Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 74882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“He’s not handsome,” Sheridan growls. “He’s an idiot.”
As soon as the door slams in my face, I shake my head and take off walking down the path. This place causes a storm of emotions inside me. While I love seeing Mamá and the rest of my friends and family, it feels haunted. Empty. Missing the heart of what made this place the joy of my childhood.
It’s missing mi papá.
And it’s all my fault.
Bitterness sours my stomach, reminding me of my hunger. Rather than hitting my villa, I follow my nose. As much as I want to hate Eduardo, it’s hard to hate someone who loves your mother. Even if he is a mindless idiot most days. Regardless, the man can cook.
With the hurricane on its way, many of the hotel workers are out doing what we always do when this happens. Putting away anything that might blow away. Hammering plywood over glass windows and doors. Sandbagging low-lying areas. But not Eduardo. Nah, that big boy will be in the kitchen slaving away to feed the crew hard at work.
I look around for Mamá, but she’s nowhere to be found. This woman lives for this hotel. At one time, I thought she loved it more than me, but like any good mother, she set me straight a long time ago when I bitched about such things.
Siempre eres mi estrella brillante en el cielo, mijo. You’re always my bright star in the sky, son.
The restaurant and bar—affectionately called Eddie’s—is already boarded up, but the front door is standing wide-open. It sits on the highest area of the hotel property and seems to be the soundest structure, so if a hurricane really does hit, Eddie’s is the safest place to be. It’s also the most entertaining. Food, drinks, and a rickety old piano that Eduardo claims Elton John used to own. I know he’s probably fucking with me, but I like to pretend it’s true.
“Cuervo!” a deep voice booms from the kitchen when I enter the restaurant.
I wave to Linda—who doesn’t speak and never has since coming to work here—before heading back to the kitchen. Eduardo is sweating like a goddamn pig as he chops tomatoes. He’s singing along to something I’ve never heard of and moving his hips like he’s a fucking professional dancer. Sometimes I cannot grasp how my mother is attracted to this man.
“There he is!” Eduardo greets, a wide grin on his face. His mustache is longer than last time, curling out at the ends. Looks like a cartoon character. “You take to the sky for too long, Cuervo. We all miss you, especially my Rosita.”
I try not to bristle at his claim on my mother.
I’m long past blaming Eduardo for loving my mother when my father wasn’t there to.
“My schedule’s been packed,” I tell him, peeking under a lid that smells heavenly. “Where’s Mamá?
“Con tu abuela, er, she is with your grandmother.” He winces and guilt tugs inside me. Fuck, I really have been an asshole to him. I distinctly remember being sixteen and yelling at him on a visit back from Dad’s in the States telling him he could speak English if he wanted to talk to me. Back then, Eduardo didn’t know English. Since, he’s learned how to speak it, just so he can communicate with me. The guy’s been trying so hard ever since.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, frowning.
“Your grandmother is good,” he says. “Don’t worry. They’re arguing over what color to paint the spa.”
I snort and he chuckles. “We’re calling it the spa now, huh?”
“You know how they are.” He shrugs. “Are you hungry? Most of this won’t be ready until supper, but I can make you a plate.”
“I’m good for now. Need help pulling out the cots?”
“Linda has enough for the staff, but we can grab one for you too.”
“I brought guests,” I tell him. “Seven more.”
“¡Siete!” He whistles. “Your mother is going to lose her mind.” He taps the side of his head. “We never have that many guests at once.”
At one time, when Dad was here with her, this hotel was a hoppin’ little hotspot. It was always filled to the brim with guests. But when Dad left, and me with him, it’s like we took the heart and soul from the place. Now it’s just bones that my mother is trying desperately to hold together.
“I’ll break the news to her. Maybe she’ll freak out less because she’ll be overcome with joy at seeing me,” I joke as I watch Eduardo toss some shredded beef into a tortilla. My stomach grumbles when he fills it to the brim with cheese, pico, veggies, and slathers it in sour cream. He rolls it up in a sheet of foil and then tosses it at me.
“This will keep my boy fed until supper. Give your mother kisses from me.”