This was what she got for riding a tricycle to Villa from the Laneways, and conveniently forgetting to bring an umbrella when the skies had threatened rain all day. Now she was soaked from head to toe in her jeans and white shirt, sure that everyone could see through it now.
She walked toward the little group and cleared her throat. Three heads turned sharply toward her, and she was slightly taken aback at how much Santi looked like his father and his grandfather. It was a little creepy.
“Excuse me,” Kira said sheepishly. So this was the highly chismised, almost infamous Pamilyang Santillan. Seriously, it was like looking at a poster to a telenovela. “I need to speak to Anton.”
Everyone was aware of the drama that surrounded the family—how Santi’s grandfather had insisted that no grandson of his was going to stay in the provinces. How Santi’s mother never said hello to her amigas from Lipa when they ran into each other in Manila anymore. How she cut herself off from her own family when she moved away.
And here was Kira, with a wet shirt, dripping on her boyfriend’s lobby floor. Wonderful.
“Kira, you’re all wet,” Santi said.
She swatted rainwater from her eyes and sighed at Santi, who looked like he was very much regretting his statement of the obvious. She would rank this situation a very solid Stressie Tomas. Or did the youths say Stress Drilon now?
“Yes, yes I am. Now can we just—”
“And who isthis?” said Vito Santillan. She’d heard her parents say that exact thing whenever she was within touching distance of a Y chromosome of a certain age, but Vito had said it like it was a bad thing. Kira had heard stories about selfish, evil, vile people, read about them and heard all the stupid things they said, almost every day on the news.
But it was quite different to look at someone like Vito Santillan in the eye and not ask, “what the hell is wrong with you, your grandson is wonderful!”
“Kira Luz po,” she said, before Santi could say anything. Normally Kira would have come forward for a mano right now, but it didn’t feel like the right thing to do.
“Oh, I remember you,” Santi’s father said. “You’re that child who always made our son come out and play on the streets.”
And you’re his father, who made him miserable,Kira wanted to say back, only repeated chants of “not your fight, not your fight,” singsonging in her head to remind her to stop.
“I see.” Santi’s grandfather’s frown deepened. “You’re from Lipa.”
The disdain was clear in his voice when he said it. And suddenly, Kira didn’t want to stop. These people were being rude to her, she was wet, and she didn’t need this shit, Santi’s family or not.
“Proudly,” Kira told him, and she was sure the iciness in her voice wasn’t because she was cold. She crossed her arms over her chest and wondered if she could stare Santi’s grandfather down, because Santi was stiffer than he’d ever been, even as he stood beside her. “Po. And like I said, I need to talk to Anton, could—”
Santi looked...worried. And it was so strange, to see him look worried. Santi never worried, he had plans on plans on plans. Kira could also see Vito mentally going over the list of things he knew about the Luz family: what they did for a living, why he was aware of the last name. Kira was used to that game.
“This is exactly what I was afraid of.” Vito shook his head, disappointed as he looked away and spoke as if Kira wasn’t standing right there. “That you would think that your stay in Lipa is permanent, Anton.”
“It is permanent, Lolo,” he insisted, standing next to Kira and handing her his jacket, which was perfect, because she was definitely shivering now. “I made the choice to move here after you fired me.”
“It’s a distraction,” Vito barked, the force in his voice making Kira jolt. “I was trying to make you strong, and resilient, and you decided to get me to pay for everything. Diyan ka magaling eh. Using that big brain of yours to get what you want. And now you’re with a Batangueña. Too proud, too self-important. Tapang pa.”
“That’s not what happened, and you know it.” Santi’s calm was almost terrifying, even to Kira. She was sure his grandfather’s face had gone purple.
“Ayan.” He glared at them both now. “I knew it would turn out this way. That my making you strong would make other people want to use you. This is exactly why I want you to come back to Manila immediately. Stop this nonsense hotel in Lipa, and take your place in Carlton.”
“She isn’t using me,” Santi said at the same time Kira said, “Excuseme?”
“Victor, call Attorney Bonifacio,” Vito continued, speaking to someone who was standing behind Kira and Santi. “Tell him that I want Anton written out of the inheritance.”
She gasped. Could he do that?
“She can’t do that,” Santi said, his voice remaining even and neutral. Kira had listened to enoughAsk A LawyerAM radio shows on the road to know all kinds of fascinating things about Philippine law. Like for example, the concept of legitim, and why he would always inherit—if not via his grandfather’s free portion, then from Santi’s father. She also knew that it was used to prevent disinheritance like this, or passing everything to a random relative, or a cat. “You literally don’t have a choice in how I inherit, because I always will.”
Kira placed a hand on Santi’s arm, and he turned to her. The hardness in his face melted away into a sort of soft tenderness, and he kissed her temple.I’m fine,he seemed to say.
Santi turned to his grandfather again. And if Vito wasn’t purple before, he definitely was now. Which was probably not a good thing, considering he was in the hospital just a few days ago.
“If I had the choice,” Santi said, “I would want you to live forever, Lolo. So none of that burden will ever fall to me.”
Then he looked at Kira, and there was that tenderness in her eyes again.How was it,she wondered,that such awful people managed to make someone so...wonderful?
