Chapter Text
“Penelope!”
She had ignored his first two knocks, which Penelope thought should’ve been a clear sign that she was not home–or not interested. With Alex at the movies, Elena on a date with Syd, and her Mami out doing something “friendly” with Dr. Berkowitz, the silence in their apartment was a rare and wonderful thing.
Of course Schneider had to show up and ruin it.
“Come on, Penelope, your mom told me you’re home. Please let me in! It’s an emergency.”
Muttering to herself about the emergency she was going to give him, Penelope left her books on the couch and unlocked the door.
“I’m busy, okay? Can’t your teeth whitener’s double-booking wait until tomorrow?”
“I told you, the bleaching process is delicate. But that’s not why I’m here. Can I come in?”
She sighed and stepped back. Realistically, since he had keys and she hadn’t put the chain on the door, Schneider waiting for permission was a show of respect.
“I was looking forward to having the place to myself, so make it quick.”
“Yeah. Yeah, sorry. I just…I really need a favor. And it’s a big favor, and I know you’re not gonna want to do it, but I don’t know anybody else I can ask.”
“Okay, I think we’d better sit down for this.” Penelope’s mind was already making a list of what might count as a huge favor to Schneider. Feeding his seahorses? Being a character witness? Oh god, please don’t let it be a medical referral for something gross.
“Well.” He took a deep breath. He let it out. “Okay.”
Though Penelope was tapping a foot impatiently, she held her tongue. He actually looked nervous, which was rare for Schneider.
“So,” he began again. “I have this event coming up. Father’s throwing a charity gala connected to his company, and usually I avoid them, but he made it very clear that he expects me to attend. Sometimes he doesn’t ask so much as decree, y’know?”
Nodding, Penelope gestured for him to continue. So far, not as creepy as she was expecting.
“The problem is, the last time we spoke, I may have implied that Nikki and I were an item. Stupid, I know, but he gets that tone…that ‘you’re never going to get it together and be an adult’ tone…and I just sort of blurted out that I was in a serious relationship.”
“Ugh. And you told him it was with Nikki? ‘Cause I thought after Homecoming that was over.”
“This was before Homecoming. But no, I didn’t specifically say it was Nikki–Father’s not big on personal details, especially anything involving feelings. He changed the subject pretty quick.”
Schneider removed his glasses long enough to rub a hand over his face, then replaced them, blinking at her. “Anyway, I was hoping maybe he forgot, but when he demanded that I go to this thing, he made it clear that I’m supposed to bring my girlfriend.”
“Oh. Oh.”
“Yeah. That’s going to be tricky considering Nikki’s long gone, and also was never really my girlfriend in the first place.”
There was a flash of pain in his eyes, that passed as quickly as it appeared, and it was the memory of Schneider saying goodnight after the dance, looking tired and alone and unexpectedly sad, that softened Penelope’s reply.
“You can’t just say she’s sick and go by yourself?”
“No. These parties are all about status and who’s with who, and showing up alone is like telegraphing that there’s something wrong with you. And I mean, yeah, okay–” he laughed, without humor, instead of finishing that thought.
“The whole point of going is to make the business look good, to make Father look good, like a successful man with an impressive heir. It’s stupid, you know? But I have to go.”
He turned his wide, pleading eyes her way. “And I have to bring a date.”
“Ay carajo. Schneider, are you interrupting my study session to ask me to be your date to a party you don’t even want to go to?”
“Well, actually…” He frowned a little, looking anywhere but at Penelope. “I’m asking you to be my girlfriend. My fake girlfriend! For that one night, just for the party.”
“I’ll pay for everything,” he rushed to add before she could reply. “Your dress, the travel, food, a hotel room if you don’t want to head back that night. I swear I wouldn’t be asking, but I’m desperate. I need…I need this to go well.”
His tone had Penelope narrowing her eyes. “There’s more you’re not telling me.”
“I–um. I really didn’t want to go. And Father is usually just as happy as I am, keeping me far from his business, that whole world. So I said no the first time.”
“Ah.”
“He was furious. He threatened to take the building away from me if I didn’t ‘show up, act like a man, and start atoning for a lifetime of mistakes.’ His words.”
Schneider didn’t seem upset about his dad talking to him that way, after he had worked so hard to get clean and stay sober. He just seemed quiet. Defeated.
