Page 14 of Sweet
“No, ma’am.” Of course, he was a tattoo artist, not a financial analyst or whatever Ruby’s kid was now.
But Spider could never be embarrassed by his parents. He only wished his mother hadn’t been embarrassed byhimwhen she died. On good days, he thought maybe they could see him from heaven and be happy that he’d turned shit around. Now the challenge was keeping it that way.
Imelda was shaking a finger at him. “I think you have a beautiful old car, don’t you? I’ve seen you drive it around town.”
“The El Camino?”
“Yes! Was it your father’s?”
Spider couldn’t stop the smile. “Yeah. You like old cars?”
“Are you joking?” She pointed to a black-and-white photo behind the counter. “You know who that is?”
Spider leaned forward and examined the picture. There was a slick-looking pachuco in a black suit and a shiny black pompadour haircut with a low fade. On either side of him were two beautiful women: A curvaceous woman who looked more than a little like Daisy was standing with her hand at her waist, a scarf tied around her neck, wearing a halter-top dress and dark lipstick. The other woman was taller, with attitude to spare. She was leaning on the car and kicking up a pointed heel.
The group was standing in front of a very sweet car that was vintage 1940s American-manufacturing gold. The chrome made Spider want to drool.
“You were rocking those shades.” He had a feeling he was seeing Imelda in her prime. “And that car is insane. Is that a Buick?”
“Youdoknow cars.” She smiled. “That’s a 1948 Buick Roadmaster Riviera. Maya and Enrique had only been married a few years, and I had come north for a visit. I thought it was so glamorous! Enrique said he had to get it because of the name. Rivera. Riviera. Maya called it his Roadmaster Rivera.” The old woman laughed. “We took that picture in the fifties. My sister loved that car, and Enrique loved driving her in it. He kept it perfect.”
“Enrique was Daisy’s grandfather?”
“Órale, look at them, right? The most handsome couple you’ve ever seen in your life.” She touched the simple frame. “Enrique and Maya knew how to dress, I can tell you that. And he was a genius with cars. He could fix anything. And Maya?” Imelda spread her hand toward the counter. “She could cook anything.”
“Yeah, my mom and dad were the same way. He loved doing upholstery though. I guess his dad was like a… a camisero, you know? What’s the word for guys who make suits?”
“A tailor,” Imelda said. “He would have been a tailor.”
“Yeah, a tailor.” Spider nodded at the picture and looked at another formal portrait of Mr. and Mrs. Rivera that was framed on the wall. “Damn, everything was cool then, you know? The cars. The clothes.” He heard the oldies station playing in the background. “The music.”
“It was cool,” Imelda said. “But harder. In a lot of ways, much harder. And not as many opportunities for us as you kids have now.”
“What about you?” He picked up his coffee. “Did you ever get married or anything?”
“I never wanted to,” Imelda said. “My sister and I came from a big family, and I liked my freedom, you know?”
Spider nodded. “I get that.”
“But after my sister passed?” Imelda looked over her shoulder at the old photograph. “I realized that freedom doesn’t mean much if you don’t have people who love you.”
Spider kept his eyes on the photo, imagining the life that the Riveras had and how quickly it had changed on them.
As fast as a bullet from a gun.
Spider took a sip of his coffee. “They’d be proud of Daisy, I bet. Getting such good grades, going to a big college.”
“Enrique and Maya were proud of both their kids, but mostly that they knew how to work and how to take care of their family, you understand?” She glanced at Spider from the corner of her eye. “That’s what we were taught. Education is important, but getting a diploma in school doesn’t teach you how to take care of people. And that’s one of the most important skills to learn for anyone, don’t you think?”
He turned to her and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
She reached up and patted his cheek. “I’m sure your parents are very proud of you too. I can see how hard you work. Even when you come in to stare at my niece.”
Oh shit. “Tia Imelda—”
“Did I say I minded?” She smiled and wrote a note in a pad by the counter. “She’s not working today. Meeting with her school counselor, I think. They want her to fill out the applications to go away next year.” Imelda blinked. “I don’t know what I’ll do without her. Her mother runs the business so well, but Daisy is the only one who wanted to learn all the old recipes.”
“She won’t forget them; she’s too smart for that.” He had months at most. Months that he could enjoy her smile and see her face. He was going to start drinking way more coffee.
