She's Got Game (16 page)

THAT NIGHT
, Jamie joined Dash and a posse of his family and golf friends for a victory dinner at the Breakers Hotel in Palm Beach. The group sat at a giant table on the patio overlooking the water. A waiter poured pitchers of Dash's favorite drink, the Arnold Palmer—half lemonade, half iced tea—a drink that was named after the legendary golfer.

A trio of waiters brought out the first course: stone crab claws with drawn butter, fried oysters on the half shell, and huge piles of jumbo shrimp with cocktail sauce.

Sitting next to Dash, his hand firmly held in hers, Jamie looked out onto the water and marveled that so much had changed in her life in such a short time. A month ago, she had had no idea that she would meet an amazing guy and travel to another city with him, dye her hair blond, or become the most unlikely golf fan in the state of Florida.

A month ago, she also couldn't have imagined that her friendships with Alicia and Carmen would be on life support. She wondered what they were doing just then. She was having lots of fun, but it
was
Quince
Eve. There was a ton of work still left to do for Binky's event the next day. Stuff she should have been helping with.

With alarm, she realized that she needed to get back to Miami, make up with her friends, and set things right immediately.

Jamie leaned over to Dash. “I'm so sorry, but I've got to go.”

Dash looked surprised. “Stay. My dad will get you and Binky a hotel room. Ferris will drive you back first thing in the morning. The
quince
isn't until three
p.m.
There's plenty of time.”

Jamie resisted the urge to give in. “I wish I could, but I've really got to get back.”

Dash grinned. “You're kind of making this a habit, leaving dinner early.”

Jamie shrugged. “At least this time, I don't look like the Latina Lady Gaga, and I got to finish my salad.”

The drive from Palm Beach to Miami was three hours plus, even without traffic. As soon as Ferris had gotten on the highway, Jamie fell asleep. She awoke with a start when they were almost home.

She looked at her watch. It was almost midnight, and the Miami skyline still shimmered in the distance ahead. It was late, she was exhausted, and she really wasn't in the mood to be dissed. But she also knew that she wouldn't be able to go to sleep until things were put right again.

“Ferris, would it be okay if we made a couple of stops before you took me home?” she asked.

Ferris tilted his charcoal gray chauffeur's cap back. “Not a problem with me, Miss Sosa. But I suggest that you call your parents and advise them that we are running late.”

Jamie snapped her fingers. Right. Parents. Out past midnight. Calling was a great idea. She'd only known him a few weeks, but already Ferris was saving her butt. As much as she had once criticized Alicia, and more recently Binky, for being rich, she was beginning to think less disdainfully of money—and the people who had it. Dash, his father, and his sister had shown her that having a kajillion dollars didn't automatically turn you into a Mrs. Mortimer–style jerk. That had been a big
aha
moment. But on a more practical level, spending all this time with Ferris and being driven around in the Mortimers' car had shown her that being spoiled by things like a car and driver was
definitely
something she could get used to. But that particular secret, for the time being, was going to go no further than the luxuriously appointed leather interiors of the Maybach's incredibly comfy back seat.

Jamie called her parents, explaining that although it was late, it was
Quince
Eve and she still had a couple of pressing work matters to attend to. After getting Ferris's assurance that he would bring her home safely, Jamie's mom let her go.

With that taken care of, Jamie gave Ferris directions to the Cruz home. Once they had hit Miami proper, they were able to get there within minutes. When they arrived, she handed him her iPod and asked if he could plug it into the converter and pump up the volume. Her plan was to blast One Republic's “I Apologize” outside Alicia's house until she'd made her point. In junior high, she and Alicia had sung the classic pop song at dozens of karaoke sleepovers. Remembering the soulful lyrics and all the fun they'd had together over the years, Jamie felt certain that Alicia would have no choice but to take her back into the group.

But Ferris wasn't having it. He explained that the city of Miami had very strict ordinances against noise late at night in residential neighborhoods.

“While I've grown very fond of you, Miss Sosa,” he said, “there is no way I will risk a thousand-dollar fine and the besmirching of the Mortimer name for a potentially disastrous stunt.”

It was probably just that she was very tired, but Jamie began to cry. She was fresh out of ideas, and she needed to get back in with her friends.

