Evenings at the Argentine Club (16 page)

Jaqueline paused. Her husband? So this wasn’t a man. A ripple of relief washed over her. And she settled further into her
chair.
I don’t hate my husband,
she started… .

Victor spent an entire week at the Santa Monica site going over details. He hired a firm that would be in charge of staffing
both restaurants once they opened in about five months. So much to think about.

The woman they assigned to him from the firm took him out for drinks. She was only slightly older than Victoria. Made him
feel old when these kids were running the world.

“You’re staring,” she said.

He shook himself mentally. Then reached for his drink. “Sorry. I was thinking about what I’d give to be young again.”

She laughed, feminine and delicate. “You don’t look old.”

He looked okay for his age. Sort of like Sean Connery and Anthony Hopkins had, he’d aged well. “Too old to be noticing women
half my age.”

“Once you become a millionaire, women won’t care how old you are.”

Victor shook his head. That might be the case, but he wasn’t interested in fucking a teenager. In his younger days, he’d done
his share of fooling around. Jaqueline had even caught him once. She’d stayed with him because the kids were young and she
was dependent on him. But she’d probably stopped loving him that day.

If he could take back what he’d done, he would. Prior to his affairs, Jaqueline used to look at him like he was the most intelligent,
most amazing man in the world. She hung on his every word. Worshipped him in a way that made him feel unstoppable.

Until he’d blown it. After that, she’d simply tolerated him. As the years went by, she’d learned to like him again. Maybe
even respect him for being a good father and provider, but love… it was gone.

Maybe he’d finally find a way to earn it back. “The only woman I really want is my wife back.”

“Did she leave you?”

“No. She should have. But she didn’t.” He ordered another drink and decided that was as much as he wanted to share about his
personal life with this very beautiful young woman. “Now, let’s talk about staffing my restaurants.”

Standing beside a sparkling, brand-new backyard pool with his father in front of him, Eric ran his fingers through his hair
for the tenth time. “All I’m saying is that if you’re going to hire anyone to work on my house, you run it by me first.”

“I hired professionals. You hired a couple of day laborers.”

“No.” Eric raised his voice. “I hired a couple of college kids that work at a pool service company. They were cheap and they
knew what they were doing. Your guys cost me three times as much and I had to threaten them to get them to do their job.”

Antonio shrugged. “They did a great job.” He looked at the clear blue pool.

Eric wasn’t getting through to him, and he didn’t have any more time to discuss it. “Yes, they did. Now, just don’t hire anyone
else, okay? I’ve got everything covered.”

“What about the wall in that back bedroom? Who’s going to replace the drywall in there?”

“Why would I want to replace the drywall?”

“It’s rotting or something.”

“What?” Eric marched into the house. Like a torpedo, he zeroed in on the problem.

“Right there,” Antonio pointed to a discoloration on the wall.

Eric balled his fist and hit the wall a few times. “Son of a bitch.” He looked up. “It’s moist.” Hurrying outside, he propped
a ladder against the house and climbed onto the roof. When he got to the top he didn’t see a problem with the roof. There
was no water getting through there. Besides, there wasn’t enough rain in California at this time of year to cause the wall
to have permanent moisture. That meant that pipes from the laundry room on the other side of the bedroom must be leaking.
Fucking great.

Eric climbed down.

“See, you need to replace that drywall.”

“Dad,” Eric said. “I’ve got bigger problems than that.” And he went inside to call his electrician. The guy said he had a
plumber he worked with who was good and reasonable. Whatever that meant.

After he got that settled, he went back outside. Antonio rested in the sunshine beside the pool. The sight of his old man
calmed him down and reminded him that job-related problems were unimportant. He’d get things fixed. Didn’t matter. “Relaxing?”

“It’s nice out here. So, you want to go out to dinner? Take something back to your mother?”

“No, actually, I need to go home and change. I’m going out with Victoria tonight.”

“Oh?”

“With some of our friends from high school.”

“Good for you. And Victoria is a nice girl. Your mother really likes her.”

Eric grinned and took a seat beside Antonio. “She does, huh?”

“I’m just saying… if you’ve got interests aside from friendship, your mother would be all for it.”

Nodding, he gazed at his old man. “Thanks for the tip.”

“No problem.”

“I dated this girl once. She was cute, had a kid. I bought a couple of properties in her neighborhood. I thought maybe things
were going somewhere. I really liked her son. But… she didn’t feel like home.”

“When the right woman comes along, you know it. You don’t have to force it,” Antonio said. “I knew I wanted to marry your
mother after only a minute of talking to her.”

“You were trying to sell her a vacuum,” Eric said, unable to hide his smirk and wondering why any woman would be interested
in a corny guy forced to sell vacuums door to door.

“I was trying to sell
her mother
a vacuum, and the second they answered the door and I realized they were Argentine, I knew I had the sale.” He stared at
the pool and smiled. “Your mother listened to my bullshit sales pitch and references to Argentina and didn’t buy any of it,
but her mother did. When she went to write me a check, Lucia told me I had a gift and that if I used it well, I would probably
be a powerful man one day.”

“Was that her way of telling you you should become a politician?” Eric laughed. “Maybe you should have—you always have been
better at selling yourself than products.”

“I was about to leave thinking,
I don’t care what her opinion of me is, I got the sale
. And then she invited me to the Argentine Club so I wouldn’t have to feel so melancholic about missing my country, and I
knew she had me. She knew I’d used our country as a gimmick to get her mother to feel an affinity to me, and now I was stuck.
I had to pretend I was excited about spending time with other Argentines. After I’d practically cried about how much I missed
my country, how could I not go?” He chuckled. “Her mother took my address, my phone number, and made sure I showed up at the
club. But by then I wanted to go anyway to see that smart, pretty girl who trapped me in my own sales pitch.”

