a target and then having your home attacked. That kind of experience changed a person.
The whole McIntyre fiasco had taken a toll on her, although it was still so recent, she didn’t yet know what the long-term effects would be. Would she ever feel comfortable living in Los Angeles again? Would she be able to regain trust in her old friends and coworkers from the soaps?
She didn’t have the answers yet. Thank goodness working on Carmen allowed her time to lick her wounds at home, in New York City, surrounded by those who loved her most. Her family was far from perfect, but at least they wouldn’t betray her secrets to reporters.
That said, she was due in the Bronx that afternoon for a barbecue, so as much as she wanted to spend the day lazing around and thinking about Ashton, she couldn’t.
The 6 train on a Saturday morning was her idea of a personal hell, so Jasmine took a taxi from the hotel to her grandparents’ row house in Castle Hill, an extravagance she never would have made the last time she lived in New York.
Seven of the twelve Rodriguez cousins were there when Jasmine arrived, along with her parents, all of her father’s siblings, and their spouses. The adults were scattered throughout the living room, kitchen, and backyard, while Jasmine’s nephews and her cousins’ kids played downstairs in the basement.
As was expected, Jasmine made the rounds, saying hello and dropping a kiss onto the cheek of every single relative. It took forty-five minutes. First she got roped into a ridiculous argument with her brother and sister about who had done the most chores when they were children, and then she actually enjoyed a quick chat with her tío Luisito’s husband, Archer, about his book club. Her parents seemed happy to see her, but Jasmine ran away when she saw her mother set aside the tray of lumpia to reach for her phone.
When she was finally done greeting everyone, Jasmine grabbed Michelle from the basement video game tournament and Ava from the kitchen and locked them in one of the upstairs bedrooms with her.
“I had sex with Ashton,” she blurted out the second the door was closed.
Ava’s eyes went wide, but Michelle just smirked. “Knew it,” she said.
“Don’t be smug,” Ava chided. Then she winced, and said, “But I knew it too.”
Jasmine sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “Am I that predictable?”
“You kinda are,” Michelle said with a shrug. She leaned her butt against the old, ornately carved wooden dresser that displayed a statue of the Virgin Mary and a dish of rosary beads on top. “But can we blame you? No.”
“There’s also serious chemistry between you two,” Ava added, taking a seat next to Jasmine. “Which is good, right? It’ll come through on the show?”
Jasmine groaned. “Except it was supposed to only be on the show. Why am I like this?”
“Because you’re an Aries,” Michelle said matter-of-factly. “You love love.”
Ava sighed and looked to the ceiling for help.
“Okay fine, you want a real answer? Look around.” Michelle waved her hands, encompassing their surroundings. “The men in this family get away with acting like a bunch of babies. They sit around eating and talking while the women do everything. The Latinx gender roles run deep. Is it any wonder our generation has made such sucky romantic choices? I don’t date.” She pointed at Ava. “She’s divorced. And you’re a serial monogamist. We’re like a freaking relationship bingo board.”
Jasmine and Ava just stared at her.
“What?” Michelle threw up her hands. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
Jasmine flopped back on the bed. “No, you’re right. I just don’t know how to navigate this. I’ve had so many relationships but this, somehow, feels way more real than any of the others.”
“Why don’t you talk us through it?” Ava suggested.
Jasmine thought back. “The first time he came over, yeah, we’d both been drinking, and it was hot and spontaneous. But we just fooled around. And he stayed the night, which—well, I didn’t expect it, and I don’t think he did either, but it was really nice, you know? And then the second time—”
“Whoa, hold on. Wait.” Michelle stopped her. “There was more than one incident? When were you gonna tell us so we can live vicariously through your affair with the telenovela star? Which, by the way, would be a great title for a memoir.”
Jasmine sent her a dark glare. “I’m telling you now.”