so—I never caught him at it, anyway—but then, he made everything look natural.”
“Girls—”
“All over him. And he soaked up the attention, but also knew that it was the fame and the money that was part of the allure. He always told me I was the lucky one, because the girls who came my way liked me for myself.”
Essie frowned. “It’s not as if you’re hard to look at.”
He smiled at her. “You, either.”
“Would he…would Felipe…” She glanced down at her hands. “Would he have liked a little sister, do you think?”
Joaquin’s chest tightened. “Sure.” And he was almost glad she’d never met Felipe, because her loss would have been greater to know him and then to lose him.
Fucking Felipe.
Something hot and ugly churned in his gut. He breathed through the pain of it, then ruthlessly willed it away. “Do you want to see the park where they put up a plaque in his honor? It’s not far. Our father donated money for a building in his name after he died.”
They drove there, and this time they got out and walked on a shady path to the Felipe Cielo Youth Center. Inside it was clean and there was ping pong, a foosball table, couches and bookshelves filled with magazines and books.
Some kids lay on the carpeted floor, staring at their phone screens.
In the distance down a hallway, he could hear the splat of a bouncing basketball on hardwood. They headed that way, and Joaquin was drawn up short when he noticed the framed photos on the walls. Enlarged stills from the set of Felipe’s three major movies, including New Kid. There was even a photo of Joaquin, skinny and sullen-looking, on the weed-choked playground from the opening scene.
What would he tell that kid if he could go back in time and talk to him?
Watch your brother more closely. Tell your father Felipe’s out of control.
As if that would have helped.
That burn began in his belly again, but once more he quelled it.
“I’ve got another place we should visit,” he said, turning from the old photo. “Let’s go.”
Their next destination wasn’t a shady, residential street, but the gaudy circus of Hollywood Boulevard with its throngs of tourists and strutting “superheroes” and “celebrities” willing to make a photo op in trade for some cash. Musicians played on the street corners, banjos and fiddles and a group of Peruvian musicians with pan flutes. With his arm around Essie’s narrow shoulders, he threaded them both through the crowd of people, their heads bent as they scrutinized the Walk of Fame.
There were stars—five-pointed, pink terrazzo, outlined with brass—embedded in the sidewalk naming entertainment notables in the categories of radio, theater, television, music, and film. Some were ignored by the visitors because the names were of people long gone and forgotten by most. Others became places where fans lay tributes. When they came upon Felipe’s, Joaquin wasn’t surprised to find it scrubbed, polished, and with half-a-dozen fresh, blood-red roses placed across the tile.
Essie crouched, then used one finger to trace his name. With that same fingertip she brushed the petals of a flower. “I didn’t know he has his own star. Mom never said.”
Joaquin cleared his throat. “He would have gotten a kick out of it,” he said. “And of you visiting.”
Fucking Felipe, he cursed again, missing out on all this. But he sucked the viciousness from the thought and stood behind his sister so that the mass of people flowed around them. When Essie finally stood, she hung on to Joaquin’s elbow and looked up.
“Thank you,” she said, with their brother’s smile.
“You’re welcome,” he replied and led her back to his car.
She seemed lighter in spirit now, so he decided the afternoon called for a little more driving. He headed up Laurel Canyon Boulevard and then turned onto Mulholland Drive. As they wound along the ridgeline of the Santa Monica Mountains, he heard Essie release a little sigh.
The sound spurred him to pull into a generous overlook that offered a stupendous view of the Los Angeles basin. He turned off the car and stretched his arms overhead. Then he glanced at Essie.
“So are you ready to talk now?”
She shifted in her seat to turn his way. “I’m ready to talk about you.”
“Me?” He blinked at her. “Why me?” But he heard Sara’s voice in his head. She wanted to find a way to feel close to you. Of course Felipe wasn’t the only sibling missing from the girl’s life.
“I’m a boring business guy,” he confessed.
“We’ve already