“I will.”
We turned onto Roscomare Road at one minute before four, parking near a guard gate when Marcello pointed out a valet stand which had been set up. He jumped out of the car and ran over to a guy behind the stand as I pocketed my keys, walking at a slower pace. The guy looked us both up and down and seemed satisfied. He bent down and pulled out two white polo shirts and baseball caps with the valet company logo, handing them to us.
“Let me see your pants.”
I stepped back and lifted my T-shirt to show him the black Dickies I’d changed into at work. He nodded to me and then looked at Marcello who did the same. He wore dark brown khakis. “Okay, change into the shirts and wait over there. I’ll talk to all of you at the same time.”
I glanced at a group of guys who were standing in the shade near a guard shack by the electronic gate. All of them wore dark pants, similar shirts, and baseball caps. Marcello and I headed in their direction, pulling the plastic wrappers off the shirts as we walked. We joined the other six men who were standing around talking in Spanish. They all looked Latino and spoke with South American and Mexican accents. Everyone seemed excited about how much money they’d be making just like we were. I glanced over at Marcello.
“How you find out about this job?” I asked, taking my shirt off and pulling the new one over my head. I grabbed his plastic wrapper, balled it up with mine and shoved it into a plastic grocery bag one of the guys was passing around.
“Do you remember Marco De la Cruz?”
I had to think about it and snapped my fingers when a face popped into my mind. “The guy who works at Pacoima Auto Body?” If it was the same Marco I was thinking about, he’d done really good work on my Thunderbird.
“Yeah, that Marco.”
I loved that car and I’d appreciated Marco which is why I remembered him. He’d treated the car like gold, giving us a great deal on the body work and parts. Mamá had bought it for only a thousand dollars when she’d found out that her friend, Carolyn, had lost one of her house cleaning jobs because the elderly man she’d worked for passed away. His grieving daughter had offeredto sell it to Carolyn, who couldn’t afford to buy it. When she told Mamá about the car, she’d bought it for me that same day. I adored the classic old Thunderbird not only because it was beautiful, but because of my loving mamá’s selfless gift.
“Marco did great work on the Thunderbird.”
He nodded. “Anyway, he’s the one who told me.”
I nodded. “That’s nice.” I looked Marcello over, relieved I’d never made a move on him when I first met him. He was a great friend, and that would have ruined that. When we’d worked at Jons Market, he’d told me about his many female conquests and I’d told him about the guys I dated. He was the only straight man I’d ever felt comfortable talking about my sex life with, because he’d never once judged me or thought I was bad just because I liked guys.
Most straight guys either didn’t understand gay men, or they didn’t put in the effort to understand. The mentality was similar in the uber macho Latino culture I was exposed to on a daily basis. I was happy that American culture was starting to change bit by little bit.
Maybe it was the fact that my main job was working in a gay bar. Almost the second I thought it, the faces of those homophobic frat boys popped into my head. Immediately after that, I pictured Rex and how big and strong he was. He’d stopped them not with his fists, but with his strong words and macho persona. I loved his commanding voice and the way those same strong hands had caressed my body, bringing me to the heights of pleasure. Whatever expression I had on my face must have been telling, because Marcello pinned me with a questioning gaze.
I glanced over at him, feeling miserable inside. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to admit how I’d failed to impress Rex. “What is it? You look like you want to ask me something.”
Marcello reached out and squeezed my bicep. “What’s wrong, Cachi? You looked so sad.”
“I was thinking about a guy I date.”
He smiled widely. “You’re dating someone?”
I shook my head. “Only one time. He’s very nice but last night, he blew me.” Marcello looked shocked, making me realize I’d said something wrong. “He no come to pick me up,” I said, remembering the way Rex had corrected me before.
Marcello thought for a second and then started laughing. “You should have said he blew you off.”
I frowned, not understanding. “That what I say.”
He laughed again. “That’s not what you said. You need to add ‘off.’ He blew you off.”
“I say he blew me.” As I repeated the words, my eyes suddenly widened as it dawned on me. “Oh!”
“Yeah, oh!” he said, chuckling.
I smiled. “Well, he do that too.”
He smirked. “So, why did you look so sad then? You think he used you and then dumped you?”
“Yeah. He no call and no come to pick me up. He blew me off.”
“He never called you?”
“He call me later, but I no answer.”
