No Second Chances (4 page)

Frank had once said:
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
Did Frank think he was trying to fool him? Santiago spat, not liking the taste the thought left in his mouth. He paced a moment in front of the door.
Now what was he supposed to do? He thought about his alternative, the Salinas brothers, and turned to face Grandpa Frank's field. He stared at the rows of crops, the orchards, and the wheelbarrow he'd left out. This was the worst time of day to work outside. But what alternative did he have? Santiago had to earn back Grandpa Frank's respect.

 

Several hours later, Grandpa Frank appeared, offering a burrito and a glass of ice-cold sweet tea. Santiago ripped into the meal. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until now. The old man smiled, nodding in approval. “Alpha bet me that you wouldn't last an hour. You did all right,” Grandpa Frank said, examining Santiago's work on the chicken coop. “Tomorrow, I want you to clean out the goat pen. You don't mind hauling manure?”

Santiago took a big gulp from the iced tea. He couldn't help but laugh.

S
unday mornings were
pulga
days. Rain or shine, the Dos Rios Flea Market was open and ready for business.
La pulga
was built on the remains of an old drive-in theater. Where cars once parked to watch movies, now dilapidated wooden structures were organized into a maze of stands selling used and new products: clothes, plants, furniture, CDs, movies, makeup, chickens, puppies, toys, tools, purses, vegetables, and anything else you could imagine. It was a festive scene, with a Tex-Mex band housed in an open-air warehouse and a dance floor
that at night became the ring for Mexican masked wrestling matches,
La Lucha Libre
. Almost every town in the valley had its own
pulga
. Some were bigger than others, but each had its own unique flare. The Dos Rios
pulga
was the biggest in the area, and the place where fortunes were just waiting to be made.

Santiago put his arm over Fabi's shoulder as they entered the outdoor marketplace. “This is our new kingdom,” he declared with pride.

Fabi smiled back, soaking in the atmosphere. She inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar scent and sounds of
la pulga
. It had been a while since she visited. A family walked by her and brought back a flood of memories of how she and her own family would come out on weekends to eat, shop, dance, and visit with friends. But that was before she started to work at the family restaurant. Now everyone was always busy. They never did fun things as a family anymore. When she was little, it seemed like the rows of vendors went for days
in each direction. The place seemed smaller now, a little more run-down, but it still had the bustling carnival-like vibe she remembered from her childhood.

Grandpa Frank grinned from ear to ear as he glanced at the crowd. There were families straight from church, moms pushing babies in strollers, couples walking hand in hand, groups of teens, even a stray dog. Grandpa Frank motioned for Fabi and Santiago to follow him down a row of stands. He greeted the vendors as he passed. “
Buenos días
” and “good morning” they said, switching back and forth between English and Spanish in customary Tex-Mex fashion.

Fabi stopped at a stand that sold snacks. Her eyes danced over the products for sale: pinwheel-shaped, lightly fried floured dough; Mexican candies in flavors like tamarind, guava, and mango; and mini rolled tortilla chips called
taquis
doused in lemon, salt, and chili powder. Fabi didn't know what to eat first. There was
just so much to choose from. She settled on a pickle.
I love sour things
, she thought, biting into it and savoring the explosion of tart juices erupting in her mouth. Fabi looked up at the sound of her name. Grandpa Frank and Santiago were waving from down the aisle. She hurried to catch up.

As they continued down the row, Grandpa Frank stopped every now and then to chat and reconnect with old friends. Santiago huffed in annoyance every time they stopped, but they were in their grandpa's world. It was his stand and his food they were going to sell. They had to wait patiently as Grandpa Frank set the pace. He introduced them to Mrs. Pulido, the plant lady, who sold a wide variety of potted tropical flowers; a man called Rana, who sold old records and antique road signs; and Papo and his ancient mother Doña Fifi, who sold religious artifacts and Jesus paintings that opened and closed their eyes.

Finally, they reached the end of the row at
the far back corner of the flea market. Santiago walked over to a rickety old weathered stand with a chipped table. With a rush of excitement, he jumped onto the table. The frame creaked under the weight. There was a snap from one of the back legs that split and broke in two, tossing Santiago to the floor.

“What is wrong with you?” cried Grandpa Frank. He pulled off his cap and slapped Santiago with it.

“Whoa,” Santiago said, jumping up. He slapped at his jeans to take the dust off. “Sorry, Gramps. I didn't know that the table was falling apart.” He gave Fabi a sheepish grin. “So what do you think?”

