Caray, Caray!

Dear Amigos/as – I noticed there was a rumor that some mystery recapper was coming tonight, but it’s just me. ;-) Of COURSE we couldn’t put anything over on you all! Carlos has the night off, doing the kind of thing we all hope our SOs will do for us in turn—escorting the Lovely Linda out (okay you grammar police out there, no, I don’t want my SO escorting the Lovely Linda. I want him escorting ME). So, here you have Schoolmarm filling in, though they are big shoes to fill since Carlos’ wit and humor are so awesome! Also, thanks to Julia, Sylvia, and JudyB for their wonderful recaps earlier this week, which I haven’t had time to comment on due to three late nights in a row with travel and meetings. My apologies for getting this up slower than usual. Had to blow the carbon out of the pipes to get up to speed on recapping.

Both parts are up now, it's all here!

Such a bright, cheerful morning after in the breakfast room at The Big House of Horrors in the Basement (aka the Casa Ruiz y de Teresa. Okay, maybe it’s not limited to the basement). Tacky and Tasteless Kristel wisecracks about the Boda Night [that didn’t bode well for Emanuel]. “Must have been exhausting!” Emanuel gives her a side glance and half smile. “You have no idea.” Emiliano snaps at Kristel, and gets a “Whaaaat?” look for his trouble. Emanuel defends Kris to his Papi. “Nothing happened.” [Ed. Note: Truer words have never been spoken, let’s compliment the writers here for a spectacular turn of modismos.] Kris gives him an air hug, to which he just gives her a good-humored fist bump ala Howie Mandel and they grin like goofballs at each other. The true life of the party has made her grand entrance, though. Ilitia’s as sparkly as Weary Willie this morning. She greets them all and refuses to eat as Emanuel, the perfect gentleman, jumps up to seat her. Kristel stage-mutters (no whispers for her) that Ilitia better eat since she’s pallid and haggard (ojerosa). [Way to go, Kristel, you’re two for two this morning.] Fedra thinks the child is just exhausted, and urges Emanuel to get her out of here on a nice little trip. “Great idea! What do you think about…Switzerland?” Fedra’s fork stops halfway to her mouth. [What, she’s not enchanted with it?] Ilitia runs to hug Emanuel, squealing with delight at the prospect of being scanned or better yet patted down by TSA. Oops, wrong country. Emanuel hugs her back and remarks he’ll take advantage of the opportunity and kill two birds with one stone: he’ll take his little lady on the honeymoon she deserves, and bring his little sister home with them. He looks around…. “Good?” Fedra grits her teeth and nods abruptly.

At Netty’s Slightly Irregular Boardinghouse, we are reminded of the Cuartel of the Feas because they’re always in a pack chitchatting. Today the subject is the lien on the house, which Netty apparently forgot about while she was busy being a diva again. [Ed. note: a kind, gracious diva, to be sure, but a diva nevertheless.] She incurred the debt for Marianela’s university education and didn’t bother to pay it back when she was in the $$, because she had to get those clothes and ride in a limo. Mamá Dolores’ replacement Gladiola (the voice of Netty’s Conscience) scolds her on priorities. Netty’s head was in another zone, Gladiola notes with disgust. Consuelo volunteers them all to help Netty pay. Netty ignores Glad’s glare, and graciously thanks Consuelo, leaning over to grasp her hand. Brandon and Oliver save the day with fast food from the taquería for everyone—let’s hope they can still pay their part in this deal Consuelo just sealed. More chitchat flies by, and Doris strides in as the boys go off to the kitchen to drop off the bags. Doris beams as she greets the family and takes a post behind the sofa. By a remarkable coincidence the doorbell immediately rings and Brandon answers it. Look who’s here! It’s Victoria de la Garza/Mari, in her smart little blue and black number, to face the crowd in the naca pensión living room. Netty jumps up, staring in shock as Brandon introduces “Victoria de la Garza” to her. Doris folds her hands nervously, waiting for the verdict. Gladiola and Consuelo stand to look, too. Netty gasps that it can’t be. Behind Vicky/Mari and Brandon, Manolo/Gretel tries to trot in manfully, but just struggles with two rolling suitcases. Vicky/Mari and Brandon turn and watch the struggle. Oliver strolls in and looks disconcerted. Vicky/Mari introduces herself again when Oliver asks who that guy is (totally ignoring that he’s asking about Manolo), and then introduces her really small sidekick brother as “Manolo de la Garza.” Manolo/Gretel grins goofily. And gives them a not-so-macho “mucho gusto.” Manolo shuffles nervously. [Ed. note: Excuuuse me. NO one here recognizes Marianela’s beautiful face, smile and eyes without her silly glasses? Or, Gretel’s with those other silly glasses?] Apparently not, but Netty remarks on how much Vicky looks like the defunct Eva when she was younger, how precious! [Ed. note: must have been before Eva’s facelifts.] Vicky’s smile fades fleetingly. Brandon explains she’s Marianela’s best friend (no doubt), and just in town from Spain. Manolo nods vigorously in agreement. Brandon wants to know if they’d like a coffee or what, and Vicky cleverly jests about that question not being part of last night’s interrogation. She exchanges a fond chuckle with Manolo, who chuckles heartily in response. Netty welcomes them. Vicky tells Netty that Mari always talks about her, and how much Mari loves her. Her grin stretches from ear to ear. That nails it for Netty - any friends of her niece’s are her niece and nephew, too. They can even tutear her (use the informal form of you reserved for family and close friends), which clearly means they can consider themselves part of the family. So how is Mari, anyway? Better than ever, Vicky reports. Brandon watches with a love struck gaze. Mari has gotten married and lives in Paris. They’re all impactados. “Marianela got married?” Netty whispers. Brandon’s love struck gaze isn’t so much any more.

