Shane and Carmen: The Novelization Ch. 17

Chapter 17: Force of Habit

Bette, Tina, baby Angelica, Kit, and Shane sat around their table at The Planet on Saturday morning. Carmen, feeling frisky and mischievous, sat in Shane's lap and leaned over to kiss her from time to time as they flirted shamelessly and openly with each other.

Kit had always been charmed by them as a couple. "You two are so hot together," she said. Carmen laughed and Shane grinned.

"Someone's getting a little something something," Bette teased suggestively, arching her eyebrows.

Shane blushed, because last night had been the re-scheduled Cherry Cobbler Night, and she wanted to change the subject. "So, what's up with the slot machine, Kit?" she asked, gesturing toward an authentic-looking slot machine Kit had set up at the side of the room. Shane knew Kit was busy planning a major fund-raising event the following Saturday night at The Planet, to be called "Vulva Las Vegas." It was to be The Planet's first ever casino night, and all the proceeds were to go to a charity called AIDS Project Los Angeles. Kit had asked Carmen to be the DJ for the event, which she was willing to do gratis, and she was really psyched for it. Kit was too; she had just got off the phone talking to a guy named Billie Blaikie, who she had just hired to help with the event planning and organization, with the possibility of something more. He'd been the one who found the slot machine.

"Yeah, well if you know Billie Blaikie, he doesn't do anything small," Kit explained to Shane. "You guys are coming, right? It wouldn't be Vegas night without you!"

Carmen sat up suddenly, her attention captured by what Kit had just said. "Wait a minute, are you talking about The. Billie. Blaikie? Billy Blaikie! Dude, he is like the best party promoter in town!" Carmen had crossed paths with Billy a couple of times in her professional DJing. He was gay and a sometime transvestite, although it wasn't clear if his drag act was just that, an act, or if it was real. Billie was a born showman, though, and perhaps it didn't matter.

"Kit was thinking about hiring him as her new manager," Bette said. "This event is kind of a tryout for him. An audition."

"Oh, my gosh!" Carmen exclaimed raising her coffee cup up to toast Kit. "Congratulations, lady!" Kit laughed and clinked her cup to Carmen's.

"Yeah, it's great, if he can just keep it in his pants long enough to close out the bar," Bette said. They laughed, because they knew of Billie's other, less reputable reputation. Whether he was wearing men's clothes or women's, Billie had a problem keeping his dick contained in the workplace.

"Oh, I'm sorry, but before we forget," Shane said to Bette, suddenly remembering, "we can't make it to your baby birthday party next Sunday" -- she was interrupted as Carmen dabbed something off her face -- "We have a kin-sin ..."

"Oh, that's right," Carmen finished her sentence. "The quinceañera."

"Yeah, the quinceañera."

"Oh, don't worry about it, it's just really an excuse to have a baby play group and birthday celebration," Tina said.

"Wait, I don't get it," Bette said. "What's a kince..."

"Quinceañera," Carmen said.

"Quinceañera," Bette said, getting it now.

"It's a big birthday party to celebrate a girl turning fifteen," Carmen explained, "and it's my cousin's birthday, so..."

"So it's kind of like a Latino bat mitzvah mixed with a Sweet Sixteen," Bette laughed.

Carmen laughed, too, and nodded. "With tamales."

Just then Alice and Helena came into The Planet and walked over to the table, with Helena hanging back. Each of them had brought to the table their own storm clouds, and the gang knew it. Alice was still having troubles adjusting to Dana's new relationship with her old flame, Lara, the gourmet chef. And a few weeks earlier Helena had used some of her vast Peabody family fortune to buy Shaolin Studios, where Tina worked. The fact that Tina had had an affair with Helena the previous year still rankled Bette, who treated Helena as she would a dangerous snake. Everyone struggled to maintain a civil facade, but it wasn't easy.

"Hey, what are you guys talking about?" Alice asked, breezily, hoping to keep things light.

"We're having a party tomorrow for Angelica's sixth-month anniversary," Tina said. "You wanna come?"

"I would love to come to that six-month-old birthday party," Alice answered happily. And then she had to add, "I'd love to bring Helena."

Helena drew in her breath in surprise. "Alice!"

"I think it's time," Alice said defiantly. "I think she should be there."

"Well, they are good friends..." Carmen helpfully tried to offer, meaning Tina and Helena.

"Yep. They're always hanging out," Shane put in.

"Well, then Helena," Bette relented icily, "if you really don't have anything else to do, then it'd be fine ... if you came to the birthday party."

