xp_logs | Warren, Miles, & Miles's parents, Sunday evening

Warren has dinner with the Morales family to ask their permission to hire Miles as his social media guru.

Warren's car looked terribly out of place when it pulled up in front of the brownstone where Miles's parents lived. To say nothing of Warren himself. Skin color notwithstanding, no one in this neighborhood spent a thousand bucks on a suit. Hell, Miles would have been surprised if anyone paid a hundred bucks for one at the thrift store. Miles just hoped that anyone who saw them didn't think that Warren was CPS or something.

Miles led Warren up the stairs to the third floor and opened the door to the Morales apartment. His dad was likely on his way home from work, but he could tell as soon as he stepped inside that his mom was hard at work in the kitchen. Pulling out all the stops to impress the guest.

"¡Ma!" he called, waving Warren inside so he could shut the door. "¡Estamos en casa!"

"En la cocina, hijo. Dame un segundito." came the response from the kitchen.‎ Warren felt an ease come over him by the familiar sounds of Spanish. Luz had essentially raised him, and she'd had no qualms about teaching him everything about her culture, the language included.

Curious, Warren looked around the apartment. No matter how small it was (positively cramped by his standards), he couldn't help but notice it was an actual home . Pictures adorned the wall, the mandatory Virgin Mary stared at him from her vantage point above the television, and there was love in the place.

Strange. Shaking his head, he leaned against a wall. He was fairly sober at this point, after having showered and dousing himself liberally with expensive cologne. ‎He was fairly certain he looked okay. And if he was a little jittery, well. Who wasn't when meeting the parents?

After a few moments, a smiling Latina woman came into the living room, drying her hands on her apron. "Hello," she said with a slight accent. "Welcome to our home, Mr. Worthington. Please, make yourself comfortable. Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Water?"

He knew from past experience that saying no would only make her uncomfortable. ‎"Water would be perfect, thank you."

She nodded and, knowing that her guest was at ease, she turned her attention to her son. Giving him a hug and a kiss, she frowned. "Ay hijo, are you even eating, amor? Look at you. Remind me to send you with some empanadas."

"Ay, Ma, come on," Miles responded with the tender self-consciousness that defined teenagers. "Tenemos un invitado. Warren, this is my mom. Ma, this is Warren, obviously. He's a, uh, mentor at the school, like I said. The Xavier School, not Bayville."

Warren smiled at the obvious affection between the two, especially when he saw the horrified look on.her face.

"¡Perdóname! Excuse me, I did not even introduce myself. I am Río Morales, mother of this malcriado," she said, ruffling Miles' hair. "Go get your guest his drink and change your clothes. Ya casi esta listo la cena, y tu papa llege pronto."

Turning her attention back to Warren, she continued to smile. A real one, Warren noted.

"My husband will be here soon, and then we can have dinner." She seemed almost apologetic.

Warren shrugged. "No hay de que. I'm grateful for the invite. I haven't had an authentic meal in a long time." A pause. "Or any home-cooked one, for ‎that matter."

If she was surprised by his casual use of Spanish, she didn't show it or pry.

Miles slipped away and returned a couple of minutes later with a couple of glasses of water, and wearing one of the shirts and waistcoats that Warren had bought him. He looked a little sheepish wearing such finery, but he had to follow his mother's orders, and it was as good a time as any to actually use the wardrobe that Warren had graciously spent so much time assembling. He handed a glass to Warren and the other to his mother.

The door opened just then, and a large-set man in a dusty t-shirt, jeans, and workboots entered the apartment. A smile brightened his face when he saw Miles and he wrapped the boy in a tight embrace (eliciting another groan of teenage embarrassment). "Miles, mijo," his father said as he stepped back to take a look at his son. "You're getting taller. But skinnier. Are you eating good?"

"Oh my God, Dad . . ."

Jefferson just laughed and reached over to kiss Rio. "Hola, querida. And you must be Mister Worthington," he said, turning to Warren and extending a hand for a firm shake. "Welcome to our home. I hope you didn't have any problem getting here?"

"Not at all," Warren replied, returning the shake. "Your son programmed the GPS. I believe this is now under 'favourites'. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Morales. And please, both of you -- call me Warren."

It was then that Río looked uncomfortable. ‎Making an apologetic face, she shook head. "No, no, we couldn't do that."

Miles rolled his eyes at his mother's sense of propriety while Jefferson excused himself to clean up and change into something less covered in construction debris. "Ma, is there anything Warren" – he very pointedly used his first name – "and I can help with? In the kitchen or setting the table?"

Looking horrified that a guest would be put to work, she shook her head. ‎ "No, mijo. Now that your father is home, I can start to set the table.‎"

With Río disappearing into the kitchen, Warren made a pointed look at some pictures on the wall. "Nice baby pics. You used to be cute."

"Eventually you have to grow out of cute and into bangable." As if Miles knew what that entailed. But between his parents doting on him and Warren intently studying the wall of photos (oh Jesus, did they really have to keep the second-grade spelling bee championship up there?), he had to say something to salvage his image. "Thank God they took down the bathtime ones," he muttered.

Warren smirked. "One day, you'll be famous and those pictures will make you thousands. My mother has a stash of 'oops, don't know how that got released' pictures. That's her spending money."

"¡Déjalo, papi!" Río called out from the kitchen, in obvious response to something her husband did.

A rare sense of longing washed over Warren. Miles was lucky to not only have two parents who loved him but they obviously loved each other.

Miles groaned. It was bad enough when his parents got frisky when they were alone, but when they had a guest over? He momentarily vanished from sight in embarrassment, and then faded back into view before Jefferson could enter the living room again and catch anything amiss.

