Los Cuatro
Copyright© 2025 by Art Samms
Chapter 22
It was now June, with the big day less than a month away. Luz and I had just walked into an establishment that had become “our place” — it smelled like grilled onions and fresh tortillas the moment we entered. It wasn’t fancy — just a little taquería tucked between a laundromat and a pawn shop — but it was now ours. Familiar, comfortable. The kind of place where the waitress knew Luz’s order before she even opened her mouth.
We slid into our usual booth, and for a while, it was just chips, salsa, and the easy hum of conversation around us. Then Luz looked at me, her chin propped on one hand, eyes warm but searching.
“So,” she said, “in three weeks, I’ll officially be Mrs. Brendan...” she paused, letting it hang in the air with a little grin.
“Castillo-Jensen?” I teased.
She laughed. “Nice try. But seriously—marriage. What does it mean to you?”
I took a sip of my soda, stalling for a second. “Honestly? It feels like ... everything finally makes sense. Like all the wandering around I did before I met you was just waiting for this. For us.”
Her smile softened. “Good answer. I was about to take your chips away if you said ‘tax benefits.’”
I chuckled. “That was my backup.”
She nudged my foot under the table. “And kids? I know we’ve kind of danced around it before.”
“Someday,” I said, nodding slowly. “Definitely. But not right away. I want some time where it’s just us. You and me, figuring out life together.”
Her eyes lit with relief. “Exactly. I want that too. We’ll get there when we’re ready.”
For a moment, the weight of it — the realness of it — hung between us. Then the waitress came by with our plates, breaking the spell.
Luz picked up a taco, but before she took a bite, she gave me that sly look of hers. “Of course, we’ve got to survive the wedding first. The guest list is already out of control. Do you realize we’re up to one hundred and twenty-two people?”
I groaned, pressing a hand over my face. “I thought we were aiming for seventy-five.”
“We were,” she said, grinning. “But apparently, when you marry into a Mexican family, there’s no such thing as a small wedding.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Okay, but—worth it?”
She reached across the table, squeezed my hand. “Every bit of it. Worth it.”
Later that same evening, the four of us were sprawled around my living room — pizza box open on the coffee table, Luz tucked against me on the couch, Isa stretched out on the rug like she owned the place, and Marisol perched in the armchair, perfectly upright as always.
Conversation drifted, as it always did, until Isa zeroed in on the wedding. “So, rumor has it we’re approaching the size of a minor rock concert. Is that true, or is my mom just exaggerating again?”
Luz groaned. “It’s true. We’re at one hundred and twenty-two guests.”
“Hundred and twenty-two?” Isa sat up, eyes wide. “Girl, that’s not a wedding, that’s a fiesta with legally binding paperwork.”
I laughed despite myself. “That’s what I told her earlier. Maybe not in those exact words, but something like that.”
Marisol crossed her arms, matter-of-fact. “It’s what happens. You have a large extended family, Luz. And once word spreads ... people expect to be invited. It’s cultural.”
Isa smirked. “Translation: resistance is futile. You will be assimilated. And it’s like they say, Brendan. Marry a Latina, you marry the whole family.”
Marisol gave her a look. “Don’t make fun.”
“Who’s making fun?” Isa said, grinning. “I’m just saying Brendan better invest in some dance lessons. Remember that party at Tío Jorge’s place? That was nothing compared to this. By the time he’s done, half of Brownsville will have been spun around by him.”
I raised a hand. “Slow dances belong to Luz. That’s a rule.”
Luz smiled, squeezing my arm. “Good rule.”
Isa waggled her brows. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll keep you honest. As best man-slash-Maid Isa, it’s my duty.”
I rolled my eyes. “Pretty sure that’s not in the job description.”
“It is now,” she shot back, triumphant.
Marisol leaned forward, her expression softening. “Look, I know it feels like a lot. But once the day comes, none of the numbers or the details will matter. It’ll just be about the two of you. Everyone else is there to celebrate that.”
Isa nodded, suddenly serious. “Yeah. We tease because that’s our job. But really? We’ve got you. Both of you. Whatever’s needed.”
For a moment, the room went quiet. I looked at Luz, who was smiling softly, then back at Isa and Marisol.
“Thank you,” I said, meaning it more than they probably realized. “I don’t think we could do this without you two.”
Marisol gave a small nod. Isa grinned and threw a half-empty soda can into the air like a toast. “To the chaos,” she declared. “And to surviving it together.”
It was the night before the wedding. But the setting was far from typical.
I couldn’t help laughing as Isa triumphantly laid down quiz on the board, right on a triple word score.
“Seventy-eight points,” she said, smirking like she’d just won the lottery.
I groaned. “You’re supposed to be my best man, not my executioner.”
“Correction,” she said, wagging a finger, “I’m your Best Maid. Totally different job description. Part of it includes wiping the floor with you at Scrabble.”
I leaned back on the couch, eyeing the board. “You know, I had this image in my head of what the night before my wedding might look like. Somehow it didn’t involve getting destroyed at word games.”