Penelope felt a flare of irrational anger on his behalf. “He can’t do that. It’s yours.”
“If he got his lawyers involved, he could probably do whatever he wanted,” Schneider replied. “He always knows a guy.”
“That’s not what I meant. Schneider, this building belongs to you, just like you belong to it. You’ve put your heart and soul into this place, helping all the tenants. You think some manager your father assigns is going to babysit for the tenants, or be the chauffeur for a girl’s quinces?”
“It doesn’t matter who legally owns it.” Penelope concluded quietly. “Even if he takes it, he can’t have it. Okay?”
Schneider was blinking hard behind his glasses–but his voice was steady. “Okay.”
“Now, about this party.”
His slightly reddened eyes widened. “Yeah?”
“When is it?”
“Two Saturdays from now. The 19th.”
“That should be enough time,” she mused, sitting back against the couch.
“Enough time for…what?”
“To knock the entitled smile off your father’s face when you walk in with me as your girlfriend.”
“Penelope! You’ll do it?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like to,” she told him, only realizing after the words hit the air that they were true.
Schneider grabbed her for a hard, impulsive hug, then once he’d returned to his couch cushion, sat there grinning. “Thank you. Wow, thank you so much. And like I said, I’ll pay for everything. Dress, shoes, transportation. You just have to show up and be your charming self.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about the outfit. I’ve got plenty of those.”
He shook his head. “No. Seriously, on that I insist. You can go shopping with your mom; she’ll love it.”
“I don’t need your money, Schneider.”
“I know that. But I came to you for help…and you’re helping. So let me do this.”
Schneider reached for her hand, his voice dropping to a lower, quieter register. She never knew how to defend herself against his sincerity–so unexpected, so at odds with how she usually saw him. “Pen. Please.”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “Yeah, okay, you can pay for a dress. But not shoes.”
Penelope pointed a finger at him. “I have shoes. Got it?”
“Sure. I’ll give you my Amex next weekend.”
“I’ll hide it from my Mami.”
“Good plan.” He was still smiling at her. The silence between them was comfortable, like it always was, but the longer Schneider smiled the more she had to resist the urge to squirm. That intense focus of his was a lot when he aimed it her way.
Penelope wondered if he was going to shave this time. She banished the thought as soon it hit her. So stupid.
If Schneider noticed that she was a little flushed when she looked away, he didn’t point it out.
****
“Mami, are you ready?”
Lydia swished the curtains back, letting them frame her while Penelope grabbed her purse.
“I am ready. And I have the address for you to put in your GPS.”
The exaggerated way she drew out the letters made her daughter smile. “Well, good, let’s go. But I won’t need the GPS–we’re just going to the mall.”
“No, no, no. I am under strict instructions to go with you to a store you would not usually shop at and help you pick out a dress that will make you the most enchanting woman at the party.”
“Instructions from who?” Penelope folded her arms. “Mami, did Schneider talk to you about this? Because there’s nothing wrong with getting a nice dress from a department store that I’ll actually be able to wear again.”
“This is a very fancy party. Schneider showed me on the computer, so I could help you. And you are going to go in a dress that will make everyone who sees you very, very jealous.”
Lydia smiled. “The store, it is on Wilshire Boulevard.”
Penelope hissed out a breath. “Ay, Mami. How much does Schneider really want to spend on a dress that’ll get worn for one night?”
Her mom squeezed her hand on their way out the door. “It is important to him, Lupe. Why not give him a night to remember?”
****
As soon as they entered, a woman approached them from between the sparse displays scattered throughout the expansive store.
“Good morning,” the employee greeted them with a polished smile. “Do you have an appointment with us today?”
Penelope was about to say No, of course we don’t, do we look like the kind of people who shop at places like this? See Mami, let’s just go to the mall–when Lydia stepped in front of her and held out a regal hand.
“Yes. My daughter is here for a dress. She has an appointment with Karla.”
“Very good. Please come this way.”
The woman leading them to a waiting room was impossibly tall and thin and made Penelope even more certain that was not the place she should be looking for a dress.
As soon as the door closed them into the luxurious space, she turned and hissed, “Mami.”
"Yes?”
“What is this, some kind of conspiracy? Between you and Schneider?”
“There is no conspiracy. We have just agreed to work together, to get you ready for the party…without telling you.”
