Chapter 15

Saturday morning was recovery time for just about everyone. With five women occupying the Carpenter home, Lon and Damian and Terence got a colossal breakfast before setting off to deliver their various women home -- most of them freshly fucked. Eleanor Harkness, watching her daughter stagger out of her boyfriend's car and waddle up the walk, shook her head -- but nothing she could say seemed to do anything but drive Sally away, so she said nothing at all. Sally made her own effort at avoiding confrontation, mumbling, "Hi, Mom," and headed upstairs for a soak in the tub.

If Brenda's mother noticed Terence, she also noticed Bonita -- who was acting very possessive. As a result, Brenda's explanation that he was just bringing her home went unchallenged. "I pulled a muscle at practice," explained Brenda's stiff gait. When her mother observed, "Bonita seems taken with that black boy -- who is he?" Brenda's answer was short. "She is. He's on the football team." She headed upstairs, leaving her mother to assume that she was jealous and that perhaps the unwanted relationship with the round brown girl was over. While Brenda's mother felt some sadness for her daughter, the lesbian thing was better off terminated, anyway, in her opinion; boys were what Brenda needed. Little did she know that Brenda was in complete agreement...

Lucinda Vasquez was a good deal more observant -- and surprised! There were boys in the car that dropped her daughter off -- and even though she recognized Alyssa Haynes, the fact that the four of them were seated as couples had Lucinda riveted. Then there was the byplay before Bonita got out of the car -- she leaned over toward the black boy who was driving, stopped, looked at the house, said something while looking that way, turned back to the boy and said an obvious goodbye, then finally got out -- apparently reluctantly. Something was definitely up...

Bonita stopped herself from kissing Terence, flashing a look at the house. “I'd better not,” she said, studying the windows for telltale movement. Turning back to Terence, she said, “Goodbye, mi amor,” and reached out to squeeze his hand.

Terence smiled at her. “Bye, Baby. I'll call you or something -- probably tomorrow.”

Bonita nodded and reluctantly tore herself away. The last thing she needed was Mama asking embarrassing questions; thank God Papa worked on Saturday mornings... She headed up the walk, not looking back as Terence pulled away.

Lucinda let her eldest daughter come in unmolested -- she wanted Bonita to let her guard down before the interrogation. She looked up from where she was working at the sink and asked in Spanish, “Did you have a good time, little flower?”

“Yes, Mama,” Bonita flinched; Mama was standing in front of the kitchen window...

Lucinda heard Bonita's guard going up in her voice, so she backed off. “There are fresh cookies -- did you eat breakfast?”

“Yes, Mama -- a big one. I'd better not eat cookies,” Bonita replied. She went to the refrigerator to get a diet soda; Lucinda dried her hands, watching her daughter as she busied herself inside the refrigerator. When Bonita turned to face her as she closed the door, her mother lowered the boom, asking innocently, “Who is the boy?”

Bonita froze. “Which one?” Thinking fast, she decided to try to push out too much information and see if she could satisfy her mother's curiosity that way, rather than trying to fight a delaying action. “They're Terence and Damian Carter. Alyssa is seeing Damian. They're both on the football team. Damian is a Junior and Terence is a Senior.”

“I see.” Lucinda absorbed the flood. “Is Terence seeing anyone, then?”

“Well, uh...” 'Can I get away with no?' Bonita grimaced; in the time it took to think the question, the answer became 'no.' “Brenda...”

Lucinda waited, watching her daughter squirm with bird-bright eyes. “Yes?”

“She's, um, sharing him, sort of...”

“With you?” Lucinda now KNEW something was up. For one thing, she was certain -- if incorrect -- that Brenda was a lesbian. “Bonita...” she chided.

Bonita dropped her eyes. “Okay! It's... the other way around.”

“You are... sharing a boy... with Brenda.”

“Yes, Mama.” Bonita dared look up.

“And were Terence and Damian at your sleepover last night?”

Bonita wanted to run -- Mama's eyes DARED her to lie! “Y--yes, Mama.”

Mama's face grew stern. “Do I have to ask about what you've done?”

Bonita looked at the floor and whispered, “No.”

