Rai
Holy crap.
Holy shit!
Qué chingados!
I was goin' out with Whitney Gordon.
Me! Cabrón Raimundo Vega is goin' out with hot mama, beautiful, gorgeous, blue-eyed, bright smile Copper Girl, Whitney Gordon!
"Hey, vato."
Tito called me but I don't give a shit! I'm still starin' at her text. She said yes! She's goin' out with me!
Granted, she kinda didn't have much of a choice. And she should've said no, 'cause that would mean she couldn't care less about what people thought about her. But she does care, so, she's goin' out with this pendejo.
"You're scarin' me, puto." Tito whispered and I look at him, frowning "You're grinning like a complete fool. Whassup?"
Should I tell him? It would make me look like a God to him and the other guys. But that also meant they would sneak on us durin' the date. And, as astonishing as it might sound, I wanted time alone with Whitney. I wanted to talk to her alone. Just her and I. Don't care about any other shit, anyone else. Just the two of us, talkin' and eatin'.
Mierda!
Where was I takin' her to eat?! That girl probably has tried every single restaurant in town like hundreds of times before. And worse, she had Diabetes. What could she eat? Could she go to a Mexican restaurant? Could she eat spicy food, or was that completely off bounds?
Mierda! Cojones!
I hit my answer on my phone, as quickly as I could manage.
"7. Is there somethin' u can't eat at all?"
"Just name a place. I'll worry about my eating, thnk u very much."
Huh. Being a smartass again, was she? Fine. If she was thinking I was gonna let her get the wheel in this thing, she's way off.
"Give m ur nbr. I'll text u d place."
"U'r dreaming. Not in a million years. Its too much being connected on social media as it is."
"Then I'll pick u up."
The next reply was her number and a finger flippin' me off.
God, this girl was gonna make me crazy!
***
Friday didn't come fast enough. I found myself distracted numerous times, thinkin' about the date with Whitney. Shit. She's an A girl. She's the type of girl a guy drools about his entire life and knows he'll never get a shot at. But Rai Vega's gonna have his shoot. She might think she will be off the hook after the date, but she's wrong. I'm gonna woo her, and in the end, she'll be beggin' me to be with her.
And then what, genius? What seems to be the whole plan?
"Hey, pendejo. Are you listenin' or what?" Jorge whispered in my ear.
I stared at mi primo. We were doin' a deal with a really heavy organization. The room was dark except for a bright light over the roundtable.
Santiago was the one sitting, right in front of an Asian man. They were now starin' at each other like the loser would be the one to blink first.
"Ten G's don't even cover for my staff's pay." Santiago said, opening his cigarette case; the face of Maria still made me shiver "Twenty is my last offer."
The Asian guy in a grey suit whispered to his interpreter, another Asian dude in a suit.
"Mr. Park offers eighteen. And that's his final offer."
Oh shit... Even I could feel the tension in the room built.
Santiago wasn't happy with that. I could see it in the way he grabbed his black cigarette.
"Twenty. Or nothin'."
Nothin' stands for "Fuck off", and after that, they were marked by El Cuervo.
The two Asian swapped a few words again, and in the end, the translator nodded.
Good night, overall. And less than twenty-four hours away from my date with Copper Girl. What was she gonna wear? Would she wear a dress? Would she dress pretty for me?
Cojones... I looked like a sixteen-year-old chick.
"Hey, vato. Mercedes just called." Tito said as we went to our car "She's with Nina and the girls at La Ronda. Wanna go?"
In another night I might go, have fun with my friends and the hot mamacita that was always available for me. Tonight, it was different. Tonight, I couldn't stop thinkin' about another girl, and not even Nina would help my mind go blank.
"Not tonight. Gotta help Santana with a school project." I lied, and the guys stared at me like I'd gone insane "She begged me."
They rolled their eyes but agreed.
My project tonight, however, was decidin' where the hell was I takin' Whitney Gordon.
I looked into the web for some info, and then in the school library, Friday mornin'. So, Whitney could eat sugar stuff, but not too much, 'cause being Type I means she can't produce insulin – and insulin is what makes the glucose level normal. She should eat lots of fiber and vegetables, 'cause it helped her body control the glucose level.
Geez... What a mess!
Her diet should be low in sodium, meanin' she shouldn't eat frozen meat, canned food, condiments, sauces and any kind of dressing.
Holy shit! That cut off Mexican and a bunch of other types of food. What could she eat: a piece of lettuce and a glass of water?
So fresh food, that's what she should eat: meat and fish, fresh, no frozen shit.
She can drink – hence the cocktail at La Ronda -, but not too much, about a glass per day. One lousy glass?! That wasn't even enough for a decent toast. If she took sodas she had to increase her insulin shoot.
Fuckin disease! What a fuckin' prison that must be. Always countin' calories, always measurin' her glucose... High: insulin shoot. Low: eat somethin'. Ate too much: insulin shoot. It's like a snowball.
If she doesn't follow her diet right and the medicine, she can get sick. Really sick. Life-threatening kind of sick. Just to name some, she can have a stroke, heart failure, develop kidney disease or get into a coma. This is heavy shit.
Ah! Winner! 'What a diabetic can eat'!
Chicken and turkey – no skin -, beef, lamb, pork and veal. Well, that's not bad. So she can eat potatoes and pasta, but in small portions, and divided through the day.
Ok, so Italian. What about the salt and the dressing?
Fuck, this is madness!
"What are you doing?"
"Shit!" I yelled, and the librarian and some students peeked over their shoulders at me.
"What the hell are you doing?" She whispered, taking the book from my hands "I told you I'd worry about my eating." She sighed, pinching her nose like in search for a lot of patience "This is why I don't tell people that I have..." She stopped, looking around to see if anyone was hearing us "you know. They freak out when they shouldn't. I can take care of myself."
"Yeah? Well, what if I took you to a Mexican restaurant? You can't eat that. It has condiments and all that shit. What a mess that would be" I grunted, taking the book from her hands and shoving it back on the shelf.
"I'd make a special order," She said, tilting one eyebrow.
"Really? You know what they do to 'special orders'? They spit on them. Yeah, they do! Trust me, I know, I've worked in kitchens before. And I bet spit would do somethin' to your glucose level."
I swear I saw her fightin' back a smile. Fuck YEAH! The wall can be knock down.
"Look, let's just drop it, ok? You want a kiss? Fine. I'll kiss you. Let's just forget this dating thing" She said, perking her shoulders.
Ah... She wanted to back off. Tough shit, I wasn't going to let her do that. No chance in hell for that to happen, now.
"I kiss you, you stay happy with whatever it is you get, and everyone just keeps on living. How 'bout that?" She said, with a challenging smile.
"No chance there, chica. You said yes, now it's too late. Tonight, at Mariani. Be there at seven, sharp, or I'll drag you."
With that, I left her alone in the library, with a dumbfounded face and shiny blue eyes. I smiled all the way home. Had to prepare myself for a date with Copper Girl. Mariani isn't a fancy restaurant, but it was a very cool one with pristine table service and wonderful food and wine. She'd love it, for sure.
Thinkin' of which, I texted her and told her to wear a dress and not a granny's dress, or she would get it. Her answer was two dots and a bar. She flipped me off again. I laughed in my car as I hit the stereo on.