Fabi reached out and touched the wooden frame. The wood was worn from years of baking in the hot sun and torrential monsoon showers. A prick from a loose splinter made her cry out. “Looks great,” Fabi said, imagining what the place could be with a fresh coat of paint. She glanced around, noticing that no one
was walking this way. “But what about the customers?”

“I already have an idea about that,” Santiago answered, giving her a wink. “But first let me go get the stuff.” Santiago disappeared down the row of stands, back to the entrance where he'd parked his truck. It was loaded with produce from Grandpa Frank's ranch and covered with a blue tarp.

Grandpa Frank grumbled about the broken table under his breath. Fabi helped him mend the leg with duct tape and move the table to the corner to prop it against the frame. A few minutes later, Santiago was backing his truck into their spot. Grandpa Frank pulled out his aluminum beach chair from the cab, opened it, and flopped down into it.

“Hey, old man,” Santiago protested, “we're just getting started.”

“You bet,
mijo
,
you're
just getting started. But not me, I'm tired.” Grandpa Frank took off his cap and wiped his brow with his carefully
folded red handkerchief. “You took two hours getting ready this morning. You're not going to sell anything at this rate. All the real shoppers are already packed up and gone home. Go get me my cooler,
mijo
. I'm thirsty.”

Santiago sighed and looked over at Fabi. Then he handed Grandpa Frank his little red ice chest.

Fabi still hadn't seen a soul come their way. She was quivering with nerves. Her dad didn't like the idea of her working with her cousin. He had warned her against it. But Fabi needed the money to travel the world like she'd always dreamed. She also wanted to prove to her dad that healthy food like juice smoothies could be profitable and delicious.

“So what's your plan to attract customers?” Fabi asked, taking a crate of baby purple carrots from him. Her grandfather liked to buy rare heirloom seeds for unusual things like purple carrots. Fabi was hoping the unique vegetables would draw customers' curiosity. She turned,
looking for her cousin. He was on his phone, probably talking to some girl. “Santiago!” Fabi called out, trying to get his attention and motioning him to get back to work.

He nodded, hanging up his phone.

“Customers?” Fabi asked, feeling her temper rise. Her cousin never seemed to take anything seriously. “How are we going to get people over here?”

A shaking motion from the back of the truck made them both stop and stare. “I can help!” a familiar voice shouted, causing Santiago to fall back into a crate of celery. Fabi screamed out as her little sister, Alexis, jumped from behind a crate of navel oranges and threw her arms in the air with a dramatic flare.

“Damn, girl,” Santiago cried, grabbing his chest. “You got to stop doing that.”

Alexis smiled and hugged herself. They were both remembering the last time Alexis hid in Santiago's truck and surprised him. That
time she had discovered his involvement in illegal drag racing.

“I'm sorry,” Alexis explained, “but you left me with no other option. You didn't want to include me in your little scheme, so I was forced to include myself. Ha!” Alexis turned to her frowning sister and smiled. “If you want to attract customers, I'm your girl.”

Fabi crossed her arms. “I'm not sharing my earnings. I always have to share. Not this time.”

“Well, I'm not, either,” Santiago said. “I didn't invite her.”

“It's okay,” Alexis said, wrapping her arms around her torso and swinging side to side. “I'm not interested in your money. I just want to be a part of whatever you're doing.”

Fabi and Santiago glanced at each other. He shrugged. Fabi couldn't help but think back to her dad's warning. But it was too late, because then Alexis jumped off the truck and into her sister's arms.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you,” Alexis cried into her shoulder. She then turned to Santiago and gave him a hug, too. “You guys won't regret it. This will be so much fun. You'll see.”

The three began setting up their stand. Grandpa Frank interrupted every five minutes to tell them where to set which vegetables or how to place it so it would look bountiful. Fabi grew frustrated with his indecisive product placements and started to make some sample spinach, aloe vera, and grapefruit smoothies. She had been experimenting with new, interesting flavors, hoping to wow the clientele. Her smoothies were not only organic, but they were local and seasonal. She smiled, despite the fact that her tongue was numb from testing out so many different flavor mixtures the night before.

Santiago's grand plan was to provide samples free of charge. Alexis and Santiago's job
was to lure customers back to the stand. Fabi watched as they each filled a tray and then hurried over to the busier sections of the flea market. A horrible thought gripped her. What if no one liked her drinks? She should have had Alexis and Santiago test them out first. But it was too late now. Fabi glanced at her grandpa. He had fallen asleep with a can of beer wrapped in a paper bag in his cup holder, his mouth wide open. This was certainly not a pretty sight to attract customers.

