Page 58 of When Javi Dumped Mari

Javi

Now

“Bartender! Another!”

I raise my glass to get my new best friend’s attention.

He throws a towel over his shoulder and glides over. “What’s up?”

“I asked you to keep ’em coming.”

“That’s your fourth drink. Maybe you should slow it down.”

“The love…of my heart…no, life, yeah, life…is marrying someone else tomorrow.”

“Damn. Sorry, man.” He sighs. “Are you staying on the property?”

“Yeah,” I say, leaning back on my stool and rubbing my chest.

“One more,” he says, lifting a single finger to underscore his point. “And then I’m going to have to cut you off, existential crisis or not.”

“Fine,” I grumble.

We fist-bump. “I’m Xavier.”

“Javier.”

“That’s quite a coincidence.”

“Your name sounds way”—I burp—“cooler.”

“I have to agree.”

“Make the last glass extra long, okay?”

“Tall, you mean?”

“Yeah. That.”

He clucks his tongue and saunters off, leaving me alone with my muddled thoughts.

Not long after, loud, unintelligible voices pierce my bubble of melancholy, and I wince.

“Yo, this place is unreal ,” someone says in an awestruck tone.

“Worth the trip, for sure,” another adds.

I must be drunk because these guys sound a lot like my brothers. They’d never travel here in a million years, though; that would be random as hell.

A hand slaps me on my back. “What’s up, bro?”

I whip my head around and nearly topple off the stool. My older brothers are in California. I blink several times, tilting my head from side to side as I stare up at them. “What the fuck are you two doing here?”

“We’re here for Marisol’s wedding,” Manny says.

I rub my eyes, then blink some more. “Why?”

“We’re performing,” Leandro explains.

They stare back at me, wearing gummy smiles and reeking of too much cologne. They’re in the same uniform: black T-shirt, black belt, black jeans. They look like they’re auditioning for roles as T-birds in Grease .

“Marisol said nothing would make her happier than having us sing at her wedding,” Manny says, “so here we are.”

“Marisol arranged for you to be here?” I ask slowly, trying to piece together what’s happening.

“Yeah,” Leandro says. “Only weird thing is, she wants us to perform ‘Macarena’ at the reception. That’s kind of played out, right?”

Oh, this is diabolical. And perfect. And so damn Mari. She knew what this would mean to me. It’s not the documentary chronicling my brothers’ rise and eventual downfall, but it’s pretty damn close. If I weren’t already in love with her, this would be the moment I fall.

I chuckle, then full-out laugh my ass off.

Brows furrowed, my brothers exchange a glance, which only ratchets up my enjoyment.

Xavier returns with my drink and taps the bar counter. “What’s up, fellas?”

“Meet Rico and Suave,” I tell him. “My brothers.”

Manny clips the back of my head. “Watch it. We can still put you in a headlock.”

Xavier smirks. “Can I get you guys anything?”

“Corona if you have it,” Leandro says.

Xavier nods. “I do. Be right back.”

“Where’s the third in your trio?” I ask. “Busy replacing an unsuspecting family member in another band, perhaps?”

“Damn, J,” Manny says, climbing onto the stool next to mine. “You’re still bitter about that?”

“No,” I mutter. “I couldn’t care less.”

Which isn’t true. My therapist tells me that experience made me question my worth, made me think I was deadweight in my own family.

Ever since, I’ve lived with this fear that I’ll be cast aside.

Deemed unworthy. It’s led to some remarkably poor decisions on my part, especially where Mari’s concerned.

That’s heavy stuff to unpack, and I’m still processing it, but it’s out of the box, which is a good start.

Leandro takes the seat on the other side of me. “Look, we probably didn’t go about it the right way, but I think everything worked out for the best. You would have hated every second in the band.”

I shouldn’t even engage. This is only going to enrage me, and I don’t have all of my faculties as it is. But this is some bullshit. “You’re gaslighting me.”

“Gaslighting?” Leandro asks, frowning. “Fuck does that mean?”

“It means you’re trying to rewrite what happened.

Trying to make me think that how I remember things isn’t what happened at all.

But I was there. I was the one who came up with the idea of the Triborough Boys.

I was the one who searched for gigs. Y’all just went along with it because it would help you pull girls.

And then when that record company started talking about money and what you would have to do to make it, you threw me away like yesterday’s trash. ”

“You’re right,” Leandro says, his face flushing. “What we did was wrong, J. But we were young too, and we thought this was our way out. A way to make sure Mom and Pops didn’t have to work until they took their last breath.”

Manny clears his throat. “And if it’s time for being honest and shit, we were jealous of you. You were the true talent. With your straight As and your ability to teach yourself piano and your fucking ridiculous vocabulary. You didn’t need the Triborough Boys. We did.”

“Perhaps you felt that way,” I say, “but in the end, you screwed me.”

“We’re not denying that,” Leandro says. “But we’re older now. Wiser. Maybe it’s time for us to be brothers. Real brothers.”

I wish they’d said something like this years ago. Then again, I wasn’t ready to listen. I’m not closing off the possibility that we could move past the band drama and how they treated me afterward, but I’m also not going to pretend all is forgiven. “Maybe” is what I manage to say.

Xavier reappears with a slip in his hands, presumably for my tab. “I’m comping you tonight,” he says to me. “Can’t have a man with a broken heart paying for his own drinks.”

Manny draws back. “Broken heart? Who?” He points at me. “This guy?”

Xavier nods. “Says the love of his life is marrying someone else tomorrow.”

My brothers’ jaws drop, and their eyebrows lift in surprise.

“Oh damn, this is like those telenovelas Mami watches,” Manny says.

“Tell us everything, man,” Leandro says.

