Hibiscus Films

Author's note: You'll see I use Felipe Cifuentes's and Carter Amos's names interchangeably for most of the story. It might be slightly confusing but it's not a mistake. He's referred to as Felipe from the narrator's or his own point of view, and Carter from Juno's and every other character's point of view.

Felipe/Carter

"Excuse me, Sir, but you have to leave."

Felipe Cifuentes felt the dread build up in his chest, not wanting to turn around and have this confrontation. He'd miscalculated that standing between the double doors of this place instead of going inside would give him a low enough profile to wait out the rain.

"Look, Miss, it's only until the weather lets up a little bit," he responded to the hostess who'd spotted him from her perch inside the restaurant. She was short and looked like she was about his age, maybe still in school. It's always the ones you think might cut you a break, he ruefully thought.

He knew that at six feet, with olive skin and mahogany brown hair and eyes, a girl like that might have thought to date him if he'd been showered and clean-shaven. And perhaps wearing something much better than an oversized trench coat and sweats. But for someone who was homeless, those luxuries were a world away.

"You can buy something or you can leave," the hostess confidently stated, just as another young woman in a hibiscus patterned sundress pushed through the outside door and strode in. He only caught her gaze for a moment, but her eyes lingered on him even as she opened the second door and went inside. Felipe noticed she didn't go far, though.

"Miss, I really need you to have just a bit of compassion, here," he tried to reason with the hostess. "I don't have anywhere else to go right now. I promise I'll be gone as soon as it's down to a sprinkle out there."

"You're making our patrons uncomfort--" she raised her voice but was soon cut off by the inside door being pulled back.

"Hey, dude, sorry, I didn't recognize you right away," the young woman in the hibiscus sundress said, standing in the threshold. "I left my glasses at home. Come on, I'm starving." Both Felipe and the hostess stood there with their mouths agape. "Are you coming?" the girl pressed.

Felipe studied her for a moment, convinced she was pushing this awkward situation into full-blown cringe-worthy territory. Imagine pleading with a service employee for temporary shelter from the elements because you're homeless, and then having a beautiful girl mistake you for someone she knew.

She was beautiful, though. He couldn't remember having a meal with any girl that lovely even when he had a place to live. She looked like she was Southeast Asian--Thai or Filipino, maybe? She had straight, jet-black hair that fell down past her shoulders, almond-shaped eyes, and a bright complexion. And now she was grabbing his arm and pulling him inside.

"Ma'am, are you sure?" the hostess checked with the hibiscus sundress girl.

"Yes, this man is my friend," the girl averred. "We'd like a table for two if you're still interested in our business," she continued, picking out a card from a pocket against the wall that read How Was Our Service? Felipe smiled to himself, still confused but admiring the young lady's not-so-subtle power move.

The hostess led them to a table that was somewhat out of the way, perhaps for her own satisfaction but also unintentionally to Felipe's great relief. She curtly handed them two menus and told them their server would be there shortly.

"Ugh, I'm never eating here again," the girl said as Felipe continued to stare at her, bemused. "At least not as long as that jerk is working here. Imagine getting paid a smidge above minimum wage and then gatekeeping for the people who'd replace you that same day if you had a heart attack and died on shift." She looked up at Felipe, and gave her head a gentle shake.

"I'm sorry, I'm Juno. Juno Ngam."

"You realise we don't know each other, right?" Felipe stammered.

"You know me now," Juno reasoned. "I still don't know you, though."

"Felipe Cifuentes," he remembered. "Why... why are you doing this?"

"I hate eating alone," she smiled. "Also, I like sticking it to bootlickers like her. Also, you're not bad looking." Felipe smiled in spite of himself, suddenly feeling a bit shy.

"I clean up good, but I don't really get a chance to do that too much nowadays," he said.

"You will soon," she said. As Felipe wondered what she meant by that, the server arrived. Felipe searched for the cheapest thing on the menu as Juno ordered. She's going to eat all that? he thought, looking at her petite frame as she asked for three different dishes. Where's she going to put it all?

"That's a big appetite for someone so small," he said, thinking Juno couldn't have been taller than 5'4".

"That's for you, hon," she replied nonchalantly. "I could have goaded you into ordering more but I figured this way was more efficient."