“We'll have two orders of whatever you've got,” a familiar voice called out behind her. It was her grandma Trini and aunt Consuelo. They were both wearing pretty dresses, having just arrived from church. Fabi noticed that their high heels were covered with dirt, but neither one seemed to mind.

“My first customers,” Fabi said, beaming. She began mixing ingredients. It was a blend of cabbage, celery, and cactus, with a squeeze
of navel orange. She served the brownish green blend in large cups. Grandma Trini reached for her wallet.

“It's on the house,” Fabi said, motioning for her to put her money away.

Grandma Trini frowned. “How are you going to make any money if you keep giving these away?”

“She's right,” her aunt Consuelo said, reaching into her purse and pulling out a five-dollar bill. She dropped it in the tip jar and smiled.

Fabi shrugged and waited to see their expressions when they tried the drink. The two women glanced at each other uneasily. Grandma Trini took a big gulp of the drink as Consuelo sipped slowly from the straw. Suddenly, Trini's eyes jerked wide open. Her cheeks blew up like a balloon and she spat the drink out dramatically.

“Grandma!” Fabi cried. “Are you all right?”

Trini coughed loudly, waking Grandpa Frank. The old woman reached for her daughter's hand for balance. Then she turned to Fabi.

“Honey, what was that?”

“The cactus is supposed to be good for your diabetes. It said so on the Internet,” Fabi said with a soft voice.

“Yuck! My tongue feels all furry, like I've been licking a dirty lawn.”

“Oh, come on,” Consuelo teased, taking another sip, and wincing. “It's not that bad.” She turned to Fabi, “It's an acquired taste, but it doesn't taste like grass, not really.”

“Put some sugar in that,” her grandma scolded. “Nobody will drink it if it tastes like medicine.”

“It's supposed to be a local healthy drink,” Fabi tried to explain. “I can only use things grown on Grandpa Frank's ranch, nothing else.”

“That's rabbit food,” Trini said, turning her nose up in the air. “I'm a human being. I need human being food.”

Fabi sighed, rolling her eyes. Her aunt reached out and squeezed Fabi's hand in a comforting gesture. Fabi mouthed the words
“thank you” to her as her grandmother continued to spit the taste from her mouth.

“I think what Fabi and Santiago are doing is commendable. They're trying to get people to eat healthier. There's nothing wrong with that,” Consuelo said. “Where is Santiago?” she continued, switching topics.

“He's out drumming up business,” Fabi said, motioning out toward the other stands. “He's giving out samples.”

Grandma Trini's face went pale. “You're giving out free samples of that stuff?” she asked, gesturing toward the green goo in the blender. Trini swallowed and forced a tight smile on her face as she patted Fabi on the arm. “You stay in school,
mija
. Stay in school, okay?”

Fabi nodded. Dread began filling up her insides. What if other people reacted like her grandmother just did?

Consuelo pulled Trini away. “We're going to go find him.”

“And I need some mint gum,” Trini declared.

“Good luck kids,” Consuelo said, waving good-bye.

Fabi watched them walk down the aisle and disappear around the corner. She tried to dismiss her grandmother's comment. Grandma Trini only ate sweet things — and bacon.

Fabi gathered the food scraps and tossed them in a bucket under the table. Then she turned over an empty crate and sat down. The day was getting warmer with each passing second. She made herself a smoothie. The green goo looked odd, but it was quite yummy to her. The hands on her watch ticked by with no sign of a customer. Grandpa Frank woke up and started to eat some of the purple carrots. She scolded him to leave some for the smoothies. Fabi glanced at her watch again. Alexis and Santiago had been gone for over twenty minutes. How long did it take to give away free samples? Then a thought made her sit up. What if everyone was gagging over her drink and that's why they still had no customers?

“I'll have one of everything,” a voice ordered, surprising her.

Fabi turned and smiled into the soft hazel eyes of a dark-haired boy her age. He had white earbuds hanging from his big ears. It was her best friend, Hermilo, who went by his stage name, DJ Milo.

He smiled sheepishly and leaned over the table to get a good look at the ingredients. “So … what's the special?”

“Well,” Fabi said in her best TV-game-show-hostess voice. “You'll want to try my latest creation.” She followed his gaze to the green glob at the bottom of the blender. “You don't want that. You want an Onionlicious Carrot Dream,” she said, nodding her head suggestively. “It may not look pretty, but I swear the flavors will melt in your mouth like the nectar of the gods.”