Point Me to Tomorrow (2 page)

Jamie stood between Alicia and Carmen, desperately trying to catch one of her shoes as they sailed over her head. “You do know that you're playing hot potato with a very exquisite pair of heels, don't you?” she asked.

“And to think,” Alicia said innocently, “back in the eighth grade, we played hot potato with real potatoes. What a bore!” Then she dissolved in giggles, relieved that, although as seniors in high school they were too old for many things, sleepovers weren't among them.

THE NEXT MORNING
, Alicia and her friends gathered at the snack bar of the quad outside their school, Coral Gables High. C. G. High was located in one of Miami's most luxurious residential neighborhoods. Even though September in Miami was plenty warm, the girls had shifted from their summer uniforms of strapless dresses, flip-flops, and sandals into the long cardigans, leggings, and knee-high boots that signaled the onset of fall and the beginning of the school year.

As they sipped various drinks, they were greeted by students they barely knew. They smiled and waved hello, feeling sometimes a little like reality TV stars. Like it or not, if you build a business throwing the hottest
quinceañeras
in town, you're more than just popular, you're kinda famous.

Rafael, a cute and incredibly built guy who was captain of the swimming team, called out to them, “Hey,
chicas
, when's the next bangin' birthday party?”

Jamie smiled sweetly and said, “Wow, I wish I could tell you, but that's not how this works. You actually have to be invited by the birthday girl to the party.”

Rafael grinned. “See, that's why y'all need to open up a club or something.”

Jamie laughed, “A club? Um, we're just trying to get into college.”

“I hear that,” Rafael agreed, holding up his hand for a high five. Jamie gave him some dap, and before he walked away, he said, “Have a nice day, ladies. Try to slip me an invite for your next shindig.”

As they watched him leave, Carmen said, “Remember when we were freshmen? We would have just
melted
if a guy like Rafael ever talked to us.”

Jamie agreed. “Now we've all got boyfriends.”

Carmen nodded. “Really awesome boyfriends.”

“And we've got our own business,” Alicia added proudly.

“It's incredible.” Carmen looked a little dumbfounded. “I feel so lucky.”

Jamie disagreed. “Not me,” she told her friends. “Luck had nothing to do with it. We've worked really hard to be this successful.”

Alicia looked at her friend admiringly. As confident as she felt herself to be, Jamie was even more so. Part of the fun of being Jamie's friend was trying to channel some of her bravado.

“Speaking of successful, I received a very interesting e-mail yesterday.” Alicia pointed to her iPad.

“Let me guess,” Jamie said. “Someone wants us to plan their
quince
.”

Alicia took a seat at the high-topped table and fanned her drink to cool it off. She took a packet of sugar out of her army-navy-style hobo purse.

Carmen laughed. “You know who else keeps sugar in her purse? My seventy-year-old grandmother from Argentina.”

Alicia smiled and said, “That's because your
abuela
is very, very wise. Don't hate, appreciate.”

Jamie pointed to the iPad and said, “So, the next client—who is it?”

They had planned
quinces
for girls from every imaginable background—from
Boricuas
to
Baranquilleras
. They had planned a space-themed
quince
, a
quince
on a yacht, and even a goth Latina
quince
on a cattle ranch in Texas. And they did their best to throw unforgettable parties—regardless of the client's budget. Big paychecks were nice, but they all agreed that their “under a thousand”
quinces
were some of the best parties they'd ever thrown.

“It's quite mysterious, actually,” Alicia said. “Check this out.” And she showed them the e-mail.

Dear Amigas Inc.,


It is with great delight that I write you on behalf of my client, a young woman of some renown—who, along with her parents, would like to enlist your services to plan what we hope will be a simply extraordinary
quince
.


The date we have in mind is Saturday, December 15. It is necessary to maintain a mystery about this event, at my client's request.


If you are available to take on this assignment, then all details will be managed via e-mail by me, the client's personal secretary.


Cordialmente
,


Julia Centavo


Jamie looked at the dozens of students making their way across the campus. “Clearly, this is a joke,” she remarked. “Someone is just having a laugh.”

Alicia shook her head. “That was my first thought, too. Which is why I wrote back right away.”

She read them her reply.

Dear Miss Centavo,


We appreciate your interest. But we are busy students and entrepreneurs. We simply don't have the time to pursue a “mystery
quince
.”


Sinceramente
,


Alicia Cruz


“Okay, so the prank is dealt with. Conversation over, right?” said Carmen.

Alicia shook her head, tapped her iPad, and pulled up another e-mail.

Dear Ms. Cruz,


Of course, your time is valuable. And as such, and in consideration of the logistical complications of keeping this client's identity a secret, we'd like to offer you a two hundred dollar signing bonus, which we have taken the liberty of wiring to your account.


Hasta pronto
,


Julia Centavo


“This is starting to freak me out a little bit,” Carmen said. “Doesn't it all seem a little Da Vinci Code to you?”

“Forget about conspiracy fiction,” Jamie jumped in, cutting to the chase. “First, check our account to see if the money is there.”