"I can't eat all that," Felipe protested.

"Maybe not now, but if my understanding of humans is correct, they tend to get hungry a few times each day." Felipe grimaced at her. "The food is Thai and I'm Thai, so I know what I ordered," Juno continued. "It'll be fine until tomorrow without refrigeration, especially if the weather stays cool. We're going to get most of it packed to go."

"Look, I appreciate you buying me lunch and all, but you're kind of taking it too far," Felipe told her. Even as he was saying the words, the irony wasn't lost on him that he was complaining about Juno's kindness when just minutes ago he was ruing how awful the hostess had been.

"Taking it too far would be asking you to marry me so we could share assets," she replied, just as flippantly as she was conducting the rest of their conversation. "I'm setting you up with food for like, one day, my guy. You need to cool your jets."

Felipe continued to glower despite knowing she was right.

"How long have you been on the streets?" she asked, finally breaking their mutual silence. He sighed, not wanting to get into this story because he was sure she'd give him the 'just get a job' tripe he'd heard before.

"About a year now," he said. "I don't want to give you a sob story, though."

"Unless you can make up a fun one, I'm good with any kind of story," Juno smiled wryly.

"Well, okay then," Felipe obliged. "I lost my mom when I was 14, after which my dad drank himself into oblivion. I expected him to die of liver failure at some point, but I didn't think it would happen when I was 19. I'm 23 now." He paused to examine Juno's face, but her expression was surprisingly neutral.

"He--I found out soon we weren't financially stable, so whatever was in his estate went to paying off his debts. I was in university on a soccer scholarship and I was lucky to have friends I could stay with during breaks, because I didn't have a house to go back to anymore."

"What about family?"

"I'm an only child and the rest of my family is back in Colombia," he said. "Plus, I was in school and legally an adult so I had to manage on my own somehow. I got my degree in theatre and fine arts, but the only place I had to live after I graduated was my car."

"Do you still have the car?"

Geez, that's what she got out of everything I just told her? Felipe was almost dumbstruck.

"Yes," he said aloud, slightly irritated. "I park it in an inconspicuous place and try to walk as much as I can to save on gas. I was only stuck in the rain just now because I was on my way to a soup kitchen when it started pouring. And in case you're wondering why I don't have a job--"

"I'm not, but sure, go on."

"--I do. I work at a fast-food place across town, but they won't schedule me as much as I'd like. So when I'm off, getting food and a place to clean up is a bit of a challenge."

Their server brought them their plates and Felipe felt like he could devour everything on the table, even the extra dishes Juno had ordered.

"Felipe, look," she said as she took her plate and served herself some Manchurian noodles and green curry on the side. "I'm not judging you so you don't have to defend yourself. You got a raw deal. All I'm trying to do is have a meal with a new friend."

Felipe eyed Juno warily, having no idea what to make of her. She was either the most open-minded person he'd ever met, or completely bonkers.

"I was only asking you things about yourself to know more about you," she shrugged. "I'm not going to try and give you advice like most middle-class people who think they know exactly what homeless people should be doing... despite never having been homeless themselves." She twirled her fork around her noodles and then speared some broccoli. "Do you work anywhere else when you're not scheduled?"

"Sort of," Felipe replied, feeling a touch less cautious. He shoveled a couple of spoonfuls of fried rice into his mouth before continuing. "I also go on auditions and work as day crew whenever I hear of a film shoot in the area," he said. "It's Toronto so there's usually something going on somewhere. Plus, I have enough money for gas and a basic phone plan."

"It's shitty that in a country as rich as Canada, it's still legal to pay people so little that they can have a job but still not make rent," Juno shook her head. "If a job is worth staffing, it's worth paying people enough to live on."

"What are you, anyway, some kind of activist?" Felipe finally asked her, curious as to what made this fiery girl tick. His stomach had finally stopped rumbling and he realized some of his earlier annoyance at her was just him being hangry.

"Uh, well, I'm a humanities major in university, so it's kind of a requirement," she smiled. "No, I don't go to marches or organize petitions or anything. I just think it makes sense to help in the moment you see shit happen instead of thinking back later and wishing you had."