Lucinda switched to Spanish -- it was the only way to get the explosion out quickly enough. “Have you not learned about babies? Your father will have a heart attack! We will have to get you to a doctor...”

“I--I have already been,” Bonita ventured shakily.

“WHAT?” The ensuing explosion was virtually untranslatable, but the gist of it was “HOW COULD YOU!”

Bonita suffered under the tirade for a moment, then drew herself up, “MAMA! Would you rather I hadn't?”

This brought Lucinda up short -- but her outrage had too much steam behind it, so she shifted to another tack, “What EXACTLY are we going to tell your Papa? How many times...”

“Mama!” Now Bonita was outraged! “I'm not telling you that!”

“Boys! Surely you know how boys are?” Lucinda rejoined. “They are like bees -- they collect your flower and move on to the next...”

“Terence is not like that!” Bonita insisted. “I love him!”

Lucinda rolled her eyes. “That means nothing! But it makes it easier for him...”

“No! Terence is different!” Bonita flounced.

“Terence is black, is he not? They have a reputation for not doing what is right...” Lucinda argued.

“He's... He's...” Bonita ran down. Was she expecting too much? “You have to meet him -- THEN you'll see!” She reached for her cell phone.

Lucinda shook her head sadly. “My little flower, he will not come...”

“He WILL!” Bonita insisted -- but fear ruled her as the phone began to ring.

“What the fuck?” Terence collected his cell. They were almost home; Damian was planning to take Alyssa to the Hayes home a little later. Terence glanced at the number. “Bonita?”

“Terence? I have trouble! Mama...” Bonita blurted.

“What did she do, Baby?” Terence frowned.

“She... found out,” Bonita said miserably. “She's very angry. She says...”

Terence pulled over to the curb. “What does she say, Baby?”

“She says you are done with me -- that you just want...” Bonita started blubbering.

“I can have that any time!” Terence retorted. “You KNOW that!”

“Mama doesn't!” Bonita replied.

“Yeh. Let's not tell her,” Terence grunted. “What else?”

“I told her that she should meet you before saying bad things,” Bonita related. “She says you will not come...”

“She isn't, like, shooting someone mad is she?” Terence asked.

“No, Mama is not like that,” Bonita assured him. “It's about, you know, my treasure -- and my heart.”

“What about your Pa?”

“He... isn't here,” Bonita related. “If you meet Mama, it will help when you meet Papa...”

“Yeh, I remember you saying that. Okay. Fifteen minutes. I have to drop Little Bro and Alyssa off first.”

“I will wait.” Bonita turned in triumph to her mother. “You are wrong! He comes!”

“Nita!” Terence barked into the phone. “Don't piss her off more! We're in deep enough shit as it is!”

“Si, si! I will be waiting for you, mi amor!” Bonita declared.

“Okay, Baby, I'll be right along...” Terence hung up.

“What the fuck?” Damian asked.

“The shit's hit the fan at Bonita's. Her mama knows we have a sex life!” Terence related.

“Need backup?” Damian asked.

“Nah. Tell Mama, in case. Try to keep Pa out of it. He won't have anything good to say.” Terence pulled up in front of the house.

“Okay.” Damian tugged Alyssa out of the car. “Good luck!”

“Watch her!” Alyssa interjected. “She might slip up and blow everything wide open!”

“Yeah, thanks!” Terence grunted, thinking, 'Like I'm any better...' He pulled a U-turn in the street and headed off the way they'd come.

Bonita gazed at her mother in joy and triumph; she didn't have to SAY what she was thinking. Lucinda regarded her daughter sadly; undoubtedly, even if this boy really DID appear, things would not go as Bonita believed they would. An ugly lesson in life was in the offing...

“Mama?” Gabriel was fourteen, and Marisol was twelve; both were sticking their heads around the kitchen door. “Are you done yelling at Bonita about her boyfriend? When is breakfast?”

“Get some cereal, lazy one!” Lucinda managed not to snap. “We are going to the living room. You will keep your nose OUT of this and you will NOT mention it to your Papa before Bonita does! Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mama.” Gabriel emitted a wave of martyred patience. “I thought you WANTED her to get married and have babies...?” He started digging in the cabinets. Marisol came into the kitchen and watched her mother and big sister with solemn eyes.

