Playing for Keeps (4 page)

“She's the boss.” Gaz chuckled, though he didn't look exactly thrilled. “But I bet you could already tell that.”

Alicia gave him a playful swat on the arm. “Gaz teases me for being a
mandona
,” she pouted, “but he knows how much pressure it is to get a
quince
up and running. Speaking of the
quince
, Valeria, I'm so sorry I've been hogging you. Let me introduce you to the rest of the team.”

Going one by one, she made the intros. “This is Carmen,” she said. “She's our resident dress designer, seamstress, and all-around-quiet-in-the-midst-of-any-
quince
-storm member.”

Valeria flicked her long, pin-straight, jet black hair away from her face shyly and waved at Carmen. Carmen waved back and, with a big smile, said, “Nice to meet you, Valeria, I'm looking forward to working with you.”

“I'm Jamie Sosa,” Jamie said before Alicia could introduce her. “I'm the AV department of Amigas Inc. Everything from oil painting to digital video, I'm your girl.”

“Hi,” Valeria said. “Cool sneakers. Aren't those from Tokyo?”

“Whoa,” Jamie said, clearly impressed. “How'd you know that?”

“I have a little skateboard sneaker collection,” Valeria replied. “Not many, but I love each and every pair.”

“
Mija
, that's a sure sign that you and I are going to get along just fine,” Jamie said enthusiastically. “I'm a complete and total sneaker freak. I bet your sneaker stash is amazing.”

After Gaz said his hellos, they gathered up their various bags. “Okay, you all,” Ranya said, clapping her hands and bringing everyone to attention. “We need to get this party on the road.”

Because they were such a big group, two of the ranch managers had driven out to meet the Miami crew at the airport. From the moment the Castillo Ranch vans rolled out of the Austin city limits and onto the I-35, the group was unusually silent. They'd heard about the Texas plains—and seen them, on TV at least. In an effort to “
pre
-prepare,” Jamie had insisted that they watch half a dozen independent films set in Texas. But it was different seeing it up close. Miami was all art deco architecture mixed with sleek high-rises, surrounded by the glitz of South Beach, the majestic expanse of the ocean, and all of the lush island flora. Texas, by comparison, was like an Andrew Wyeth painting—rolling hills, knee-high grass, hundred-year-old oaks, and Huck Finn–worthy streams.

When the sound of growling stomachs began to fill the van, Valeria texted her mother, who was riding in the other van with Marisol, to suggest that the group stop for lunch. The Miami guests had been traveling since early morning, and their stomachs could attest to the fact that they were hungry.

“I need a nap,” Gaz said, nodding. “But I need food more than sleep.”

“Well, this place is right down the road from the ranch, and it has what the Austin locals think is the best barbecue in Texas,” Valeria said.

Gaz sat up and rubbed his hands together. “I'll take your best barbecue, thank you very much. Then I'll take seconds.”

Ninety minutes later, despite the beautiful surroundings, the Miami natives were starting to get officially cranky and restless.

“Where the heck are we?” Jamie muttered.

“This is hill country,” Valeria replied, turning around in the front passenger seat to face her. “Isn't it beautiful?”

“What it is,” Jamie said, “is far. I thought you said we were going someplace nearby.”

“Oh, Driftwood's not far,” Valeria said. “We should be there any minute.”

“But we've been driving for nearly two hours,” Alicia said, whining just a little.

“You gotta remember. It's a big state on a big swath of land. It takes some time to get from place to place.” Then Valeria looked out the window and smiled. “See? We're here!”

“Here” was the Salt Lick Barbecue Restaurant. And it was, to put it mildly, a far cry from the group's favorite Miami hangout, Bongos. Bongos was in the heart of South Beach, on elegant Ocean Drive. The furniture was upholstered in bright tropical patterns, and giant palm trees framed the ocean views outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The Salt Lick was all outdoors, and all casual. Cooks dressed in kitchen whites tended a giant open barbecue pit, and dozens of people crowded the rustic property, enjoying their meals on weathered wooden picnic tables.

“I hope you like it,” Valeria said. “It's a huge family favorite.”

Standing in the parking lot, looking at the muddy grass fields, the three girls took a moment to consider their footwear. Alicia was wearing mules with two inch heels. Carmen was wearing a pair of sand-colored designer espadrilles, and Jamie, like the majority of the Salt Lick customers, was wearing boots. But Jamie's boots were made of a very light butter-colored suede that would have been ruined by one trek across the field.