The morning after is not so bright and cheerful at Casa Porta López. Muñeca insists that something’s going on with Ilitia. Lorenzo gives her the Sigh of Exasperation usually reserved for wives to give their husbands. What could be wrong? She just got married to the love of her life, hablablabla. Yeah, but her sixth sense picked up something. Call it a mother’s intuition….Low cuts her off, pokes her with a cattle prod pumped up to a couple of hundred volts, and points out she’s never been a mother so there’s no way she has mother’s intuition. Her glare could freeze him to stone if he ever bothered to look her in the eye. But, he’s the Daddy and he knows these things. He thought Ilitia looked beautiful and radiant. He sneers at Muñeca’s stupidity. Even in spite of the burglary. Muñeca doesn’t need a reminder about that. Instead, she does a 180 onto a non sequitur subject. She’s so glad Fidel brought the kiddies. Huh? Why bring them up? They didn’t need to be there—they had no place in his daughter’s wedding, he retorts. She reminds him she wants to adopt. What? Adopt who? These are the two, Manzanita and the no-name boy, that Muñeca wants to adopt. “What, are you nuts? Puh-leeze!” Muñeca doesn’t give an inch. “What a bad memory you have. Don’t you remember that not long ago you proposed to me that we adopt?” He shakes a finger scoldingly at her. “Things have changed.” She snaps back that nothing’s changed; their marriage is still the great farce it always was. (You go, girl!) Low tells her to do what she wants. She can collect children from all over the place—Africa, China, whatever—the United Nations of adopted kids. He’s wasting his time here and going to work. Muñeca is left sighing. Fidel finds her—he’s heard she’s looking for him. He’s all smiles. [Ed. note: one wonders if there’s a sparkle in his eye at his terrific employment situation, or something else.] Muñeca would love to know why he was suddenly hanging around at the Big House of Horrors during the wedding reception. His face falls. Thud.

Low hasn’t gone too far—just to the yard. He checks out papers in his hand and flashes back to his last social call on our favorite spook, Garduño, in the other Big House (the one with no picture windows), when the G told Low his son is still alive and had been dropped off on the street by G’s doofus duo buddies. He remembers that the G proposed a game: whoever finds the baby first, wins. If Garduño wins, it’s not a pretty picture for the little guy. Low deliberates briefly, then calls his henchman Santos in a panic. He’s bringing by a photo of the boy that’s two years old and there aren’t many clues to go by. Money’s no object, just find the kid.

Muñeca, meanwhile, expertly grills Fidel. [Does Brandon know about this talent?] She was pretty clear—she told him to take the kids back to Casa Hogar and take the night off. He knew full well she was coming home from the wedding with her husband. So how come he hung out at Fedra’s so late? Fidel recovers nicely, reminding her that addition to being her chauffeur, he’s her bodyguard since her kidnapping. She points out she’s always trusted him, so he shouldn’t let her down. He’s still working for her. Fidel somberly goes back to work and Muñeca wonders if he’s the Lirio de Plata. [Not according to us, he’s not. That wouldn’t give us any nice sparks with Vicky/Mari at all.]

Fedra backpedals as fast as she can while trying to eat. (Apparently she never met my grandma who insisted that we not eat and talk at the same time). Fedra’s too busy thinking up 99 or so reasons why it’s a Bad Idea for Emanuel and Ilitia to try and bring Gretel back to think about good manners at the moment. Emiliano likes the idea—free Gretel! (Oh yeah, that’s Carlos’ line from another recap). Emanuel goes on the attack—it’s more than two years since they saw her! (Ilitia has joined the group, even if she isn’t touching the morning-after breakfast. Nice designer touch, having the three of them on that side of the table in shades of purple and pink. Poor Axel is banished to the other side of the table. Must be the blender hair. And they’ve left Gretel’s seat empty, plus one more for good measure. If the three on Emanuel’s side put their elbows on the table too hard and tip it, Axel will end up with breakfast in his face—that might help the hair.) Axel joins the fray, though. He doesn’t see why they can’t bring Gretel, he sternly tells Fedra. Fedra sneers and babbles about the doctors calling the shots and Gretel’s still nuts, so she can’t come home. She intently looks at her food, no doubt so she can cut it right. Emanuel thinks Gretel’s treatment needs a change. It’s obviously not working. Fedra gets increasingly agitated as she argues and Emiliano gets increasingly disgusted with her. He HOPES that she is not hiding anything from him. Fedra looks up warily. Emil gets up with a warning: if she tries to mess with him, he’ll find out. He stares menacingly and throws the gauntlet down. Or, it might be his napkin. Emil stalks away from the table, still glaring at Fedra. Kristel gleefully makes a sophomoric gesture and Fedra pouts.

The Cuartel de la Pensión is still gathered for a family meeting. Netty laments that her little Dumpling married, moved to Paris and didn’t even invite her Auntie! Gladiola chides her—how would Netty expect to get there when you can’t get there by burro? Vicky defends Marianela—they married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout and there was no time for formalities. That should beg the question….nah, we won’t go there, and Netty doesn’t think of it, either. Manolo watches, worried about getting busted. Netty presses about the groom. Is he a nice guy? Will he make Mari happy? Oh, sure! Mari gets off the hook as she spins the tale out a little more. Doris interrupts that she’s so happy Vicky/Mari has come to live with them. Oliver looks on, wary about this odd couple in his living room. Doris says that Vicky is lovely and Manolo is mighty handsome, and Oliver erupts. “You’re calling HIM handsome (el viejo este-this old guy, a term of total disdain)?” They all discuss the lovely pair as if Vicky/Mari and Manolo/Gretel are not even there. Consuelo takes issue when Brandon calls Vicky beautiful and reminds them all that they aren’t going to be living there free no matter what their relationship with Marianela, especially when there’s a crisis going on here. Consuelo storms off to find her son and feed him. She leaves Brandon and Gladiola bemused by her sudden fit of temper. Netty gets back to business. Vicky can use Mari’s old room and Manolo can bunk with the boys. Brandon tells them he’ll get out of the room. Doris offers to share, which is of course unacceptable. After some tap-dancing and panic, looks like Manolo could end up bunking with Oliver. Yikes. Manolo/Gretel prefers to stay with his sis. But, oops, there’s only one bed in there. Yep, Manolo/Gretel definitely is ending up with a very hesitant Oliver. Oliver grouses that Manolo better not snore or anything. [Snoring is not likely to be the problem, Ollie.] Doris is Not Pleased. Netty has it settled, though. Oh, and by the way, this house isn’t exactly mine, she shares with them. Any time now the bank could come and seize it. Vicky/Mari is impactada. Netty jumps up, that’s enough of that. It’s time to chow down and hear about Mari’s wedding and all the news. She drags Vicky/Mari off to the dining room. Manolo/Gretel sidles past Oliver, who smirks at the rube, then grimaces as he watches Manolo/Gretel go off.