"Thank you," Helena said sincerely. "That's really sweet of you, but you really don't hav--" and she stopped as she realized Bette had turned and walked away.

Tina got up from the table, embarrassed, looked at Alice and Helena, and walked away shaking her head.

***

Carmen usually took longer getting dressed than Shane did, by an order of magnitude, being more girlie and taking more time with the hair, the makeup, and the general pleasure of dressing. Shane just threw on whatever it was she was wearing that day. Nevertheless, Carmen was dressed and ready for the quinceañera by 12:15 Sunday afternoon. They were going to meet her mother and sisters at the beauty parlor where cousin Evi worked, to have their hair done. The appointment was for 1 p.m., and everyone was supposed to be at the church hall by 3 p.m. Most of the Morales clan had been to mass that morning, which was a traditional part of the quinceañera, but Carmen was able to beg off that part of it. Everyone in the clan knew by now that Carmen had some sort of grievance with the church, and they were resigned to it, whatever it might have been about.

Carmen had chosen a beautiful, summery sundress in light colors with large flower patterns on it. She wore heels and light make-up, and looked gorgeous, as she usually did. She lay on the couch in the living room, gazing at the ceiling, one high heel dangling idly from the leg she had crossed over the other. She knew Shane was apprehensive, to put it mildly, and she was sympathetic about Shane's dawdling -- up to a point. "Shane?" she called out. "Shane, come out."

She heard Shane come slowly down the hall and into the dining room. Carmen saw Shane's head peer around the corner cautiously. Carmen laughed at the hang-dog, whipped-puppy expression on Shane's face.

"Come on out, let me see," Carmen said.

Shane stood in the doorway, wearing the white dress Mercedes had forced her to wear. Poor Shane. She looked so unhappy. It really was a nice dress, but Shane just wasn't a dress-wearing kind of girl. Carmen looked down and saw that on her feet Shane wore a pair of white gym socks and a pair of hightop black sneakers. She didn't want to laugh, but there was no choice. She covered her mouth and hooted.

"Oh, my God, you look like you're five!"

Shane hung her head and pouted. "I feel like a piñata," she said.

"You're too small to be a piñata," Carmen couldn't help but tease, "but how about the top of a tranny wedding cake?"

"You're not helping me," Shane said, feeling put upon and sulking.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, baby," Carmen said, getting up and going to Shane to hug her. "That wasn't funny, was it? Let me see. Well, it's okay," she said, holding Shane at arm's length while she checked out the dress. But Shane was still sulky and her lower lip stuck out like an unhappy child's.

"Aw, come here, come here," Carmen said when she saw the unsmiley face, her tone softening and now motherly. She kissed Shane's neck and nibbled on her ear. "Does this help you at all? Hmm?"

"No," Shane said, refusing to be comforted.

"No?" Carmen asked. She kissed Shane some more, on the top of her shoulder, on her neck, nibbling and softly kissing until she finally got a reluctant "Mm-mm" sound out of her. Carmen put her mouth up close to Shane ear, kissed it gently, and then whispered into it, "Quiero lamberte hasta que te vengas en mi boca mil veces."

"What does that mean?" Shane asked, still pouting, but melting by the minute.

"I want to lick you until you come in my mouth a thousand times."

"Uhhhhhhh," Shane said, her knees getting weak. Carmen continued kissing her, her hands passing over Shane's breasts to her hips and then slowly pulling up Shane's skirt to bare her legs and her underwear. Carmen was surprised to see Shane was wearing her most butchy dark jockies instead of panties one would have expected under such a dress. She laughed again. What was she going to do with this hopeless, helpless tomboi?

"What's with these?"

Shane pushed her hands away and fluffed down her dress huffily.

Carmen stepped back, regarding the hightops. "What are we gonna do about the shoes?"

"Wha?"

"You can't wear those shoes," Carmen said firmly. "You have to change them."

"No!"

"Yes! Stay here! I'm gonna get you a pair of cha-cha heels."

***

Mercedes was sitting in the front hairdressing chair in the beauty parlor when Shane and Carmen arrived. Waiting their turns were Aunt Begonia and Patty. Evi, although dressed for the quinceañera, worked on Anna's hair.

"Oh, my God! Chane!" Mercedes exclaimed when she saw them come in. "You look so bonita! Look, everybody!"

"Hello, everyone," Carmen said cheerfully to her family.

"This is Carmen's friend, Chane," Mercedes said, introducing Shane, although almost everyone there had met her before at Mercedes' house. "She's wearing my dress."

