How Much I Feel - Marie Force Page 0,39

him.

My mother encourages it because, as she says, it’s good for business and because she knows he’s hopelessly devoted to her.

“Where’re Abuela and Nona?” It’s almost unheard of that they’re not working the hostess stations during business hours.

“At the hairdresser. They’ll be back soon.”

“They went together?” That, too, is nearly unheard of.

“Nona told Abuela that her hair is blue and that she needed to go to Nona’s girl to get it fixed. They had a big fight about it until Nona wore her down.”

“Nona wore her down? Is Abuela sick? Did you take her to the doctor, Mami?”

“She’s fine. I told her Nona was right. Her hair is blue, and her lady is too old to be doing hair. The woman has cataracts the size of dinner plates that she refuses to do anything about. It’s no wonder she can’t get the color right.”

Next to me, Jason shakes with silent laughter.

“This is my life,” I tell him.

“It’s awesome.”

“Come, sit.” Dad gestures for us to take seats at the bar. He pours an ice water with a lemon wedge for me. “What can I get for you, Jason?”

“Soda water with a lime would be great.”

“Coming right up.” He gives Jason a large black leather-bound menu and pours his drink while my mother hovers nearby so she won’t miss anything.

“We thought we’d hear from you last night after your first day,” Dad says.

“I’m so sorry. I meant to call, but I got home late, and by the time I got my clothes ready for today, it was after eleven.”

His brows furrow. “Why’re they making you work so late?”

“It was Jason’s first day, too, and they wanted me to show him around. Mr. Augustino told me I’d be asked to work occasional nights when he hired me.”

“But your first day.” Mami clucks with disapproval that doesn’t surprise me. If they had their way, I never would’ve gone to college or done anything other than work at the family business. I know they’re proud of all I’ve accomplished, but disappointed at the same time that I chose a different path from the one they planned for me.

“What looks good to you, Jason?” Dad asks.

“All of it. What do you recommend?”

“How about a sampler with a little of everything?”

“Including Cuban?” I ask him, raising a brow.

“Of course.” He feigns offense that I’d even ask. I roll my eyes at him, letting him know I don’t buy his act. I wouldn’t put it past him to bring only Italian food, the way my mother would bring only Cuban. Like their mothers, they’re nothing if not territorial that way.

“A sampler sounds perfect,” Jason says. “Thank you.”

Dad goes into the kitchen to give orders to both chefs, and yes, we have executive chefs for both sides of the house, while Jason takes in the signed photos of my parents with various celebrities that line the walls. Everyone from Frank Sinatra to Taylor Swift has come through our doors at one time or another. The restaurant is listed as a “must-see” on most of the Miami-area tour sites, and we see a steady stream of tourists along with our local regulars.

“Eva Perez said you were playing dominoes in the park this morning,” Mami says with a nonchalance that’s totally fake. She’s gone behind the bar to wipe the gleaming surface that doesn’t need wiping.

Honestly. I can’t make this shit up. This really is my life. “We stopped by because Jason wants to get to know his new town, and I thought he’d enjoy learning to play.”

“She said you took photos.”

“Yes, for his social media.”

“Maria said you asked about him working at the free clinic.”

I sigh to myself, because God forbid she should hear me sigh at something she says.

“Allow me to explain,” Jason says.

I want to throw myself in front of that, but before I can stop him, he’s telling her the full story of what happened in New York as well as how I’m helping him restore his reputation and get approved by the board at Miami-Dade.

My mother hangs on his every word, her mouth hanging open in shock when he gets to the part about how Ginger betrayed him. About halfway through the retelling, my father returns and is equally interested. I’m not sure if I’m watching a slow-moving disaster or a smart move on his part.

“What kind of woman does that to someone?” Mami is filled with outrage on his behalf.

Her outrage is a relief to me. I don’t want her to dislike him because of