Back in Emanuel’s bedroom [Ed. note – there’s an idyllic wedding night tryst spot, for sure. Nothing like the whole family having access to the audio all night. Oh, that’s right, not a problem here, though.] Ilitia begs him not to go and leave her alone. He apologetically tells her he has a meeting, and he’s not in a very good mood, and he’s got a lot of work….She tries again to hold him there, telling him she owes him an explanation. What happened was pretty ugly. It’s her turn to be apologetic. Emanuel smiles his best grin of forgiveness. [And 95% of us here melt. Sorry, guys.] No, it wasn’t exactly ugly, but it wasn’t the wedding night that….Ilitia interrupts. She doesn’t know what came over her. [Yeah, right. Just TELL the man, already!] Maybe it was….nuptial stress? [Ed. note: I adore that word “estrés” because it’s so deliciously Spanglish. One of my all time faves.] Emanuel chuckles—there is no such thing. Ilitia protests. Of course there is, if she says so. [Okay, maybe the line wasn’t exactly like that.] She explains it’s a kind of trauma, something that happens with a wedding. (We’ll buy the trauma part, and it definitely happened with this wedding—it was at least marginally related)…..she gives him a pixie-ish smile and shrug while she makes it up as she goes. Emanuel, bemused, wants to know how that works. It takes time to work out of it, she assures him. Time and love. Emanuel apprehensively asks her to let him know when it’s gone. Ilitia agrees she will and he goes, leaving her pensive.

Night has fallen and dinner is done. At the naca pension, Netty bounces up, then apologetically excuses herself to air out Mari’s room, which has been sealed like a tomb for a looong time, leaving Vicky/Mari with Brandon. Vicky/Mari is beat and sits down to wait for Netty. Vicky/Mari, with that angelic smile, wants to tell him that Mari was right when she said he was a very special guy. He seizes the moment to find out what else Mari has told Vicky about him and plops down on the sofa next to her. Nothing much, just that all the folks in the boarding house are good people and she can trust them. [Ed. note: got that “vosotros” right down there, and the nice lisp ala Spain. Would we do so well with a British accent?] “Was that it?” “Yeah, why?” Brandon continues that he has the police nose (K-9?) and he’s sure there’s something more she hasn’t told him. He wants the truth, he smiles confidentially to her, inspiring trust. Who is she, really? [Ed. note: Well, so much for your police nose, Brandon. It didn’t give you a clue about who she really is. And you’re not inspiring trust.] Vicky/Mari has the good grace to look dismayed. So much for the police skills again. WE all know that Marianela gets that look when she’s caught out at something.

Gladiola has the bed ready for Manolo/Gretel. She remarks that Manolo knows where the bathroom is, and if (s)he gets cold, just tell Oliver. [Hee hee]. Manolo/Gretel gazes over one shoulder longingly at Oliver and wishes she could do that, and he could hold her all night. Oliver, who has been standing by the window looking smug and annoyed notices the gaze (now THAT’S some good police work there—that gaze was just sooooo subtle) and fusses at Manolo/Gretel, trying to break into the fog. “Listen up, son, the Sra. Is talking to you!” It results in the desired effect of getting Manolo’s attention refocused away from Oliver. “Oh, of course, Doña Gladiola, talk to me!” Manolo/Gretel is startled out of the reverie. Glad protests the Doña thing and has missed the entire last two minutes of slightly irregular interaction. Her Mom radar isn’t up with Oliver, just with Brandon, apparently. She repeats the stuff about getting cold and telling Oliver. Manolo/Gretel nods nervously, looking back over a shoulder again at the subject of those erratic thoughts. Glad bids them good night and gives Oliver an air kiss and blessing. Then she turns and gives Manolo/Gretel a stern once-over, followed by a fake grin and nod. Oliver and Manolo/Gretel face off—the latter with a distinctly uneasy grin. Manolo/Gretel sits onto the edge of the bed. [Ed. note: what decent poli is not going to notice that Manolo seats himself with exactly the graceful move that Gretel does? Sheesh. ]

Now that they’re alone, Oliver goes into a litany about how hot it is in this room. He’s always getting overheated. [And Gretel is just about to]. Manolo/Gretel flaps the jacket to cool off, in agreement. Oliver does a lovely strip tease, babbling on about wanting to cool off from the heat and removing his shirt, then his jeans, all the time looking warily over his shoulder at Manolo/Gretel. “Are you going to stay like that?” Manolo/Gretel panics, realizing Oliver means it’s time to undress to hit the sack. “Fully dressed, like you’re on horseback or something?” Oliver’s down to his shorts and medallion. Manolo/Gretel is in full panic mode. (S)he calls him Big Guy (macho, but it’s recapper license) and calls herself a blockhead (cabeza de bruto) nervously explaining that (s)he forgot pajamas. Oliver scoffs. Real men sleep in t-shirts. He’ll loan one, no problem, he grins. Oliver leans over with his back to Manolo to open the drawer and realizes Manolo’s getting a free shot. Oliver jumps back and sideways to open the drawer, throwing Manolo a t-shirt. He directs Manolo to put it on. As Oliver stands with his arms crossed insisting that Manolo put the t-shirt on, Manolo/Gretel anxiously thinks about an escape and breathes hard. [Calling Dr. Carlos –bring your sphygmomanometer and take a reading!]

Downstairs, Brandon has started the second degree, even if they do look pretty cozy on the sofa. He tells her directly that this stuff about her being Mari’s best friend, well, he doesn’t buy a word of it. Man, why not? Vicky/Mari goes into the well-rehearsed story of them going to college to study public relations together, etc. They’re practically like sisters. ;-) (Yup). So when Mari heard that Vicky and Manolo were coming to Mexico, she recommended they board here. She doesn’t see anything weird about that. [You’ve been watching too many telenovelas, Vicky]. Brandon is still friendly enough, but the questions are blunt. So, why didn’t Mari call them and give them a heads up? Vicky/Mari pours on the Spanish accent. For Mari to leave them all had been very difficult. He has no idea how Mari suffered. Brandon still looks doubtful. VIcky continues that for Mari to talk with any of them would have made her way sad. Brandon accedes that she left to forget Emanuel, but she also ended up forgetting all of them. A little hurt creeps out in his voice. Vicky/Mari, who never wants to hurt anyone’s feelings, is sad.

