Evenings at the Argentine Club (8 page)

V
ictoria set her alarm clock to ring early. She’d decided to take up running in order to get in shape and feel healthier. This
would be her first day out on the track, and she was sort of looking forward to it. She put on a pair of shorts and tied her
new running shoes loosely on her feet. Fully geared and ready to get started on her goal to a slimmer self, she drove to the
high school a quarter mile from her house. Parking by the football field, she walked to the track. The middle of July meant
that the temperature was already in the eighties. Today would be a miserably hot day. A plane flew overhead, drowning out
the sounds of the early morning birds.

To warm up she continued to walk a couple of laps, then began an easy jog. But after covering half a lap, she found she couldn’t
suck in enough air to even partially fill her lungs. As she took each new step, her thighs felt as if they were being shredded
and pulled apart, and the arch of her left foot was practically numb with pain. She stopped jogging and continued to walk
the rest of that lap, and even struggled to finish one more. Four laps equaled one mile. She remembered that from high school.
And it had probably been that long since she’d run.

Like a wounded dog, she limped back to the car. Sweat covered her forehead and her neck. Yuck. She didn’t like to sweat. Maybe
tomorrow, she’d simply walk. There were no rules that said you had to run to exercise. The running could come later, after
she’d lost some weight.

When she got home, Jaqueline and Victor were at the breakfast table, each drinking a cup of coffee and reading a part of the
newspaper. Coexisting in the same room but each barely noticing the other. The smell of coffee in the house made her stomach
growl and her mouth water.

“Victoria,” Jaqueline said, surprised. “I didn’t know you were up. Where have you been?”

“I went for a jog.” She sat at the table, her legs sore and achy.

“Oh.” Again a look of surprise. “Well, go take a shower and get dressed. The Ortellis invited us over for a Sunday barbecue today.”

Wonderful. A week had passed since Eric got punched by that idiot, Steve, and she hadn’t stopped feeling guilty. Not that it was her fault that Steve decided to defend her, though she was sure that was simply an excuse to take a shot at Eric. The guilt came from how coldly she’d treated him. She tried to be kind and tolerant of everyone, even those she didn’t like, even Steve. But for some reason, having Eric return home flaunting his success irritated her and brought out a rude part of her personality that she wasn’t proud of. “Tell Lucia that I appreciate the invite, but that I won’t be able to make it.”

“Why not?”

“I have plans to meet some friends at the mall for lunch.” A nice, cool mall.

“But… it won’t be the same without you there.”

“What about the Argentine Club? Aren’t you supposed to be there today?”

“Lucia thinks it’s best if she takes a break from the club after that incident with Eric last week. So we’re not going this week, either. But don’t change the subject.”

“Mom, I have other plans. I’m sorry.”

“But Lucia wants to celebrate having Eric home again. Remember how much you liked him when you were young?” Jaqueline asked.

“Mom, yes, we were friends, but that was a long time ago. I’m happy for Mrs. Ortelli, but I made other plans today.” If she kept repeating it, would it make an impression on her mother?

“Maybe you can stop by later in the day,” Victor suggested finally, lowering his newspaper. Not that he cared if she showed up or not, she was sure, but he knew this would appease her mother.

“Maybe,” Victoria conceded, but made no promises. She forced herself to stand and headed to her bathroom. She showered and dressed. Then she left for the mall to meet her friends. They had decided to have lunch at the Cheesecake Factory of all places, where she could suffer the full effect of dieting. They’d made the lunch date before she’d decided to start the diet, so she simply closed her eyes when she walked past the display of desserts. Figuring a mile didn’t entitle her to indulge in much of a lunch, she ordered the herb-crusted salmon salad and enjoyed spending time away from her family. Being among non-Argentine friends was a treat. She sometimes forgot that women her age didn’t spend all their time catering to their parents. They had their own lives, complete with husbands and children, or at least boyfriends. They visited their parents for Thanksgiving and called them once a month. Victoria didn’t exactly want that, but some space would be nice.

On her way home, she considered blowing off the idea of stopping by the Ortellis’, but decided it would be easier to make an appearance than to answer her mother’s questions about why she hadn’t. So, resigned, she got on the freeway and headed to Mr. and Mrs. Ortelli’s house.

*   *   *

Eric watched Lucia in amazement as she ran around trying to make everything just right for the Torres family. “Mom,” he said. “Let me help you with something.”

“Oh, no,” she said, as she pulled the vacuum out to touch up the carpet she’d vacuumed the night before. “Just relax. Go watch TV with your father so you don’t walk on the carpet.”

He eased the vacuum out of her hands. “I’ll do this. You go finish in the kitchen.”

She fought him, trying to grab hold of the handle again, but he insisted. He squeezed her tight and kissed her, and pointed her in the direction of the kitchen.

She laughed. “No fair. You’ve gotten bigger and stronger than me.”

“Yep. So you might as well stop fighting me.”

“Okay, but when you finish with that, put it back in the closet and go change.”

“Change?” He wore comfortable shorts and a clean shirt.

“We’re having this lunch in your honor. You have to look… you know.”

He didn’t know, but he had a suspicion and he wasn’t happy about it. “You want me to wear church clothes.”

She laughed. “I remember when you used to call it that.” She shook her head and walked away with a silly grin on her face.

He smiled as he turned on the vacuum and it screamed to life. Quickly, he ran it across the carpet. It made little lines on the well-cared-for fibers. Back and forth. Up and down. Then he shut it off and put it away just the way she liked. And he went to change his clothes. It didn’t take much to make her happy. If he had to be uncomfortable for a couple of hours, he’d deal with it.

By the time he got back into the living room, Mr. and Mrs. Torres had arrived. Mrs. Torres kissed him on both cheeks. “Nene, you’ve gotten so handsome. I know we’ve told you already, but we’re so glad you’re home.”