Isa tilted her head. “What did you imagine? Strippers? Bachelor party chaos? Tequila-fueled regrets?”
“Nope,” I said without hesitation. “Not my style. Never has been.”
She studied me for a second, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. I know. And the truth is, I respect that about you. You don’t ... pretend. You are who you are.”
I felt a warmth at that, though I deflected with a chuckle. “You’re just saying that because you’re winning.”
“Maybe a little.”
We sat in companionable silence for a minute, shuffling tiles, the low hum of the AC filling the space. Then a memory tugged at me, one I’d tucked away.
“You know,” I said, “now that I have you alone. There’s something you mentioned once, back ... well, back when we were stuck in that house down in Mexico. You said you had a run-in with the cops in college. I let it go then, but I’ve been curious ever since. Care to share?”
Her eyes widened, then she laughed, shaking her head. “Oh no. You remember that?”
“Yep. And now you’re cornered.”
She leaned back dramatically, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Fine. It was nothing. Freshman year, one of my friends got stood up by this frat guy. So naturally, the only reasonable response was to buy six packs of toilet paper and redecorate his fraternity house.”
I grinned. “And the cops just happened to drive by?”
“Yup. Lights flashing, spotlight, the whole deal. We bolted but—” she mimed being tackled—”got scooped up like a couple of raccoons raiding garbage cans. They called our parents, scared the hell out of us, and let us off with a warning.”
I laughed so hard I had to set down my tiles. “That’s priceless. The great Isa, outlaw toilet-paper vigilante.”
She gave a mock bow. “Thank you, thank you. My criminal career was short-lived.”
We played a few more turns, but eventually my yawns got too frequent to ignore. I rubbed my eyes. “I think that’s it for me. Big day tomorrow.”
Isa stood, stretching. “Yeah. I should check in with the women, make sure Luz hasn’t murdered Marisol with last-minute nerves. I’ll be back early tomorrow to make sure you don’t chicken out.”
I smirked. “Appreciate the vote of confidence.”
She slung her bag over her shoulder, giving me a grin softer than usual. “You’re ready, Brendan. We all know it. Get some sleep.”
And with that, she slipped out into the night, leaving me with the quiet hum of anticipation — and a Scrabble board that proved she’d trounced me.
I stood in front of the mirror, tugging at the bow tie for what felt like the hundredth time. It wasn’t cooperating. Or maybe it was fine and I just didn’t trust myself to know the difference. My tux felt stiff, heavier than it should have, like the weight of the whole day was stitched into the fabric.
I drew in a long breath. Today. It was really happening. Luz. Marriage. A whole new chapter. I thought back to that first night I stumbled into their world, never dreaming it would bring me here. Part of me wanted to just sit down on the bed and let the emotions wash over me. But there was no time for that—guests would be arriving soon, and I had to get to the church.
A sharp knock broke through my thoughts.
“Your Best Maid has arrived,” Isa’s voice sang out from the other side of the door.
I opened it, and she waltzed in like she owned the place, wearing a sleek dress with just enough sparkle to match her grin. She gave me a slow once-over.
“Well, look at you. Mr. Bond himself. Except, uh...” She leaned in, squinting at my bow tie. “Bond’s tie usually isn’t strangling him.”
I groaned. “I knew it. I’ve been fighting with this thing for twenty minutes.”
“Step aside,” she said, rolling her eyes. “What would you do without me?” She reached up to adjust the knot. But instead of fixing it, she tugged it loose entirely.
“Isa!”
“Relax. I’m saving your life. You were about thirty seconds from cutting off circulation to your brain. Maybe that’s why you thought it looked good.” She deftly retied it, stepped back, and gave a satisfied nod. “There. Now you look like a groom who actually wants to survive the day.”
I shook my head but couldn’t help smiling. “Thanks. Guess that’s why I asked you to stand up with me.”
“You better believe it.” She plopped down on the couch, crossing her legs. “Now, did you eat? Or are we risking you fainting at the altar? Because if Luz has to catch you, it’s gonna ruin her big dramatic entrance.”
“I had some toast,” I admitted.
“Toast? Brendan! You’re about to run a marathon of hugs, tears, and vows, and all you’ve got in the tank is toast?” She rummaged in her purse and tossed me a granola bar. “Emergency rations. You’re welcome.”
I laughed, unwrapped it, and took a bite. “You think of everything.”
“Of course. I’m the Best Maid. Again, part of my job description.”
By the time we were ready to leave, my nerves had settled—at least a little. Isa kept up a steady stream of chatter as we drove, mostly about how she hoped the DJ at the reception wouldn’t play anything too embarrassing. When we pulled into the church parking lot, it was still quiet, just a few cars scattered about.
“Perfect,” Isa said, hopping out. “We beat the mob. Gives me time to case the place for emergency exits in case you bolt.”
I shot her a look as I straightened my jacket. “Not funny.”
She grinned. “Relax, Brendan. I know you’re not going anywhere. If anything, we’ll need to hold Luz back from sprinting down the aisle early.”
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.