to a friend of mine who owns an art gallery downtown. Then run a quick errand. We’ll grab a sandwich from Sandy’s on the way.”
Just like when they’d been kids and he had to cover for whatever tall tale Enrique spun, Alejandro worked to keep the surprise off his face. This was the first he’d heard about an errand. Or meeting some friend of Enrique’s. But if playing along got him out of an uncomfortable meal at Miranda’s, where his papi would not welcome him, he’d gladly run every errand on Enrique’s To Do list.
“You don’t mind, do you, Señora M? I promise to have him back in one piece,” Enrique teased, apparently still a pro at buttering someone up to get his way. “No jumping off the bridge at Bahia Honda like he convinced me to do that one time.”
Alejandro’s mami gasped, her eyes going as wide as Lulu’s when his niece had first seen the baby elephant photograph yesterday.
“Hey! That was all you, man! Mami, I never jumped. ¡Te lo juro!” Alejandro pointed a finger at Enrique while holding up a placating palm to his mother, repeating his promise. “I swear! I didn’t.”
Enrique, the fool, grinned wider. “I’m kidding. It was a joke.”
Alejandro’s mom shot his buddy the pursed-mouth, eyebrow-slanted frown of aggrieved mamis the world over.
Believing that E had actually made that jump wasn’t too farfetched. There’d been a time in high school when Enrique had teetered on the line between prankster and troublemaker. One incident in particular nearly earned him a stint of community service. Until their art teacher, of all people, stepped in with a compromise that wound up changing Anamaría’s baby brother’s trajectory. For a while anyway. Alejandro had never gotten the full story behind why his friend had given up pursuing art and joined the familia business, becoming a firefighter instead.
“Ay, nene, me vas a matar,” Alejandro’s mom admonished. He was pretty sure E’s mom had uttered a similar you’re-killing complaint too many times to count.
“Mami blames me for most of her gray hair. I tell her she looks like the goddess she is.” Enrique gave an impudent wink that had Alejandro’s mami tsking and shaking her head, all while smiling indulgently.
Alejandro bit back a disbelieving grin. Some things never changed.
“In all seriousness, though,” E said, crossing to the duffel he’d set on top of the dresser. “It’ll do Ale good to get out of the house, move around a little, and get his blood flowing.”
A tiny worry V added to the fine wrinkles in the space between his mami’s brows.
Alejandro knew her lunch invitation stemmed from her desire for her husband and son to make amends. Unfortunately, not even Mother Teresa herself could have brokered a peace treaty between the two of them.
“It’s too soon,” Alejandro told his mom softly. “Por favor, don’t push this.”
Her lids fluttered closed on a soft sigh. “Está bien. Pero pórtense bien!”
“Aw, Señora M, we always behave!” Enrique complained.
“Ha!” Alejandro and his mom barked disbelieving laughs in unison. She wagged a finger at Enrique’s bogus claim, her narrow-eyed glower reminding both men that no matter their age, they would always answer to their mamis.
She gave each of them a good-bye kiss on the cheek, adding a love pat on Alejandro’s, then left for the restaurant.
Fifteen minutes later, Alejandro sat in the back of Enrique’s black SUV, his left leg stretched out across the seat.
“Drive, Enrique, and be mindful of potholes.” With a flick of his wrist, Alejandro motioned for his chauffeur to proceed.
“Yeah, that’s not how this is gonna work, smartass.” Enrique pushed the ignition button to start his Pilot, then glanced over his shoulder at Alejandro. “Now that we’re out of the house, away from your mom’s supersonic hearing, I’ve got two questions for you. Any chance of you and your dad burying the hatchet so you can quit visiting every other damn place on the planet except here? And what the hell are you doing to help my sister put an end to whatever schemes our moms keep inventing?”
Ignoring the first question, Alejandro leaned back against the passenger door and grinned at his buddy, feeling relaxed for the first time in weeks. “Funny you should ask. Anamaría wanted me to remind you about the number of times she’s saved your sorry butt over the years.”
* * *
By the time Enrique managed to find a parking spot on Eaton Street, a couple blocks from the Duval Street art gallery his friends owned, Alejandro had updated his