She focused on her plate while eating, oblivious to Felipe's stares, but making light conversation throughout the meal. When they later walked out the door holding a doggie bag, Felipe smirked to himself as Juno gave their surly hostess an exaggerated wink.

"Which way's your car?" she asked them as they stepped into the humid air from Lake Ontario that washed over the city. Felipe pointed westward. "Perfect," she said. "That's the direction my gym is in." It turned out they hit Felipe's parking spot before Juno's gym, where she instructed him to get a change of clothes and any toiletries he needed.

"Hi, Cyrus," she greeted the man at the gym's front desk as she rummaged around in her purse for her membership. "This is my friend Felipe and he's my guest today."

"Ms. Ngam, your guests are always welcome here," Cyrus warmly told her. Felipe's face was a huge question mark throughout.

"If you have any spare cash," she explained as they entered the facilities, "a gym membership is a valuable asset if you're strapped for a place to live. It's not only a place you can hang out if there's bad weather or something; the hot showers alone are worth it."

An hour later, Felipe was showered, shaven, changed, and grateful.

"You're an angel," he told Juno as they were leaving. "I'm really sorry about my rudeness when we first met... it's just--" Juno held out her hand to stop him.

"Like I said earlier, you don't have to explain yourself to me or anyone else. And believe me, I'm no angel."

"There's nothing you can say to convince me otherwise," Felipe replied. He watched Juno as she splashed in the little puddles that had formed on the sidewalk as they made their way back toward his car. Then she looked at him with a heaviness in her eyes.

"You know the sugary milk at the bottom of the cereal bowl?" she said. "I add black coffee to that and drink it, and it's amazing. And you will pry my maple-tasting, coffee-flavoured-milk from my cold, dead hands."

Felipe grinned, wondering if she was ever serious about anything. He then stopped himself from wondering if she had a boyfriend. Not in this life, he thought ruefully, watching her satiny black hair flip in the wind. Maybe not even in the next one. Finally, they reached his car and Juno opened up her purse.

"Hey, I know I just met you and this is crazy," she said, scribbling something on a sticky note, "but here's my number so call me maybe." Felipe started chuckling. "If you need anything," she added with a smile.

"I don't normally give out my contact info, but you seem like a decent guy. So I'm gonna go against all the safety rules for girls that my parents beat into me since birth."

"I'm not sure there's any way I can thank you for today," Felipe said quietly.

"You're not going to be in this spot forever, Felipe," Juno told him, lightly touching his arm. "Just promise me that when you're back on your feet, you'll use whatever power you have to help the folks who need it. Okay?"

She gave him one last brilliant smile as she turned to walk back up the street, and Felipe followed her hibiscus patterned sundress with his eyes until she finally disappeared around a corner. He quickly entered her number into his phone, then tucked the sticky note into his wallet.

One day when I can deserve you, he promised himself. One day.

***Twelve years later***

"Cut! Okay, that's enough, Carter." It was what Felipe had been waiting to hear from his director for about an hour, and he immediately set down the prop sword he'd been holding. This was thankfully the last scene he had to film that day, because he badly needed to sleep. But circumstances weren't so kind.

"Carter," his assistant, Tameka, stepped forward just as he was walking off set, dying to change out of his gladiator costume. "Sorry, just one more thing and then I'll let you go home."

"I'll cut you a deal," he told her, slinging a massive, muscled arm around her shoulder. "If it's something I can pretend I'm sick for, do it. In return, I'll pay for Rahim's college." He reached into the jute bag she was holding for him and fished out his pack of smokes.

"You're already paying for Rahim's college," she countered, plucking the cigarette from his mouth. "This is much simpler--it's an interview with E Now." Felipe rolled his eyes and tried to get his cig back but Tameka yanked it away.

"I'll cut you a deal," she said. "Quit smoking right now and I'll tell the reporter you're sick." Felipe sighed.

"Fine, where are they?" he conceded.

"I was really hoping you'd take the deal today," Tameka smiled wryly. "I have no idea how you work these hours, let alone pump iron for four hours some days to prep. I could never do that even without poisoning my lungs." Felipe glared at her. "Right, right, I'm Rahim's mom, not yours. You've said it enough times. The reporter's in your trailer."