“Is there a paved walkway to the tables?” Carmen asked, voicing the concern of all of them. “I hate to seem overly citified. But these are my favorite espadrilles, and it took me almost a year to save for them.”

Valeria, who was wearing a pair of perfectly broken-in red cowboy boots, politely stifled a giggle. “A walkway? You are kidding, right?”

Alicia's mother, still talking animatedly to Valeria's mother, bounded past them. Gaz followed, as if he were being pulled by an invisible barbecue string, with a big, silly, feed-me-now grin on his face.

The girls stood in the parking lot, torn between the growling in their bellies and the incredible smell of slow-cooked ribs wafting from the open pit, and the very real consideration that they were each about to ruin their favorite shoes, shoes they'd worn with the intention of looking fierce, fabulous, and flawless while visiting a new city.

Then a table opened up near the parking lot, and Valeria grabbed it; it was now or never. Ever so daintily, they tiptoed across the ground, holding their breath. To strangers, they probably looked anything but fierce. Instead, they looked like timid cats near water.

“Oh, wow,” Valeria said, when the girls made it to the table, breathing heavy sighs of relief as they sat down, shoes somehow unscathed. “I hope you brought more practical footwear for the rest of your trip.”

“My other shoes are sandals,” Alicia said.

“My other shoes are pumps,” Carmen said.

“We've got to get you
chicas
boots,” Valeria said.

“But I
am
wearing boots,” Jamie pointed out.

Valeria shook her head. “Real boots.
Cowboy
boots.”

Before she could further assess—or diss—their footwear, a waitress in a blue and white gingham shirt and jeans looped around their table, passing out menus, glasses of ice water, and baskets of warm corn bread.

“So, what do you recommend here?” Carmen asked turning to her host. “Everything smells so good.”

Valeria's hair was in her face again, and she distractedly pushed it to the side. “By all accounts, all the meat is good,” she said quietly. “But I can't really advise you, because I'm a vegetarian.”

Alicia had mentioned this to Jamie back in Miami, after receiving Valeria's first e-mail. Even so, Jamie looked a bit surprised, as if it just didn't seem possible. “That must be hard, living in a place where meat being simmered over a campfire is the norm.”

Valeria smiled. “Actually, it's sort of just the opposite. Seeing how closely people here are tied to the land, I respect the fact that many of the people I know don't eat meat carelessly. They know and care for the animals.”

A few minutes later, the girls watched as she happily dug in to a platter of potato salad, mustard greens, and baked beans that the waitress had provided.

Jamie, who'd ordered a side of greens with her ribs, took a bite and then groaned happily. “These greens are more delicious than any leafy vegetable has the right to be.”

Alicia nodded, her mouth full. When she finally swallowed, she added, “These are the best baked beans I've ever had in my whole entire life.” Then she paused. “No one tell Maribelle I said that.”

Valeria laughed. “All of the vegetables here are cooked with huge slabs of pork. That's what gives them so much flavor. Technically, the veggies here aren't vegetarian at all. But I make an exception whenever I come to the Lick.”

For the rest of the meal, the group focused only on eating. After the flight, and with the time difference, they were all a little worn out. But they had to admit, it was nice to hang out in the fresh air and listen to the chatter around them.

Later, as they walked—make that
waddled
—toward the vans, Valeria leaned in toward her mom. “We've got to take the girls shopping for some boots,” she said in a stage whisper. “All they've got is fancy high-heeled shoes.”

“I heard that,” laughed Alicia's mother. Turning to her daughter, she said, “With all the drama you put into packing, I can't believe you girls didn't bring practical shoes.”

“I blame Carmen, she packed for me,” Jamie said playfully.

“Hey, watch it,” Carmen warned.

“I also blame Carmen,” Alicia said, winking at Jamie. “She was my wardrobe supervisor as well.”

“Guess it's lucky I'm a big boy,” joked Gaz. “I picked out my clothes and packed for myself. And I'm the only one who can get mud on my shoes and not freak out.”

“You
chicas
!” Carmen laughed. “So ungrateful! Don't come looking for me in two weeks, when you're desperately trying to fit your ten-gallon hat and all of your spring-break shopping into one teeny-weeny suitcase.”

“She has a point,” Alicia said, “and we're bound to hear it from her at a later date. I'm sorry, Carmen.”

“Feeling apologetic, Jamie?” Carmen asked. “It's not too late to beg for my forgiveness.”

“Um, I'll pass,” Jamie said. “I don't do Western chic, and I won't be buying a cowboy hat of any kind.”

