Furia(19)

Diego shook his head. “He isn’t too lavish with praise. He always wants more and better.”

My dad laughed. “And right he is. You need to keep your feet on the ground. Don’t let your fame go to your head, but it’s never too early for your manager to think about the next step, you know? He should be talking about increasing your salary. No, don’t make that face. I won’t ask. I already know how much you make. But there’s always more. What about the national team? I have already started making arrangements to find a better team for Pablo. We all love Central, but we’re wasting our time here.”

I tried not to scoff. My father acted like he knew better than Diego’s manager—the one who represented several first-class players and who already had Diego starting at Juventus FC.

But Diego only said, “I’m sure there are plenty of teams who’ll want Pablo.”

His gaze flicked to the hallway where I stood eavesdropping. The way his eyes swept over me made me light up like a bonfire. My dad turned his chair, obviously trying to see for himself what had captured Diego’s attention.

My dad looked at me like he had X-ray vision. I took a quick inventory of the things he would find objectionable: my tight jeans, the sweater that tottered on the precipice between modest and provocative, the makeup.

Beads of sweat broke out along the bridge of my nose. My hand itched to wipe it off, but if I did, he would notice how nervous I was.

A heavy hand slapped me on the shoulder, and I yelped.

“Pablo!” I said, turning around and pounding my brother’s bare chest.

Pablo roared with laughter, clutching his abs with one hand and pointing at me with the other. “I had to! You should’ve seen how high you jumped!”

My dad laughed, too, but my mom said, “Leave her alone, Pali. Put a shirt on before you sit at the table, please.”

I was too embarrassed to look at Diego.

“At least you have some color in your face, Camila.” Pablo defended himself, putting on the shirt that had been tucked in his back pocket. “You were pale as clay.” He and Diego kissed on the cheek and embraced. “And why are you wearing lipstick?” Pablo asked, looking at me over Diego’s shoulder. “Are you going out with a friend?”

“She’s going out with me,” Diego said.

My ears rang.

Pablo clenched his teeth. “Cutting right to the chase, Titán?”

I couldn’t believe he’d said that.

“Ay, Pablo. ?Qué boludo!” I rolled my eyes. “Why don’t you shut up?”

Diego shook his head and whispered something I didn’t catch.

“Camila, what a potty mouth!” my mom exclaimed. “And in front of Diego, too.” If saying “boludo” was having a potty mouth, then there wasn’t a single clean-mouthed person in our country, not even my mother. “Diego, you should’ve told me last night that you were going to come back today. I would’ve made sure Pablo was up.”

“You came over last night?” Pablo’s words were directed at Diego, but he looked at me and shook his head as if I’d disappointed him.

“Mamá,” I said, trying to stop her from making this a bigger mess than it already was.

“Are you sure you don’t want Pablo and Marisol to go along?” she asked Diego.

Pablo and Marisol? Like chaperones?

Luckily, Diego shook his head. “We can’t wait for this vago to get ready. He’ll take hours.”

Pablo grimaced. “And I don’t do double dates with my sister. We’ll hang out later, no, Diegui?”

My dad had been too quiet, but I knew the scheming look on his face. “What ever happened to that girlfriend you had, Diego?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “Won’t she be jealous that you’re spending your free time with little Camila?”

Little Camila?

“She has no business being jealous.” Diego’s ears were flaming red. “I haven’t seen her . . . I haven’t even talked to her.”

“That’s too bad,” my dad continued, as if he hadn’t noticed we were halfway out the door. “She was a bonbon. But you were smart to break up with her. In Europe, you can find a proper woman. None of the villeritas, the botineras wanting to suck you dry in every way, you know what I mean?” He chuckled.

My mom looked from my dad to me, but she didn’t say anything. She just straightened out a crooked corner of the tablecloth. Even Pablo’s face was scrunched with disgust, but he’d started this.

In response, Diego walked to the door, opened it, and turned to look at me. I followed him. I had to get out of there.

From the stairs, I heard Pablo call out, “Take care of my little sister, Titán.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I will.”

He closed the door. I didn’t even want to imagine the reaction on the other side.





9





Diego’s car was a masterpiece. I sat on my hands to stop myself from touching the spaceship-like controls on the dashboard. The light gray leather was smooth under my fingers.

“Is this the famous new car smell I’ve heard about?” I asked to break the awkwardness that had enveloped Diego and me as we made our way downstairs.

He bit his lower lip as if trying not to smile and shrugged. “Just got it from the dealer this morning. They were holding it for me.”