Joshua

by Beatrice Sand

  “Good.”

  “You want me to go, Tess?” he asks softly.

  “No,” I say in all honesty, “but I think you have to.”

  He nods understandingly. “Yeah, go talk to him.”

  “How can I help him, Josh? What do I say? I don’t have the right questions like you did.”

  “Don’t try to be his friend just to keep the peace. Or even his sister. Be the parent he needs. That’s the best piece of advice I can give you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Josh gets up and glances at the desserts on the kitchen countertop. “Have you made those?”

  “Yes, three recipes from my home country.”

  Like Felipe before, he breaks off a little piece of the dough and dips it in the chocolate, then smiles. “What time do you get up tomorrow?”

  “Around seven.”

  “I come back from the market around that time. Can I stop by?”

  “Sure. I’ll fix you breakfast.”

  “You already did,” he says, gesturing to the dishes. “I’d like to taste them.”

  “I’ll save you some.”

  “Great.”

  After one last smile, he jogs down the stairs, and I close the door. I walk toward the kitchen and cut two royal pieces of almond cake, two pieces of comfort food.

  I knock on Felipe’s door, and, respecting his privacy, wait patiently for him to let me in, while staring at pictures of skulls and the Spanish flag.

  Tears well up.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  joshua

  As soon as I return from the fish pier on Peirce Island, I ditch the fresh seafood in the freezer, get caffeinated, and leave for Teresa’s house. It’s not yet seven, but I don’t think I really care.

  “You can come up,” Felipe’s low voice croaks over the intercom.

  I push against the door when the buzz rings, and take the flight of stairs. The door leading inside the apartment is ajar, and I let myself in, just like the evening before, but this time it’s quiet. The smell of freshly ground coffee beans wafts into my nose.

  “Morning!” I say to Felipe, who’s studying the contents of the fridge.

  “My sister’s in the shower,” he replies, unbothered. “She made you coffee. Help yourself.”

  “Great. Thanks.” I remove my jacket and hang it over a barstool. “Getting ready for school?” Not sure if he appreciates the small talk after I put him on the spot yesterday, but I don’t want to make things any more awkward than they already are.

  “Guess I am or I wouldn’t be up at seven,” he replies as if I just triggered his chagrin. Making peace with him will be a challenge, I think, while racking my brain to come up with something to melt the ice between us.

  I grab a mug and pour the freshly brewed coffee, cocking my brow when I hear Felipe curse. He slams the door of the fridge shut. When I turn around, I stare in horror at his granola bar. “Is that all you’re gonna eat for breakfast?”

  He perches himself on a stool. “Yeah. We’re out of…pretty much everything. Except all that sweet stuff she baked yesterday, but she’d kill me if I ate churros for breakfast.”

  I open the fridge. He’s right. No milk, no yogurt, not even fruit juice. Three eggs, a tomato, and other items worthy of a nutritious breakfast for a teenager sit on a rack. “How about an omelet?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder.

  “Making an omelet is not my area of expertise, and I don’t have time to boil an egg.”

  “I admit making an omelet is quite a challenge, but you’re fortunate to know me.”

  “I’m already running late. And in enough trouble as it is,” he mumbles.

  “Then I better get started,” I reply as I grab the eggs, butter, cheese, and fresh veggies. “Three minutes. Time me.”

  A nonstick pan is already waiting on the stove, so I cut off a small chunk of butter and drop it in the pan, flip on the gas burner, and then search through cabinets and drawers, removing everything appropriate to prepare the best fucking tasty omelet for a troubled teen to start his day off right. It also keeps my dirty mind from picturing Tess standing naked in the shower.

  I crack the eggs in a mixing bowl, grab a whisk from a utensil pot with a little flair, flipping it twice before catching it as though I’m friggin’ Tom Cruise in Cocktail, and start beating those suckers, working up a sweat. I season with salt and pepper, pour the mixture into the hot skillet, then pick up the knife and chop the tomato, a red onion, and parsley at a speed that would have even my old chef instructor in Switzerland regard me with fucking awe.

