Margery’s eyes widened, then swung my way, apologetic and a bit panicky.
“I amsosorry, Mr. Valdez. I was storing your bags and didn’t realize—”
“Do not worry about it, Margery. It is not your fault my mother is impatient.”
Margery smiled, though her cheeks were bright red. “Is there anything else I can get you all?”
“Xanax?” I joked, eyeing my mother.
This time, my mother did remove her flip-flop to chuck it at me. I dodged it just in time, and it smacked into one of the walls.
Octavia broke out in laughter. My mother, of course, was scowling at me again. Aleesa giggled.
“Do you see what I put up with, amor?” I smiled and winked at my daughter.
“I pray mi niña doesn’t grow up being so rude like her father.”
Something caught my ear, and I looked out of the door of the plane again. Coming up the stairs and into the jet was Catalina. She wore a pair of sunglasses, a crop top, and jeans. Her hair was all over the place, as if she had just been running or something.
“Finally,” I said as she stumbled onto the jet. “What took you so long? We were supposed to take off twenty minutes ago.”
“I know, I know.” Catalina waved a dismissive hand as she plopped down in one of the seats. “The Uber driver’s car got a flat tire. I had to run the rest of the way.”
“Aw, man. I’m glad you made it,” Octavia said.
“Yes, and you are here now. That is all that matters.” My mother handed Catalina a glass of wine, and my sister gladly accepted it. My mother then glanced at Octavia, giving her a weird up-and-down look.
“I would ask you, Octavia, but I do not think it is wise for you to drink on the job.”
Octavia pursed her lips, looking from my mother to me.
“She can have a drink if she would like, Má,” I said. What the hell was that about?
“It’s okay.” Octavia forced a smile. “She’s definitely right. I don’t want a drink right now anyway. It’s fine.” She glanced at my mother a few times, slightly confused. Then she took the seat next to Aleesa.
I frowned at my mother, and she finally looked at me.
“What?” She threw her hands into the air, trying to be innocent.
“Pórtate bien, Mamá.”I gave her a stern eye, insisting that she behave.
Yes, I feared my mother in certain ways, but I also knew that she did not care much for my nannies. She always assumed they wanted more from me or were flirting with me. She could be overwhelmingly protective.
“I did nothing wrong,” she muttered in Spanish. She rolled her eyes, taking a long sip of wine.
Octavia was looking between us, brows puckered, trying to figure out what we were talking about.
“Are we ready to go now?” I asked, looking between all of them.
“Ready,” Catalina said.
“Yep,” Octavia answered.
My mother strapped in, performed the sign of the cross, and then took another big gulp of wine. “I am ready,” she said.
I swear, that woman drove me crazy. Hell, all the women on the plane drove me crazy.
I took the seat across from Aleesa (diagonally across from Octavia), swapping out her iPad for a coloring book and crayons. Because I could not help myself, I stole a glance at Octavia, who was asking Aleesa what the color names were for each crayon she pointed at.