There’s still a problem upstairs. Oliver pushes Manolo to change, and Manolo/Gretel insists that (s)he wants pee-hamas. Oliver is irritated and wants to do a speech lesson. Pee-yamas, pee-YAmas! As a bonus, he’s giving macho lessons. No self-respecting macho man wears jammies, they wear boxers. Or nothing. He shakes a little boody in emphasis. Manolo/Gretel is horrified. “Stripped?” Manolo will get too cold. Oliver scoffs again—does Manolo need his Teddy and maybe a little cup of hot cocoa, too? Oliver crosses his arms in disgust. Or, does Manolo by some chance bat for the other team? Manolo/Gretel protests—with the machos, of course! Oliver mocks a little more. Here the only two machos are Oliver and Brandon and neither one wears jammies. There’s a new problem. Manolo doesn’t wear undershorts. Manolo/Gretel studies Oliver’s face, waiting to see how that’ll fly. Oliver chuckles and calls Manolo “chiquillo” (kid) and “canijillo” (short stuff, Little Guy, Shorty, but it has several meanings and some of them aren’t very schoolmarmish. “Bad egg” is about the best of them). Oliver smirks about “going right to the root,” (andar al raíz) letting it all hang out, like a bell clapper swinging in the wind (under the bell/campana). He gestures with his arm, leaving nothing to our imaginations, and laughing. [Ed. note: the double entendres in this novela…..sheesh]. Oliver laughs at his wit and says he’ll loan some shorts. No longer heeding the shot from the back that Manolo/Gretel is getting Oliver leans over and pulls out a pair of boxers. He opens them and checks out the inside, then holds them up and takes a deep whiff. Suddenly he realizes he has an audience…… Abruptly Oliver declares that they’re clean, and tosses the boxers to Manolo. There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Manolo/Gretel sucks it up and scurries off to the baño to change, leaving Oliver perplexed at the prude.

Vicky/Mari and Brandon have made it upstairs, too. She smiles wistfully, looking around, and thinks about how long it has been since she’s been in her own room here, with her things and books. What a heap of memories! Brandon feels compelled to point out it’s Mari’s room—obviating the obvious. It’s not a suite in a five-star hotel, but it has a sense of Mari—even her perfume. He sighs about his Marianela and she looks at him fondly. Vicky/Mari assures Brandon with a smile that even a luxury hotel couldn’t be better. Brandon leaves her with a last thought—she can count on him for anything she needs. But keep clear of those Ruiz y de Teresa--they’re worse than the plague. Vicky/Mari, finally alone, sighs and sits on the bed. She’s not sure she can stand all this. But, she has to follow through with her promise. She begs an invisible being for strength.

Meanwhile, down the hall, Manolo/Gretel is changed and Oliver is sacked out. Manolo/Gretel drops the discarded clothes on the floor and tiptoes (as much as a flat-footed person can) to Oliver’s bedside. (S)he reaches down and tucks Oliver’s hand arm under the covers. Good thing Oliver doesn’t have to have his poli reflexes in gear when he sleeps. So far, he’s missed two cues here in the last five seconds. Manolo gazes at Oliver’s sleeping self while tiptoeing to the other bed, but doesn’t lie down. Instead (s)he does that graceful sitting thing again. Manolo talks to her/himself. It’s just weird to have Oliver so near and yet so far. What if she told him it’s her here with him? Nah, she can’t expose him to that risk. Fedra would kill him. Manolo/Gretel gets up and goes over to lie beside Oliver, thinking that she’d give anything to be in his arms again [Ed. note: not to put too fine a point on it, but how much closer to being in his arms could you be here?] She would love to feel all his again. Manolo/Gretel puts her arm around him and nuzzles him with her moustache leading. Oliver murmurs to his little caramel, his little poisoned one and sleeps right on through it all.

Vicky/Mari unpacks and finds photos of Emanuel still in the bed stand drawer. She takes them to the desk for a closer look. “It was useless.” She decides she just couldn’t keep up all that hatred she felt for him. She can’t understand what comes over her when she’s close to him! Her heart jumps, despite all the hurt he gave her. Vicky’s/Mari’s is palpable. Despite all the distance, etc., she is still in love with him. Vicky/Mari calls herself a fool and tears the photos up. [Nice symbolic gesture, but we know it won’t wash, Mari.]

SECOND HALF

It’s morning in the D. F. Doris lectures Manolo/Gretel on keeping the moustache in place, leaning over to secure it again. [How much slobbering did (s)he do over Oliver all night?] Manolo/Gretel protests—(s)he knows, but (s)he’s just so nervous! Oliver’s going to be back from his shower any second now. Speaking of the king of Rome, while Doris chides Manolo/Gretel not to move, Ollie makes a grand entrance, resplendent in his robe. Oliver yells and they both jump. He’s not thrilled to see Doris working on Manolo’s upper lip, so he doesn’t give it further scrutiny to ferret out the cat in the bag. Oliver grabs Doris by the arm, hustling her out of the room and telling her he wants to talk alone with this little monkey (capuchin in any language is a little monkey, no? That would be except when it refers to a friar….and it’s entirely possible that Ollie is calling Manolo/Gretel a little friar….) Manolo/Gretel freezes in the chair in fear. “That’s enough, already!” Oliver slams the door and stalks back to Manolo/Gretel. He yells he’s going to teach m/g to respect the ladies of the house. M/G quivers.

Fedra hasn’t made it out of the bedroom and her robe--how delightful to have household help to bring your coffee…. [Can’t complain, though. Hubby’s downstairs chopping veggies for homemade black bean soup. That trumps bringing me coffee any time. I hate chopping.] She’s desperate and can’t fathom why they have no news about Gretel in so long. Her tone says he’s directly responsible. Bernardo points out things take time—he can’t just snap his fingers (to snap one's fingers - chasquear los dedos) and Gretel will magically appear. Fedra fusses that this woman could destroy her. Bernardo’s soothing, sultry, sinister voice continues that the guys watching the pensión for him just reported that a gal and a guy showed up. One is that type who showed up at the wedding. That Victoria de la GarTHa. Fedra snarks about the “caperuzita” which obviously is slang for something (caperuza – hood, caperuza roja, Little Red Riding Hood). Fedra has a feeling –and he knows she’s rarely wrong – that Gretel is in that boardinghouse. That bunch of nobodies has her hidden. Bernardo asks what she wants him to do. Fedra stares back with a challenge and raised eyebrows—he should know.

