The Spectator

Chapter 17: No Party Like a Vazquez Party

A/N: Just want to precede this chapter by saying that primo Julio is based off of a real person. He's a sweet guy but a real fucker sometimes in the best way, so don't feel bad about all the Argentinian/Cuban competitiveness. It's all playful, I promise. Once again, translations can be found at the end of the chapter!

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     An hour later, Nate, Dan, and Serena arrived at the Vazquez household. Nate hadn't really had any expectations of what Ella's family home looked like, but he found that it looked a whole lot like the rest of the small, ranch-style suburban homes that dotted the landscape. The yard was encircled by a chain-link fence, the grass was sparse, a few gangly palm trees swayed dangerously close to the power lines that hung over the sidewalk... and the din of music could be heard from where they stood.

     It was already dark out, but Serena's eyes shone in the orange streetlights.

     "Sounds lit," She commented excitedly. She may have been an upper east side princess at heart, but she knew the sound of a good party when she heard it, no matter where it was. Dan, of course, couldn't care less where his parties took place. And Nate... he wasn't nervous. He was absolutely not nervous, as he shoved his hands into his pockets nervously. He definitely wasn't totally regretting having been jealous of Ella, either, now that he was here. In Miami. At her parent's house. Where she would undoubtedly be inside and probably wearing a godforsaken dress that would make him want to try kissing her again. Nope. Not nervous. The three of them couldn't have looked more out of place as they swung open the low gate and approached the front door.

     Serena paused in front of the door, before turning.

     "Should I call her or..."

     "Just ring the damn door bell," Dan laughed stepping forward to do the deed. They heard Home on the Range play faintly on the artificial bells inside. The door flew open. A man with skin like worn leather, a salt and pepper beard, and surprisingly blue eyes opened the door. He peered out at them for a moment in confusion, a hand on his potbelly.

     "Uh... is this Ella Vasquez's house?" Serena asked when he didn't say anything. His face broke into a bright smile.

     "Ah, si! Ella's friends, no?" He asked, stepping to the side. "Come in, come in!"

     "Thank you!" Serena grinned, stepping inside.

     "Ustedes... eh, speak any Spanish?" He asked, accent thick but clear.

     "Solo un poquito," Serena giggled while Dan and Nate shook their heads. Nate caught the man's attention.

     "Wow, mira esos ojos-- your eyes, they're like mine!" He exclaimed, before winking. "No, pero estas guapisimo m'ijo. You must get a lot of ladies!"

     "Papi!" Ella suddenly appeared from the bowels of the house with a horrified expression on her face (and not wearing a dress after all, just some jeans and a tank top, oddly enough.) She quickly smiled and stepped in front of her father. At least her friends were laughing at his antics, which was good. She relaxed a little, but slapped her dad's arm nonetheless. "Are you harassing my friends?"

     "Harassing? Quien dijo que yo estaba 'harassing' anyone?" He asked indignantly. "We were just having a conversation, no?"

     Nate nodded. "Yeah, El. He was about to give me some tips on picking up ladies, right?"

     Ella's father cackled. "Exactamente, see? He gets it. Who wants beer?"

     All three of them raised their hands. Ella's dad clapped his hands together in satisfaction.