“What else did he talk you into?” Penelope stifled a groan and rested her head in her hands. “Oh, I never should have said I would do this.”
“But you did,” Lydia pointed out. “And so, we are here. According to Schneider the dresses are muy elegante and whatever you like they can alter–but of course my sewing is much better, so I will fix the dress once you find it.”
“Did you see the clothes in the window?” Penelope argued. “Nothing here is going to fit this Latina body.”
Lydia scoffed at Penelope’s frantic gesture from her head to her toes. “Schneider said–”
“Mami, I don’t care what Schneider said. Schneider has no idea what he’s talking about. He dates women like Nikki and Stick Girl. They could shop here.”
Her mom reached over to squeeze her hand. “Lupita, just give it a chance.”
The door opened and a trim blonde walked in with a clipboard and a smile. “Hi there, you must be Penelope Alvarez.”
“No, I am her mother,” Lydia replied. “But I understand your mistake.”
“That’s me,” Penelope replied, standing and offering Karla a firm handshake. Sometimes her Army training popped up in the strangest places, she realized. She really shouldn’t be this nervous over a dumb corporate party.
“Now, I understand you’re looking for a gown,” Karla said. “Why don’t we head upstairs to your fitting room?”
Aiming a suspicious look at her mom, Penelope followed Karla to a sleek copper elevator.
“I don’t have anything picked out yet,” she said as the doors shut behind the three of them.
“Oh, I know. Don’t worry, Penelope, we’re going to find something you absolutely love. But we like to work out the initial details in a more…intimate setting.”
The elevator beeped quietly, rather than the jarring ding she was expecting, and the doors opened onto a bright, white expanse of space.
This was their idea of a soothing sales floor? She thought, as Karla steered them toward a hallway lined with pastels. It was so stark. It made her want to run to Target and at least grab some loud throw pillows or something. How could anybody even think in a place with no color?
“I’m hoping that this will be to your liking,” Karla said, keying in a code near the end of the corridor.
When they entered, Penelope froze for a moment, until Lydia nudged her along. Now this was a showroom, she thought, impressed.
The gowns were draped on headless frames, arranged along three walls with a handful in the center of the room. The room itself was pale blue, with airy skylights–but pops of color dotted the walls as modern art. They didn’t overshadow the gowns…but yes, this was a room she could play dress-up in.
Lydia was already setting her purse down on a nearby chair and examining the first row of dresses with her critical eye.
“So, your escort,” Karla said, pulling Penelope’s focus away from the room. “The man who arranged this appointment, he told us that it’s going to be a white-tie event.”
“I didn’t know that, actually.” He hadn’t mentioned that when he asked. “I thought people didn’t really do that much anymore.”
“Honestly, they don’t. Galas, the occasional political or charity ball…we don’t get a lot of white-tie requests, but luckily for you, the dress code for women is very similar to black-tie.”
“Right,” Penelope replied faintly. “That’s good news.”
“It is.” Karla smiled. “It means that as long as you find a floor-length gown, everything else is open to what interests you. So, let’s start there. What did you have in mind? What do you like?”
“Bold colors,” Lydia said from across the room.
“She’s right,” Penelope agreed, turning to stare at the row along the nearest wall. “Maybe something with a little sparkle to it? Or is that too much?”
“No, not at all. If the goal is to stand out–”
“We are Cubana!” Lydia interrupted to reply, as though that were enough of an answer.
“It is the goal,” Penelope agreed with a grin at her Mami.
“Then a touch of beading or shimmer would be entirely appropriate.” Karla wrote something down on her clipboard.
She smiled at them both. “Okay. I’m going to grab a few samples for you. I’ll be back in ten minutes. Look around, see what catches your eye…let me know if you get any ideas.”
“I’m getting the idea that for Schneider, shopping must be very different from shopping at the mall,” Penelope told her mom once they were alone in the room.
“No, Schneider loves the mall,” Lydia replied as she held a skirt out in front of her, angling it this way and that to catch the light. “He likes to watch all the people.”
Not sure what to do with that information, Penelope shifted her attention to the wall behind her.
****
After two full hours of trying on dresses, waiting while more selections arrived and the store plied them with sparkling juice, she found the one.
Not too much cleavage, just sleek enough–appropriate but bordering on not. It would do the job.