Speaking of the queen of Rome hidden in the pensión, Oliver is still chewing her out. In fact, he’s ready to take her on. Oliver gestures for her to just try and postures. In his bathrobe. Manolo/Gretel gives her best attempt at de-escalating him—she’s a peacenik, no need for violence here. Ollie shakes his finger at her—not even a full day in the pensión and she’s making moves on Doris. Manolo/Gretel tries again, on another tack. “What’s going on with you, Big Guy? You like the chick or what?” [Nice way to kill two birds with one stone, Gretel.] He retorts that if he likes Doris, it’s his business, not Manolo’s. Manolo/Gretel protests that Doris said she and Ollie were just friends. Okay, Oliver doesn’t know exactly what’s happening to him with Doris. But, he just wants Manolo to respect her. “Okay, uncle, calm down,” Manolo/Gretel urges him in a low voice. The sadness in Manolo’s eyes is clear if anyone’s bothering to take notes. Oliver thinks that it might be worth the trouble to get something going with Doris. He tells Manolo not to interfere. “Got it?” “Yeah, uncle, got it. But, it's bad to get involved with her when you still love someone else.” “Who told you that?” Manolo/Gretel stutters around about how they’re Mari’s friends, has he forgotten? Mari’s talked about Oliver….and Gretel….. Oliver lunges and grabs Manolo by the shoulders and gets right in his/her face. He yells that if Manolo wants to save those teeth, he better never talk about Gretel again in his presence. That woman is dead and buried for Oliver. “Did you hear me?” He storms out of the room, leaving Manolo/Gretel with a tear and shuddering.

Could Vicky/Mari get any hotter than she has been in the last couple of days? Apparently so, judging from Consuelo’s irritation and Brandon’s admiration. Vicky/Mari struts her stuff tastefully in the living room with Brandon trailing. She’s looking sharp in a strapless super-short white and black bandaid. Consuelo grouses to herself that Brandon only has eyes for the newly arrived chick. Her son voices his admiration for the lovely Vicky/Mari. Mami grabs the puzzled lad by the wrist and hustles him off to school. Manolo/Gretel descends with Ollie right behind; they stage a mini glare-off at the bottom. Doris is a better detective than the Qui-estón Cops (say it slowly twice, then fast twice and you’ll have it….) because she notes a little tension immediately. “What’s wrong?” She twirls around to ask Manolo/Gretel if everything’s all right. Manolo/Gretel worriedly insists that she not worry. (S)he pastes on a smile and greets everyone. Netty wants to know how everyone slept, to which Vicky/Mari replies well, and Netty has them sit to chat before breakfast. [Ed. note: since I eat breakfast standing with the hair dryer in the other hand, I can’t imagine being this relaxed in the morning.] Vicky/Mari gingerly seats herself on the edge of the sofa so the cameraman doesn’t get too much detail, and Netty asks more questions. Vicky/Mari studied advertising and Manolo/Gretel, who has joined her on the sofa carefully to look macho in slacks, studied…um…. journalism. Brandon has such a deal for Manolo. Manolo can follow them around and get the scoop when they nail the Lirio de Plata. That should give Manolo’s career a boost. “Lirio de Plata?” [Oh, right, Gretel hasn’t had internet access for a couple of years now.] Vicky/Mari pipes in that he’s just some thief running loose. [Ed. note: no one seems to note that someone who has been traumatically bound and gagged by the Lirio de Plata within the past 48 hours should have been likely to mention it to her closest living relative, but it’s telenovelaland.] Oliver says it’s not for much longer, though. They’ll mop him right up. He snaps his fingers. Brandon volunteers Oliver to be the lucky poli with an embedded journalist. [And I use the term loosely….] Manolo might like it, and he’ll be able to send some good reports—those sell. Oliver is incensed and tries to shut his bud up. Brandon just bulldozes along there—he’s got some boring assignment that wouldn’t interest Manolo. With Ollie it’ll be an adventure; there’ll be action. Vicky/Mari interrupts. She’s got an important interview with an advertising firm. She beams and deftly diverts all attention from Manolo/Gretel. Vicky/Mari is going to see Sr. Emiliano Ruiz y de Teresa. Netty’s jaw drops. Brandon points out again that since she’s Mari’s friend, she really shouldn’t be involved with these folks. Vicky/Mari points out that if Mari herself said she should go look for work in the firm, it should be okay, and it belongs to Mari anyway, right? Netty warns her about that witch Fedra—they’ll ruin your life, pay attention to me here. Oliver, all serious for a change, agrees. Fedra is the devil. He hopes Vicky never has the bad luck to meet her. Vicky/Mari asserts she’s already met Fedra and isn’t afraid of her. Manolo/Gretel chips in that big sis knows what she’s doing. Brandon gets to the real point. It bugs him that she’ll be close to that jerk Emanuel Ruiz y de Teresa. That guy already has his eye on her. [Ed. note: now there’s a fine piece of police work.] Vicky/Mari contends that he’d better not think about messing with her—it won’t suit him because she’ll just put him in his place. Netty is doubtful. Looks like Vicky/Mari might be, too.

Wow, what a lovely house! Oh, it’s Mauricio’s. The Qui-estón Cops are running an op. Mauri wants to know why. Brandon’s just got his bulletproof vest for protection, but apparently the other guys expect trouble since they have full SWAT gear. Or, they want to remain anonymous. After seeing months of Mauri’s tricks, I’m with them. Mauri spits out that instead of Brandon and his riffraff (gentuza) wasting their time messing with Mauri, they should be out catching some real criminals and scouring the streets looking for the creep who robbed him. Brandon brandishes a warrant. It’s just a routine search (cateo). Nobody can do anything with all the dough they robbed without calling attention to it. Mauri hisses that he needs to recover his $$ as soon as possible. Brandon can only imagine. He strolls down the hall with Mauri, arm behind Mauri’s back, casually looking around wondering aloud what Mauri was doing at the Ruiz y de T wedding and home with all those bills. As far as he knows, the casa R y de T isn’t a bank. “That’s not your problem, you insolent poli (polizote- add “zote” to just about any noun and get an insolent, impudent, ignorant, etc. whatever the person is if you want to insult the person). “You want to know what I think?” The ignorant, insolent, impudent cop challenges Mauri. “I think the money belongs to the mafia and you’re desperate because you have to turn it over.” Brandon smirks. Mauri scoffs. Such an imagination Brandon has! The best defense is a strong offense, and Mauri is definitely offensive. He retorts that this is why the country’s in the shape it’s in, because of police inefficiency and Brandon is such a dumb brute (bestia) that one of these days he’s going to be the one ending up in jail because he sees the crimes even in the soup he eats. Meaning that he sees stuff where nothing is going on. [In Other Words, Mauri is subtly threatening to demandar/sue, bring charges against Brandon for harassment or the like.] Brandon tells Mauri he hopes Mauri will still be laughing when the mafia comes to collect all that money. That stops Mauricio cold. Might as well just talk to Brandon right now, and cast his lot (cooperate) with the poli. “Who…who will give you a hand so they don’t kill you?” Brandon gives him a small smug smirk.

