I had George Clooney on a leash as I led him past the doors of the bakery.
“I’m sorry,” I said to my supervisor, “but I had to bring the dog with me today.”
Eloisa Carreon gave George a pat on the head. “Hello, Georgie-Porgy,” she cooed, as he flicked his tiny shih tzu tongue over her hand. “Did you give Monica a lot of trouble at the vet?”
“Of course he did,” I answered. “He was barking like a beast as soon as he saw the needles. It took two assistants to hold him down, but at least he didn’t bite anyone.”
“Sounds like my brother,” she teased.
That was when I noticed that Paul was standing right behind her.
“Eloisa, stop that,” he spoke dryly. “Monica, what possessed you to bring that animal to the bakery today?”
“His name is George Clooney,” Eloisa answered. “Today was his annual trip to the vet.”
“I don’t care,” Paul answered. “We were supposed to talk about the new ovens today, and you let your assistant bring a small animal into this bakery.”
Paul Carreon was only in his early thirties—not much older than Eloisa herself—but he carried himself with the sense of self-awareness that came from being the first and only person in the family to graduate with a business degree. With his chin held up in mid-air and his hands clasped in front of him, he seemed like a man who would rather be in a business suit than the polo shirts he wore as the head honcho for a family bakery.
It just so happened that this wasn’t his place—literally and figuratively—to speak to me like the master of the baked-goods universe. Eloisa was now the main supervisor for this new branch of Reyna Bakery, and Paul was only making his presence known as the representative of the main branch.
“Paul,” Eloisa asked, “shouldn’t you be back with Pappy at the old bakery right now?”
“Not until Eloisa and I resolve the issue with the ovens,” Paul answered. “I insist that you start your own baking at this branch so we can get the new ovens.”
“God, Kuya,” Eloisa burst out. “Our ovens aren’t cell phones that you can trade up when you get sick and tired of them.”
“You’re forgetting that we don’t just bake cakes at the bakery anymore,” Paul added. “What about the brownies and the empanadas?”
Just at that very moment, we were interrupted by the arrival of Eloisa’s boyfriend, Sean Alvarez, who had just walked into the kitchen from the restroom.
“Did somebody say empanadas?” Sean called out.
I hushed Sean and told him to step away from Eloisa and Paul.
“What’s this about?” Sean asked.
“Monica,” Paul called out. “Tell my sister over here that we need new ovens to keep up with the demands at the main branch.
This was the part of the conversation that I hated the most—the part when Paul would notice that I was in the same room, so he could ask me to take sides between him and his sister. He did not even notice that Sean was standing right next to me.
“Monica,” Eloisa shot back, “tell my brother how many orders we’ve received since the last big project.”
I gulped. “We’re getting orders of up to four months in advance. If we don’t open the store soon, we’d be backlogged.”
“I thought you were on my side,” said Eloisa.
Sometimes I wonder how those two have managed to live under the same roof without strangling each other. I sure wouldn’t be able to handle it if I had a brother who picked on me, like Paul always did.
“I am giving you a choice, Eloisa,” Paul insisted. “You can take the ovens now, or you can take out another loan to buy one.”
“You just don’t want to have this conversation in front of Pappy.”
“We’re already having this conversation in front of Monica and Sean. What do you think?”
God, why would anyone want to work for this man?
“Fine,” said Eloisa. “I’m taking the ovens—but you have to get someone to fix it before you bring it over, do you hear me?”
He laughed. “I know I’m right. See you at dinnertime?”
“Sure. Sean’s coming over, by the way.”
“Great. Tell him to look up while he’s eating so Pappy and I could talk to him.”
Sean balled up his fists to his sides.
“Kuya, you’re always worried about Sean,” Eloisa answered. “When are you going to let Monica have dinner with us?”
This came as a surprise to me. “Let me ask my Tita Violet first...”
“You have to come to dinner,” Sean insisted. “Neri makes a great meatloaf.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Alvarez,” Paul replied. “This is our family dinner.”
I took George by the leash. “Listen, everyone, I have to go soon—”
“I think Sean should take the animal out for a walk,” Paul declared. “You said that George Clooney doesn’t bite, does he?”
“He hates needles,” I volunteered.
“He’s nice to me,” Sean answered. “Isn’t that right, George?”
George stared at him indifferently.
“Good.” Paul put his arm around Eloisa. “Sean, take the dog out for a walk.”
He complied.
“And you,” he said to me, “what happened to your pink hair?”
“I dyed it one month ago,” I answered. “What does it matter?”
“Oh, okay.” Then he turned to Eloisa, and proclaimed, “Monica, I am inviting you to dinner.”
Eloisa’s jaw dropped. “She needs to ask her aunt first.”
“And when her aunt says yes, we’ll have her over,” he added. “Right, Monica?”
At first I did not have an answer for him. Then I held up my head and answered, “This is very charitable of you.”
“Good,” he answered. “Just let us know what your aunt says.”
“We’ll tell our sister when you do,” Eloisa said apologetically. “Neri’s pretty generous with the servings anyway.”
The smile on my face was strained. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Then Paul turned to his sister, kissed her on the cheek, and went on his merry way.
A few moments later, Eloisa and I were alone again in the bakery kitchen. “What was that about?”
I took out a mop to wipe the floor. “What?”
“Your hair,” she answered. “My brother noticed your hair. Didn’t you dye it last month?”
“I did. He must be dense if he noticed it now.”
“Not dense enough to invite you to dinner with us,” Eloisa continued. “Is there something happening between the two of you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Eloisa. I would never entertain your brother that way.”
Eloisa gave me a stern look. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Oh? Then why have you been mopping the same spot more than once?”
I looked down on the square-shaped blotch on the floor. It wasn’t that hard to notice.
“Monica.”
“I told you.”
Her cell phone began to ring. “That must be Sean. I think I should tell him…”
“No.”
She answered her phone. “Sean, honey, do you still have George?”
Damn. I should have remembered. Eloisa was still Paul’s sister.
“Listen, Monica and I need to talk…”
“Please, Eloisa.”
But she wasn’t going to stop there. “Why don’t you take George out to the park—”
“Please!” I cried out. “I’ll tell you everything! Just leave the dog out of this!”
Eloisa nearly dropped her phone. “I’ll call you when we’re done.” Then she took out two bottles of water from the fridge and a couple of chairs for us to sit down. “Go on.”