“I want her to get married FIRST!” Lucinda declared. “Have you seen this boy?”

“Maybe. Who is it?” Gabriel glanced around, curious.

“Terence Carter.”

“Isn't he on the football team?” Gabriel asked. “Big black hombre?” His eyes danced. “Didn't he get in trouble with...?”

“Gabriel!” Bonita howled.

Gabriel shrugged and turned away to hide his grin. “Maybe it was his brother.”

“What is this?” Lucinda's eyes narrowed.

Gabriel turned back. “He got a girl pregnant.”

Lucinda's eyes snapped to her daughter's.

“But his papa paid for the abortion, I think,” Gabriel added.

“Abortions...” Abortion was a sin.

“Mama...” Bonita flicked a glance at her younger siblings, “Can we go to the living room now?” She did NOT want to discuss birth control with her little brother present!

“Yes.” Lucinda nodded. “You two stay here and eat -- this is not your affair!”

“Yes, Mama!” both replied. Gabriel managed to sound slightly condescending, which got him a glare.

“See? This boy gets girls pregnant!” Lucinda hissed when they had some distance from the younger ones.

“I think it was an accident,” Bonita replied. “I know the girl...”

“And you?” Lucinda's eyes bored into those of her daughter. “Will you have an accident?”

“No, Mama,” Bonita told her. “I have seen a doctor.”

“And who paid for this?” Lucinda demanded.

Bonita thought fast. Mentally crossing her fingers, she said, “Terence's mother.”

This stopped Lucinda in her tracks. “You have met his mother?”

“Yes.” Bonita nodded.

“How serious IS this? When were you going to tell us?” Lucinda demanded.

Mama was clearly on a different track, suddenly, Bonita realized. “Well, soon,” she replied diffidently. “I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up. And I didn't want to scare Terence away, either.” She sighed. “I'm afraid that I have been the one pushing...”

This sat Lucinda back some; if she caused Bonita to lose a boyfriend whom she was clearly enamored with enough to have met his mother, the incident would come home to roost regularly. She could imagine the recriminations... More quietly, she asked, “I haven't seen any pills. If your father finds them...” Arturo Vasquez was a devout Catholic; if the Pope said it was bad, it was bad -- and the Pope did not like birth control...

“I took a shot, Mama. It's good for three months,” Bonita told her. “I didn't want to have to hide such things, either.”

Lucinda nodded, eyeing her daughter with increased respect. She, personally, felt that the Pope was whipsawing people by disapproving of both abortion AND birth control -- but then, she'd spent her formative years here in the United States; Arturo, on the other hand, had the values of the old country... The more she thought about it, the less certain she was that her immediate reaction had been the proper one. Still, she was a mother whose daughter was having sex with a boy without the benefit of marriage -- which begged the question, 'What exactly IS the value of marriage today?' So many failed... That was the frame of mind that Lucinda found herself in when Bonita bolted up to answer the knock at the door.

The black boy was big -- and not handsome. But he was also not arrogant; he came forward cautiously, clearly uncertain whether he should offer a handshake. “Hello.”

Bonita, to whom it was abundantly clear that these two important people in her life MUST get along, set out to lubricate things. “Things are... better... than when I called you,” she told Terence, hoping to set him at ease. “I told Mama that I had met your mother and that she helped me to see a doctor...” Terence absorbed this, nodding; it wasn't exactly the order that things occurred in, but it was fairly accurate... Bonita turned to her mother, “Mama, this is Terence. Terence, this is Mama.”

“How do you do?” The greeting didn't make a whole lot of sense, but it was a formal greeting in English; perhaps the fact that she'd had Spanish greetings to compare it to brought home to Lucinda how odd it was.

Terence nodded, “Ma'am,” still cautious.

“I don't know where to start,” Lucinda muttered. “Bonita...”

“She likes me,” Terence ventured. “I dunno why...”

Bonita started to get flustered, but Lucinda asked, “Do you like her?”