  “Felipe, listen, about yesterday… I’m sorry for putting you on the stand like I did in front of your sister.”

  “No probs.”

  I throw a quick glance over my shoulder. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, we’re cool.”

  “You talked it over with her?”

  “Kinda,” he says, shrugging. “It’s just weed; I don’t understand why all of you were so upset. An ounce of marijuana hardly lands me in supermax prison. I’m sixteen.”

  Oh-oh. That doesn’t sound good. “Don’t take it too lightly,” I say casually, for now, because I want him to have something in his stomach first.

  I grate a bit of cheese and put it over the omelet, then fold it. I leave it on the stove for a few seconds more to let the cheese melt. “Where do you keep the plates?” I ask hurriedly, as if my life depends on it. I guess it does. If Felipe doesn’t have his ass in class on time, I’m sure I’m in deep shit too.

  He gestures to a cabinet overhanging the counter, and I take one out, then turn off the gas and slide a perfectly cooked and shaped omelet onto the serving plate and top it with salsa. Smiling, I place it in front of Felipe, who stops the timer. “One Mexican omelet. How did I do?” I ask, wiping my hands against my jeans.

  He glances at the timer, and then cocks his brow. “Three minutes and twenty seconds.”

  “Well, then you better eat fast to make up for those twenty seconds.”

  He gets up and takes a fork from the cupboard. “That was impressive. Thanks.”

  “My pleasure. Enjoy.” I flip a stool around backwards and sit down too, watching him fork up a bite and prop it into his mouth.

  “It’s good,” he says, his mouth full. It’s followed by a toothy grin; my reward. God, he just made my day.

  “I never knew my dad, and lost my mom when I was nine,” I hear myself suddenly say.

  To my big surprise, Felipe nods. “I know.”

  “Really?”

  “Tess told me you’re a Vandenberg, from the Vandenberg hotels. I was curious and googled you. Your family has their own Wikipedia page. I’m sorry. That shit shouldn’t be on the Internet.”

  “It’s okay. Fortunately, not many people link my name to the hotel chain. But when they do an Internet search, see pictures, yeah, then they would know.”

  “Are you harassed by journalists?”

  I nod. “Sometimes. I don’t mind if they want to do an interview about the restaurant, but I break it off when they start asking personal questions about my past. Anyway, I want to tell you something about myself, if you want to hear it, of course.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Okay. Finish your breakfast.” I swallow down coffee before I strip my soul bare in front of the kid. Don’t let it be in vain.

  “Jaz, my twin sister, and I were raised by my aunt and uncle. They became our legal guardians. Those first years, I missed my mother terribly, but as I got older, I was so angry with her for what she did to us, always wondering why we weren’t enough for her. Jaz and I both went through a difficult time, but, out of the two of us, I set the bar at being unruly.”

  “You smoked weed?”

  “Started at fifteen. Mac, my oldest cousin, was twenty at the time and moved out of the hotel where we lived. He was my role model, but he wasn’t around anymore, and when he was, he wasn’t interested in me.” I sigh deeply. “So, I went looking for new friends to hang out with, and right ther
e and then I went astray. I used to fight a lot, smoked weed, and started skipping classes.”

  Felipe lowers his eyelids, and I know I hit home.

  “I got busted, but that wasn’t enough to follow the straight and narrow. I just stopped caring altogether. I never had Mac’s passion working in the family business. I was bored out of my mind at school, and started looking for more excitement, and money to get the hell out of the hotel and lead my own life. Far away from the place where my mother abandoned us.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I started a criminal enterprise.”

  Felipe drops his fork. “What?”

  “Yeah, you heard it right. I ran a gambling house, an underground poker room, and I used my computer to place bets.”

  “Holy shit! How much money did you make?”

  I roll my eyes at his question. “It’s not cool what I did, Felipe.”

  “Were you caught?”