“Famous last words,” Valeria said. “I don't mean to be pushy, but if I can give you one piece of advice as Texas newbies, save yourself a lot of time and heartache. Go ahead and embrace the hat.”

Hats weren't the only way the members of Amigas Inc. knew they were definitely not in Miami anymore. When they finally pulled up to the ranch, their jaws collectively dropped. A forty-foot wrought-iron gate emblazoned with a giant cursive
C
, for Castillo, welcomed them onto the sprawling property. As they took in the view along the long driveway leading up to the main house, the girls—and even Gaz—oohed and aahed. Feeling goofy and just a little sleep-deprived, they waved at the grazing cows, the gaggles of geese, and the ornery-looking goats. When the van turned left and pulled up to the wooded area around the guesthouse where the Miami group would be staying, they clapped and cheered for the driver, Luis.

As they unloaded their bags from the back, the big Texas sky and the surrounding acres of cedar and oak trees seemed warm and inviting, as if they'd been dropped off at summer camp and each day ahead promised a new parcel of mystery, a new care package of fun.

THE NEXT
morning came all too quickly. After arriving the previous afternoon, the Miami crew had taken quick naps and then, at Ranya's orders, filed back into the vans to head into town—for cowboy boots. There was no way she would let them wander around the ranch in sandals, she explained. Of course, with three girls, all of whom prided themselves on being stylish no matter what the zip code, the shopping took a lot longer than Ranya might have expected. Three hours and roughly sixty pairs of rejected boots later, Alicia, Carmen, and Jamie all walked out of the store successful. By the time they got back to the ranch, they were officially wiped, and immediately headed to bed.

Ranya had left a note directing them to the big house for breakfast, but not everyone was ready at the same time. Jamie was the first—and she was hungry. As she walked outside, her nose was tickled by the smell of something amazing coming from the direction of the big house. She quickly made her way there.

When she walked into the huge kitchen, she found Valeria along with her mom and a man she assumed was Valeria's dad, cooking up a storm.

“We like to do a big breakfast on the ranch,” Ranya called out over her shoulder. She was expertly manning numerous simmering pots on the giant six-burner stove.

“Especially on Sundays, when my dad is around to help,” Valeria added, leaning her head on the man's shoulder.

“I'm David Castillo, or Dad,” he said in a Southern twang, extending his hand. He was just a head taller than Valeria, with thick black curly hair and a slightly shy, slightly mischievous grin. Salsa
verde
whirled around inside the restaurant food processor he was using like a pro. “Welcome to Austin,” he said.

There were big bay windows on each side of the kitchen, and through them Jamie could take in the ranch. On the drive over, Valeria had casually mentioned to the Miami crew that the ranch was big.
Ginormous
would have been a better word. At a thousand acres, with more than a dozen kinds of wildlife on the property, the Castillo family ranch seemed more like a national park than someone's home.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Jamie asked, turning her attention back to her hosts.

“Oh, you shouldn't have said that,” Valeria's father said, reaching into the fridge for a crate of eggs. “Now we're going to have to initiate you into the Castillo family breakfast club.”

Jamie was never one to back down from a challenge. “Sounds like fun.”

“Well, it
is
fun.
If
you successfully complete your task,” David said cryptically.

Jamie looked at him curiously. “Sure, what is it?”

“¡Migas!”
Valeria cried, tossing an egg to the startled Jamie, who just barely managed to catch it.

“¡Migas!”
Ranya said, tossing another egg at her; she was more prepared this time and caught it easily.

“¡Migas!”
David said, throwing yet another egg at her. Both he and Valeria collapsed in laughter when she failed to catch the last egg and it splattered against the tiled kitchen wall.

“What on earth…?” a voice asked. Turning, Jamie saw that Alicia and her mother had entered the kitchen just in time to catch the tail end of the egg toss. Alicia looked perplexed, but Mrs. Cruz ran over and pulled her old friend into a bear hug.

“¡Migas!”
she shouted happily.

As Jamie stood holding the eggs she'd caught, looking slightly shell-shocked, David wiped the egg goop off the wall. Valeria and her mother held their sides, laughing heartily.

“What's going on?” Alicia whispered to Jamie. “And what the heck are
migas
?”

Valeria wiped tears of laughter from her eyes and explained. “
Migas
are a Tejano specialty. Crispy tortillas. Fresh farm eggs. Chorizo, if you have it—which we do.”

