Playing for Keeps (3 page)

Alicia sat down at the kitchen table and logged on. Sure enough, there was an e-mail waiting for her from Valeria:

Hi Alicia: Hopefully by now your mom has told you all about my crazy dream of getting Amigas Inc. over to Texas to help me plan my party! And hopefully, you are all on board. I would LOVE if you came. I know the deadline is tight…


Alicia stopped reading and looked up at her mother. “Tight deadline?” she asked. “How tight?”

Marisol shrugged. “I think you've done
quinces
in less time, but Ranya does want it to happen at the end of spring break, so you have two weeks.”

The color momentarily drained from Alicia's face. She took a deep breath. They could do this. Her mother was right. They'd had less time in the past and made it work. Turning back to her e-mail, she continued to read:

So I wanted to give you a heads-up in advance about my taste. Black is my color of choice; I don't do frills and am allergic to the color pink. My iPod is filled with tunes by local Austin indie artists like Roger Velasquez. I have a bangin' collection of vintage graphic novels from the eighties. As for food, I think its gross to eat anything that was once a living thing. I'm into line dancing but only as an observer. I have no dance skills whatsoever. I love to skateboard and my happiest times are cruising down the half-pipe at the Austin County skate park. Our homestead, Castillo Ranch, is my favorite place in the world. Oh, and I usually like to get right to the point. Hope this is some help. See you soon. Valeria.


Although Ranya had described her daughter as being painfully shy, Alicia thought she was impressive. From her writing it seemed as though she had the confidence to know exactly what she wanted and, more to the point, exactly what she didn't. This was going to make for one very interesting party.

Half an hour later, Gaz arrived at the Cruz home. He kissed Alicia on the forehead, then hugged Maribelle and Alicia's mom. Alicia loved the easy interaction he had with her family. She knew girls whose parents disapproved of the guys they were dating. They could only see each other at school or when they managed to sneak a few moments at a movie or a house party. With Gaz, there were no such problems. She could see him whenever she wanted—no sneaking around necessary.

Sometimes, in fact, Alicia was pretty sure her parents liked Gaz more than they liked her! Well, not more, but close.

Her parents didn't always approve of the things she liked. But she could tell that when her parents looked at Gaz, they saw what she saw—a smart, handsome guy, who was proud of his Latino heritage and had the potential to do anything he set his mind to.

Still, Alicia
was
her daddy's girl. So even if he liked Gaz, Enrique took great pleasure in grilling the younger man about his future whenever he came over to the house. Gaz, for his part, was respectful and formal, going along with the gentle ribbing. While Gaz called Alicia's mom by her first name, he called her father Señor Cruz.

Now, over plates of ceviche, Alicia's father played twenty questions with Gaz.

“What's your toughest class this year?”

“Definitely statistics,” Gaz replied as he tucked in heartily to his meal.

“What about algebra two?” Alicia's father asked. “Don't you need that to get into a good college?”

Alicia put a hand on her father's. “Gaz took algebra two last year,
Papi
. He was the only freshman in the class. His math skills are off the hook. You know that.”

Enrique raised an eyebrow. “Off the hook, huh? What are you pulling in statistics?”

Gaz helped himself to a pile of
plátanos
. “A minus. It's a really hard class.”

“Do you think you can pull it up to an A by the final?” Mr. Cruz asked, taking the plate from Gaz and shoveling the remaining sweet plantains onto his own dish.

“That's the goal, sir.” Gaz smiled.

“Good,” Alicia's father said. “You keep me posted on how that's going.”

When dinner—and the questions—were done, Gaz and Alicia cleared the table and then went into the kitchen together and cleaned up. The extra help meant that Maribelle could nip out to the Florida room to watch her favorite
telenovela
.

As they loaded the last dishes into the washer, Alicia turned to Gaz with a playful smile. “Do you have time for a swim?”

He grinned back. “Always. I even brought my suit.”

She went to her room to change while Gaz changed in the half bathroom off the kitchen. As they walked out to the pool together, Alicia instinctively reached for his hand, surprised anew at just how right it felt. She wondered if it would ever stop giving her butterflies—holding his hand, seeing how handsome he was, like now, in his papaya-colored board shorts that showed off his natural tan perfectly.

She stood near the edge of the pool, preparing herself for the jump into the cool water, when Gaz surprised her. Grabbing her by the waist, he jumped into the water taking her with him. She screamed and laughed as they both plunged under.

“Hey!” she said, pretending to be miffed as she surfaced and spluttered. “What's the big idea?”

Gaz didn't answer. He just kissed her, the kind of kiss that made her quiver, as if she were made of jello.

“That's the big idea,” he said, when he finally disconnected his lips from hers.

“I like it,” she smiled. “I also like the idea of us in Austin, all expenses paid, for spring break. Aren't you excited?”

