels”—really, really high heels—“she’ll be my height.”

“But you’re—” He flailed his arms around and looked me up and down. “—and she’s—”

“All set to go dancing Tuesday night,” I finished.

Mami went back to the tortillas. “How do you know this girl?”

I tore off a piece of hot tortilla and folded it into my mouth. “She works for Manny.”

Her face softened. She might hate my job, and Manny might be my boss and divorced, but he was wickedly handsome, presumably Catholic, and
Mexicano
. And that was just too much of a good thing. “Now, there is a man you could marry.”

“Mami, he’s my boss. And we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about Tonio going out with Reilly.”

She gave a curt nod, a smile tickling the corner of her mouth. “I will make
mole
for Jack,” she said, “and Dolores will help me.”

Her voice was terse and a little threatening as she turned to Antonio. “And you will see this friend—
¿cómo se llama?
—Reilly.” She waved her spoon again like a magic wand.
“Punto.”

And as if the word of God had been spoken, that was that.

T
he pounding on my bedroom door jolted me awake. I jumped out of my bed, my muscles tightening as I cocked my arms and curled my fingers. For a second I thought I’d dreamed it, but the banging started again.

“Lola! Wake up!”

“What?” I demanded, shaking away the sleep. “Who’s there?”

“It’s Chely.”

I slapped my forehead and fell back onto my bed, ignoring Salsa’s garbled protest at her interrupted sleep. The day before flooded back into my mind: Manny,
Tomb Raider
girl, the ex-wife, Emily Diggs, Jack at the Forty-niner, Sunday dinner, Tonio’s going out with Reilly… . What would today bring?

I closed my eyes and drifted off again… .

More pounding. “Lola!”

I shoved the covers off, stumbled across the room, and flung open the door. “It’s too early for this,” I said, frowning at her.

“You have to stop her.” Chely was frantic, panic in her voice. “She’s ruining my life with this
quinceañera
.” She darted a glance at my pajamas. “Cute boxers, but the shirt’s kinda thin.”

I ignored her fourteen-year-old assessment of my pj’s. “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic? A
quinceañera
can’t ruin your life.” But as I rubbed my eyes, I reconsidered. Knowing my aunt, it probably could be destructive. I’d barely made it through the whole rite-of-passage thing, and my mom had been relatively sane.

The delectable smell of dark roast percolating from the kitchen caught my attention. I followed the scent like a zombie. Chely padded behind me, Salsa trotting behind her. If we had Gloria Estefan playing in the background, we could have started our own conga line.

I talked to Chely over my shoulder. “You wanted this, remember? For what it’s costing, you could have gone for braces.”

She shrieked in my ear. “You think I need braces?”

I smacked my forehead and spun around to face her. “Your teeth are fine, Chely. It was a joke.” Obviously not a good one, but still…

She bared her teeth at me. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. They’re perfect. Now, what’s today’s drama with the party?”

“My mom wants it powder blue and baby pink!” she wailed. “And your mom, like, isn’t helping. She actually
suggested
butterflies and clouds. Or worse, hearts. Can you believe it?
Butterflies, clouds, and hearts.
I’ll never be able to show my face at school again.” She buried her face in her hands and wailed louder. “My life is over.”

Butterflies, clouds, and hearts sounded exactly like what my traditional mother and her even more traditional sister would suggest. My shoulders slumped slightly. My heart went out to my cousin. I started toward the kitchen again, desperate for coffee. “I’ll talk to them, but I can’t promise—”

I stopped short at the living room. Men’s laughter and guitar strains? At this hour? In
my
apartment? Chely plowed right into my back, lurching me forward.

Antonio reclined on the couch, his black acoustic guitar
propped on his legs, his feet resting on the coffee table. As usual, he looked like he was up to no good.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Then he looked at my flimsy pj’s, and his eyes darkened. Did his teeth just clench? “You remember Jack, don’t you?”

I rubbed my eyes, sneaking a look at the man sitting across from my dopey brother. Oh my God, he looked good. All whiskers and tousled hair.

“Morning, Lola.”

I choked on air. “Morning, Jack.”

Chely’s breath hit my shoulder, and her hand lightly touched my lower back. I couldn’t tell if she was helping me keep my balance or helping herself stay upright.

Jack’s gaze slipped down my body, and I froze. My nipples felt suspiciously perky. Shit. Double shit. Why was I wearing white?

Finally his gaze settled back on my face.
Yeah, that took a while, buddy
. His eyes were pools of blue, lighter and clearer than they’d been last night. I admit, I have a thing about eyes—mirrors into the soul. He gave me that cockeyed grin, and darn it if my body didn’t actually quiver. What was wrong with me? I was an independent woman, a freethinker who was bucking culture and tradition. I could lust after this man, but I couldn’t actually fall for him.

He was a womanizer, and I knew he’d never be my parents’ or grandparents’ first choice for me. He had too many Cruz strikes against him out of the gate. First, he wasn’t Mexican. Not essential, but a definite plus to my parents. Second, his parents were divorced. Again, mine would freak over this. (Although my mother was able to accept that Manny was divorced, but then, he had the Mexican thing going for him.) Third, and most important, I couldn’t remember if he was Catholic. And
that
was a deal-breaker for Mami and Papi. It
would be an uphill battle for me if I ever chose a Protestant as my one and only.