“What should I do, Ferris?” she sniffed. “I've messed everything up.”

He didn't seem put out by this display of emotion—he did, after all, work full-time for the Mortimers. After considering the question for a few moments, he said, “Why don't you call your friend on her cell phone? Invite her to come talk to you in the car. Most people have never sat inside a vehicle like this one, and I will play the song
inside,
where only the three of us can hear it.”

While this plan didn't have as much dramatic panache as hers had, Jamie was willing to give it a try. She dialed Alicia's number.

Moments later, Alicia was standing outside. If the state of her hair was any indication, she'd been fast asleep when Jamie called.

Rubbing her eyes vigorously in an attempt to wake up, Alicia asked, “What do you want, Jamie?”

“Come inside the car,” Jamie said in a whisper—although there was no one in the driveway—or on the street, for that matter—to be disturbed.

As Alicia got into the backseat of the car, Ferris began to play the song. She smiled and said sleepily, “They're playing our song. Where's the karaoke mike?”

“I'll have one next time. Promise,” Jamie said, relieved that her friend wasn't brushing her off.

Waking up a little, Alicia looked around. “Is this a Maybach?”

Jamie was incredulous. “How'd you know?”

“It's my brother's dream car. He's got a picture of this exact model on his bedroom wall. He figures he only has to raise, like, a gazillion dollars to afford one. But you didn't wake me up to talk cars, did you?”

Jamie took a deep breath. “No. I woke you up to apologize. I'm sorry I've been such a flaky friend. I'm kind of going through some changes.”

Alicia grinned. “No kidding. Blond much?”

Jamie self-consciously patted her hair. She'd forgotten all about coloring it. “I was going for the Shakira look—blond for more fun, black roots…”

“—To stay
true
to your roots?” Alicia asked.

“I was going to say, to give it that rock-and-roll edge,” Jamie said. “But enough about my hair. I promise to work like a dog all night—well, the rest of the night, anyway, which is actually already tomorrow—to make Bianca's
quince
the best one we've ever done. Can you accept my apology?”

Alicia groaned. “Fine, fine. But please don't tell me that the
quince
is today.”

“It is,” Jamie said, brightly.

“Welcome back,” Alicia said, giving her friend a hug. “It's only been a day, but we missed you.”

“Me, too,” Jamie said. “Now I'm going to go and apologize to Carmen.”

“What are you going to do? You can't drive a car onto her street.”

“This I know from experience,” Ferris chimed in.

“And she hates any song by One Republic,” Alicia said.

“I'll think of something,” Jamie said. “Good night. I'll see you in the morning.”

After waiting to make sure that Alicia was safely back inside her house, Jamie and Ferris made a quick stop at Jamie's studio. Then they drove to Carmen's. It was one in the morning by the time Jamie called her on her cell phone.

“You'd better have a really good excuse for waking me up in the middle of the night, Sosa,” Carmen said grumpily.

Jamie could feel her heart beating wildly. Making up with Alicia had been easy. She hadn't been prepared for softhearted Carmen to be so hard-hearted.

“I'm sorry. I mean, I just really needed to talk to you. I know it's late. Just look outside your window,” Jamie said.

She got out of the car and stood on the footbridge in front of Carmen's house, flashing an industrial-size light onto the giant white tarp she'd gotten at her studio. On it, she'd written in spray paint: forgive me.

Carmen was standing on the balcony of her family's house, and Jamie could barely see her in the dark, but she could hear her friend's laughter on the other end of the line.

“You know you're crazy, right?” Carmen said.

“I'm sorry we had a falling-out, but I plan to make it up to you tomorrow, by being the busiest
quince
-worker-bee you've ever seen,” Jamie said.

“Um okay,” Carmen said, “but if you miss a
Quince
Eve again…”

“No lo digas,”
Jamie said. “Don't even say it, because it's not going to happen. See you tomorrow, okay?”

“Wait a second,” Carmen said. “What's going on with your hair?”

Jamie nearly dropped her cell phone into the canal. “You can see all the way from over there? It's so freaking dark outside!”

“I can see you perfectly fine,” Carmen said. “Is your hair blond now?”

Jamie grew a little nervous. “Um, yeah. But I have no idea how you could know that.”