There’s always a bell ringing somewhere. [Ed. note: we had a blizzard yesterday and I was grateful my volunteer job bell-ringing in front of Wal-Mart was cancelled, so the bell wasn’t tolling for me.] Netty runs to respond to the insistent multiple rings, followed closely by Gladiola. Fedra sails in past her, stilettos clicking on the lovely, clean tile floor, Bernardo hot on her heels. [Ed. note: take that for what it’s worth….]. “Not one step more, Fedra Curiel!” Netty yells at her, stopping Fedra briefly. Fedra only stops to turn and give her an evil grin and point a finger. “Ah, verdad?” (Really?) [Ed. note: who holds the lien on the house? Has Fedra somehow figured out how to seize it and stops short here of saying that the house is really hers?] Netty continues hotly that Fedra knows perfectly well she’s not welcome in this house. Netty grabs Fedra and swings her backward toward the door, yelling for her to get out. Fedra faces off and tells Netty to move aside, clown (cirquera, circus performer/acrobat), because Fedra’s not leaving until she’s scoured every last nook and cranny (rincón – corner) in this house.

The Qui-estón Cops, meanwhile, are getting set to scour every nook and cranny on another gig. Oliver and the boys are in full SWAT gear and he gives them instructions. He wants every inch checked of the offices upstairs and downstairs. The thrill of the chase throbs in his voice. He wants to nail this sucker (lacra – blot or blemish, agarrar – seize, grab). Manolo/Gretel is nailed to his back, without any SWAT gear. (S)he does have the obligatory steno pad and pen, though. The boys go off to war. Manolo/Gretel, still hovering at his shoulder, stops Ollie to ask fretfully if this isn’t pretty dangerous, and says (s)he’ll just wait outside. Ollie gives her a “huh?” look and tells Manolo if he wants to be a journalist, he’d better get with the program. Take advantage of the situation and use Oliver as cover, stick to him like glue, because he has a heart of steel. Oliver thumps his heart to prove it. Manolo/Gretel just frets some more. Is Oliver sure that the guy is in this building? Ollie patiently assures Manolo he is. His enthralled “huy!” tells us he’s enjoying himself enormously. Suddenly Ollie notices Manolo’s rapt gaze directed at him. He re-directs her behavior with a “get on with it, write something down! (Ándale) They call this guy the Gravedigger (enterrador), and he’s wanted in five states.” Manolo/Gretel frantically asks if he can say that slower. He tells her this isn’t dictation. Get a grip and get it done. “Hey, uncle, you don’t have to be rude about it.” Oliver tells Manolo he’s right. He puts his hand behind Manolo’s head understandingly and gently says, “Get out of here, you’re very green, kid--I don’t want to be responsible for the death of a young chick journalist like you—so young that even that moustache hasn’t turned out too well yet.” (Llégale – can mean “get out of here, get lost,” and also “go for it, help yourself, suit yourself” or “go get it” as in seeing a handsome/pretty person across the room.) Manolo/Gretel recants—no, (s)he’ll stay behind Oliver and be Very Careful. “All right?” The shooting comes past them, a guy in an orange polo shirt zipping by. Oliver is poised and On Duty. He jumps into the fray with Manolo/Gretel scuttling along behind, pencil in one hand, notebook in the other, following directions and glued to Oliver’s back. Oliver runs to another pillar and aims again. “Where did he go?” He’s mostly talking to himself. They move into the open, Manolo’s/Gretel’s hands now around his waist from behind. (S)he breathes shallowly with fear. Ollie reaches around to check his behind, sensing too much togetherness. He turns to shake off the leech so they are facing each other. The guy in orange has somehow gotten to where Oliver and Manolo/Gretel used to be, and shoots from behind a pillar. (S)he shrieks and Oliver pulls her out of harm’s way, somehow ending up on the floor with Manolo/Gretel on top, face to face. Utter panic is in Manolo’s face briefly, but then instinct kicks in and (s)he moves Ollie’s goggles away from his gorgeous eyes and gazes at him, moving her face marginally down closer to his. Ollie, still on his back, abruptly turns to face us and now his is the face with utter panic. [Ed note: Right about now I need a freeze frame photo. Drat!]

Back in the real world of advertising, Emanuel is having a Bad Hair Day and is scurrying around with Ándre trailing. [Axel probably is having a Bad Hair Day, too, but he’s not here.] “Adelina” he insistently yells as he finds her in the hall talking with a colleague. He’s just hung a photo/portrait (colgar un retrato) his office and he doesn’t want anyone messing around in there or moving it round. [This is a Big Deal? Maybe I missed the translation of a dicho]. Adelina looks a bit startled, but she’ll see to it. She wants to know what happened to Mujica. “She was fired.” He wants a replacement hired ASAP. Adelina rushes off—maybe to avoid getting fired herself. Ándre tries to calm him. What is going on? Eman will be giving himself a heart attack. Ándre imagined Eman would be coming in with a huge smile after the boda night he must have had. Eman scoffs. “Whoo-hoo. What wedding night? We slept in separate rooms.” Eman couldn’t get that Victoria out of his mind all night. Ándre gets that, because this chick is a hottie (avión – airplane, slang term). Once she came into the church he couldn’t take his eyes off her. “You have no idea!” Emanuel shifts from one foot to the other, his voice full of desperation.