"Where is Marciela?" Begonia asked. "Shouldn't she be here getting ready with the rest of us?"

"Probably outside smoking cigarettes like you did for your quinceañera," Mercedes said cattily to her sister as the hairdresser doing her hair whisked away the cape and let Mercedes up. "Okay, it's Chane's turn now," Mercedes said, pulling Shane toward the chair. "Come on, Chane."

"Oh, mom, no, it's okay..." Carmen tried to intervene, knowing Shane had already been pushed to the maximum.

"No, um, I..." Shane tried to protest, but as usual her words were far behind events.

"Such a pretty face!" the hairdresser said, pushing Shane into the chair and putting the cape around her. "I'll make sure you look pretty."

Carmen laughed. "It's okay, it's okay," she comforted Shane.

"Shane, you hair's a little uneven," the hairdresser said. "You want me to cut it straight?"

"No!" Shane burst out vehemently, but immediately softened her tone. "I mean, no ... um, thank you, I think ..."

"Okay, okay. I have another idea," the hairdresser said.

Begonia sat filing her nails and reminiscing. "Carmen, did you know that before her quinceañera your mama was in Ricardo Lopez's car making out with him until the church was filled?"

"Mamita! You never told me that story!" Carmen exclaimed, laughing.

"That's because it wasn't true, mita," Mercedes huffed.

From her chair at the side of the room Abuela muttered to Carmen, "Era verdad." (It's true.)

From her chair Shane asked, "Was Carmen good during her kin-cin ..."

"Quinceañera," Carmen said.

"She was an angel, always!" Begonia said, fondly and smiling at Carmen, who beamed.

"Oh, Carmen was the nuns' favorite," Mercedes said proudly. "Isn't that true, Carmencita?"

***

"Carmen? Could I speak to you a moment?"

Carmen was sitting in a pew toward the rear of the church, waiting her turn for confession with Father Eduardo. It was a Saturday afternoon in early August, and the church was only moderately busy. Most parishioners had come and gone by now, which was why eighteen-year-old Carmen liked to come later, rather than earlier.

She looked up into the bright, smiling face of pretty Sister Rosario, a nun in her thirties who was one of Carmen's very favorite teachers, and of course the feeling was mutual. It was true: All the nuns throughout the parish and Father Eduardo, too, loved Carmen, and why not? She was smart, funny, warm, giving, open, friendly, charming, pretty, cooperative, playful, mischievous, thoughtful, the list went on longer than the Boy Scout oath. And even better, unlike many teens Carmen had no cattiness about her, nor any smart-ass attitude, no sass nor teen sulkiness and moodiness, no sullen defiance. With Carmen what you saw was what you got, and what you got was always very nice. Even the "bad" girls who hated the goody-two-shoes couldn't help but make an exception for Carmen.

"I hope I didn't interrupt a meditation," Sister Rosario said.

"Oh, no, Sister. I was just waiting my turn." There was no way Carmen could tell Sister Rosario what she was really meditating about: She was mourning the loss of her friend -- her lover -- Lucia Torres. Lucia wasn't dead, though she might as well have been. She had simply run off with that dickhead gangster Pablo Fuentes, her longtime boyfriend, who had gotten in trouble somehow and was wanted by the police. So one evening six weeks ago Pablo had to flee Los Angeles, and had talked Lucia into going with him on the run. Lucia had time only to scribble a quick goodbye note to Carmen, and like that she was gone, on the run somewhere with an admittedly handsome, sexy, muy macho asshole with shit for brains and who had no idea his own tall, passionate, sexy girlfriend was a flaming bisexual who clicked Carmen's castanets every chance she could whenever Pablo was busy with his asshole gang friends. It was a grieving process Carmen had had to hide from everyone, most of all her family and her friends at the church such as teachers like Sister Rosario.

"Do you want to go somewhere to talk?" Carmen asked.

"Oh, no, we can talk right here," Sister Rosario said. "Scoot over." Carmen slid down the pew, Sister Rosario sat down and they turned to each other to talk.

"I have good news," Sister Rosario said. "News that I hope might affect you, too."

Carmen raised her eyebrows, curious.

"A week ago, Father Eduardo tasked me with starting up a fall program for the youth and teen program," the nun said, "and we decided we want to kick off the program with a back-to-school dance in the parish hall on the Labor Day weekend Saturday night, right before the older teens head back to college, and the high school kids start their classes. And then, throughout the fall, we'll have a dance every second or third week, and a Halloween dance, and a Thanksgiving weekend dance, and so on."

"Cool," Carmen said, smiling, "that's a great idea. But what has that got to do with good news for me?"

