Getting It (10 page)

He leaped from the chair. “I want to show my ma!” He ran down the hall to the living room, Sal and Javier right behind him.

His ma was fitting their neighbor, Mrs. Bustamante, in a dress. Both women stared at Carlos and nodded approval. “Bravo!” Mrs. Amoroso commented to Sal and Javier.

“Can you boys do my hair?” Mrs. Bustamante asked. “How much do you charge?”

Javier smiled proudly. “I'm not allowed to charge till I have my license. But I can do it for you at my school.”

“Carlitos?” His ma glanced at her watch. “Isn't your pa coming?”

“Um, no. I'm not going with him.”

His ma stopped smiling.
“¿Por qué?”

“'Cause I don't feel like it!” The words came out harsher than he'd intended.

The room was silent as everyone stared at him.

“Well,” Sal said at last. “Javi and I are going to lunch.” He turned toward Carlos. “You want to come with us?”

Carlos shrugged. Although he'd like to go with them, he had zero money.

“Here …” His ma pulled some bills from her purse. “Why don't you treat the boys for doing such a nice job on your hair?”

Carlos gladly took the money, relieved to drop the issue of his pa.

Javier collected his stuff, Sal wrote down instructions for everything they'd told Carlos, and the boys headed outside.

It turned out that Javier had his own car—not a new one, but still … It was more than any of Carlos's buds had.

As he hopped into the back of the Camry, Carlos asked, “How many miles does she have?”

“Ninety thousand.” Javier started the car and pulled out onto the street. “It's in pretty good shape except for a rattle when I turn to the left. Listen …” As he changed lanes, the left side of the car clunked.

“It sounds like an axle.” Carlos had learned about cars from talking
to the guys at his ma's job and conversations with her boyfriend, Raúl. “I'll take a look when we park.”

As they drove, Carlos saw between the front seats that Javier took hold of Sal's hand. Carlos squirmed on the backseat. Two guys holding hands wasn't something he'd seen before—unless you counted field-trip buddies in second grade, when all the boys had to hold hands. But obviously that was different … or was it? Why was it okay for two little boys to hold hands but it made him uneasy if it was two teenage guys?

He thought about that and decided to ask about something else on his mind. “Do you think a gay person can change?”

Sal gave an exasperated groan, but Javier squeezed his hand as if to calm him and glanced in the rearview at Carlos. “It's like your hair color. You can streak it blond, but it's still brown underneath.”

Carlos looked in the mirror at his highlighted hair, suddenly once again worried how his friends might react.

“Or like being left-handed,” Javier continued. “Can some left-handed people learn to use their right hand? Sure, but that doesn't change their being left-handed. And besides, what's the point?”

“That's the real issue,” Sal interjected. “Why do some people get so bent out of shape about anyone who's different? Who cares whether somebody else loves someone of the opposite sex or the same sex? They think that gives them the right to bash us and treat us like crap?”

Javier squeezed Sal's hand again. Then he pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant.

Once out of the car, Carlos slid beneath the chassis and checked the axle. “Yep, you can see the grease leaking. My ma's boyfriend works at a garage. I'll ask him to look at it if you want.”

“Great!” Javier exclaimed.

The restaurant was a health food cafe that smelled of yeasty fresh bread. College students, yuppies, ponytailed older guys, and beaded
women filled the place. Their waitress looked college-age, with bright blue eyes. “I like your hair,” she told Carlos.

He darted his gaze down at the menu, blushing. “Um, I'll have the veggie burger.”

Sal and Javier both ordered salads. After the waitress left, Sal told Carlos in a low voice, “Hey when someone compliments you, say, ‘Thanks.'”

Carlos turned even redder. How was he supposed to know that? Hardly anyone had ever complimented him—until recently

When the waitress brought their order, Carlos told her, “Um, thanks for what you said about my hair.”

She gave him a big smile. “You're welcome, honey.”

Sweat exploded from his pores. Had she actually called him “honey”?

As she walked away, Sal and Javier grinned at Carlos. “It looks like you have a fan.”

“Shut up.” Carlos grabbed hold of his burger, eyeing the waitress, then asked, “You think so?”

As he ate, another thing he'd wondered about came to mind: “How did you two guys meet?”