  “Yeah. I set it up in the laundry room after housekeeping left. One night I forgot to clean up my shit after me, and one of the employees found it and told my uncle, who was the managing director, and he went to the police. I didn’t know, so a few days later we were sitting there, playing cards, and the next moment, I found myself staring at a badge. I had five ounces of weed on me.”

  “They arrested you?”

  I nod.

  “Your uncle knew it was you?”

  “No, he suspected his employees.”

  “They sent you to juvie?”

  I smile. “I always thought juvie sounded so…friendly. It’s not. It’s juvenile detention center, a prison for juvenile delinquents, and one step away from prison if you don’t get your shit together. I was well on my way to becoming a criminal. Almost eighteen. Eat up!”

  Felipe picks up his fork again. “What happened next? How did you get your shit together?”

  “You might have read my cousins were kidnapped.”

  “Yes,” he says softly.

  “Well, I was in prison when that happened. And I can’t begin to describe how awful that was. I wanted to be there for my family, help them search the damn planet for my cousins, and now here I was, my sorry ass in prison, wasting my potential. I felt remorseful and guilty for being in prison and giving my family a hard time, and above all, powerless, so freaking powerless. The only ones who came to visit me during the kidnapping were Jaz and Lola, my sister and cousin. The worst part was when Mac got into a car and delivered the ransom money. Asher, Lola’s boyfriend at the time, went with him. It should have been me, not Asher.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “I felt I let everyone down, and right there and then I decided I’d never disappoint them again, and I vowed I’d make them proud of me.”

  “When were you released?”

  “The same day the kidnappers released my cousins. It was an emotional reunion. A lot of tears were spilled that day and the days after. I straightened up and never smoked another joint again, nor skipped classes.”

  “What did you do after?”

  “I went to Switzerland and returned to the States five years later with a culinary arts degree in my pocket. It got me to where I am today.”

  Felipe finishes the omelet and puts down his fork, then wipes away a tear rolling down his cheek. “I have cousins, and I’d do anything for them too,” he says softly. “I’m sorry for everything you and your cousins went through.”

  “You went through quite a lot yourself, big guy. It’s why I said you and I look a lot like each other. Like me, you have people around you who care for you, who love you fiercely. I’m the first to admit that sixteen sucks, but you have a great life ahead of you. Just focus on school and stay away from the drugs and those damn criminals hanging around the school, and you’ll be fine,” I finish. “And let me tell you something else, having people proud of you is the best feeling in the world.”

  “Tess said you wanted to give me a job. Is that true?”

  “Yeah, I could use a kitchenhand.”

  “She set up a trust fund for me with the money we received after our parents died, but I can’t touch that anytime soon. I understand why she did it, but I’d really like to have more money than just my allowance.”

  “I hear you, but if you want more money, you need to work for it like the rest of them.”

  “What would I be doing?”

  “Cleaning and basic food preparation, like washing salad and peeling potatoes.”

  “I could do that. As long as I don’t have to make omelets.”

  I laugh. “I’ll teach you someday so you can make your own. But, Felipe, make no mistake, I’m like the army and have a zero-tolerance drugs policy. If I catch you stoned, you’re out.”

  “You won’t,” he assures me, shaking his head, and I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. He glances at his phone. “Shit, gotta run!”

  “Go! Stop by later this week and we’ll talk about it.”

  “Cool. Thanks, Josh! Bye, Tess!” Full of excitement, he picks up his backpack and runs for the door.

  “Don’t forget to brush your…”

  The door slams close.

  “…teeth,” Tess calls to the closed door. I almost squint when I zoom in on a pair of deep bronzed legs.

  She jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “Was that my brother, being happy?”

  Gawking, my eyes travel up her tan and well-shaped body, covered by nothing more than a short, black satin bathrobe. Her luxuriant hair is wet from the shower. My gaze travels further over her face and stop on her prominent eyes.

  “Yeah, think so,” I reply as soon as I find my tongue again.

  “What did you do to him?”

  My eyes follow her into the kitchen. “Fixed him an omelet.”

  “I bet that was one hell of an omelet then?”