He smiled and kissed her back. “Thank you.” He shook Mr. Torres’s hand and offered them a seat on the couch.

Mrs. Torres beamed. “I feel like my own son has come home. Lucia’s joy is my joy.”

What did he say to that? “My mom’s lucky to have such a good friend.”

“So,” Mr. Torres said, as if he were tired of all the bullshit. “What have you been up to all these years?”

Eric shrugged. “Not much.”

Antonio patted Eric on the shoulder. “He’s been busy becoming a wealthy man.”

“Doing what?” Mr. Torres asked.

“Real estate,” Eric said, and upon further questioning he explained what he did. Mr. Torres, who insisted Eric call him Victor, seemed particularly interested in the details of house flipping.

“So, how do you find properties cheap?”

“Victor, leave the poor boy alone.” Mrs. Torres patted her husband’s leg.

“Actually, let’s eat,” Lucia said. “Or should we wait for Victoria?”

“She had a prior obligation,” Mrs. Torres explained. “She’s going to try to stop by a little later, because she really is as excited as we are that you’re back, Eric.” She smiled at him. “So we can eat without her.”

Victoria excited he was back? Right. Or course, he didn’t blame her for skipping this little celebration. Hell, he’d skip it if he could.

After lunch, Victor invited Eric to join him for a cigarette while the ladies cleaned up. Antonio found the Argentine soccer game he’d recorded last week off one of the premium sports channels. They walked out to the front porch, where the heaviness of the afternoon heat was more pronounced, making him wish he hadn’t eaten so much.

“Do you mind if I ask you a little more about finding the right property at the right price?”

“Not at all.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, and stretched his tight shoulders that were suffering from lack of work. “You thinking of buying some investment properties?”

“Well, not exactly.” Victor lit his cigarette and Eric’s.

Eric enjoyed a cigar every once in a while. Didn’t care much for cigarettes, but he joined Victor just the same.

“I’m not announcing this to anyone yet, but I’m going to be opening up a chain of restaurants like the one I currently own.”

Eric raised an eyebrow. “Hmm, sounds big.”

“It’s going to be huge,” Victor confided. “The only thing I’m not informed enough on is how to find the right locations. I know the cities I’d like to open up in. But specific locations, I don’t know.”

“It’s just a matter of spending some time in the city you’re interested in. Doing a little research. Looking at what properties or lots are available and comparing them to what you want to spend. Maybe checking out what areas are in need of your type of restaurant. What communities have the population that will spend money on a quality dinner.”

“Sounds easy for someone like you who knows how to find properties.”

Eric smiled. No way was he getting sucked into being a scout for someone else. Even a friend of his parents. “I buy homes that need a little repair and resell them. I’m not an expert in commercial property. You can do the same thing I can. Spend a little time on the Internet doing research. Once you find a retail center that interests you, contact the company leasing the space and they’ll have demographic snapshots, info from the city on future development, and pretty much everything you need to decide if this is a good spot for you.”

Mr. Torres didn’t look enthusiastic about this aspect of expanding his business. Maybe he expected Eric to jump in and volunteer to do it all for him. “Why don’t you use Victoria to scout out the right places?” Eric asked.

“Victoria?”

“Sure. She works with you, doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” Victor frowned, and blew smoke out the side of his mouth. “But… Victoria is my daughter and I love her, but she’s not like you and me. We see the future. We’ve got an entrepreneurial spirit.”

“She doesn’t have to have great vision or even be a super businessperson to do this.”

“She’d have to be able to spot the right place for the restaurant to be a success. That would be asking a lot from a girl who’s never had to do more than organize a dinner or two.”

“Maybe you’re underestimating her. If I remember right, she always did way better than I did with research projects at school.” Eric laughed.

“Victoria is my precious daughter,” Victor said with obvious affection in his voice. “But she’s sort of like… a butterfly. She flies from here to there. Tries a little of this and a little of that. So beautiful to watch. She makes people happy wherever she lands. That’s her gift. But what I need requires expertise she doesn’t have. I can’t afford to fail. Besides, I’m not sure I want to lease a spot from a developer. I may want a pad to build on.”

“Well, then you may want to hire a professional real-estate broker. It’ll cost you more than if you do it yourself, but sounds like you might need that.” Eric wasn’t sure if what Victor said about Victoria was true or not. He never remembered her being stupid. The way Victor described her seemed pretty damned insulting. He squatted down and put the cigarette he hadn’t smoked out in the dirt. Then he looked at the decorative stone wall that had been a part of the house facade since they moved in years ago. It needed a good cleaning.

He stood. “I’m sure my father’s got the game ready. I’m going to stay out here and do some work on the outside of the house.”

“Yes,” he said, obviously still considering Eric’s suggestion. “I better get inside.”

They both went into the house. Eric changed back into his shorts and got the power sprayer out of the garage. He’d unloaded his truck with all his tools when he got here, and now they were taking up parking space. Time to put some of it to good use.

When Victoria pulled up in front of the Ortelli house, Eric was in the front yard painting the shutters. Looked like he’d pressure-washed the decorative stone wall facade earlier. The equipment lay on the grass, and the front of the house looked new and fresh. She was glad he was actually making himself useful.

She opened the car door and forced her sore legs to carry her out and across the yard. Her arches were killing her. The heels she had decided to wear didn’t help. Low heels, but they were excruciatingly painful just the same.

Eric smiled when he noticed her making her way toward the front door. He didn’t look angry with her anymore. “Hey. I was wondering if you’d succumb to your parents’ demands and come see me today.”

Victoria offered him a smile and tried not to notice the yellowish fading bruise around his left eye. “And how do you know I wasn’t dying to be subjected to your charming company again?”