Terence turned a fond glance on Bonita, “Yeah.” Bonita promptly waded in and stuck her head in his armpit while wrapping both arms around him.

“You'll forgive me, but,” Lucinda interjected, “is there more to it?”

Terence assumed a serious expression; the combination of it and his hand stroking Bonita's hair caught Lucinda's attention. “It's a little early for forever and ever,” he said seriously. “It's only been a couple of days, really. One of these days she's gonna figure out that I ain't perfect -- but until then, I'm pretty happy with things.”

There WAS something about him -- something genuine, something honest. Lucinda pursed her lips. “About the sex...”

Terence looked her in the eye, waiting. Ten long seconds went by, after which Terence said quietly, “We could lie about it, if you like...”

Lucinda looked rueful. “I had to try.”

Terence nodded. “We can't stop,” he told her, “and we wouldn't if we could. About all we can do is pretend it ain't happening -- and ain't nobody gonna believe it, anyway.”

“Not here,” Lucinda insisted.

“That's fine.” Terence nodded.

“Does your mother know?” Lucinda asked.

“Yeah. She likes Bonita, I think.”

“What about her friend?”

“Brenda? Bonita asked me to keep an eye on her. They're close.” Terence looked unperturbed.

“Do you know...?”

Terence cocked his head. “How close?” he finished the question. “Yeah. I kinda feel bad, stealing Bonita away from her like that, but Bonita says if anyone is to blame it's her.” Bonita had turned her head just enough to regard her mother with one eye.

Lucinda asked, “You will be... public?”

“Huh?” Terence frowned.

“Is your relationship a secret? At school?”

“Well, school ain't open, yet...” Terence was having a hard time understanding what Bonita's mother was getting at.

“Bonita, please -- give us a moment.” It was a command, not a request.

Bonita eyed her mother, but turned and headed for the kitchen. “I will get Terence something to drink,” she announced, to save face.

Lucinda turned back to the black boy. “You have a reputation -- you made a girl pregnant. Black boys in general have a reputation. Is Bonita a plaything? A source of sex? I know how boys are -- I know that some boys lead girls on -- girls like Bonita -- and give them nothing, not even acknowledging them in public. Do you think of her as a slut because she sleeps with the black girl? Is she an easy lay?”

Terence grimaced. “That girl... She got excited and I got excited and then she needed an out because she turned up pregnant. I learned my lesson, but it ain't goin' away.” He sighed. “If you know about that, you probably know my little brother got burned runnin' three chicks just like you're talking about -- but I ain't him by a LOOONG shot! If you're asking me if I'm gonna take her private places to fuck her or take her public places to feed her burgers and dance and watch movies and shit, the answer is...” Terence thought about it, “Well, both, actually.” Lucinda got red and started to huff; Terence put out his hands. “Wait a minute! You asked if we were gonna date! Yeah, we're gonna date, okay? I probably put the other part kinda stupid, but you know THAT, too, right? We already covered that!”

“Well you didn't have to...” Lucinda spluttered.

“Sometimes I don't say things the way people want to hear them,” Terence apologized, “but I don't generally lie, either.”

It was hard to be angry with him; he didn't lie. He stood there waiting for her to unload on him, but he didn't bluster or make excuses. So what was next?

Gabriel was next. Sticking his head around the door, he told his younger sister, “Yeah, that's him all right. How come you guys aren't yelling?” Marisol peeked around the door from beneath Gabriel's armpit. “Isn't Nita going to Hell or something?”

“Gabriel!” Lucinda whirled on her younger son. “What did I tell you about this?”

“Aw, Mama!”

“Take your sister and go upstairs! And if you say one word of this before Bonita tells Papa, you will live to regret it!” Lucinda stormed.

Gabriel and Marisol withdrew; Lucinda went to the door to be sure. Bonita returned from the kitchen with a can of soda for Terence, glaring at her little brother and sister as they disappeared around the corner. Turning to Bonita, Lucinda reproved, “You have set a bad example.”

“Gabriel gets his lessons from Julio, Mama,” Bonita replied, her voice muffled by her position, having again tucked herself against Terence. “He might be better off learning how to be a man from Terence.” Terence snorted, but remembered Julio Vasquez; he'd cut a swath through the available females at school a couple of years before.