Speaking of the queen of Rome, here is Vicky/Mari at the reception desk, all dressed for work. Or, for a black-tie dinner….somewhere Really Warm. She announces herself to the receptionist. She’s here to meet with Emiliano Ruiz y de Teresa. Vicky/Mari can’t help but notice the freshmen across the room wildly gesticulating to each other about her. She gives them her very best schoolmarm stink eye. They give her their very best once-or-more-over eye. Emanuel may hyperventilate.

Oh, yes, Fedra’s still plaguing Netty in the front hall of the pensión. Netty tells Fedra she’s NOT checking this house out because she has NO right to be here. Fedra calmly tells Bernardo to do her the favor of proceeding. “Con permiso,” Bernardo moves into action. Netty, all defiance and akimbo, is no match for Bernardo, who just bats her out of the way like a fly. Gladiola he picks up under the arms and sets her down around behind him. Consuelo gets similar treatment. Bernardo straightens his cuffs and with another supercilious “con su permiso (please excuse me)” moves on. Glad runs after him, fussing, followed by Consuelo. Glad says she’s going to chase him out at broompoint (literally!) Netty turns to face Fedra who calmly remains in the hall. Netty snaps at her. “So how come you don’t show up when the polis are home?” (Think about it a minute, Netty.) “Go get your lackey and get out.” Fedra disdainfully calls Brandon and Ollie cowards. “I’m staying until my goal is accomplished, got it?” “And what have you lost now, Fedra? Oh, don’t tell me. Your hubby escaped again.” [Ah, Netty, direct hit! Good job!]

Ándre rushes to introduce himself to Vicky/Mari with Eman on his heels. “Ándre Silva, my love, and I live to serve you in whatever way you desire.” He kisses her hand. Vicky/Mari says all she needs is for him to direct her to Emiliano’s office. Ándre offers his arm to escort her and Emanuel jumps to the other arm, introducing himself as the Vice President, and it’s his obligation (deber) to do this. Vicky/Mari is having none of their teenage one-upsmanship. She disengages and acidly tells them enough, she doesn’t need crutches (mulatas) to get to the office. Emanuel points behind him, disappointed. “It’s the first door.” The boys drool as they watch her go to meet Emiliano. [Quick, someone, get one of those yellow signs: Piso Mojado – Wet Floor]. Ándre says that no one is going to be able to tame that personality. No one. She’s got knives in place of a tongue. Eman thinks the strong personality is just a façade (fachada).

With absolutely no intro music after the commercials, we find ourselves still on the floor with Manolo/Gretel and Ollie, but they’ve managed to sit up and slide into a corner. Manolo/Gretel fusses worriedly about “that guy” and Oliver grabs an arm and shakes her. “Shut up and act like a man! Don’t be shrieking here. Sit down and stay quiet, and heads down!” He pushes her down to the floor, where she immediately anchors herself to his calf, gasping and sputtering in terror. He fusses at her in a stage whisper to let go of his leg, and tries to shake her death-grip on his leg off. She shrieks again and he kneels, putting a hand on her shoulder. “YOUR job is with the pen and paper.” He slaps the steno pad at her chest. “There it is. Mine is to get a lead on these delinquents.” He gets up and tries to get back to work, and she grabs the leg again and drags him back. “Please, don’t go! They could kill you, can’t you see that?” Oliver kneels down again, his annoyance at high pitch. “Yeah, of course they could kill me. A cop risks his life every day. Sit down and don’t move. Got it?” Oliver pulls Manolo/Gretel up by the lapels so (s)he’s in his face. That longing gaze zaps him again. He pushes her to arm’s length to talk to her. They hear shots, and he throws her back into he corner. If they send him on to the next world, Manolo should tell Brandon. Manolo knows what he should do. With that, he gets up and storms off into the gunfight. Manolo/Gretel yells “Oliver, no!’ and then stuffs the steno pad in her mouth, picks up her pen, clings to another object in her other hand (camera?) and squat-walks toward the gunfire.

Brandon reports via walkie-talkie that they’ve just finished the search on Mauri’s very contemporary, tastefully decorated home (okay, maybe not in so many words). They didn’t find what they were looking for. He’s exasperated. Something catches his eye and he meanders into the dining room, leaning over to pick up a lovely pearl-and-diamond earring from the edge of an area rug. “What could this be?” Brandon studies it briefly, facial expressions telling us he must be processing the info, and hears Mauri approaching behind him, still full of insults. Instead of confronting Mauri, Brandon pockets the earring. [Ed. note: how incongruous – a pink polo shirt with a bullet-proof vest. Armando can pull this off well, though.] “Okay, Polizote, now that your little dogs have finished searching my pad, why haven’t you disappeared yet?” “You’re lucky, Fonseca, that we didn’t find anything to compromise you.” “I told you I have nothing to hide.” [For starters, how about your face? It’s truly an annoying shade of orange, or haven’t you been reading this blog?] “I’m just warning you that whenever you look behind you, I’ll be there. Watching your business dealings, Fonseca. For your own good, don’t make any mistakes.” He pats Mauri on the shoulder and struts out. Mauri finally breathes, sighing deeply, then brushes off the contamination from his shoulder.

The Qui-estón Cops are still occupied with the chase, passing across the screen in single file with rifles aimed in front of them (bad move if one of them in the back of the single file startles easily). Gunfire is heard. In the foreground behind a pillar we find Manolo/Gretel still semi-embedded, holding her pencil and pad, and preoccupied with the well being of Oliver. She asks God to please not let anything happen to him, to protect Oliver for her. Her fear escalates as she hears a voice yelling behind her. It’s Oliver yelling for everyone to move out to the street because the building is surrounded. He takes cover behind the wall across the hall from her so she can see him clearly, then turns and moves back into the hall. The orange shirt comes into view, with a clear shot at Oliver’s back. Manolo/Gretel yells “Oliver!” and he turns just as he gets clipped. He clips the delinquent simultaneously, but falls to the floor, clutching his gut. Manolo/Gretel runs to him and fusses over him, leaning over into his face and yelling for help. “Macho! Macho!” He pushes her back in irritation, and sits up. “Wait a sec, don’t get your knickers in a knot, I’m fine, man! Can’t you see I’m fine?” But Oliver still clutches at his gut. Manolo/Gretel cups his face with her hand, worrying and babbling that he’s hurt and shouldn’t move. Oliver is alarmed and pushes her away again, this time with both hands holding her off. As he stands up he feels her hands on his bum and pulls away, even more alarmed at all the touchy-feely stuff. “Get those hands off me! My friends are going to think badly of me.” Manolo/Gretel makes an effort to restrain herself. Other team members come into view pushing the delinquent along in front of them while Oliver regains his composure. They assure him the building is secure. There’s no one below and the hostages (rehenes) are free now.
“Very good. Report to the Commissioner and tell him the op was a success.” They leave and Manolo/Gretel is all-solicitous again with hands where they Should Not Be on his face. “Are you okay, Oliver?” Ollie throws Manolo off and fusses that she’d better not grab him. “But what you were doing was dangerous!” The Manolo voice is disappearing fast and the Gretel voice is taking over. Oliver grabs Manolo by the arm. “Dedicate yourself to your reports and leave me alone. Let me do my job.” He hisses. Then he breathes hard with more pain where the bullet hit him, bending slightly. Of course, that provokes another attempt at coddling, but just the glare is enough to stop Manolo’s hands in mid-air. Oliver’s irritation is hitting new highs. “That’s enough of the fun there.” He mimics the touchy-feely hand stuff, then stalks off impatiently, leaving Manolo/Gretel wide-eyed with apprehension again.