“Alicia called to tell me,” Carmen said, starting to guffaw.

“So you were just
pretending
to be asleep?” Jamie asked, not believing it.

“Uh-huh,” Carmen said.

“That's wicked,” Jamie said.

“So is missing
Quince
Eve,” Carmen said.

“Fair enough,” Jamie laughed. “But no make-up latte and doughnuts for you.”

“I can live with those terms,” Carmen said. “See you tomorrow, Sosa.”

A few minutes later, Jamie's cell phone rang. It was Carmen.

“On second thought, I think you'd better bring me the make-up latte and the doughnuts,” she said.

Jamie laughed. “Done,” she said.

AT THE CRACK
of dawn the next morning, as promised, Jamie was back on the job. She was functioning on only a few hours' sleep, but she was determined to make it up to her friends for dropping the ball the day before.

Binky had decided to give each of her guests a Prada beach towel, which had to be the priciest party favor ever. Because she'd left this decision until the very last moment, however, special arrangements had had to made with the Prada store to pick them up at the warehouse at six
a.m.
Since Ferris had gone home to get some much-needed sleep, Jamie got a ride to the warehouse from her dad.

The Sosas' family car was also the one that Davide used for his car-service business, a late-model navy town car. Jamie looked over at her father admiringly. She really liked being whisked around town by Ferris in one of the Mortimers' fancy cars, but she
loved
sitting in the front seat of her father's car and seeing the city through his eyes. They didn't get to do it nearly enough.

It took her and her father more than half an hour to load all the boxes. They filled up the trunk and the entire backseat. Then Davide dropped her off at Alicia's so she could get to work. “Have fun,” he said, kissing her on the forehead.

“Please, Papa,” she said, gesturing to the big stack of boxes piled behind her on Alicia's sidewalk. “Fun's got nothing to do with it.”

And she wasn't kidding. Binky and her father wanted each beach towel to be rolled up and placed in a canvas “Mortimer Industries” tote. Jamie was to tie each bag with an orange ribbon and attach a card embossed with the guest's name.

Jamie dragged the boxes to the backyard and set up an assembly line near the pool. But even with some help (and snacks) from Maribelle, the Cruz family cook, it still took her more than two hours to bag and tag all those beach towels.

When they were all loaded in the Amigas Inc. van, Maribelle came and put a hand on her shoulder. “
Ay
, Jamie,” she said, “you look exhausted. How about you lie down in the Florida room for a quick nap?”

Jamie shook her head. “Thanks, Maribelle, but I don't have the time. There's too much to do.”

She did manage to grab a snack, though, and then she took the bus to Carmen's, where she waited as Carmen hand-steamed all the wrinkles out of Binky's gown. Then Jamie took the dress via taxi to the loading dock where the Mortimer yacht was being prepped for the big celebration. She hung the dress up in Binky's room on the boat and looked enviously at the bed. But she knew she could not think about sleep. She had to keep moving.

Binky wanted each of her
damas
to wear a silver bracelet with a sailboat charm on it, and these had been ordered. So Jamie got back on the bus and headed to the jewelry store to pick the seven bracelets up. As the salesperson double-checked each box to make sure the bracelet inside was exactly perfect, Jamie looked on admiringly. They were beautiful. But she had no time to window-shop, because as soon as she'd secured the
damas
' bracelets, she had to run all the way to the opposite side of town to pick up ships'-wheel cuff links for Binky's
chambelanes
. She was standing in the men's shop, waiting for the cuff links to be wrapped, when her cell phone rang. It was Gaz. While he hadn't been partaking in the nitty-gritty of planning, he was still the music man in charge.

“I have a crisis,” Gaz said when she picked up. “My mutt dog, Lucinda W., ate the sheet music for the father-daughter
vals
. Alicia said you were downtown, and I was hoping that you could run over to Manny's and pick up another set for me and the guys in the band.”

“I can do that,” Jamie said.

“You're a lifesaver,” Gaz said, hanging up.

Five seconds later, her phone rang again. Without even looking at the number, she answered it.

“
Quince
-crisis help line; this is Jamie. How can I help you?” she said.

“Oh, my God,” Binky said. “It's like you read my mind. I'm having a huge crisis.
Huge!
”

“Well, what can I do for you?” Jamie asked, mouthing
Thank you
to the salesperson and walking out onto the street.