Lucinda sighed. “You have a point,” she replied. Turning her attention to Terence, she added, “You... You are very different from what I expected. I ask you not to hurt my daughter.”

“I'll try not to,” Terence said seriously.

Turning her attention back to her eldest daughter, Lucinda said, “You must go slowly with your Papa -- but when the time comes, if you are still together, I will speak for you.”

“How should we do things?” Terence asked.

“Papa is old-fashioned,” Bonita related. “I will tell him that I have met a man. He will want to meet you. You will have to suffer through some visits here -- the old, slow ways.” Her mother nodded agreement.

Terence grimaced. “Okay. I get it.”

“Mama will be the sleepy chaperone,” Bonita added, eyeing her mother and daring her to argue -- after all, hadn't she basically agreed to be already?

Lucinda looked daggers at her daughter, but did not take exception. “I will only go so far,” she warned. “Here, and in public, there must be nothing that brings you shame or me embarrassment!”

“Yes, Mama,” Bonita agreed. Terence nodded.

“Gabriel will be a problem,” Lucinda complained. “It is my fault, but he knows too much -- or he thinks he does.”

“Maybe I should talk to him,” Terence offered.

“How?” Lucinda asked.

“This is a guy thing. I think I can pull it off,” Terence replied confidently.

“You cannot hurt him...”

“Nah. That's not the way. I'm just gonna point out a couple of things...”

“Like what?” Lucinda asked suspiciously.

“Um, look, the only way this will work probably is if I talk to him man to man...” Terence said cautiously. “Some of these things ain't the greatest things for chicks to hear, but they're generally just sh... uh, bragging and stuff. If he's been hangin' with his big brother, I got a pretty good idea how to talk to him, you know?”

“Well...” Lucinda looked dubious.

“Please, Mama -- let him try...” Bonita begged.

Two minutes later, Gabriel answered a knock on his bedroom door to find the big black dude who was banging his sister standing there. “Can I come in?” Terence asked. Gabriel backed up, more out of surprise and an automatic acknowledgement of the difference in size than anything else. Terence parked himself on Gabriel's bed so as to appear less threatening. “I guess you got an earful, huh?”

Gabriel sneered. “Enough to know that my sister is a puta!”

“I don't think you heard nobody say that.”

Gabriel shook his head. “I should not be surprised. Julio says...”

Terence nodded. “Yeah, Julio has a way with the ladies.”

Gabriel cocked his head. “He says they are all putas -- it's just about price.”

Terence snorted. “Dude, Julio has it too easy -- and he fucks shit up for the rest of us.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Terence nodded. “Wait 'til you start tryin' to get some -- you'll see what I mean. Julio talks 'em out of their panties, then walks away -- but guys like you and me got to deal with them after they've been burned. That can suck.”

“Julio gets all the women he wants,” Gabriel announced proudly.

“Yeah. Once,” Terence retorted.

“Nooo...”

“You sure? Think about it.” Terence left it at that. “But I'm here to talk to you about your sister, not Julio.”

“Papa will be livid!” Gabriel grinned.

“And that's cool with you? I figure he'll be real torn up -- so what do you get out of making him unhappy and stuffing your sister in the doghouse?” Terence asked.

“I own her!” Gabriel hissed. “As long as I know this...”

“So, it's blackmail?” Terence chuckled. “What are you gonna get from her?”

“Eh, so, maybe nothing -- but I can tell the whole world...”

“Yeah, that's cool -- how do YOU look if it gets out that your sister is a slut? What does that do for you?” Terence probed.

“There ought to be SOMETHING!” Gabriel railed.

“Awright,” Terence sat back. “Lookit -- I don't plan to dump on Bonita; we're doin' the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing. Now, if you was to start rumors, that'd not only fuck up your sister, it'd be fucking with me.” He cocked his head. “That ain't exactly smart... Even if I didn't do anything about it, I got friends... They might not ask me -- they might just, well, you know, take action.” This was smooth for Terence; 'stomp your ass' would have been his first choice of words.

