Waking Up in the Land of Glitter (28 page)

Benecio and Alice dragged the living room couches into the game room and set up three six-foot-long buffet tables. When the
doorbell rang at six sharp, Benecio devilishly slunk across the marble tile to the front door. His sneaky scheme had clicked
into action!

When Benecio learned his parents would be in New York this weekend at a social-networking conference, he used the opportunity
as a way to reunite the group. Alice helped him streamline a plan.

When he’d met the women for the first time—
forget it
! Star reminded him of those frustrated emo chicks in art class who drew on their arms; Ofie could have passed for a deranged
kindergarten teacher, and Chloe may as well have been the stuck-up student-body president. He didn’t think he’d ever wind
up needing them like he did. They became his absentee parents, filling the space in his life that his selfish mom and dad
did not. Benecio would deny it to his grave, but ever since the group busted up, he often wept himself to sleep from loneliness.
No one at school related to him. All the other kids were into partying, sports, or studying. Not obsessed with fashion and
accessory design like he was. If Star, Ofie, and Chloe were too bigheaded to make up on their own, he would be the one to
bring them together. He missed them more than he missed his sewing machine when it broke last summer. This nonsense had to
stop, if anything, at least for the centerpieces and his free pass into the CraftOlympics.

“You came!” Benecio sang out as soon as he saw Ofie’s and Anjelica’s smiles across the threshold.

Ofie planted a wet mommy kiss on his cheek. “Benecio! M’ijo, your house is…
gorgeous;
it’s like a
mansion
!” she said as she lugged in a heavy box of centerpiece supplies and marveled at the bronze mosaic water fountain in the center
of the foyer.

“Your parental units certainly do have pimpin’ style, B,” Anjelica broadcasted as she scratched at the textured faux-finished
wall with her finger.

“So, where are your parents?” echoed Ofie’s voice from the other room.

“Gone until Monday night because—” Benecio began to explain, but Nana Chata’s boisterous entrance cut him off. She busted
in with an industrial-sized soup pot.

“Move your nalgas, people! Menudo patrol coming through… Which way to la cocina fina?” she demanded as she hunted down the
kitchen. He would have helped Nana Chata, but just then another guest arrived. Make that
two
guests.

“What the hell is going on, Benecio? I thought you said everyone bailed on you?” Chloe said, gripping the strap of her black
messenger bag so tightly, the whites of her knuckles showed.

Benecio had never seen her make such a blah entrance. The Chloe Chavez he knew never left the house without camera-ready foundation,
lashes, perfectly teased hair at the crown of her head, and a ridiculously expensive outfit that she modeled as if she were
on a catwalk. But here she stood with limp hair, in a faded brown peasant skirt, ballet flats, and a tiny tank covered by
a baggy denim jacket.

Feeling no regret for his ploy, Benecio clenched his sweaty fists inside the pockets of his Ecko jeans and hoped she would
stay and forgive him for his white lie.

“That little cabron set us up!” Star exclaimed, whipping off her crisp black navy pea coat and examining the olive and tan
painted palace. Her mother followed close behind. Star walked up to Benecio and kissed his cheek. “And I’m glad he did!”

One of the elements Benecio missed about Star’s personality was her crazy sense of style. He forgot how much he anticipated
her arrivals so he could soak up her genius clothing concoctions. Tonight she seemed more radiant than usual in black velvet
flats, black leggings that ended just above her ankles, a red-and-teal-striped satin fitted top, chunky gold hoop earrings,
and a knitted skull cap over her long black curls. Even Ofie had spent time on her outfit. Instead of her usual jeans and
Ed Hardy knockoff T-shirt combo, she wore a bright red cotton dress, which brightened up her face. Aside from Chloe, everyone
appeared happy and healthy.

Benecio held his breath as Ofie came back into the room to find Chloe and Star standing next to each other, but not speaking.
Benecio wondered who would drop the first word and what it would be.

“Thanks for the letter,” Star said to Chloe.

Ofie cleared her throat and tilted her head. “Thank you for my letter, too, Chloe.”

To give them privacy, Dori guided Anjelica into the kitchen to help Nana Chata chop the lemon, green onion, and cilantro for
the menudo.