Felipe walked outside to the largest trailer on set, then asked the svelte blonde inside to give him a minute to change. He then invited her back in and propped open the door, noting the flicker of disappointment that dashed across her face.

"So, Carter Amos," she addressed him as she crossed her miniskirt-clad legs. "I have to say you look bigger in person." Her eyes moved from his goatee to his shredded arms, to his washboard stomach. It didn't seem to matter he was wearing a shirt.

"Okay," he smiled politely, ruing for the millionth time the stage name his first agent had dreamed up for him. He'd just been thankful back in his early 20s to be a working actor, which led him to overlook his agent's wildly racist notion that 'Felipe Cifuentes' was too 'ethnic.'

But perhaps it held some weight since now he was an A-list action star instead of typecast in stereotypical roles for Latino men. Maybe that's why the woman in his trailer--not to mention scores of others he'd rebuffed over the years--was obviously coming onto him, he considered as she uncrossed and crossed her legs yet again.

"I'm going to ask you about End Code," she referenced the film he was promoting for release in less than a month, "as well as the movie you have coming out next Spring."

"Right, Calderon," he reminded her. "That one is about a drug heist." Keep it all about the projects, Felipe, he told himself, hoping she wouldn't ask him about his personal life.

"But first..."

Aw, shit, here it comes.

"... it was a huge surprise all across LA and maybe the world when you and Chelsea Tenaglia decided to part ways earlier this year."

"Okay," he said with a neutral expression plastered on his face. It was the one he practiced in the mirror countless times in the days after he'd moved out of the $4.2 million mansion he'd once shared with his ex-wife and 5-year-old son.

"You're not going answer the question?" the reporter asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't believe I heard a question," he replied briskly, taking a sip from his water bottle. He knew he would probably come off as rude--despite the fact this woman was terrible at her job and made statements where she should have been asking questions--but he was running on three hours of sleep and desperately craved a smoke.

"Right," the reporter responded, looking a touch embarrassed. "You two were considered to be as solid a couple as it gets in this town. What do you say about the rumours that there was some distance between you because you were becoming increasingly anti-social?"

"Anti-social?" Felipe repeated, arching an eyebrow. This woman really didn't know what she was doing if she was going to come at him guns blazing instead of wording such a personal question more tactfully.

"Well, you, yourself, just mentioned I have two films being released just eight months apart," he said aloud. "When you work 16-hour days, all you really want to do is reset at home with your family. I think that just makes me human, not anti-social.

"Chelsea is also busy with her acting career and her clothing line," he went on. "It's unfortunate that we decided to go our separate ways, but we're committed to being active co-parents for Nico."

"How much do you think you'll get to see Nico, seeing that you've moved back to Canada?"

"First of all," Felipe said, hoping she would not pursue a line of questioning that focused on his little boy, "I didn't move back to Canada; I've always lived in Canada for at least part of the year and traveled to LA for work.

"Secondly, Nico has also spent months with me on my farm east of Toronto when his mother was occupied with her projects. The arrangement Chelsea and I will now have won't be much different."

"Yes, your farm. That's unusual for an actor who makes blockbuster action films."

Felipe remained silent, taking another sip of water.

"Uh, I mean, why did you decide to start a farm of all things in your spare time?"

"I hate to correct you again," Felipe started with a sheepish smile as he started to feel bad for the reporter. Maybe it was her first day or something. "But the farm is really half of what I do in terms of work, not something I do in my spare time.

"It's just unpaid work so I understand how some people see it as a hobby." He set down his water bottle, making sure to keep his gaze on his interviewer's face as she stretched out her legs.

"It's 100 acres and part of the land serves as a vegetable farm," Felipe explained. "It's almost September now so I'm actually going back in a few days to oversee our harvest. Every year, we donate thousands of kilograms of produce to three dozen soup kitchens and homeless shelters in the Greater Toronto Area. We're also building greenhouses on site so we can continue our work through the winter.

"A much smaller part of the land is paved," he continued, "and it's a free place for those who are living out of their cars to park overnight or indefinitely. I make no secret of the fact that that's the position I was in when I started my career." He paused as the perfect segue appeared in his head. "Poverty is also a main theme in End Code, if you want to talk about that now."