There was a pregnant pause; Gabriel was obviously struggling with the idea that such wonderful blackmail material really wouldn't do him any good. Terence waited, watching -- and decided to throw him a bone. “So,” he asked nonchalantly, “you gettin' any?”

“Eh? No.” Gabriel assumed a hangdog expression. “Maybe you are right about Julio -- women avoid me.”

“Women? Or girls?” Terence broke out a grin. “There's a major difference.”

“Yeah,” Gabriel grunted, “Women are old.”

Terence laughed. “You don't get it, Man. Lookit, girls don't know shit about sex until somebody teaches them. From what I hear, your brother Julio teaches a lot of them -- all wrong. Wanna guess why?”

“Why?” Gabriel eyed the big football player, amused.

“Because he don't know what the fuck he's doin', that's why!” Terence told him. “And he ain't gonna learn anytime soon, because he's got young chicks running out his ears 'cause he knows how to talk to them sweet.” He cocked his head. “If you want to know how to MAKE a girl into a woman and you want to PLEASE a woman, you got to LEARN from a woman! Girls don't know shit -- but women know what they like and they've been around the block and know what to expect from a guy -- and how to get it!”

“Yeah, but... old chicks?” Gabriel shuddered.

“Is your mama old?” Terence asked.

“Well, yeah, but...”

“Yeah,” Terence nodded. “But. I haven't met a guy yet who hasn't thought about it -- especially before he gets his first...” He cocked his head. “Lots of guys got mamas. Somebody told me that guys reach their peak about eighteen -- but women don't hit theirs until they're like thirty-five!”

Gabriel snorted. “And you believe that shit?”

“I KNOW that shit -- first hand!” Terence declared. “My first piece was a young chick -- and it was all fucked up. But the second? That was somebody's mama -- and she turned me every which way but loose!”

“No shit?” Gabriel was fascinated.

Terence nodded sagely. “You don't REALLY think your sister is a slut do you? It's about knowing what you're doing...”

“Well, there is the black girl,” Gabriel noted.

Terence snorted. “If the black girl had her shit together, I'd have never gotten anywhere! But I did, though, didn't I?”

Gabriel bit his lip. “Yeah, well, maybe you're right about women -- but how does that help me?”

Terence rolled his eyes. “Man, do I have to draw you a map? Young chicks are nervous about their cherries and they don't know how to do it so they're all uptight -- and most of them don't get it in the first place, if you know what I mean. But women don't HAVE cherries and they HAVE fucked and they DO know what to do and they want it more...”

“So...” Gabriel was close, but...

“So they're EASIER TO GET!” Terence exclaimed. “Duh!”

Gabriel was aghast! “No way!”

“Way!” Terence insisted.

Gabriel grimaced. “I still don't know how...”

Terence shook his head. “I can't believe your brother hasn't hooked you up -- except, like I said, he probably can't hang onto any...” He eyed Gabriel slyly. “Lookit, if you don't start any shit with your sister, I might be able to hook you up with a blowjob, anyway...”

“Wow! No shit?” Gabriel was all ears.

“Yeah, I figure I might be able to line something up. Who knows? I ain't makin' no promises, but maybe I might be able to round up a woman to show you the ropes...”

“This is for real, right? You're not just jerking me around...” Gabriel pressed.

“Getting you blown shouldn't be a problem,” Terence assured him, “I know a couple of REAL sluts. The other thing is gonna take time and energy. You need to show me it's worth doing.”

Gabriel got it. “No sweat -- Bonita is covered. I hear nothing, I see nothing...”

“What about your sister?” Terence asked.

“Marisol? She doesn't get it,” Gabriel said dismissively. “Besides, Nita will do some pinky-swear thing with her...”

“Yeah, okay. Look, I wasn't tryin' to diss your bro...” Terence muttered.

Now that he had a reason to stay in Terence's good graces, Gabriel was dismissive of that, too. “Nah, you're right -- he never seems to do the same chick twice...”

“Well, don't give him shit about it -- I don't want to bust anybody's bubble,” Terence grinned. “Hey, maybe I'm wrong...” He got up to leave.

