I rush to the door and open it to see a scowling Isa.
“What the fuck, Manuel?”
“I see I’m back to Manuel,” I say, palming the back of my neck. “Sorry, I just panicked when I saw Junior.”
“He’s my son. Why would he care if I were here? With you?” she says, raising her voice.
“I don’t know. I just... I panicked. I really like you, Isa, and I want to explore whatever this is that we’re both feeling, but there has to be a right way. Junior is really going through things right now and?—”
“What do you mean, going through things?”
“Juan came into the shop last weekend. He was complaining about being a father and not choosing that life, and he didn’t realize Junior was there.”
“Oh my god. Why didn’t Junior tell me?” she asks, her expression now crumpled.
“Because he’s a young boy trying to be a man. He’s trying to make sense of it himself, believe me, I know. And he asked me not to tell you.”
“Oh my god,” Isa says again, looking back at the bed and back to me. You’re right, I’m sorry. What was I thinking coming here and trying to seduce you?” She shakes her head.
“Hey. No. I want you to seduce me. Believe me. I’m just saying we should take it slow and be discreet. If this doesn’t work out, I don’t want Junior to feel like he’s losing me, too.” I grab her hand and pull her to sit on the bed next to me.
The last thing I want is for her to feel regret with me. I palm her face in my hand.
“You were trying to seduce me?” I ask, and she rolls her eyes.
“I didn’t have to try hard.” She laughs. “I should probably go home, though.”
She stands and takes in a deep breath. My head falls. Of all the times this kid has cock blocked me, why did it have to be today? When Isa reaches the bedroom door, she pauses and turns back to face me.
“I agree with everything you are saying, Manny. I made the mistake of losing you once, and I couldn’t imagine being stupid enough to do it again.”
13
MANNY
Grab a Modelo fool, we’re turning up the spice
“Di vuelta la tortilla güey,” I say to my brother.
We just finished our last car for the day and, as always, he busts out a case of Modelo for the guys in the shop.
“What tortilla?” Greñas asks. “You made tortillas?”
“No fool, the saying. Like mom says,” I explain.
“I still don’t get it.”
“Never mind. The point is shits turning around. I think I might have a chance with her.”
Hope can be a dangerous thing, especially paired with Modelo. One Modelo is okay. Two Modelos are safe. Two Modelos and one shot of Don Julio, and you are now in the reckless zone.
You are now doubting everything you thought you knew, like maybe that “Dando vuelta a la tortilla” saying is stupid. What if you forget to flip the tortilla and it burns? Was I burning my one chance to have Isabella again? Three Modelos and two shots later, the obsessive thoughts turn into action.
Impulsive actions. Like when your brother takes the keys to your car, you decide to steal a bike and head to the girl of your dreams’ house. A smart idea until you’re going downhill.Somehow, the ground begins to tilt beneath me, so I clutch the handlebars and shut my eyes.
My stomach feels like it might betray me. As soon as I feel the end of the descent, I open my eyes to see Isabel’s house at the end of the street. My reactions aren’t cooperating with my brain when I hit the curb and fly into her front yard. Groaning, I crawl to the side of the house. This was a stupid idea, but I was already here now, and I didn’t just risk my life to not say what I needed to say.
The plan had been to do some fucking top notch Dawson’s Creek shit and climb through the window, but that doesn’t seem plausible now. Not while I’m lying flat on the ground. Also, if I threw a rock and that window busts, Isa would have my balls. And not in the way I wanted her to either.
