Page 25 of Creed

“How’s Miguel?” I change the subject and bring my feet up on the bench. I tuck my knees under my chin, watching people slowly leave the dorms to get on with their Sunday morning.

Antonio makes a snarky noise, telling me that he knows I’m diverting the conversation from what I continue to avoid talking with him and our grandparents about. He lets it go, though. “Miguel is good.”

There’s a strain in his voice, and I frown. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Soph.”

“Antonio…”

I’m not the distant and cold hag I’ve been acting like these past few months, and my heart pangs. The distance between Antonio and me isn’t normal.Physicaldistance is because he lives in New York; however, the mental and emotional distance between us is new. We’ve always been close, even with the ten-year-plus age difference.

Wanting to bridge this new gap between us, I press, “You can talk to me. You know that rightTio?”

“You’re now nineteen and think you’re all grown up,pequeña y dulce niña?” Sweet little girl. There’s no bite to his words, only a gentle teasing.

“I got my Grown-Up card in the mail just last week,” I say, making him laugh, which settles my heart somewhat.

He chuckles again, and then I canhearhim turn somber. Antonio is rarely somber; he’s energetic, light, joking, and big smiles. “You may be nineteen, but we both know you’re wise beyond your years, don’t we?”

“Yeah, we do.”

After Antonio, I am the next oldest grandchild. When he moved away, I became the surrogate head of our brood, the caregiver to our younger cousins. I have natural maternal instincts, and I never wanted any of my younger cousins to feel unloved or unwanted, like how the situation with my estranged father had made me feel.

“Is everything with Miguel okay?” I ask about his boyfriend.

“Miguel is fine… just some work concerns.”

But I know it’s more than that; otherwise, Antonio wouldn’t have hesitated or resisted the way he did.

“Something happening with the club?” I ask.

Miguel is the head of security at a popular nightclub, and only a few people know he also owns the club.

“He’s trying to stop things from going down at the club,” Antonio admits.

“What do you mean? Like drug deals or something?”

Like that would happen. I think about the students I go to school with; if you wanted something, there was always ways to get it.

“I’d rather not talk about this, firefly. How are your classes?”

“No,” I bark.

He chuckles softly. “Well, that’s new.”

“Just tell me what’s up.” Resting my chin on my knees, I hear him sigh.

“You remember my friend, May Antel?”

“The philanthropist event planner extraordinaire?”

May is a whiz at organizing events to raise buckets of money for the causes she supports.

“Pequeña y dulce niña…” Antonio chokes.

“Tio, what is it?” I ask, alarmed.

He sniffs. “That you would remember her and refer to her that way…”

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