Page 19 of Love Off Course

“Dude.” I snort and shake my head. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m brilliant, CZ. She’s angry because she needs a hot little Mexican boy in bright yellow trunks to lure her into his bed.”

“See, when you say it like that, it sounds creepy.”

He starts to dance—over the top, I might add—pulling out some moves Patrick Swayze would be proud of. “Baby, oh, baby…” He waves me to him, winking.

“How are you even married? Did Krissy just feel sorry for you? Took one for the team of womankind?”

“Besides being a hunk?—”

“Don’t say hunk. You sound like the old fuckers you hang out with.”

“I’m excellent at eating puss?—”

“La la la. I can’t hear you.” I pretend to cover my ears so I don’t have to hear him describe in detail how he pleasures his wife.

“And I fuck like a stallion?—”

“Stop, Carson, just stop.”

He makes an exaggerated show of grabbing my dresser and thrusting his hips toward it while waggling his brows at me. “Just like this.”

I crack up laughing and shove him. “Let’s go. I can’t take any more of this torture. We have work to do anyway.”

We throw on some tennis shoes and head outside of my villa. Since the place is now booked up, he’s rooming with me. As soon as I hear Elton on the record player playing nearby, I smile. All the stress of the last few months fades away. Truth is, I missed home. I missed the chaos and the love and the food. My crazy ass family and friends. As much as I love soaring above the clouds, I’ve always been tethered here. Everyone needs a home base and this hotel is mine.

Myabuelais sitting outside the little villa she uses for her home and a spa. One of my cousins must have already boarded her windows for the storm. She sits in a flower-print muumuu, a giant pot of clay between her legs, and is singing along to Elton as she works her clay.

“Abuela,” Carson greets as he strides up to my grandmother to give her wrinkly cheek a kiss. “Did you miss me?”

Myabueladoesn’t speak English, but she understands Carson. Hell, I think anyone over the age of sixty does. He speaks their geriatric language. She smiles at him, revealing her gums, and I shake my head. Her dentures are around here somewhere. I used to terrorize my younger cousins when we’d find themlying about all over the hotel and chase them as I pretended to chomp them with her fake teeth.

“¿Preparando una caldo?” I ask as I bend to kiss her.Making a pot?

She shakes her head and squeezes the soft clay in her arthritic-ridden hands. “Para la cara, niño.”For the face, child.

“¿Donde está Mamá?”Where is Mamá?

She points toward the front office. My mother is barking out orders to my cousins Mateo and Nicolás. They’re both giant, sulking young men who tower over her, but they obey her because she’s the ruler of this roost. While the guys start hammering up boards, I sneak up on my mother. When I bear hug her from behind, she squawks at me. I have her arms pinned so she can’t swat at me. I spin her around until she stops yelling and gives in to laughter. Finally, I set her to her feet and kiss the top of her head.

“Hola, Mamá.”Hello, Mamá.

She pulls away and gets her swat in, whacking me right in the stomach. “You can’t sneak up on me like that. I’m too old.”

“You’re not old,” I argue, grinning. “You’re young and beautiful and smart and?—”

“What do you want?” Her dark eyebrow arches up.

“Can’t a boy tell his mom he loves her?”

“You’re sucking up,mijo. You want something.”

I don’t. Used to. I’d butter her up so she’d let me go flying with Alejandro or run off in the jungle with my cousins or swim in the rain. I’m a grown man now. A man who has desperately missed his mother.

Her features relax and she hugs me. “Eduardo is making a feast tonight. Will you come?”

God, I’m such an asshole. Last time I was here, I was being a dick and avoided him as much as possible.

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