“On the Internet,” Javier replied.

“At a matchup dating site,” Sal added.

Carlos's mind instantly leaped to Hot-or-Snot. “You mean a hookup?”

“No.” Sal frowned. “Not a hookup. A date.”

Carlos put down his burger. “What's the difference?”

“We spent time getting to know each other first,” Sal explained. “Before we had sex.”

Carlos shifted in his seat. He had zero desire to hear anything about two guys having sex. But he was curious about one thing: “Didn't you ever want to have sex with a girl?”

“Ew!” Sal exclaimed. “No way!”

But Javier said, “I actually did once.”

“Oh, God!” Sal rolled his eyes. “Do we have to talk about this over lunch?”

“Cover your ears!” Javier retorted and turned to Carlos. “It was sophomore year, with my best friend Sheila … She knew I liked guys, but we both decided I should try it with a girl first. So we did.”

Sal stuck his finger down his throat as if to make himself puke.

“And what happened?” Carlos asked.

“It felt, like, unnatural,” Javier replied. “Outside, the plumbing worked, but inside it felt all wrong. Its just not who I am.”

“Hel-lo!” Sal exclaimed. “I could've told you that.”

Javier grinned at Sal. In spite of their teasing, it was plain how much they liked each other.

That's what I want with a girl,
Carlos thought.

When the check came, he said, “My treat,” and pulled out the money his ma had given him.

“Thanks,” the boys said. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Sal glanced in the backseat at Carlos. “Hey, you want to come work out with us at the rec center?”

“Um, sure.” He didn't have anything else planned, and working out seemed like the next logical step in his makeover. Besides, he was enjoying Sal and Javier. It even stopped troubling him when they held hands.

T
HE BOYS STOPPED
to get Carlos's gym clothes before driving to the rec center. Carlos's pa used to take him to soccer games there when Carlos was little. But, in recent years, Carlos had visited the gym only a couple of times with Toro, who practically lived there. So it wasn't a total surprise when Carlos walked into the weight room and spotted him.

Toro clasped his hand. “Hey, cool hair job.”

Carlos glanced in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. “You think it looks okay?”

“Yeah, it looks good. Where'd you get it done?”

“Um, they did it.” Carlos nodded toward Sal and Javier as they emerged from the locker room.

Sal spotted Toro and waved cheerily. “Wha's up?”

Toro replied with a nod and whispered to Carlos, “Who's that with him?”

Carlos hesitated. “His, urn, boyfriend.”

Toro stared at Carlos and lowered his voice. “So he really is …
gay?”

“Yeah. So what? He doesn't mess with me, so whys it such a big deal?”

Toro peered at him, curious-like, as if trying to figure him out.

Carlos quickly changed the subject, knowing Toro loved to show off his knowledge of gym stuff. “What should I work on today?”

Toro led Carlos through a workout, explaining each exercise and spotting for him. But in between sets, he kept darting curious glances at Sal and Javier.

“What's the matter?” Carlos finally asked.

“Nothing,” Toro mumbled, but he kept peering over at the guys.

On the ride home from the rec center, Sal glanced over the seat at Carlos and announced, “Javier and I think your friend is gay.”

“Huh?” Carlos sat up straight. “Toro? No way! What makes you think that?”

“Gaydar,” Javier said matter-of-factly, and Sal elaborated: “It's like a sixth sense. Remember ‘I see dead people'? Well, we see gay people.”

Carlos shook his head. “You're crazy!” But as they drove home, he thought about how Toro was always looking at muscle mags and hanging out at the rec center. And yet he didn't look or act gay like Sal, or Javier, or the
Queer Eye
guys. And hadn't he had sex with that girl, Leticia? Toro couldn't be gay. No way.

W
HEN
J
AVIER PULLED
his car up in front of Carlos's apartment building, Carlos kind of didn't want to say good-bye. “You guys want to hang out for a while?”

Javier and Sal glanced at each other, then Sal turned to Carlos. “Thanks, but … Saturday is our date night.”

“Oh.” Carlos noticed they were holding hands again. “Well …um … I guess I'll see you later, then.”

