Jaime gulped. Time to make his escape. “Good night, Señora.”
“Good night.”
He walked into Alma’s bedroom. It was odd that he was sleeping in her childhood room, especially without her. There was a giant poster of Selena on the wall and another of Diego Luna. He was about to shut her door when he saw Carlos lurking in the hallway.
Might as well get all the family talk over. “Hey, man. What’s up?”
Carlos shook his head. “Nada.” Carlos stared at Jaime. “Actually, can we talk?”
“Of course.”
Carlos walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind him.
Carlos sat next to Jaime on Alma’s small twin bed, covered with a crocheted blanket her mom had made. Jaime nervouslylooked out the window at the citrus trees. What did Carlos want? He hoped it wasn’t another guilt trip about Alma.
“Sorry again about roping you and your family into the festival,and even more sorry about giving you so many drinks that you had to stay here. I know that’s super weird.”
“It is a bit, but don’t worry about it.”
“And my mom is a piece of work. She’s a die-hard romantic. And Alma hasn’t been serious about anyone since you broke up so in Mamá’s head she feels you are meant to be.”
“I get it. It’s fine. As long as Alma and I are clear. I don’t want to mislead her.”
“Good. Then we won’t have any problems.”
Carlos looked at his feet.
Jaime had been pretty close to him years ago, and he had never seen him this nervous. “You okay, bro?”
Carlos nodded. “Yeah. I am. I just wanted to ask you something.”
“Anything. Shoot.”
“Look. I know you are already going to fundraise and donate for the park. And I hate to beg. But my soccer program is bankrupt. The parents can’t afford the dues or uniforms. You saw our field—it’s shit. There are so many talented players down here, and they honestly don’t have a chance. It’s not fair.”
Jaime exhaled. Carlos was right. “It isn’t fair.”
“And, I haven’t told Alma this, but I’m not going to be able to continue being a coach. I need a job. I can’t keep living with my parents, even though they say they don’t mind. I’m twenty-seven. One day, I want to have my own family and my own house. Which probably won’t be possible in Marin.”
He was right about that. Gentrification had taken over SanRafael. There were hardly any homes under a million. It was impossible for most families to ever dream of owning a home in the community they grew up in.
“I’m sorry, man. I don’t know how I can help.”
Carlos turned to Jaime, his eyes pleading. “Don’t you have a foundation? I mean, doesn’t the Montez Group?”
“We do. There is a board of directors. We do mostly charity in San Diego. Restaurant worker funds. Food shortages. That kind of stuff.”
“That’s great. And really important. But I know how much you love soccer. And you are super talented, not just saying that to butter you up. It’s true.”
“Thanks.” Jaime lived to play soccer when he was younger. He’d had all the resources to make his dreams a reality. But his father didn’t want him to pursue being a professional. Jaime wished he had pushed back.
Carlos stared into Jaime’s eyes. “I’m asking you to consider funding a world-class club soccer program here in the Canal. Pay for top coaches. Buy uniforms and equipment for the kids. The children here are so talented and can go all the way. But they don’t have the opportunities. I don’t know anyone else to ask. And I know you have already done so much but I’m going to shoot my shot.”
A burst of hope flooded Jaime. He could do this. He could make a proposal to the board and fund this. Something he loved. Something he was passionate about.
But he didn’t want to overpromise and underdeliver. If he told Carlos he could do this, he needed to be a man of his word.
“Bro, it’s a great idea. And I will do everything in my power to make it happen. Let’s talk the logistics tomorrow.”