“I am excited,” Gaz sighed, sounding anything but. “And I love that Amigas Inc. has taken off. It's just a bummer that the trip is at the same time as the yearly South by Southwest Music and Media Conference in Austin, but by now, the tickets are completely sold out. It's sucky timing. I mean, if I had known, I could've gone. I've always dreamed about going to South by Southwest. It has all kinds of cutting-edge media presentations, music showcases, and film screenings. It's the place to be if you want to get exposure and buzz going for your work. Watching you rock the
quince
business in Miami makes me want to take my music to the next level. But I don't know. I'm just not as good at putting myself out there as you are.”

Alicia hated to hear Gaz criticize himself. She kissed him lightly. “You're an amazing songwriter. You pour your entire soul into every song.”

“But if I'm going to be a successful musician, I'm going to have to learn how to
sell
my music. I want to turn on the radio and hear my songs. I want to play stadiums, like Coldplay, or even minor-league baseball stadiums, like Wilco. I want to go all the way, and I don't even know where to start,” Gaz insisted, ignoring his girlfriend's support. “There's
so
much I could learn at a place like South by Southwest.”

“So, we'll get you a ticket,” Alicia said.

“How?” Gaz asked.

Alicia beamed at her boyfriend. “I'll make a way out of no way. It's my thing.”

Gaz pulled her close, hugging her tight. “It's enough that you are trying. That you just believe in me.”

Alicia hugged him back. “I do believe in you, Gaz.”

“I know you do,” he said. “And that makes a world of difference. With you by my side, I can do anything.”

THAT NIGHT, AFTER
Gaz left, Alicia was too excited to sleep. She had managed to get ahold of Carmen and Jamie earlier and filled them in. But they were still waiting to get the okay from their folks. Figuring that chatting was better than tossing and turning, she logged on to her computer and joined a group chat with her girls.

As soon as classes let out the Friday of spring break, the members of Amigas Inc. rushed to their various homes to pack for their trip. Their flight was early the next morning, and they were going to be together for two weeks, but before the fun could start, there was just so much to do!

Alicia paced her room. Her mother had treated her to a brand-new suitcase—a leopard-print hardcase with a hot pink interior. It was huge, so Alicia knew it would hold everything she needed. The problem was that she had no idea
what
to bring. The pile of neglected clothes sat in a big mound on the floor. The suitcase itself was empty, except for her toothbrush.

This was an emergency. She decided to call Carmen for some expert advice.

“Carmen, I don't know what to pack!” Alicia cried, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder. “You're the fashion genius; I'm drowning here, and I desperately need your help.”

In Carmen's room, a silver vinyl duffel bag sat fully packed and ready to go by the door. Besides being a kick-butt fashion designer, Carmen had been blessed with the genetic ability to pack both lightly
and
fashionably—without even trying. Her suitcase was like the ones you saw in fashion-magazine articles, where seven items morphed magically into twenty-one different outfits.

“Well, it'll be cooler in Austin than it is in Miami, especially at night,” said Carmen calmly. “So, plan to layer.”

Alicia, who was dressed in a black miniskirt, cream-colored sleeveless sweater, and black pearl necklace, shook her head. “Come on,
chica
, you know I don't do layers. I do miniskirts and cute tops.”

Carmen laughed.

“Hold on, I'm getting another call,” Carmen said. She switched lines. It was Jamie.

Jamie was standing in her own bedroom staring miserably into her vintage steamer trunk, which was empty except for a set of watercolor paints, her sketchbook, and a toothbrush.

“Carmen, you gotta help me out!” Jamie cried. “I don't know what to pack.”

“Not you, too,” Carmen said. “I love you ladies, but you have got to get it together!”

“Come pack for me,” Jamie begged her. “I'll give you this cool vintage dress I just scored on eBay.”

Carmen's eyes lit up. Jamie was the queen of vintage finds; from the thrift stores of Miami Beach to the coolest Japanese vendors on eBay, the world was just a treasure chest of goodies waiting for Jamie to find them.

“New or used?” Carmen asked, interested.

“Mint condition,” Jamie replied. “But I guess you'll have to come over and check it out for yourself.”

“My size?” Carmen asked. She was model thin and nearly six feet tall, which meant that not everything that fit her friends looked good on her.

“Your size,” Jamie said.

That was all it took.

“I'll be over in twenty minutes,” Carmen promised.

She hung up the phone, and it immediately started ringing again. Alicia! Carmen had completely forgotten she was on the other line.

“Sorry,
chica
,” Carmen said. “Jamie and I were talking eBay finds.”

“This is no time for eBay!” Alicia shouted, still pacing the room. Carmen could hear her kitten heels click-clack-click on the floor.

“Come pack for me,” Alicia begged her. “It's our first Amigas Inc. trip, and I've got to bring my A game.”

Carmen laughed, mostly because the idea of Alicia's bringing less than her A game was so ridiculous. They didn't call her Type A Alicia for nothing.

“Well, Jamie just offered me a vintage treasure to come and help
her
pack,” Carmen said. “What you got,
chica
, to make me come to your house, too?”

Alicia raised an eyebrow. “How about my unending friendship, my deepest loyalty, and my most profound respect?”

Carmen giggled. “Throw in a plate of Maribelle's empanadas and you've got yourself a deal.”