Gabriel nodded, but his mind was elsewhere; besides, he had a sneaking suspicion that Terence was right! “Let me know when...”

“Yeh. Your mama would shit a brick, so we'll have to work around that. Worst case, Nita will tell you, okay? Or you can tell your mama you're watching football or something...”

“I'll talk to Bonita. Thanks!”

Terence waved and moved off, well aware that he had moved upward quite a bit in Gabriel's estimation. If it kept Bonita out of the doghouse, arranging a blowjob for Gabriel was no big thing... Re-entering the living room, he found Bonita and her mother in conversation -- in Spanish; it was difficult to determine just exactly what the mood was... “All set,” he announced himself.

Lucinda turned to face him. “I see -- and how did you accomplish this wonder?”

“Well, in the first place, I'm another guy, so it's us against you,” Terence related. “But I also kinda pointed out that nobody really gains anything from him rattling his Pa's cage and causing a lot of uproar in the house.” He looked at Bonita. “You were right -- his big bro ain't helpin' him any where women are concerned. Julio...” He shook his head.

“What?” Lucinda asked.

“I don't have no right to talk about anybody, but Julio -- he's hurt a lot of girls. If he's still at it the way he was in high school, he's breakin' hearts left and right.”

“Well, he does that,” Lucinda actually smiled a bit.

“You don't understand. Julio -- he's a charmer -- I'm sure you know that. But he only uses it to get into a girl's panties, and then he's gone. And he busts a new one every couple of days, it seems like. That's the same shi... uh, stuff you accused me of -- only Julio is world-class. It ain't pretty,” Terence insisted. “I think Gabriel is suffering from Julio's reputation.”

“Well... We knew, of course, that he was a womanizer...” Lucinda mused.

“It's a double-standard. It's okay for Julio to break girls' hearts, but it isn't okay for a girl to get broken,” Terence grunted. “I never understood that. It's like you said -- black guys got a reputation. Well, Spanish guys do, too. If Julio wasn't her brother, I bet Bonita wouldn't last five minutes with him -- either way.”

“Either way?” Lucinda blinked.

“Getting' in -- and getting' out...” Terence added hand-signals to the explanation, poking a forefinger through the 'O' of a thumb and forefinger for the 'in' and hanging out a thumb in the traditional hitchhiking gesture for the 'out.' Lucinda nearly went purple.

“He's right, Mama,” Bonita pointed out. “You know he gets anything he wants from us... and we're family!”

Terence threw up his hands. “Look, I didn't come here to start shit...” He flinched, having let his mouth get away from him. “But, well, what's a puta?”

Lucinda's hand came up and she rushed forward, intent on a slap -- but Bonita interposed herself. “MAMA! He doesn't know!”

Lucinda stood there, ready to gouge Terence's eyes out. “A puta is a whore.”

“I figured. Gabriel just told me five minutes ago that according to his big bro all women are putas...”

Lucinda whirled. Terence took a chance and clamped a hand on her arm. “Don't!”

“This is...” Lucinda had no words.

“Gabriel ain't the person to talk to about it -- and you'll fuck up the goodwill I've built up with him and maybe blow the lid off the other thing!” Terence snapped.

Lucinda slowly mastered herself. “Give. Me. My. Arm. Back,” She said tightly.

“Sure.” Terence let go. Turning to Bonita, he said, “I'd better split. I don't think I helped here.”

“B--but...” Bonita was devastated.

“I'll see you Monday. We'll eat lunch or something -- if your mother is okay with it.” Terence gazed into her eyes.

That wasn't good enough; Bonita clutched herself to him, wailing. Lucinda watched in amazement as the black boy lifted her chunky daughter, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist, and carried her through the door. It was ten long -- and sometimes loud -- minutes before Bonita returned to the living room, alone, sniffling. “Is it over?” Lucinda asked.

“No!” Bonita glared at her. “Or at least, he swears it is not -- and he has not lied to me yet! He has not lied to YOU, either!”

“Perhaps,” Lucinda replied, “but he makes the truth bitter.”

“Sometimes the truth is like castor oil for the soul,” Bonita muttered. Lucinda cocked her head, wondering where THAT had come from...