But it’s my life,
I reminded myself. I checked Jack out again. His arm was stretched along the back of the chair, all muscled and perfect. And then there was his chest and legs—and that face. He was like a movie star, back when movie stars had character, charm, and charisma. Even with three strikes, Jack Callaghan was beyond tempting.

I stood my ground, threw my shoulders back, and smiled sweetly. “Nice to see you again so soon, Jack.” Then turning to my brother I said, “Antonio, could I see you in the kitchen?” I forced the smile to stay plastered to my face, but gritted my teeth.
“Now.”

As I did my best nonchalant walk through the living room and into the kitchen, I felt Jack’s eyes on me the entire time. At least my boxers covered my ass.

I turned at the kitchen to see Chely lagging behind, craning her neck in a lingering gaze at Jack. She stopped at the archway, and I grabbed her wrist and yanked her in. Salsa yapped at the back door. I opened it and released her out into the yard.

“Who
is
that?” Chely whispered.

“He’s, like, so totally hot.” “He’s too old for you.” I patted my hair and grimaced at the tangles I felt.

“Um, you look fine,” Chely said, staring at me with one brow arched. “But, like, the shirt…”

I peered down to see how bad it was, and my shoulders drooped. It was thin enough to see dark quarter-sized circles through the white. Oh. My. God. Had my mother put a curse on me because I’d been ungracious in not wanting to welcome Jack into her house? I coughed. Oh God. Did I have pneumonia?

I crouched down in front of the oven and shoved the dish
towel out of the way. My reflection appeared before me.
Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest—?

Oh, forget it. I had a rat’s nest on my head, and my soldiers were at full attention. It was hopeless.

Antonio finally strolled into the kitchen.

I sprang up and turned on him. “What the hell are you doing?”

He looked pissed as hell. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Why is he here at eight in the morning?”

He stared at me. “First of all, it’s almost nine—”

I whipped my head around to look at the clock. Yep, 8:55.

“And second of all, what the hell are
you
doing walking around—” His face twisted. “—like that.”

I leaned my back against the wall and banged my head on it, folding my arms over my chest. “This is
my
house. You need to tell me when someone’s here.”

“No, you need to wear some goddamned clothes when you walk around.” He made the gagging face he used to make when he was ten. “At least until I move out.”

“Don’t tease me.” I stared daggers at him. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“I will. Soon. Now, go put something on.”

Easier said than done. If only I could beam myself back to my bedroom. Since I couldn’t, I went postal, jerked my hand out, and grabbed the front of his shirt. He tried to knock my hand away, but I blocked him. “Why is he here?”

He stepped back, and I let my hand slip away. “Jesus Christ. Relax, Lola.”

“Okay.” I regrouped, folded my arms over my chest again, and arched a brow. “So, why is he here?”

“You’re too wrapped up in this damn private eye thing—”

“This
private eye
thing is my career, and what does that have to do with him being here?”

“It’s your career, but you have no life.” He stroked his goatee. “I mean, be straight with me. When was the last time you went out?”

I cocked my head to the side. “Yesterday. With Reilly—you know, the girl you’re going out with Tuesday.”

He chose to ignore his upcoming date. “Let me clarify. When was the last time you went out with
a guy
? And going to the movies with me doesn’t count.”

I scratched my chin and frowned. It counted to me.

“Callaghan’s a pretty good listener,” he continued. “Cheaper than a shrink.”

I punched his arm. “You think I need therapy?” And anyway, Jack was a reporter. Not the same thing.

He shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt.”

“Nice, Tonio. Thanks for the support.”

He shrugged again. “He’s always had the hots for you, so I figured, why not…”

My brain skidded to a stop. “What?”

He looked at me like I needed a straitjacket. People were doing that a lot lately. “I know. News to me, too. I thought he had better taste—”

I slugged him again.

“Hey!” He backed away before saying, “I would have beat the crap out of him in high school for even thinking about one of my sisters, but that was then. Let’s face it. You’re going to be past your prime pretty soon. Then where will you be?”

I was too shocked to speak. Past my prime? Who was this man, and what had he done with my brother?

“And he’s, like, really
hot,
” Chely said, sneaking a look into the living room. “Did you see that bod? You may not get another chance for someone, like, that good. Go for it, Lola.”

I glared at Chely. If I had the same taste as my teenaged
cousin, well, that couldn’t be a good thing, could it? But Jack did have a killer body.

“I am not anywhere near my prime, and you are not my fairy godmother, so butt out,” I said to Antonio.

“So this is where the party is.” Speak of the devil. Jack stopped in the archway of the kitchen.

He was taller than I remembered. I’d have to stretch up on my toes to kiss him—
Stop!
I shooed away the thought. Oh God, I was losing it. Where was the damn coffee? I needed caffeine.

Actually, I needed sex. The way my body was screaming, I needed it now. But coffee would have to do.

As if reading my mind, Antonio said, “It’s cool, man. Lola just needs to feed her addiction.” Then, bless his demented heart, he poured me a cup.

I took it gratefully and gulped, scalding my throat and not taking my eyes off Jack.

He smiled, and shivers shot up my spine. A good man could make my life so much more interesting. Even if it was short-term. But was Jack a good man?

“So,” he said.