“Nopalitos, if you have them,” Ranya added. “Which we do.”

“Cotija cheese—” David began.

“If you have it,” Alicia put in.

“Which I bet they do,” Jamie grinned.

“We certainly do,” David said. “And the tradition is, first Texas newbie down to breakfast gets to make the
migas
and compete for a prized spot in the Castillo family breakfast club.”

“And I'm up for the challenge,” Jamie said, grabbing a cast-iron pot from an overhead rack.

“Up for what?” Gaz asked as he bounded into the room.

“Jamie's taking the great
migas
breakfast challenge,” Alicia said.

“The Amigas breakfast challenge?” Gaz asked, and everyone laughed.

By the time Carmen entered the kitchen and said, “What's going on?” no one would bother to explain.

Jamie cracked an egg into the sizzling hot pan and said simply, “Watch and learn.”

Twenty minutes later, they all sat down to the most incredible breakfast feast that any of the Miami crew had ever seen—huevos rancheros with refried pintos and sliced avocado, yogurt with maple syrup and toasted
pepitas
, blue-corn muffins, turkey sausage, buttermilk biscuits, bacon, and, of course, Jamie's chorizo and
Cotija migas
. There were ten people in total around the table, but there was enough food for at least twenty more.

Before they could dig in, David held up Jamie's dish. “I must first taste the Amigas
migas
.” He took a bite and chewed as everyone waited. “And I find them to be…”

He made a face and paused dramatically, and Jamie looked just a little worried. “
Muy sabroso
,” he finally said. “Tasty. Señorita Sosa is now officially a member of the Castillo family breakfast club.”

Everyone at the table clapped, and Jamie, always happy to step into the limelight, stood up and took a bow.

After that, there was just the sound of eating as everyone tackled the feast. “This is insane,” Gaz said a while later, after polishing off what had to be his fifth buttermilk biscuit.

“Only if you mean
insane
as a synonym for
yum
,” Alicia said, heaping another spoonful of salsa
verde
onto a tortilla.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day on a ranch,” Valeria explained. “Everyone works such long hours, and even when your chore list is light, you want to be fueled for whatever the day may bring, be it a swim in the river or a seven-mile hike or haying an entire field.”

At the mention of work, Carmen looked concerned. “We're not haying anything today, are we? Because I was planning to visit my cousin Yessy at UT Austin.”

Jamie looked at her watch. “I've got to go in a little while, too. Dash set me up with a lesson with one of his pro friends at Barton Creek.”

Valeria's father looked impressed. “Are you a golfer?”

“I'm working on it,” Jamie said. “My boyfriend is big into golf, and I just started taking lessons. Before that, the closest I came to golf was watching
Tin Cup
on my portable DVD player.”

“Do you get to play a lot with your boyfriend?” asked David.

“Not so much,” Jamie replied. “Turns out playing golf with one of the top-ranked teen players in the country, even if he's your boyfriend, isn't so much fun.”

“Well,” David said, “I was planning on getting in a few holes today myself. I'll give you a ride over.”

“I was hoping to score a pass to one of the workshops at South by Southwest,” Gaz said. “Or, if I have no luck, spend the day at the Starbucks nearest to it, playing my guitar. Who knows? Maybe I'll meet a record exec who'll discover me and magically decide to sign me to his label. If only…” He sighed.

As everyone went through their plans, Alicia's face had been growing redder and redder. But she waited until Valeria, her parents, and her own mom left to completely lose it. “You guys, we are here to work, not socialize!” she fumed. “We've got a little over two weeks to pull this
quince
together from top to bottom. Valeria's family has flown us here at no small expense. We've got to do a stunning job.”

“Chill,
chica
. I couldn't agree more,” Jamie said. “Which is why I'll meet you back here—right after lunch.”

Carmen nodded. “I'm all about it. Now that I've met Valeria, I can work on sketches on the bus ride home. See you at four o'clock!”

Before Alicia could explain that neither of those options worked for her, Marisol returned to the kitchen with Ranya. They had made plans to visit the Blanton Museum of Art at the University of Texas to see a new exhibit on solar eclipses by a contemporary Mexican artist, Pablo Vargas Lugo.

“Lici, why don't you come with us to the museum?” her mom asked. “It should be a wonderful show.”

“Solar eclipses. Can't wait. It sounds like a blast,” Alicia replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I think I'll take a pass and just hang out at the ranch. Maybe Valeria can show me around and we can spend the day together talking
quince
things. After all, somebody's got to stay focused.”