Which is how I end up recounting the entire mess to my brothers, starting with what happened that fateful weekend I visited Mari in L.A. eight years ago. When I’m done, my brothers peer at each other, their eyes sparking with mischief.

“Let’s kidnap the fiancé,” Manny suggests.

I roll my eyes. “That’s a felony.” Not that I didn’t consider it for a millisecond.

“Or you could just tell Mari the truth,” Leandro offers, his head tilted as if I’m ignoring the most obvious answer.

“I can’t,” I say. “It would break her heart to learn what her father’s up to.

And she’d never forgive him. Which means Alex gets what he wants anyway, and she loses her dad.

If I keep my mouth shut, Mari gets the chance to run the firm with him.

She’s brilliant. A badass to the nth degree.

Maybe her father will bend when he sees how well suited she is to the task. ”

“So you’re just going to let the woman you love marry someone else?”

The question strikes at the very heart of me, breaks my spirit too. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

***

“Motherfucker!”

I’m staring at my reflection in the floor-length mirror in the cottage and trying not to lose my shit. And because I can’t hold my liquor, I overslept and now have only twenty-seven minutes to get ready for the ceremony.

Leandro jerks awake and sits bolt upright in my bed. “What? What’s wrong? What?”

The squatter crashed in my room last night, claiming he was too drunk to drive back to his offsite hotel; Manny disappeared with a woman he met at the bar. But I can’t worry about these knuckleheads because I have an actual emergency on my hands.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Leandro asks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

I turn sideways, inspecting my profile. “The groom’s idea of a joke, obviously.”

“You look like Bo Peep.”

Unfortunately, I immediately see the resemblance.

Alex has arranged for me to wear a baby-blue suit with tiered ruffles on the cropped pant legs and a silver dress shirt with coordinating tiers down the front.

He claimed the laundry valet was getting it cleaned and steamed, which is why I didn’t see it until it was delivered moments ago.

Leandro snorts. “Actually, maybe it’s a trend, like Jermaine Dupri at the Super Bowl.”

“Fuck does that mean?”

Leandro grabs his phone, types in a few words, then holds the screen out so I can see it.

I groan. “If it’s a trend, it shouldn’t be, and I want no part of it.”

Leandro climbs out of the bed, his boxers hanging off his hips. “What are you going to do about”—he points at my ridiculous getup—“that.”

“I have the dress pants from yesterday and a regular button-down. Both still wet and reeking of alcohol.” I scrub a hand across the back of my head. “Maybe I can get away with that?”

“Mari’s going to be disappointed when she sees you. Or smells you, I should say.”

I throw my head back and sigh. “She will be. Do you have time to—”

Someone knocks on the door, and we both whip our heads in the direction of the sound.

“Expecting anyone?” Leandro asks.

“No,” I say, striding to the door. When I open it, Manny’s standing there in a black suit and tie, a garment bag in his left hand.

“Wake up, pendejos!” he says, waltzing inside. “We have a wedding to attend!”

He looks me up and down and grimaces. “Why are you dressed like an elf?”

“Alex set me up, the asshole.”

“Whoa. I guess he knows you’re in love with Mari. Personally, I would have sent you room service and put a laxative in your coffee.”

I shove him away from me. “You’re not helping.”

“Chill,” he says, laughing.

I shove him again. “Now’s not the time to be making jokes.”

“Push me one more time,” he says, fisting his hands.

“Or what?”

“Guys,” Leandro interjects, “simmer down.”

But it’s too late, because Manny rushes me, then contorts my body until I’m trapped in a headlock. Soon after, we’re tumbling around the room as if we have no home training.

Eventually, Leandro pulls us apart. Manny and I glare at each other, chests heaving.

Leandro breaks the silence by bleating like a sheep.

I narrow my gaze on him.

He throws up a hand, his eyes leaking with tears of amusement. “Sorry, man, but you really do look like a shepherd.”

Manny snorts, and within seconds, I’m doubled over in laughter.

“It’s good to have someone else Manny can beat up on,” Leandro says. “He never picks on anyone his own size.”

Manny and I stare at Leandro, and then we exchange a knowing glance.

Leandro’s gaze swings between us. “What?”

“Lend me your suit,” I plead.

“No way, I’m not performing in that costume,” he says, backing up with his hands high in the air.

I fall at his feet. “You can get another suit during the wedding. No need for you to be there.”

Leandro shakes his head. “Except she asked us to sing for the processional, so there’s no time.”

“But we can perform off to the side for now,” Manny says. “No one really needs to see us until the reception.”

Leandro mouths Mind your business to Manny.

“Please, Leandro,” I beg from my position on my knees. “If you really want to make up for your treachery, this is a good place to start.”

He sighs. “Give me the damn suit.”

I jump up and discard the jacket in seconds. The pants are next. Leandro sneers at the various articles of clothing, holds them far from his body, and heads to the bathroom. Manny unzips the garment bag and presents the suit with a flourish.

He watches me as I get dressed. When I’m done, I survey my reflection in the mirror, confident that I look a thousand times better than Alex intended.

“Damn,” Manny says, “that guy really doesn’t like you.”

“What gave it away?”

“He’s willing to fuck up his own wedding to embarrass you.”

Manny doesn’t know that I’ve given Alex plenty of reasons to be vindictive.

Still, he has a point. Shouldn’t Alex and Mari’s wedding day be off-limits to these kinds of games?

If his only concern was to ensure that Mari was happy on their big day, he wouldn’t have pulled this stunt.

It occurs to me then: Whether or not he knew about Luiz’s gambit, Alex isn’t prepared to make Mari his number one priority.

And that’s a big ol’ red flag I can’t ignore.