"Dinner's ready. Follow me." Jefferson led Warren and Miles to small dining room next to the kitchen, where the table was set simply but the spread was generous: a large plate of homemade surullitos, black bean soup, arroz con pollo, plantain tostones, and grilled vegetables. Miles's mouth watered.

"This is why I come home. Looks so good, Ma. But you didn't have to go all crazy like this. It's only Warren." Miles playfully nudged the older man as they all took their seats.

"Now let's not be too hasty," Warren responded with a grin. "I am absolutely thrilled to be having this for dinner. Thank you again for the generous offer.‎"

Río smiled in response as she waved her hand over the meal. "A friend of Miles' is always welcome here. Hijo, can you say grace please?"

The words came automatically to Miles, even though he couldn't be sure if he meant a word he said. Still, tradition was tradition. "Bendícenos, Señor, y bendice los alimentos que vamos a recibir. Por tu bondad, por Cristo nuestro Señor, Amén." He crossed himself and then helped himself to half a dozen surullitos. "Mmm, so good! I love fried!"

Jefferson filled small bowls with a couple scoops of the soup and passed them around so everyone had one. "So, Mister Worthington, Miles was telling us something about an internship?"

This was a family. And as corny as it sounded, that made the food that much better. Not bothering to correct Jefferson, Warren gave a nod. "Yes, well, as you know, I'm the VP of Worthington Industries. It has come to my attention that Miles is quite technologically savvy and to be honest, I'm not. I need someone who can run my social media for me, and while I could go the old-fashioned route and find someone for the position, I would prefer it be someone who knows me." Warren reached for his water glass and took a sip from his glass. "Obviously, before I can offer him a paying position, you both would need to sign his working papers. As well, I wanted you to meet me, as I am well aware of my reputation. I'd like to assure you that no harm will come to Miles through this."

Although Miles was digging his way through his hill of corn fritters, he was also monitoring his parents' reactions to Warren's description. They didn't seem skeptical to him, so much as reticent to let their high school-aged son have any job. "I'm already on Twitter and IG all the time, anyway," he reminded them. "'Bout time I got paid for it."

Jefferson rolled his eyes at his son's glibness and turned back to Warren. "What sort of responsibilities does this include?"

"Essentially, he'd be responsible for my internet persona. I tend to project myself in, shall we say, unfavourable ways." From the look that crossed between Miles' parents, Warren was glad he had gone for the honest route. "To be blunt, I have a lot of repairing to do, and my first step is to make myself approachable AND personable. I had Miles do a test period over the last month, and he's already done wonders at increasing my social media presence." Warren hesitated slightly. "If it would make you feel better, you could be involved as well, make sure that Miles is being treated fairly."

"You're making it sound fancier than it really is," Miles interjected. "Everyone's on Twitter and Facebook these days. It makes them seem, you know, personable. But any good celebrity or business-person has people managing their accounts for them. Last thing Warren wants is to get into an Internet fight with, like, Tim Cook or Tony Stark because he posted something without thinking about it. "

Río looked slightly worried about this, but she tried not to show it. Obviously, Miles seemed interested and it would be good for him to get a job. "What kind of hours will Miles be working? ‎Education is very important, and I don't want anything impacting his studies. Miles is a very smart boy."

Warren nodded approvingly. "Education is key, I agree wholeheartedly. I believe that should always be a priority. Right now, I think he's maybe working about an hour, if that, a day. On weekends, he plays around on it, so I'd say roughly 10 hours a week. When school is out, I'm also happy to have him work at WI. It's never too early to start padding those college applications."
‎
If anything could grab his parents' interest, it was that offer. Miles greedily seized on the opportunity. "The whole point of the Xavier's/Bayville arrangement is to provide otherwise rare extracurricular programs. Who else gets to work directly with the VP of a huge international company in high school? I already have a 4.0 and I'm going to take a whole bunch of AP classes next year. Gotta have something that'll help me stand out. And, you know, having some money of my own would be nice so I don't have to keep bothering you every time I want to go out for a burger."

"There's a girl you're trying to impress, isn't there, mijo?" Jefferson asked, grinning. Miles blushed and took a big mouthful of chicken and rice. "Well, Mister Worthington, it does sound like a generous offer."

Río still wasn't 100% convinced, but it was clearly two against one, so there wasn't much she could say. "Miles," she said, turning her attention to her son. "Your grades suffer at all, then we call this off, alright? You're only 15 and you don't need to work."

Warren could hear that comment directed at him. ‎ They didn't need charity or extra money for their son. "Yes, Xavier's encourages mentoring in various forms, and I feel fortunate that I'm able to participate. I assure you, there will be no problems, and if there are, please call me right away." He handed over a business card to Rio, who proceeded to stare at it intently. "That is my direct line, and Miles has my personal cell number. I think this will be a good opportunity for Miles, and for myself. "

Jefferson squeezed his wife's thigh affectionately. "Summer vacation starts in only a couple of weeks. It's as good a time as any to start. We'll watch over the summer and see how it is, then we can talk again when the next school year starts. I think that's fair, sí, querida?"

Río was officially beat. From the hopeful look on Miles's face to the confidence from Jefferson....she sighed. "Okay. We will sign his working papers. Thank you, Mr. Worthington for looking out for my little boy."

"Yes, thank you!" It would be rude to leap over the table and give his parents a hug, so Miles settled for the brightest, most grateful smile he could manage. "I promise grades will stay up and I'll get 5's on all my AP's. For reals."

"That's my boy," Jefferson proudly proclaimed.

"Fantastic," Warren exclaimed. "I'll have everything drafted up and here by tomorrow morning. You won't regret this." He took a mouthful of his rice, groaned inwardly. "Now Rio, you must tell me how you make this. Do you use an already prepared spice mix?"