Chloe clenched her purse strap tighter and glowered up at the vaulted ceiling. The emotions were too strong and she couldn’t
hold back her tears. “I apologize that I lied. I didn’t mean for things to go down the way they did.” She lowered her gaze
to the cream-colored floor and went on. “Seeing there is plenty of help here, I’m taking off. Just so you know, today was
my last day with Hadwick. I’m done with TV. I quit. I’m moving back to L.A. and getting my real estate license. My loft goes
up for sale next week. As soon as it sells, I’m gone. Best of luck to you and the CraftOlympics. Thank you for being so kind
to me.” She turned to exit as Star, Ofie, and Benecio gawked and mouthed “No way!”

Ofie stepped into Chloe’s path. “L.A.? Why? You’re not going back with him, are you? The guy you ditched at the altar?” she
asked in a stern, maternal tone. “Please tell me no, Chloe. We all know you’re too smart for that. You don’t love him. If
you go back, this time you’ll be lying to yourself!”

Chloe closed her eyes and stepped around Ofie toward the front door. “It’s for the best. I’m done here. I have to break ground
on my new life, and he’ll give me a good head start. We’ve been talking every night by phone. He doesn’t seem like so much
of a jerk anymore. And considering I’ve been nothing but a liar, a bitch, and a thief these past few years, I should be happy
someone wants this mess.”

Star leaped in the way and braced her arms against the sculpted molding so Chloe couldn’t pass. “You are
so
not getting out of here, deary. When are you going to get it through your brain that you don’t need
anyone
to give you a head start? You can do whatever you want, totally on your own!” Star put her hand on Chloe’s cheek and wiped
the tear that fell from her friend’s eye.

“I can’t.” Chloe’s voice cracked. She stared directly into Star’s misty eyes. “I don’t have it in me anymore.”

Star wouldn’t listen. “Like that silly quote Ofie told us on your birthday—you aimed high and missed. Big deal. You’re not
leaving. Not until you come and sit down with us and spill, so we can talk you out of it. You with me on this, Ofie?” Star
asked.

Ofie agreed. In a split second she and Star embodied two New York City bouncers, and refused to let their friend pass. Ofie
thrust her arm on Chloe’s shoulder to block her from moving forward. “Chloe, didn’t you hear about what happened at KPDM last
week? Your boss was tossed out by his belt straps!”

“What?” asked Chloe. “No. I haven’t been back to the station.”

“Yah! Larry told me! That Frances girl didn’t only bring you down; she ratted out that Mark Jefferies guy too. I guess after
you left, he tried to pull the same horrible crap on her. He played both of you.”

Chloe sniffled, and allowed a weary smirk to escape. She had a new-found respect for Frances. “Okay, in some sick, unexplainable
way, that makes me feel a heck of a lot better.” She paused. “I’ll stay on one condition.”

“What’s that?” Star asked.

“You ladies have to tell me every detail of what you’ve done since I saw you last.”

Star cocked her head side to side and broke into a broad smile. “I had my art show! It was a hit! I donated half the money
to Fresh Start Women’s Foundation.”

“I know,” Chloe said. “I snuck in when you weren’t looking. I couldn’t resist. I bought the one called
Starry Sunrise
to remind me that tomorrow is always a new opportunity to start all over.”

Ofie chimed in next. “I was there on your opening night too, Star. Anjelica was sick, but I did sneak out to go peek. I laid
low because I didn’t want to distract you. I’m so proud of you; you did it! And thank you for the beautiful one you made for
me, and for putting my name on the poster!”

Star put her fingers on her eyes to hold back happy tears.

“Ofie, did you see Theo sing?” Chloe laughed. “Star, how did he explain that?”

“He was stinking drunk! I called him the next day and he didn’t even have the balls to call me back. I left it at that.”

“Good for you, Star!” Ofie said. She rushed to her friends and threw her arms around them. Benecio joined in, then guided
them into the living room–turned–centerpiece factory.

Bowls of glitter, bottles of paints, cups of brushes, scissors, paper plates, glue, and varnish were evenly spaced down the
center of the long tables. To keep the night grooving, Benecio created a house-mix playlist of his favorite divas: Lady Gaga,
Amy Winehouse, Britney Spears, Leona Lewis, Adele, Beyoncé, Christina Aguilera, Madonna, and Kanye.