  “You’d be surprised what a simple omelet can accomplish.”

  Smiling, she pushes her hair behind her ears. “That was a sweet thing to do.” She pulls out the coffee pot and pours herself a coffee. I can smell her shampoo fragrance as she tops off mine. I’m just a breath removed from her delectable mouth. “I usually make him overnight oats, but I forgot with everything that went on yesterday.”

  “Thanks,” I say as I pick up my mug, making short work of my sexual thoughts.

  Tess makes for the stool to my right, and I get up and turn my own stool back around again.

  “So, tell me, the suspense is killing me, how much money did you make with your criminal enterprise?” she inquires waggishly as she perches her slender feet on the barstool’s footrest. One of her bare knees touches mine.

  I shoot her a grin. “About three-thousand dollars a night, five-thousand on a good day.”

  “Thank you for not sharing that piece of information with Felipe.”

  “You always eavesdrop on people?” I ask, quirking one brow.

  “Usually, no. I was on my way over here when I heard you guys talk. Felipe has little man-to-man talk lately, so I didn’t want to interrupt, but I couldn’t turn around either. I’m sorry, Josh.”

  “Sorry for what?”

  “For eavesdropping.” Her face grows serious. “For what happened to you.”

  I slurp the hot liquid, then slowly and deliberately set away the mug. “So now you know.” Probably for the best, I think. If I do end up between her legs, I’d feel less guilty.

  She shakes her head, looking confused. “Know what?”

  “I was behind bars.”

  “As a kid, yeah. You were a juvenile.”

  “An adolescent,” I correct.

  “And now you’re an adult, an honest man, and I can’t thank you enough for opening up to Felipe. That had to be tough for you, dragging up your past, but you did it anyway. And on top of that, you offered him a job.”

  “Your brother is going to be fine.” I shift my weight, uncomfortable in her presence. “Do we need to talk about what happened yesterday at my place? I don’t remember everything clearly.”


  Teresa looks me dead in the eye. “Are you an alcoholic?”

  I take my time to answer her, since a simple no wouldn’t cut it. “At times, especially around this time a year,” I say, swallowing, “I drink more than I probably should, but only in the confines of my own apartment. Sometimes I just want to forget and lose myself in the booze, and yesterday it got out of hand. But no, I’m not abusing it. If Felipe wants the job, you can rest assured he’ll be working in a safe environment.”

  “Then there’s nothing to talk about.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, suddenly feeling insecure. That’s a first. My mouth has run dry. I want so bad to touch her, and at the same time, I just want to sit here and look at her, and listen to everything she has to say. Especially the part where she tells me she needs me too, but that’s probably wishful thinking now since she knows me inside and out. “I’m sorry I let you down yesterday.”

  “No, please... you didn’t let me down, if anything, you’re helping me become the best pastry chef I can be.”

  We stare at each other for the longest time, then Teresa clears her throat. “Let me get you your breakfast. You must be hungry.”

  I narrow my eyes. “What?”

  “Your breakfast. You’re here for the tasting, remember?”

  Before I know it, I’ve placed my hand on her knee, the one that’s pressing against mine. Her skin feels warm and soft. Her eyes drop down to my hand.

  “Breakfast can wait. What I need is you, Tess.”

  Her head lifts, and our eyes meet.

  “You need to tell me what you need,” I say as she stays quiet. “Tell me if you need me to go or if you need me to stay, but if you ask me to stay, I’m going to remove that piece of clothing you’re wearing, and lose myself in you. Not in liquor, in you.”

  “What about me?” she whispers. “What if I want to lose myself too?”

  “I’ll take care of you, Tess,” I say, then dig my finger pads into her flesh. “I promise I won’t forget you.”

  “Then I’ll ask you to stay.”

  Without taking my eyes from her, I place my other hand on her other knee, and slowly but firmly let both my palms slide up her thighs, pushing back the satin fabric as they revel in the smoothness of her skin, until my fingers reach the rims of her panties. I untie her robe and it falls open, revealing her underwear.