“I knew he’d talk you into singing.”
I sent a glare over my shoulder and told Big T, “Cállate,” as I lightly rammed my elbow back into his gut. Only the sound of his lightly pained grunt made my lips quiver into a mini smile.
“Prima, you are mean.”
My smile grew a bit larger.
“So what’re we performing?” he asked. “‘Cielito Lindo’?”
I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, thinking about it. “No...something different.”
In my back pocket, my phone buzzed, letting me know I had a new text. I pulled it free out of habit and saw that it was from Asher.
Holy shit. I found her.
Scowling, because I had no idea what he was talking about, I began to ask him who he’d found. But another text from him came through.
What’s the name of the girl who—
“Elisa!” Tío Alonso boomed, making me jump out of my skin and look up before I could finish reading Asher’s question. He splayed out his hand, letting me know he was ready for me to begin. I stuffed my phone away just as it buzzed again with a third text.
Drawing in a big breath, I concentrated on laying out my supplies, while Big T positioned himself behind and a little to the left of me. As I worked, a couple patrons glanced my way as they kept eating and talking, probably realizing I was about to do something to entertain them.
Just as I got everything set out where I needed it, my phone buzzed against my butt for a fourth time. Big T leaned forward, murmuring, “?Prima?” wanting to know what I was going to sing so he’d know what to play.
I knew Tío Alonso expected something purely Spanish, but I decided to do a little mix of both English and Spanish. And besides, Doris Day was one of my mother’s favorite singers before she went crazy. So I murmured, “Que Sera Sera,” over my shoulder.
A couple seconds later, the guitar started to strum the melody. Some tables of people stopped eating to watch us. But not until the introduction was over and I began to sing did we really gain the attention of everyone.
I ignored everyone and acted as if I was self-involved in my menial task of peppering the table with a cupful of flour. Once I had a fine layer covering the wooden slab, I plopped down my ball of dough and began to iron it into a flat circle with the rolling pin I’d brought in. Flour sprayed everywhere.
More people stopped their conversations to watch me work. I kept up the oblivious act, purposely smearing a trail of flour across my cheek when I brushed at a stray hair that had come down from my hairnet.
It wasn’t until I picked up the rolling pin and began to roll the dough flat that I hit the chorus and really lifted my voice.
I swear, everyone in the joint stopped what they were doing just to listen to me.
It felt almost electric. Yes, drumming was my heart and soul, but in that moment, I could see why Asher loved to sing the really powerful songs where you had to put your everything into it. Because this right here felt good.
Centering my focus on a place deep inside me, I let the guitar’s melody pour through my hands and my diaphragm until the twang in my voice rose to a crescendo and my last note echoed into the silent parlor. I finished the last line and then...applause.
At all the whistling, clapping, and cheering, I blinked and smiled at my audience. But my attention landed on one pair of green eyes watching me from a corner booth with intense scrutiny.
Oh, shit.
Asher was here.
Frozen, I could only gape at him as he rose from the booth where he was sitting alone.
He stepped toward me, and my heart leapt into my stomach. Dios, he was coming over to talk to me.
What the hell was I supposed to do?
“Bien hecho, Elisa,” Tío Alonso said, patting me on the shoulder as he passed by.
His praise jolted me from my rigor mortis and I swung around to blink up at him. Then he motioned to my worktable and told me to get the cut sopapillas back to my second cousin Frida at the fryer.
I told my uncle I’d get right to it as I glanced toward Asher. He was still coming my way, so I picked up the sheet to flee. When he just kind of froze in his step as if not sure what to do, I whirled away and rushed back into the kitchen.
But as soon as I was behind the swinging door, I stole a glance out one of the round windows. He was still standing where he’d stopped in his tracks, watching the place where I’d disappeared. But as soon as he saw me peeking back out at him, a smile spread across his face and he waved.
Dios. That smile. That smug, I-know-you-see-me-and-remember-me smile did things to me.
If this man caught me in girl-mode again, I wasn’t sure if I could resist him...and I really needed to resist him. Lying to him and pretending to be a guy was bad enough. But actually falling into bed with him while I was still lying and pretending to be a guy at other times would be the ultimate deception.
Whatever happened, I could not ever run into him as a girl again. Not unless he knew the truth.