Alicia pulled up their bank's home page and tapped in the user name and password. She took a deep breath, then turned the screen so her friends could see.

“Two hundred dollars. Deposited at nine this morning,” Alicia noted.

“Who's the deposit from?” Carmen asked.

Alicia pulled up the details of the deposit and read:
“SAP LLC.”

“What's that?” Carmen wondered out loud.

“Who cares?” Jamie said. “Their money is good, I'm in.”

“I don't know,” Carmen countered. “I like to know who I'm working for. It could be someone shady.”

Alicia nodded. “I agree; let's do some investigating. I'm going to try to find out who Julia Centavo is. Carmen, why don't you look into this SAP LLC? Jamie, can you do some online research on all the celebrities who might be celebrating
quinces
in Miami over the next six to eight months?”

“I'm on it, Lici,” Carmen said as she gathered her books.

“Me, too,” Jamie added, “but right now I've got to get to world history.”

Alicia looked at her watch, “I've got two minutes to get all the way over to the Hillman Arts Building. I've got to book.”

“I've got sculpting in that building; I'll walk with you,” Carmen offered.

Alicia and Carmen gave Jamie a quick hug, then headed together toward their classes. As they parted ways at the studio, where Alicia was about to be late for her black-and-white photography class, Carmen smiled and said, “A mystery
quince
;
fíjate
. Never a dull moment, huh?”

THAT NIGHT
, the girls met at Señora Eng's, a restaurant decorated in a kitschy blend of 1920s Shanghai and 1950s Havana styles. The popular South Beach hangout served the yummiest Cuban Chinese food in town and was always packed. The owner, Fiona Eng, had owned a small catering company before opening her hotter-than-hot dining spot. And the partners of Amigas Inc., with their dedicated noses for talent, had hired her to cater several
quinces
when she was first starting out. So, in spite of the fact that this was hardly the usual high school hang, there was always a table at Señora Eng's for Alicia, Jamie, and Carmen.

It was just six when the girls sat down at their favorite table in the corner, beneath a giant framed photograph of the silver-screen star Anna May Wong.

One of the things the
amigas
loved about Señora Eng's was the mix of Miami residents that the restaurant drew. Their waiter, Caleb, was no exception to Fiona's rule of diversity. He was Iranian, with pale brown skin, jet black hair, and a pitch-perfect British accent. He smiled at the girls and said, “I won't bother bringing you menus, since I know exactly what you want: two orders of Havana Dim Sum for the table and watermelon
agua fresca
all around. Am I correct?”

Jamie smiled and said flirtatiously, “You are absolutely correct.”

At that moment, Maxo and Gaz approached the table.

“Is that how you three behave when we're not around?” Gaz asked playfully.

“Yeah,” Maxo added. “Flirting shamelessly with the waiters?”

Gaz was Puerto Rican. Tall, with striking brown eyes and adorably, perpetually tousled hair, he looked like a male model. Maxo was Haitian American with a playful closemouthed smile and a mischievous air. He looked like a Caribbean version of the young Bill Gates.

Alicia stood up and kissed Gaz on the lips; his kiss tasted sweet, like the Now and Later candies she knew he kept in the car. She always kidded him that one day he'd have no teeth because he ate so much sweet stuff. “This is a nice surprise,” she said when they pulled apart. She hadn't expected to see him that night.

Carmen hugged Maxo and whispered in his ear, “Stalking me,
querido
?”

“We were just planning to get together to do some work on Gaz's van when we realized we don't have to get all sweaty, eat cold pizza, and watch SportsCenter. Hey, we have girlfriends.” Maxo grinned and slid into the booth next to Carmen.

“And since you are such creatures of habit, we figured you'd be here,” Gaz added.

“And if you weren't here, we figured we'd drop your name, get a table, and have a delicious dinner. Win-win,” Maxo explained.

Caleb soon returned with the food, and once Alicia had ordered a few more items, to feed the extra mouths at the table—Chinese-style fried chicken, white rice, and black beans—they got down to the business at hand.

“I'm actually glad you guys are here. You can help us figure out this kind-of bizarre client we have.” Alicia filled them in on the e-mail and the two hundred dollars that had shown up in the Amigas Inc. account.

“Let me e-mail this Julia Centavo and doubt her existence,” Maxo joked. “Maybe she'll send me a bundle of money, too.”

“I'm down with that,” Gaz joined in. Then more seriously, he asked, “What have you learned?”

Carmen took a bite of
chicharones
and said, “Well, I spoke to my dad's attorney. He deals with a lot of international companies. He said SAP LLC appears to be legit. It's connected to a sporting goods manufacturer based in Mexico City.”

Alicia nodded. “My mom looked into it, too. She said there's no liens or actions filed against SAP in the state of Florida.”

“So, the company is good?” Jamie asked.

“As far as we can tell,” Alicia replied, a little nervously. “But I couldn't find anything on a Julia Centavo connected to SAP LLC.”

“Not a Facebook page or anything?” Jamie asked.

“Nada,” Alicia sighed.

Gaz laughed. “So what? She's a secretary to some rich family. She's probably really old.”

