Page 9 of Forget Me

3

MATEO

I showedmy ID to Bernard at the entrance to my tía’s gated community.

“Got identification for your friend?” the guard joked.

“This guy?” I pointed with my thumb at the eight-foot plastic snowman poking through the back window of my Jeep. “He doesn’t need ID. He’s Frosty the Snowman. A fucking celebrity!”

While Bernard chuckled, I slowly pulled my Jeep inside the gate and up the hill to tía’s place.

My security guy wasn’t in his SUV outside like he was supposed to be. They never were.

So I hauled Frosty out myself and weaved among the other decorations on her football pitch–sized lawn, an orange extension cord looped over my shoulder. I passed the giant inflatables, a Santa who could “ho, ho, ho” and a snow globe with a festive palm tree inside. I patted the nose of one of the plastic reindeer pulling a second Santa’s sleigh. Finally, I trudged past the one I was sure her neighbors were the most thrilled about, a life-sized, floodlit crèche, complete with a pair of resin goats, a cow, a donkey, two lying-down sheep, and one standing. The Magi still waited on the other side of the lawn for Epiphany in January.

When I found the bare spot she’d complained about last week, I set Frosty down and tethered him with a couple of stakes. Then I plugged in his cord and found an empty receptacle on the overtaxed outdoor electrical box. I clutched the gold cross around my neck and sent up a silent prayer before I plugged the cord into the outlet. I said a silent thank-you when light-up Frosty didn’t brown out the entire neighborhood. No, her yard full of Christmas shit glowed brighter than ever.

You’re welcome, rich neighbors.

Dusting off my hands, I hopped up her porch steps and rang the bell.

Carlo answered the door, crumbs trailing down his black fleece. He didn’t even bother looking apologetic, not like he would if it had been my cousin who’d found him inside the house instead of outside, watching for her cabrón of an ex.

“Hey, boss.”

“Spice cookies?” I asked, pointing at the crumbs.

The tops of his cheeks went dark as he carefully brushed them into his palm. “They’re my favorite.”

“Mine, too. She in the kitchen?”

“Yeah. Smoke?” He dug in the pocket of his fleece for his pack.

“Nah. Thanks.”

When he set the cigarette to his lips and raised his eyebrows, I shook my head again, though my fingers itched to snatch it from him and take a pull. I’d seen the way Mimi’s nose wrinkled when I walked into her place yesterday. How she’d almost puked.

I’d let my nerves get the better of me and taken three quick puffs outside her apartment. Quitting was fucking hard when each drag brought back a dozen rosy memories of hanging with my papá in his tabacaria.

I shoved one hand in my pocket and set the other on the front door.

“I’ll just do a perimeter check.” Carlo slid outside, and I locked the door behind him even though I was going right back out. My cousin’s orders.

I followed the scents of vanilla, cloves, and cinnamon into the kitchen. It reminded me of tía Camelia’s place on the island at Christmastime. She always used to send treats home with Papá and me. My body jolted with the reminder that I wouldn’t be spending Christmas with my extended family back on the island.

But tía Rosa was family, too, and I pasted a smile on my face for her. She transferred cookies from a baking sheet to a length of parchment paper on her counter.

“Hola, tía.” Forcing a careless sway into my hips, I sauntered to her side and kissed her cheek.

“Mateo.” Buttery warmth filled her voice. “I’m glad you came by. Don’t let me forget to send you home with some of these.”

I nabbed one from the counter and crunched into it. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Want to see what I brought you?”

“You brought me something?” Her brown eyes sparkling, she wiped her hands on a towel.

“An early Christmas present.”

I got her a coat from her closet and helped her into the sleeves. Outside, her gaze arrowed to the snowman.

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