"Well, first, I have a little bit of budget to work with," Sister Rosario said, "for decorations, advertising, refreshments and things like that. And I managed to get Father Eduardo to cut loose with some money to hire a disk jockey to run the music part of the dance. It's not much, just an honorarium, really, but it's better than nothing. And I know you're going to start your freshman year at the community college in a few weeks, and I know you're working very hard waitressing to make money for school. So here's what I thought. I want you to be the DJ for these dances. I'm sure you know all the music the kids listen to, and I know you have the good sense to weed out the music we'd find offensive, with the foul language. And not only that, you have the charm and the presence to be the DJ hostess. You know all the kids, and they know you, too, so it's not like we'd have some stranger there DJing. Father Eduardo would only allow me $100 per dance for the DJ, but I guess it's better than nothing. And who knows, maybe it'll be fun and start you on a whole new career path."

"Oh, Sister! I'd love to," Carmen gushed. "It'll be so fun!"

Sister Rosario didn't bother telling Carmen how hard it was to get Father Eduardo to get off the dime and give her some budget; he seemed to think one could organize a series of dances for no money whatsoever. Nevertheless, Father Eduardo was a strong supporter of youth programs, perhaps because his primary joy in life was sucking the penises of 12-year-old choirboys. Sister Rosario had been in his parish for several years, though, and knew by now how to play him. She held her trump card to last, finally telling him that the person she wanted to pay to be the DJ was their very own parish angel, Carmen de la Pica Morales. With that, Father Eduardo's heart melted, and he smiled, nodding his head. Yes, he agreed, sweet little Carmen would be ideal. Such a lovely girl, easily one of the friendliest, prettiest girls who ever came through the parish. And when Sister Rosario told him about Carmen starting college in the fall and needing tuition money, he caved completely.

Over the next three weeks, Carmen worked very closely with Sister Rosario, spending every free moment at the church parish hall. Carmen waitressed in the late afternoons and evenings, so had the mornings and early afternoons free. She and Sister Rosario made up a formidable two-woman task force, sweating over every detail of the decorations, the layout of the hall, recruiting mothers, fathers and kids to help out on the refreshments committee, the clean-up committee, the chaperon team, and so on. There was a small office in the basement of the church hall next to the storage area where all the folding chairs and tables and other equipment was stored when not in use. Sister Rosario and Carmen made the tiny basement office their headquarters. Sister Rosario was impressed with Carmen's work ethic, her determination and perseverance. Sister Rosario knew a little about modern music, but nothing like what Carmen knew, and she quickly stepped aside, letting Carmen handle all the music selection and acquisition, rounding up the CD players and storage racks for the disks and special effects strobe lights for her DJ table. Carmen's Aunt Begonia's second husband, Miguel -- Uncle Mike -- worked downtown at one of the movie studios as a lighting engineer, and he was able to teach Carmen everything she needed to know.

Carmen proposed that to maximize turnout they give away door prizes and awards, as many as they could round up. That there was no extra money wasn't even a momentary bump in the road; they'd go around to all the neighborhood businesses in the parish, cadging donations for prizes, a free pizza, dinner for two at the restaurant where Carmen worked, CDs, T-shirts. There would be some gag gifts, and some really nice gifts. The local businessmen were hit up by the church all the time anyway, so they were more than used to this kind of benign extortion. If there was a businessman in the entire barrio who could say "no" to either Sister Rosario in her nun's habit and wimple, or to sweet, pretty Carmen who stuck out her lower lip and batted her eyelashes, well, that businessman simply wasn't human.

Labor Day weekend came, and the dance was a huge success. Attendance was even better than they had anticipated, and all thanks to Carmen, who had gone around the neighborhood talking to everyone she knew, pleading, begging, cajoling kids to come to the dance. She flirted, flounced, smiled, wheedled, got all her family and friends to be recruiters as well. And although Carmen was unaware of it, a good many of the kids who might otherwise have stayed away came to the dance simply because of its star attraction: Carmen, who billed herself as DJ La Pica. And up on the raised dais La Pica turned out to be a sensation, charming, funny, sexy in a church-acceptable way, making a few minor mistakes but laughing at them and turning them into happy moments. They played the last song at 11 p.m. and then the sextons turned off the spotlights and stage lights they'd set up, and brought up the house lights. Carmen was exhausted but floating on a cloud: Sister Rosario gave her a big hug and sent her home, promising that Carmen could forget about the clean-up detail. Carmen had already done more than enough. Carmen was the heroine of the parish.