It worked. Three hours later, production was in full swing. At the first table, Nana Chata prepped the supplies and picked
off price stickers. Chloe painted each flowerpot with purple and red acrylics, and passed them off to Benecio, who varnished
them, and then Alice stuffed in the floral foam. Star sat at the second table and covered each plastic prickly pear with glue,
followed by a thick layer of glitter, which she poured on using a tablespoon. Ofie then carefully inserted the sparkling succulent
into the foam. Dori added the final touch—moss—and set them on the last table to dry, while Anjelica inspected each one to
ensure perfection.

Throughout the process, each craftista took turns sharing in-depth self-reflections about their upbringing, dysfunctional
relationships, and lost loves. When those conversations ran dry, they shared ghost stories, went on to frightful hospital
encounters, and then gossiped about coworkers (in Benecio and Anjelica’s case, schoolmates). As they finished up the last
five masterpieces, silence settled in the air.

Star was the first to speak up. “I have a confession. I have fallen in love with glitter. The more I use it, the more I want
to go home and cover everything in it.”

“Please don’t,” Dori countered, glaring over her polka-dot spectacles.

“Believe it or not, Star, but I’m the opposite,” Ofie said. “Sitting here making all of these, I enjoy it, but it’s the end
of an era for me. I think I crafted a lifetime’s worth of projects in a few short years.”

Chloe swooshed a band of paint around the final planter and looked at it wishfully, as if it were a photo of a long-lost twin
she’d never met. “This is going to sound really stupid coming from me,” she said, lifting up the pot to her face. “But crafting
is very relaxing. I should do this more often.”

“Ha!” Star said. She crumpled up a paper towel and tossed it in Chloe’s direction. “Well, you think, missy? After two years
of teaching crafts on live TV every week, you’ve finally realized that?”

Chloe swatted the ball with her elbow and giggled. “Seriously, I like the feeling of getting lost in the process. It clears
my head and allows my mind to wander, to fantasize. I never do that! It’s very healing to cover a drab surface with color.
Metaphorical. To think that I have the power to give a makeover, and all it takes is a paintbrush! No wonder crafting is so
popular! It’s a beautiful concept! It’s… it’s…
craftastic
!” She sat up tall and smiled proudly.

Not sure how else to react to their friend’s eleventh-hour mindblowing revelation, everyone politely bobbed their heads in
unison. Except Nana Chata.

“I think we need to move Ms. Craftastic away from Benecio’s varnish.”

M
otivated by the craftista reunion, the next day Star decided to tackle the last chore on her list: the back house.

“Tell me again why we’re rushin’ ” Maria Juana asked Star, who worked the paint roller on the front walls of La Pachanga’s
adobe-style back house as if she had just downed a double crack cappuccino.

“Because I want this over with so I can get back to making new love shrines.”

“Check it out. Now that this place is all clean and empty,” Maria Juana noted, “it’d make a kick-ass pad.”

“Well, we’ve been at it for eight hours straight, so it better look kick-ass,” Star replied, out of breath. She continued
to move her arm up and down faster and faster until she abruptly stopped and released the paint roller from her hand. Enough
was enough.

Star let herself collapse on the walkway, panting from her round of speed painting. “How could a lovable color like hot pink
take three excruciating coats just to cover white stucco? And as an artist addicted to said color, why did I not know that?”

Maria Juana kept painting. “I tried to tell you at the store.”

“I know, but it’s worth the effort. I love it. Especially the name: Fantasia Fuschia Fiesta!” Star rolled onto her side and
watched her cousin push the paint roller back and forth over the final spot on the wall. “Thanks for helping me, cuz. I can’t
believe we actually emptied out all that junk,
and
finished the paint job.”

Maria Juana yanked Star up from the floor. They dragged their worn-out feet inside the small house and stood back-to-back
in the center of the room to admire every inch of their hard work. Clearing the space to its spotless condition was the last
duty on Star’s list from her dad. Once she finished, her debt would be paid for defacing her parents’ business property. She
could go back to work at La Pachanga, and do her art too.

“What’s your dad gonna do with this casita?” Maria Juana asked, gathering up rags from the floor.

“I don’t have a clue. Maybe extra seating or a mini gallery?”

Star stretched out her arms like Julie Andrews in
The Sound of Music
and twirled about the room as a celebratory gesture of her freedom.

Wearing baggy jeans and a plaid flannel shirt, Maria Juana spun around the room too, only faster, and less ladylike. “Whoa,
do it superfast, and it’s better than—”