As he climbed out, Sal rolled down the window. “Remember to cleanse your face before bed!” Javier leaned across Sal and said, “Nice meeting you!”

“Same here.” Carlos waved back and watched them drive off, feeling sort of left behind.

In the apartment, Raúl lay on the sofa watching TV. “Hey, new hairstyle, huh? Looks nice.”

“Thanks. Can you check my friend's axle if he brings his car to your garage?”

“Sure. No problem. Want to watch the game?”

“What's the score?” Carlos dropped his gym bag and plopped down in the big chair where his pa used to sit.

While they watched the game, Raúl occasionally commented on some play or asked Carlos about school. Carlos liked that Raúl never tried to interfere in his life, unlike his ma's two previous boyfriends.

After the game, Raúl invited Carlos and his ma out to a Chinese restaurant. Apparently, the place was where Raúl took Carlos's ma every Saturday evening, when Carlos was with his pa. All the staff seemed to know them. Across from him in the booth, the two of them sat close together. Once again, Carlos felt left out. He stared down at his shrimp fried rice and wished he had someone special too. He wished he had Roxy.

After dinner, they drove back to the apartment building. As they pulled into the parking lot, his ma asked Carlos, “Did you invite your friends over?”

“No. Why?” He looked out the window. Playboy, Pulga, and Toro were sitting on the steps.

Carlos's ma and Raúl said hi to the boys and went inside, leaving Carlos with them. “'S'up?” Carlos asked.

Playboy stared at Carlos's hair. “Dude, we need to talk to you.”

“We heard about you and Sal,” Pulga explained. “And his
boyfriend.”

Carlos shot a look at Toro, who lowered his gaze.

“Come on, man,” Playboy ordered Carlos. “What's going on?”

Carlos crossed his arms, debating what to do. Obviously, his friends were growing more aggravated. And he was getting tired of hiding. If he told them the truth, they'd probably laugh their asses off. But at least he could stop hiding.

“Okay.” Carlos drew a deep breath. “You know that TV show,
Queer Eye for the Straight Guy?
Well, I thought …” He wiped his brow and realized he was sweating. “I thought that Sal could help me, so, um, Roxy would notice me.”

Playboy's forehead furrowed. Pulga's jaw dropped. Toro gave Carlos a puzzled look. “So you're not gay?” He almost sounded let down.

“No!” Carlos narrowed his eyes at him. “Are
you?”

Toro's face paled so fast that Carlos wondered if maybe Sal and Javier had been right.
Was
Toro gay?

“Look!” Playboy snapped at Carlos. “We want to know
—are
you?” Carlos felt his collar tighten. Were his friends listening? Why had he bothered to hide his whole makeover plan, since they weren't going to believe him anyway?

“Yeah!” Carlos said sarcastically “I'm gay. Don't tell anyone.”

“Dude, don't joke like that,” Pulga warned him. “Are you?”

“Oh, screw you! Screw all of you.” Carlos left them on the steps and went inside, slamming the door behind him.

C
ARLOS FELT BAD
about blowing up at his buds. But hadn't they deserved it?

He tossed his jean jacket onto his dresser and glanced at the photo taped beside his mirror. It was of the four of them, taken at a theme park on Carlos's thirteenth birthday They'd posed beside a roller coaster, each boy with his fingers raised into “horns” behind another boy's head. Upon seeing the photo, Playboy had dubbed them “Los Horny Boys.”

At the time, Carlos's arrival into teenage-hood and the prospect of sex had seemed jam-packed with the promise of thrills and excitement. Now, two and a half years later, it felt like an overrated dud ride, thanks in no small part to his unsupportive pain-in-the-butt friends.

For the rest of the evening, Carlos practiced how to cleanse his face and rub wax into his hair so it spiked like the guys' on TV. The more he looked at his shiny blond highlights, the more he liked them.

Sunday morning he gazed in the mirror, flexing his arms, and thinking his chest might've gotten a little bigger from his workout the previous day. He considered going back to the gym, but his muscles were kind of sore. Besides, he didn't feel like seeing Toro.

Instead, he hung out at home till his ma asked Raúl to go get tortillas, so she could make enchiladas for lunch. Raúl kissed her on the cheek and asked Carlos, “You want to come with me?”