Alicia wasn't convinced. “Okay. But it bothers me to have all the
quince
details determined by the opinions of some anonymous and possibly out-of-touch old lady.”

Carmen had been holding hands with Maxo under the table. As usual, she didn't look worried. “But she's just acting as the intermediary for
Quince
Girl X.”

Alicia nodded.

Gaz said, “The real question is: who is your mystery girl?”

Jamie tossed her hair and pulled her iPad out of the bag. “I'm glad you asked, Gaz. I spent the whole afternoon doing research, and I've come up with some interesting possibilities. SAP is an accounting firm. Neither of the two principals of the corporation have daughters that are the right age, but their client list is huge. They handle financial matters for over two hundred and fifty corporations and high-wealth individuals. To protect their clients' privacy, they don't list their names on their Web site, so I've taken another tack. Take a look.”

She held the iPad up and scrolled through a series of photos of Latina socialites. The last picture to appear on the slide show was of a beautiful girl with a heart-shaped face and long dark curly hair, walking the red carpet at a movie premiere.

“Exhibit A: Nessa Nadal, daughter of star baseball player Manny Nadal.”

“She's not unattractive,” Gaz said.

Alicia bopped him with her napkin. “What's that supposed to mean?” She wasn't exactly the jealous type, but it
was
senior year, and, like many girls whose boyfriends were about to head off to different colleges, she found herself hanging on a little tighter than usual.

“Nothing, nothing,” Gaz replied. “I mean, if there was a picture of you in a hot dress with your makeup all done up, I'd react exactly the same.”

Maxo interrupted him. “Let it go, man, let it go.”

“A guy can't even explain himself….” Gaz grumbled.

Pointing to the picture, Alicia continued, “Let's focus. Try to be helpful, guys.”

“Okay,” Gaz said, “here's a bit of trivia. Manny Nadal's daughter is having her
quince
on Christmas Eve. I know, because the manager of the Gap where I work got invited to it, and that's all he talks about. So she's out.”

“Good detective work,” Carmen noted.

“Well done,” Alicia said, kissing her
novio
on the forehead.

Jamie tapped the next image on the iPad. It was of a gorgeous model in a swimsuit on a beach.

“Boys, any comments?”

Gaz shook his head. “None. I've only got eyes for this girl.” He squeezed Alicia.

Maxo winked at Carmen, who reached for his hand.

“Exhibit B: Maritza Callas, the hot new Brazilian supermodel. She turns fifteen on December first, so the December fifteenth timing works.”

“That girl is fourteen?” Carmen asked incredulously. “What the heck are they putting in the rice and beans down there?”

Jamie shrugged. “I have no idea.”

Alicia shook her head, “I dunno. Models throw parties all the time. I don't get the top secret espionage route for a model. They usually love to have their photos snapped by the paparazzi.”

“I kinda agree,” Jamie said. “Let's move on.”

She brought up an image of a pretty blond woman and her look-alike teenage daughter.

“My only other guess is this
chica
, Scarlett Rodriguez, daughter of the hot talk-show host Bianca Rodriguez, whose show
Bye-Bye, Papi
has some people calling her the new Oprah.”

Carmen laughed. “No way. Bianca Rodriguez pries secrets out of people for a living. No way is that woman going on the hush-hush about her daughter's
quinceañera
.”

Everybody at the table laughed.

“Maybe you guys are thinking in the wrong direction,” Maxo suggested. “You're thinking about Hollywood celebrities, but what about other well-known people who keep secrets for a living?”

The members of Amigas Inc. all exchanged looks.

“Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” Alicia asked her friends.

“About a certain highly ranked politician who is originally from Miami?” Carmen played along.

“Yesenia Ortega, the American ambassador to Mexico. I'm googling her daughter Carmela now….” Jamie held up the computer. “Carmela Ortega turns fifteen on…wait for it…December seventeenth.”

“I believe we have a winner, ladies and gentlemen,” Carmen said, clapping.

Alicia sat back in her chair, stunned. “Wow, I can't believe it. We've been asked to throw a
quince
for one of the most high-profile Latinas in the country,” she whispered.

“For the
daughter
of one of the most high-profile Latinas in the country, to be exact,” Jamie pointed out.

“Same diff,” Alicia replied.

Jamie nodded. “Absolutely same diff.” The magnitude of the situation hit Alicia, then Jamie, then Carmen like a wave.

“Do you think there'll be Secret Service men?” Carmen asked, her eyes wide.

Maxo nodded. “If it's Carmela Ortega, there'll be Secret Service men and women. Let's not be sexist.”

“There'll probably be royalty from other countries…princes and princesses,” Alicia said softly.

“We've got to come up with a really good theme,” Carmen added.

“One that represents
America
,” Jamie said emphatically.

“No,” Alicia said. “One that perfectly represents this girl.”

“Whom you've never met,” Gaz pointed out.

“And won't meet till the day of the event,” Maxo said. “Tall order.”

“Yeah,” Gaz said, enfolding Alicia in a hug and kissing her gently on the cheek. “I'd wish you good luck, but honestly, Lici, you're so talented, luck won't have anything to do with it.”