“Definitely this one,” Penelope declared, handing the gown to Karla’s assistant. Now that she had found it, part of her didn’t want to let the dress out of her sight, a possessive streak she noted with surprise.
“Yes, Schneider will love that one,” Lydia said approvingly.
“Ay, Mami, you make it sound like this is a date.”
Her mother made a noncommittal noise as they watched the dress get taken to a back room.
“It’s not a date. And I don’t care if he loves it.”
“If you do not care, then why did you agree to go at all?”
“Because he needed my help. And he’s my friend. You know this–I don’t know why we’re even talking about it right now.”
“He is your friend, so you will go to his father’s party, and dance, and dress up, yes? Because you want to make him happy.”
“Yes.”
“Okay, then. Have them send the dress. Now, we find you shoes.”
“No, Mami, I have shoes.”
“We are going to get you better shoes. Shoes that will match that dress.”
“I don’t need shoes that cost hundreds of dollars to go with a dress I’m never going to wear again.”
“Schneider wants you to go to his party in style,” her mom argued. “He wants to pay for your dress and your shoes and take you as his girlfriend in front of all the people. Mira, if you want to make him happy, because he is your friend…that is how you do it.”
As though they’d planned it, Penelope’s phone went off while Lydia was still staring her down.
My card’s been authorized two stores over, Schneider’s text said. I know, I know, you can yell at me later, but…any shoes you want. Don’t even check the price tags. Please?
She looked up at her mom, who was smart enough not to say anything more.
“Fine. You win. Since Schneider’s paying, let’s go get me some freaking amazing shoes.”
****
On Saturday night, Schneider knocked at exactly fifteen minutes to seven, while Penelope was double-checking that she had everything she needed.
Lydia answered the door, and from her room she could hear the low murmur of Schneider’s voice and her mom’s flirtatious laughter.
Shaking her head, Penelope grabbed the bag she had folded a comfortable change of clothes into and went to join them.
He was so dressed up, Penelope thought when she saw Schneider. Shoes shined, white tails on his suit…it was crazy. This whole thing was insane.
“Hey,” he said when he saw her step out of the hall. Well, he breathed it more than said it, and she grinned in response.
“That’s all I get? Two hours and my mom’s help to make this happen, and that’s it?”
Schneider blinked at her for a long moment before he seemed to realize she was teasing. The dumbstruck expression on his face did wonders for her ego. “You look fantastic,” he replied sincerely, instead of joking back.
“You too,” Penelope told him. She set her bag down to grab her coat.
Lydia beamed up at him. “Si, Schneider, you look so handsome. Like an old movie star.”
“Thank you.” Under their combined attention, he looked like he was resisting the urge to tug at his collar. Penelope had to hide a smile.
“And you.” Lydia turned, pressing a hand to Lupe’s cheek. “Mira. Red is your color.”
She nodded approvingly at them. “Now, Leslie is taking me to the opera. Elena will watch Alex when they get home, and you two go have a wonderful time, yes? Make sure you dance. That dress was made for dancing.”
Lydia left them with a hint of violets in the air and a slight smile on her lips.
As Penelope shut the door, Schneider reached out to take her coat before she could put it on. “Have I thanked you for agreeing to do this?”
“Only about a million times. It’s not a big deal, Schneider, I was free–and who doesn’t love the chance to get dressed up once in a while?”
Penelope swished her floor-length skirt, watching the beading shimmer. “Especially in an honest-to-god ball gown.”
“Well, I’m grateful. I see,” he added with a grin, “that you opted not to go with the white gloves. Interesting choice.”
She shook her head. “Too much like my Mami. You know, she tried to make me wear a tiara.”
Schneider straightened his bow tie in the mirror and smoothed down his vest. “That does not surprise me at all. It would probably be too much.”
“You think?”
“You should wear a little something, though. A necklace, maybe?” He eyed her bare neck critically. “Yeah, I think a necklace.”
Before she could think of a suitable retort, Schneider was pulling a long black jewelry box out from behind his back, opening it with a flourish.
“Schneider.”
Inside was a glittering strand of red and cool white. And because it was Schneider, there was very little chance the icy shimmer was coming from cubic zirconium.
“I can’t wear that.”
“Of course you can. It matches your dress.”
“It probably costs more than my car.”