“My cousin isn't coming to my
quince
!” Binky cried. “Her plane is stuck in Denver. There's a massive snowstorm. Can you believe that? On
my
quince
!”

“Hold on one minute, B.,” Jamie replied. She flagged down a cab and slid into the backseat, juggling the bags and her cell phone. “In nearly every other part of the United States, it's winter,” Jamie said calmly. “And in winter, it snows.”

“Duh, I know that,” Binky said, sounding exasperated on the other side of the line. “What I mean is, why would she fly commercial on my big day? A private jet pilot would've been able to circumvent such a catastrophe.
What
.
Ever
. The point is, will you be one of my
damas
?”

Jamie tried to keep the groan out of her reply. “Binky, I have a million things to do, and each and every one of them is for your
quince
.”

Binky seemed unimpressed. “So, do them, and when the boat leaves the dock, change into the dress and show me what a stand-up
dama
you can be.”

“I guess I can do that,” Jamie said.

“Of course you can.
Muchas gracias, mi amiga,
” Binky said, clicking off.

Just as soon as Jamie had hung up, the phone rang yet again. What did Binky want now? Determined to be cheerful, Jamie once again answered with: “
Quince
-crisis help line; this is Jamie. How can I help you?”

“Well,” said a deep voice that was definitely not Binky's, “I miss my girlfriend something awful. Do you think you can help me with that?”

Dash.

“I have it on good authority that you'll be seeing your girlfriend at three
p.m.
today,” Jamie said soothingly.

“Two hours.” Dash sighed. “I guess I can wait.”

It couldn't be one o'clock already! Jamie thought. It couldn't be two hours until the Mortimer
quince
kickoff!

“Dash, I adore you, and I can't wait to see you, but I've really got to go,” Jamie said, totally panicked.

Two stressful hours later, Jamie was standing in front of the Mortimers' boat with Carmen and Alicia, checking guests in for Binky's
quinceañera
. It seemed unnecessary to the group that the entrance to the boat be guarded with a velvet rope and a professional nightclub bouncer, but what did they know? They were just there to make sure Binky got exactly what she wanted—OTT or not.

“Hi, welcome to Bianca's
quince
,” Jamie greeted each guest as he or she arrived.

Then Carmen outfitted them with plastic bracelets, and Alicia stamped their hands with a special mark visible only under black lights.

“You know, those markers are only to let people in and out of nightclubs,” said Rick, the bouncer they had pulled away from his other duties for one night.

“We know,” the girls said in unison.

“I doubt anyone will be getting on and off the boat once we're out on the water,” Rick said.

“We know,” the girls repeated.

A few yards away, Tilda Fales directed the catering trucks as they loaded the prepared food onto the boat. She made her way over to where the
amigas
were standing.

“I was just thinking earlier today that you three never get to enjoy any of the gorgeous food I make for these events,” she said. “What if I have the chefs make you each up a plate, and when you get a quiet moment, we'll bring them out to you?”

“Fabulous,” Jamie said. “You're the best, Tilda.”

“I'm always
so
hungry,” Carmen said. “Thank you.”

“No worries,” Tilda said. “I know how it goes. A
quince
planner's job is never done.”

When the last guest had boarded, the three made sure they were good to go and then joined Binky's family and friends and the birthday girl herself on the deck of the ship, throwing confetti as the boat pulled away from the dock. All of a sudden, Jamie remembered something.

“The photographer is late and is going to catch a ferry out to the boat,” she said. “But that means no one is taking pictures of the confetti departure!”

“I should have hired a backup photographer,” Alicia groaned, hitting herself on the forehead. “This is a mess.”

“Maybe not,” Jamie said. She took her phone out of her purse and tossed it down to the Mortimers' driver, who was standing on the dock and waving good-bye. “Hey, Ferris, catch! Take lots of pictures!”

Ferris dived for the phone. He gave Jamie a thumbs-up and began to snap photos wildly.

Alicia laughed. “Are you nuts? It took you six months to save for that phone. What if he hadn't caught it?”

Jamie just smiled and said, “I wasn't worried. Ferris is the man. He hasn't let me down yet.”