“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 buddy on the slim to none odds Alejandro and his dad would resolve their issues anytime soon. They’d spent the past two days giving each other a wide berth when they were both in the house. Speaking in brusque monosyllables and making minimal eye contact.
As for the meddling mothers, Enrique and Alejandro were still tossing around ideas. Testament to the Navarro siblings’ bond, E hadn’t even balked at the idea of him throwing his mom off Anamaría’s and Alejandro’s scent.
“I don’t mind taking one for the team,” Enrique reiterated, pushing Alejandro’s wheelchair across the intersection at Simonton as they headed down Eaton toward Duval.
“If your mom’s in a matchmaking mood, why not introduce her to your new girlfriend?” Alejandro suggested.
Enrique jerked the wheelchair to a stop. “Girlfriend? What the hell are you talking about?”
“C’mon. I’m sure you’ve got a line of women willing to volunteer to play make-believe with you. Just long enough to distract your mom. Cece’s about ready to pop out the next grandkid. That’s a definite distraction for my mom. Problem solved.”
“Wrong. When did you get so dumb?” Enrique smacked the back of Alejandro’s head.
“¿Qué carajo?” Alejandro cursed, rubbing the sting from his nape.
“Yeah, what the hell?” Enrique threw him a dirty look, then nearly gave Alejandro whiplash when he pushed the chair into motion again. “First of all, I am not gonna use a girl like that. And secondly, Luis and Sara tried pulling some fake relationship nonsense last year. That tangled mess did not fool our mom, and look how Luis wound up?”
“I thought they were engaged?”
“Exactly!” Enrique leaned over Alejandro’s shoulder, eyeing him over the top of his sunglasses. “A state I do not plan on entering anytime soon. If at all.”
“What? Don’t be an idiot.” Alejandro pushed Enrique’s forehead to get him to back off. “We’re not saying get engaged. Just let it slip to your mom that you’re exclusive with someone. She’ll glom on that like—”
“Like one of Carlos’s boys with a bag of cotton candy at Children’s Day in the park. Also equally as messy. No thanks.”
They reached Duval, and Enrique wheeled Alejandro around the corner in front of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church.
Alejandro gazed up at the towering concrete and steel building that stood like a beacon on the popular corner. Its wood-beam ceiling and stained-glass windows were a popular draw for worshiping locals and tourists alike. People also sought out the haunted graveyard tours through the cemetery tucked behind the building itself. Some believed the ghost of John Fleming, whose widow donated the land for the church in the 1830s, walked the grounds along with other spirits.
For a young aspiring adventure photographer, the church with its angles and tall spires and the grounds with their haunting history and looming shadows had been a familiar subject during Alejandro’s adolescence. He’d even convinced Anamaría to join him for a few late-night photo ops here, despite her aversion to spooky places. Of course, that meant she stuck close to his side. Not that either one of them had minded.
“You got a better idea?” he complained to Enrique.
“Maybe. Whatever we do, it’s gotta be legit. My mom’ll smell a con before I even put it in motion. Somehow her all-knowing radar is even stronger since becoming an abuela. Carlos and Gina’s boys don’t stand a chance of getting away with half the shit we did as kids. Sneaking out, skipping class to go out on the boat? She even makes us all share our location on our cell phones.”
Alejandro chuckled at his buddy’s beleaguered grimace. If there was one Navarro kid who had truly tested his Cuban mami and knew what might work, it was Anamaría’s younger brother. Too bad Alejandro’s own doubt about the flawed fake girlfriend idea echoed Enrique’s.
Damn it! He had to come up with something. No way could he spend the next three or four or—Shit, the idea of an interminable stay on the Rock, being confined to a mere three-by-five-mile area when there were so many interesting spots far away to explore, made his skin crawl as if a line of bullet ants marched up his arm. He’d rather deal with the mind-numbing pain of the Costa Rican insect bites than be stuck in Key West, living with his parents again, dealing with the sense of betrayal that festered in his gut.
“Here we are.” Enrique stopped in front of a one-story building on the same block as the historic church. “My ‘better idea’ to occupy your mom. And remind mine that your life isn’t here anymore. The last thing either of my parents want is one of us moving away. Especially their only daughter, la Princesa.”