“What does that mean?” I ask.
“More than half of the population is Mexican or Mexican-American. Sometimes Izel and I take long weekend vacations just to go there. It’s like being in Mexico. Amazing food and all that.”
“I’d like to go there sometime,” I say, feeling homesick for real now.
“You planning on moving here or something?” Mandy asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know what my plan is now. It kind of took a detour.”
Mandy smiles with understanding, and I love her intuitiveness more than ever because she changes the subject.
“So, I met this guy,” Mandy says as she tosses her hair over one shoulder as she did when she was flirting with my furniture delivery guy.
Tlali and Izel both lean in with interest. “Do tell,” says Izel.
“And thank the stars, I hope this means you’re over that otherpendejo,” adds Tlali.
Mandy rolls her eyes and ignores those comments about whoever her ex was. “His name is Chris. I actually met him at Valentina’s.”
The two cousins glance over at me. “He was my furniture delivery guy,” I explain.
“Oh, my god, there were three of them, and they were all so hot. I almost want to have furniture delivered and send it back so they can come back again to pick it up,” Mandy says.
Tlali raises her glass to Mandy in cheers of approval, and they clink glasses. “How’d you pick?” Tlali asks.
“It was so hard, guys. Seriously. It was like I was a kid at a candy store.”
“She was drooling like one too,” I say, and Izel snorts with her laughter.
Mandy rolls her eyes again. “In the end, Chris had the thickest arms.”
“And you do love you some thick arms,” Izel says.
“That I do. Anyway, there he is in the living room, and Valentina and I are watching him put together her sofa. And he is sweating and looking hot as hell; I couldn’t help it. I ask him for his name, and I invite him to my art show. Then I give him my number.”
“And he calls?” I ask.
“No,” Mandy says. “Well, not fast enough. So I call the furniture company, I got the name from the truck when they left, and I give them your address. I tell them I was impressed with the delivery service—which isn’t a lie—and that I’d like to thank them personally. They give me their numbers, and I call Chris.”
“Stalker much?” Tlali asks.
“Shut up. I call him up, and he sounds glad I called.”
“What do you say to him?” I ask, thoroughly impressed by hercojones.
“I tell him he took too long to call, and his window was closing. He claims he lost the flyer and was glad I called—not sure I buy it, but I give him the benefit of the doubt. He asks me out for drinks, and I take him to the studio for a nightcap.”
“So, how was it?” Izel asks.
“Amazing,” Mandy says. “I’m surprised I’m walking today.”
I almost spit my wine out but manage to keep it in. It goes down the wrong pipe, and I start coughing. Is this what women talk about? What girlfriends talk about? I mean, it’s no worse than the locker room talk at the gym, but I’ve never heard bluntness like this from women before.
Izel sighs and stares off into space. “I need to get some. It’s been too long,” she says.
“Amen, sister,” Tlali joins in, and they clink glasses.
“How long?” Mandy asks them.