Lorenzo has found one of the firm’s employees to chew out about a commercial being cancelled. She protests that Emanuel cancelled it. And in fact, Mujica was fired. That’s the last straw for Lorenzo. Now his son-in-law wants to take over the campaign. Ilitia and Muñeca arrive just in time to see the explosion. Ilitia has recovered a modicum, and calms him down. She reminds him he needs to help her new hubby, who will be the boss of everything one day. And she’ll be the First Lady here. His princess has the magic touch and Low calms. Muñeca just looks on, disgusted with Low. Low wants to know why they’re here. Ilitia has to see her Baby. [Surprise.] She has to renovate his office and put her feminine touch in there. [Just curious—how many of you went to renovate your new groom’s offices when you married? I know I didn’t. His was a college professor’s cave in the basement of an ancient building. It stayed that way until he retired. I saw no pay-off in renovating it. But, it’s Ilitia and it’s telenovelaland.] She blows a kiss at her Papi and he indulgently chuckles. Muñeca has a meeting. Low sees more erosion of his position here. “Puh-leeze.” He’s the one working here to represent the family. She reminds him she’s still a primary shareholder. Muñeca wants to be more involved, and see what his work is about. Maybe she could even do that job herself. Low looks at her guardedly, arms folded and fingers rubbing together furiously. She asks a receptionist to bring her a coffee to the board room. “Con permiso, Lorenzo.” Muñeca flippantly excuses herself with a little smirk leaving Low rolling his eyes with a “what’s that all about” expression. [You go, girl!]

Netty’s pensión has yielded nothing concrete. Bernardo gives Glad and Consuelo an insolent sneer as he breezes by. He takes a place in between the girls and Netty, informing Fedra that he’s gone through everything and what they’re looking for isn’t here. Consuelo snottily tells them she’s going upstairs to see if anything is missing. Netty wonders what they expected to find. Fedra remarks that it has come to her attention that Netty has a new boarder. A friend of her fatty niece? (Grasienta-greasy, fatty). Enough! That’s not Fedra’s business, Netty retorts. It’s enough that she’s Marianela’s friend and she’s welcome to board here. Period. Fedra jeers that must be a consolation to her since her fat niece isn’t likely to return and Netty counters that her comfort comes from knowing that at least Marianela is far from Fedra’s malevolence. Bernardo stands behind Netty, watching the tennis match of repartee. Always with a smirk. [Ed. note: Netty, bad idea to have Bernardo at your back.] Fedra drawls that Netty can’t win with her, (actress of video games). She’s just playing the total diva with Fedra because she got this bit part in a second-rate novela—what was the character’s name? Netty retorts that the envy is oozing from Fedra’s pores. Fedra heckles Netty that the only jealous one is her, since Fedra is sporting the Great Big Wedding Ring set. She flashes the ring at Netty and leans into Netty’s face and reminds Netty that Emiliano is her man, her husband, hablablabla. Netty storms by her and opens the door to kick them out. Bernardo hurls a parting leer and wink at Gladiola telling Fedra they can go. Gladiola looks after them angrily as the door closes, and shakes her head.

Emiliano has brought the newest employee to the board meeting and is greeted with mixed reviews from Low, Muñeca and Emanuel, who immediately protests that they needed someone with experience. Muñeca defends Vicky/Mari, the new hire, because if Emil hired her she must have the qualifications. [Ed. note: very true—it would only be if Low hired her that we’d have to do a background check.] Low jumps in and tells her she doesn’t know what she is talking about. Muñeca is provoked. Low agrees with Eman—for this position, they need someone with a first-class (sobresaliente, the comment on an assignment once, which I ironically had to look up to understand) résumé. Muñeca is impactada at Low’s comment. Emiliano points out he had a recommendation for her from Jorge Llauma, who runs one of the major advertising firms in Madrid. He even just talked with Jorge by phone, and Emiliano is sure they can’t find a better person for the position. [Oh, Jorge, bravo for being so unselfish!] Vicky/Mari thanks him and expresses her regret with a sharp blade to Emanuel’s heart that the newlywed isn’t pleased with the news. She delivers the blow with an angelic smile, leaving Emanuel staring at her, speechless, and Emiliano looking puzzled. He recovers and asks her to sit, at which Low reacts to quickly seat her. Low notes there’s nothing more to say, and welcomes her with a leer and a quick look down from above over her shoulder. His beautiful hand rests on the back of her chair, and we sense that the hand would be elsewhere if he had a say in it. Vicky/Mari graciously thanks him and turns back to the rest, telling them she’s eager to get started. She wants to know to whom she reports directly. Eman tells her. Directly. To him. “I’m your immediate supervisor.” Then he shrugs. “Okay, that’s the decision, so welcome to the firm.” Emanuel puts his hand out to Vicky/Mari, who hesitates a second before extending hers. The face-off and handshake are accompanied by the tiniest of smiles at the corner of Vicky’s/Mari’s mouth.

Avances: Ilitia makes a deal with Adelina to keep her Baby safe. Vicky/Marianela finds a staff member undressing Emanuel and jibes that she didn’t mean to interrupt. Vicky/Marianela gives Emanuel a sound slap. Will Ilitia end her problems with Mauricio at the end of a pistol?

Jeanne

Labels: llena