“Done! See you soon!”

On the other end of the line, Carmen shrugged. “Just don't blame me if Jamie complains I didn't spend enough time on her.”

Alicia nodded on the other end. “I'll take the heat. Now enough talking. Get over here. The clock is ticking!”

At seven the next morning, they all met up at Miami International Airport. Their flight didn't leave until nine, but check-in began two hours before, and Alicia's mom liked to be on the early side. She had told everyone else's parents to do the same.

Thanks to Carmen's wardrobe consultations, each of the female members of Amigas Inc. were not only efficiently packed, with one carry-on suitcase each, they were also perfectly dressed for the trip in cute and comfy leggings, long, embroidered T-shirts, and airplane-friendly cashmere wraps. Gaz carried an impossibly small duffel bag and wore his standard uniform: jeans, a blue cotton button-down shirt, and old-school high-tops.

Even after Carmen had visited both Jamie and Alicia to help them pack, the three girls had stayed up texting until almost two in the morning. As they'd gotten a grand total of about four hours of sleep, they greeted one another with yawns and sleepy whispers.

Gaz, on the other hand, was wide awake and raring to go. He was so pumped about the South by Southwest Festival that at one point, before he could be stopped,
and
much to Alicia's chagrin, he jumped on a chair in the airport lounge and screamed, “We're going to Austin, everybody! The home of the indie music scene.”

He was only a little embarrassed when Alicia's mother motioned for him to get down and said, “No more coffee for you, Gaz.” There was no way his mood was getting dimmed. Not even by a calling-out. Or the prospect of a long flight with Alicia giving him the cold shoulder for embarrassing her.

Luckily, once they got on the plane, the trip went smoothly, and exactly two hours and forty minutes later, and three bags of M&M's, eight sodas, a lot of peanuts, and one teeny-tiny incident involving a mixed-up seating assignment, the plane touched down in Texas, where everything—including the
quinceañeras
—was bigger. It was time to start planning—once they found their ride.

“Let's head to baggage claim,” Mrs. Cruz suggested when everyone was safely off the plane and accounted for. “Ranya said she would meet us there.”

Turning, she led the group, like a mother duckling, through the terminal, following signs to the baggage claim. After what felt longer than the flight itself, they made it.

And boy, was it a sight.

Crowds of people dressed like extras in a Western, with cowboy hats, leather boots, and big belt buckles, looked for their loved ones.

Ranya was easy to find, though. She was holding a sign that read:
TEXAS LOVES YOU, AMIGAS INC.
!

Valeria, or the girl Alicia assumed was Valeria, stood behind her. She was wearing a pair of black combat boots, graffiti-print leggings, and a T-shirt that said,
KEEP AUSTIN WEIRD
. Her eyes were hidden beneath bushy eyebrows, and her pale face was framed by hair that could only be referred to as a wild mess, except for one braid that dangled over her left eye.

From the way her mother was jumping up and down while Valeria hung back, slouching and looking embarrassed, there seemed little doubt as to who had made the sign and was most excited about the
quince
.

Alicia was frankly surprised. From the e-mails they'd exchanged, Valeria had seemed very sure of herself, but maybe that was not the case after all.

Leaving the others, she walked up to the girl. “Hi! I'm Alicia. It's great to finally meet you. I feel like we should already know each other! We're really honored to be planning your
quince
.”

“
Mucho gusto
, Alicia,” Valeria said softly. “I read the newspaper articles, and I have to give you Miami girls so much respect. As I wrote in my e-mail, I'm not much of a party girl, but the
quince
tradition means a great deal to my family and me, and I'm depending on you to help me throw a party which honors our tradition and makes us proud.”

Alicia, who knew better than to judge a book by its cover, was impressed by Valeria's graciousness. She nodded. “That we can do. I have a few questions I forgot to ask over e-mail…” As she began to throw ideas and questions out, the group members began to make their way to the conveyor belt that had just started moving, indicating the arrival of their bags. The moms chatted while Jamie and Carmen sent texts to their boys, and Gaz searched on his phone for SXSW info.

“Let me guess,” Ranya said, turning her attention from Marisol to Gaz. “I take it you're a musician.”

“How'd you know?” he asked.

“Well, the guitar strapped to your back was a pretty big clue,” Ranya said, laughing.

Gaz looked a bit embarrassed and reached behind to pat his guitar. “Do you know I actually forget that I've got it on? Incredible.”

“Well, your timing couldn't be better. We're having a huge music festival and conference here in Austin.”

“South by Southwest,” Gaz said, nodding. “Everybody knows about it. But I also know everything is sold out.”

“Well, you don't need tickets to get in on the scene,” Ranya said. “Every barbecue spot, coffeehouse, and restaurant is going to be turned into a juke joint this week. There's going to be music everywhere.”

Alicia, caught up in
quince
details with Valeria, hadn't been listening, but she perked up when she heard talk of the conference. “Sounds like fun,” she said, “but Gaz is going to be up to his eyeballs getting all the music together for your
quince
. He's not going to have a minute of free time to just hang out.”