Lola and the Rolling Stone

Chapter 25

"Who was that?" he asked seeing her face change.

"Sol. She said mom and dad want us to come over for dinner." she told him with a sigh. "Are you up for that tonight? I don't want to spring it on you...but...she asked..." he said to him.

"Yeah. Let's go." he answered her sweetly. "What time? What should I wear?" he asked standing up.

"Umm...cas...we're just going to sit around and drink sangria and talk about my grandparents." she said. "That are crazy."

"They're crazy?" he asked. "Like how crazy?"

"Like they live down the street and spend all their time at the house meddling in my father's restaurant and my mother's clients' lives crazy." she told him. "All in Spanish. With an accent." she emphasized the zeta that her grandparents spoke with. They had moved to the United States from Argentina in the 1990s, to help take care of Lola and her sister when her parents decided having a nanny was unnecessary.

**

Wait...here's the part where I tell my All-American story. My parents are first generation Generman- Argentinians. We can trace the family history back to late 1800s Germany when a boatload of Germans decided between the North and South America. My family chose the Southern route and ended up being bankers, farmers and all around city folks in Buenos Aires. With being so swanky and upper class my father, Roberto, studied abroad in upstate New York. He fell in love, and instantly, after graduating from high school high tailed it to the NYU (helllloooo legacy!!). He brought my mother, Rosario. My mother is beautiful. While my father managed to keep up the German lineage in Argentina, my mother's side of the family was so mixed that there was no way to tell left from right within her family history. Both my maternal grandparents came from the same small tribe in rural southern Argentina. My mother was ambitious, vibrant and wanted a change. Her change came when her parents scrapped up enough money to send her to a private school within the city limits, where she met my father. It was hard, her mother would tell her, to decide between staying in Argentina and becoming a teacher, an advocate and a change maker. My father, though, persistent as he always was, brought my mother with him after she graduated with a degree in business from la universidad de Buenos Aires. They started their lives together in the early 80s in suburban New York City, and that's where they stayePunch buggy. And that's where Bruno and I were going....for better or worse....

**

"So now that I know everything about your family...." Bruno started sitting in the car next to her watching her drive. "I just cannot believe you actually drive..." he said to her watching her squint into the sunlight.

"We have one car...they took an Uber to the Hamptons...so we have the car...." she said watching his eyes light up and his arm hit her shoulder.

"Punch buggy red." his infectious laugh enulfed the car for a few seconds until her arm hit his.

"Punch buggy red, no tag backs." she smirked.

"Wait...I already got you.." he said pushing her playfully.

"You didn't say no tag backs. So I got you." she said to him plainly as traffic started to move.

"What do you even mean?" he asked honestly confused by the direction of the conversation.

"It's just to protect yourself...you can't double hit someone on the car..." she said to him glancing to the side of them seeing another Volkswagen Beetle. "Punch buggy green, no tag backs..." she smiled.

"Oh. Damn. Now I get it." he said. "Fuck youuuuuu." he sang to her using the melody of the song he wrote several years ago.

"Don't hate the player, hate the game." she laughed at him turning up the radio. "So you're going to sell this TV show to whoever and then do what?" she asked him.

"I don't know." he said. "Produce it. Sit at a table for four days a week to write the show with all these people that are way smarter than I am...." he said.

"Do you want it like on a network or like Hulu or Netflix?" she asked.

"I'm not sure...." he answered. "You probably know more than I do...."

"No....not really..." she said. "I know a lot about publishing and twitter...you know way more about tv than I do..." she said.

"But you've done TV before..." he said reaching for her leg touching it lightly.

"Are you trying to boost my confidence, Brunz?" she asked with a sweet smile.

"Maybe a little." he said running his fingers along her shoulders.

"It was local stuff for Bridgeport. It wasn't anything big. It wasn't the Super Bowl big..." she said ignoring his hands on her body.

"So you're coming if I do it next year?" he laughed.

"If it's warmer than Jersey was...." she answered.

"It's close to homeeee...." he sang to her. "If you come and live with me then we can go...."

"Didn't you say it was in Santa Clara?" she asked. "That's near San Jose. That's nowhere near LA...." she raised her eyebrow looking at him confused.

"Damn. You know your geography." he sighed watching her take the next exit on the highway.

"We're almost there...." she said. "Like 10 minutes away..."

"Oh my gooddddd." he pretended to shake. "I'm sooooo nervous."

"You're going to be fine." she said pulling into a circular driveway behind a bright red Audi.

"Venté...": she suddenly said to him.

"What?" he asked.

"Oh. And we speak Spanish at home." she said opening the door hearing Spanish music playing in the kitchen.

"Mammmiii." Lola yelled pulling Bruno behind her. "Estamos aquí."

"Ohhhh, mi amor, Cristelita...." her mother said wrapping her arms around her daughter. "Y su guapo novio....Bruno?" she asked reaching over to Bruno hugging him the same way she hugged her daughter.

"Hola...." Bruno said a bit concerned.

"Mucho gusto, Bruno. Vamos a comer. Y podemos hablar sobre lo que pasó..." she started turning to her daughter rambling about something. Lola turned around to Bruno seeing his eyes a bit worried unsure if he would be able to talk to anyone throughout the evening.

"Oh Bruno...." her father walked into the room. "Don't worry. We speak English in the house."

"Papa! Yo ruined the joke...." Lola whined. "I wanted to see how long he could last without crying." she laughed loudly as her mother joined in her laugh.

"Thank God." Bruno said holding out his hand. "I'm Bruno. It's nice to meet you. Delores has told me a lot about your family."

"Come sit down...." Roberto said to Lola and Bruno. "We want to hear all about your trip to LA, Delores..."