“Well, you hit the jackpot with Mom.”

“I did. And you will too one day, son.”

Eric leaned back in the chair, wove his fingers together, and rested his head in his hand. He wanted to have the kind of marriage
his parents had. In all the years growing up with them, he never once heard them raise their voices or fight. They disagreed
about things, but they always worked things out.

“You know why I asked Victoria to help me with this house?” he asked, then continued without waiting for an answer. “I really
couldn’t give a shit whether she had any skill at decorating or not. It was because when I walked into my old bedroom and
saw what she’d done, I had to fight back tears. It was perfect.”

“Sometimes I go in there and look at the pictures of you as a boy.”

Eric stared at his father, a lump growing in his throat. “I wanted to go knock on her door, wrap my arms around her, and hold
her tight. She captured my childhood on one wall. She captured me.”

“She’s a special girl.”

“Yeah. I’m not saying she’s it or anything, but I look at her, talk to her, and I feel… at home.”

A
fter a hot shower and refreshing shave, Eric got dressed and packed the rest of his clothes into his three suitcases that
held almost all his belongings. He looked in the mirror.
Ready as I’ll ever be
, he thought. He carried the suitcases out to the living room.

His mother, who was sitting on the couch with a basket of red, green, and gold yarn, noticed immediately. She put her knitting
needles down on her lap. “What in the world are you doing?”

“The house is ready enough for me to move into it.”

“But… you’re fixing it up to sell. Why would you want to live in it?”

Eric sat beside her. “I like to live in the houses I fix up. That way I’m working on it constantly. Taking notes on what works
or doesn’t work. Making changes.”

Jaqueline frowned. “But, nene, it’s been so nice having you home.”

“I’m not going far, Mami. I’m a short phone call away.”

Her gaze locked with his. “I know you’re a man and need your privacy, but we’ve tried to stay out of your way.”

Taking one of her hands, strong from work, he held it in his own much larger and much rougher hands. “You’ve been fantastic,”
he said. “But let’s pretend I never went away. I’d still have my own place by now, right?”

“Maybe, but—”

“No maybes. I would. And since my return has turned into more than just a few days’ visit, I don’t want to bunk in my childhood
room indefinitely. Okay?”

“Not really okay.” She pouted with a smile. “But I’m happy that you’re staying longer to work. Promise you’ll come have dinner
with us.”

“Not every night, but often.”

“Ahi, Eric. You don’t make mothering easy.”

He laughed.

“Going out with your friends tonight?”

“Yes.”

“With Victoria?”

“Yes.”

“You like her?”

“Always have.”

“I like her.”

“I’ve heard.”

She laughed under her breath and leaned across to kiss him. “Maybe you do need your own place. Can’t bring girls home to your
parents’ house, can you?”

“That’s not why I need my own place. But in a weird way, I’m glad you understand. Can I leave my radio and computer equipment
here for a while?”

“Of course,” she said.

He stood. “Thanks for understanding, Mom.”

“What are moms for?” she said, somewhat resigned.

He dropped one more kiss on her cheek and headed out. That hadn’t been as difficult as he’d anticipated. Strange, but his
mother seemed to be handling things better than his father.

Victoria took care to dress well for the dinner cruise Eric had booked. The weight she’d lost made her clothes fit better.
A pretty summer chiffon dress she bought last summer, because it flared out over her hips without clinging to them, was now
loose around her back and chest. She was looking forward to seeing some of her friends from high school as much as he was.
Everyone had gone away to college or gotten jobs and were busy building careers. And though she’d gotten together with some
of them the first few years after school was over, eventually she’d let those friendships dissolve.

Eric suggested picking her up at her house and driving to Newport Beach together. Her first reaction had been that she could
drive herself. They weren’t going as a couple, and she didn’t want him or anyone else to get that idea. But when she told
him she’d rather meet him there, he insisted that it was dumb to take two vehicles.

“I’ll pick you up,” he said.

He came to the door dressed in light tan Dockers and a tropical button-up shirt, looking carefree and happy. He chatted with
her parents. Jaqueline was wonderful to him, as always. But her father, who was still not speaking to her, grunted and hid
behind an Argentine newspaper.

Eric tried to engage him in conversation a couple of times, and finally Victor put the paper down on his lap. “You came to
pick up my daughter. It looks like she’s ready.”

Eric glanced over his shoulder to where Victoria stood, taking items from her purse and placing them in her evening bag. Victoria
wanted to apologize for her father’s behavior, but instead she said, “Yes, I’m ready.”

Jaqueline sat across from Victor. “You didn’t have to be so rude.”

“Is she dating him?”

“I’m not sure. She’s working with him on that house he bought, which seems crazy to me. Why don’t you talk to her? Why isn’t
she helping out at the restaurant anymore?”

He shrugged. “She doesn’t want to.”

“What do you mean, she doesn’t want to?”

“How is she helping Eric?” he asked.

“She said she’s helping him design the inside. Then she’s going to decorate it when he’s finished so he can sell it. I can’t
believe you’re going to stand by and let her do that.”

Victor sighed. “She’s a grown woman. What am I supposed to do?”

“What if…? Lucia wants them to get together.”

Victor snorted. “That’s her business, I guess.”

Jaqueline didn’t understand him. Usually he criticized every man Victoria dated. Questioned her. Drove her crazy until Victoria
got tired and ended the relationship. “He’s too unpredictable. He’ll break her heart,” she said to herself.

Victor watched her from behind his newspaper, even if he pretended not to. “Hmm,” he said.