“Pen, taking the family out to dinner costs more than your car. That’s really not a good gauge.”
“I’m not going to wear a thousand dollars in diamonds around my neck, Schneider. Not happening.”
She caught the look as it crossed his face, and narrowed her eyes. “More than a thousand dollars? Are you insane?”
“That’s how this is done, Penelope. I put on the white tie, you put on the jewelry, we pretend to enjoy the night, then we come home. We go back to our regular lives, and I return the necklace to the store that loaned it to me.”
“It’s a loan.”
“Yeah. You thought I bought this?” He shook his head. “The men in my family only buy women jewelry when they’re having an affair.”
“Classy.”
“There’s a reason I have five moms,” he reminded her. “Anyway, it’ll look great on you. And when we’re done, it goes back.”
She was wavering, and Schneider knew it. “Here,” he murmured, moving to stand behind her.
Facing the mirror on her front door, Schneider draped the necklace against her collarbone, letting it settle there. “See? It’s perfect.”
Penelope so badly wanted to argue with him, but the necklace glittered in the Target-decorated living room, throwing little arcs of light up toward her pinned hair…and it made her feel enchanted. The night was all about make-believe. Wasn’t it?
“You swear, it goes back tomorrow?”
“Absolutely.” Schneider brushed stray curls up off her neck and secured the clasp. “There…we…go.”
He stepped back and smiled at her in the mirror. “Ready?”
Penelope let him help her into her coat.
“Let’s do this thing.”
****
“So, you didn’t shave like you did for the quinces,” Penelope pointed out as they climbed into the limo.
“Well, we’re here for a very serious purpose,” he deadpanned. “I didn’t want to get you all distracted by my sexiness.”
She swatted Schneider with her clutch and settled into the warm seat facing him. “Really, though. The beard and the glasses aren’t out of place at an event like this?”
He shrugged before reaching into an ice bucket on the seat next to him and handing her an empty glass. “I had to go to this thing, I’m wearing the white tie. I should be able to look a little like me.”
“I agree.” Penelope raised the glass in a toast to his words, watching him pull a bottle out and work on the gold foil at the top. “That’s not…”
Schneider smiled a little. “It’s sparkling juice. I’m the one that hired the limo, remember?”
“Right. Good.” How long would it take, she wondered, before she stopped being dragged back to the times when she had believed that Victor was going to change and then it all crashed down around her?
Schneider had been sober for years–she had never really known him as anything else–and yet that slight panic, that chill down the back of her neck, was automatic.
Something must have flickered in her eyes, because Schneider tapped on the divider to tell the driver to head out, and then he plucked the glass from her hand. “Penelope?”
“Yeah.” She and the kids were safe, she reminded herself. She was here, now, and the life she had built for them, it was working.
“You good?”
He linked his fingers with hers, like maybe that was why he’d taken the glass back–just to connect for a moment. Just to hold her hand. She nodded and squeezed back.
“Yeah. Yeah, Schneider, I’m good.”
“Anyway,” he told her as he released her hand and finished opening the bottle, “this outfit takes an average of three skilled professionals to make happen. On top of that, I really didn’t want to have to deal with a close shave.”
Letting him pour her juice, Penelope settled back against the soft leather seat. “I hear you. I needed my mom’s help to even get this gown on. Totally impractical. But, wait–if you needed three guys to get all dressed up, what are you going to do tonight after the party?”
“What do you mean?”
“After we’re done schmoozing, I doubt you have three men on retainer waiting for you to come home. And you can’t sleep in that.”
“First of all, nobody claimed they were men,” Schneider protested. “I mean, they were, but it’s rude to make assumptions. And secondly, I said it takes help for the average person. I am not your average gala attendee, Penelope. After the first hundred or so white tie affairs, you get pretty good at the ins and outs of the outfit.”
“The first hundred.” Sparkling juice nearly went up her nose, and she set the flute aside. “Why would anyone need to go through this a hundred times?”
“I actually lost count at one hundred and seven,” he corrected her. “These events aren’t always adults-only; I got started young. Lots of practice on how to dress and behave…learning what’s expected. You know?”
“No.” She shook her head as she watched Schneider drink from his own glass, “No, I really don’t.”
Penelope was starting to get the impression that nothing she thought about his life before they met was accurate at all.