Ace’s phone rang, and he reached into his pocket, his other arm still around Lucky. He looked at the screen and gasped. “Fuck, it’s your mother! Why is your mother calling me?”
Lucky shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because she’s your aunt?”
Bullshit.
“And she’syourmother.” Ace gasped again. “You fuck! She called you, and you didn’t answer her call? Are youhigh?”
If there was one thing Joker had learned about the Cuban Mama Mafia—besides the fact that they believed no one ever ate enough and that everything could be solved with food—was that they had an instinct for when their boys were hurt or sick. He’d also learned you didn’t ignore their calls. That way lay madness.
Colton’s phone rang and vibrated across the coffee table. He stared at it like it might spring up and attack him any second. “Lucky, your mother is calling me.”
“For fuck’s sake, someone answer her call,” Lucky said, trying to get out of Ace’s iron grip.
“How aboutyouanswer her call,” Colton said, holding out his phone. “You’re her son.”
“You’re her son-in-law,” Lucky argued.
“For fuck’s sake.” King swiped Colton’s phone, ignoring Lucky and Ace’s protest. He tapped the screen, and a woman’s voice came over the speaker.
“Cariño, donde esta Candi?”
Lucky sighed and let his head fall forward. “Aquí, Mami.”
“Eduardo! Why did you not pick up your phone? What is going on? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Where is Mason?”
“Esta durmiendo.”
“¿Qué? Sleeping? At this time? What is wrong with him?”
Joker pressed his lips together to keep himself from making a sound. She couldn’t know he was here because then someone would open their big annoying mouth and spill the beans on him being in a cast, and then he was fucked.
“He is not feeling well, Mami. I think he is getting a cold.”
Nice!Throw your sleeping boyfriend under the bus.Joker approved.
Mrs. Morales tsked. “¡Ay, pobrecito! You take good care of him, Eduardo. Have you made him soup?”
“I was just on my way to do that. I should go do that,” Lucky said, pointing to the kitchen as if she could see him.
“¿Dónde está Chulo?”
Lucky took a step forward, and Ace let himself slide to the floor. He rolled onto his back with a sigh. “Aqui, tía.”
“Chulo! Why did you not answer your phone?”
“I’m sorry, tía. I was, uh….” Ace looked around the room. “I was in the middle of a puppy potty emergency. Did Mami tell you Colton got me a puppy for Christmas?”
And everyone in the living room let out a collective sigh. Lucky’s mom was busy cooing and gushing over Cocoa, and Joker was slowly, quietly getting up. Not an easy task with his stupid cast. He made his way into the kitchen.
“Are you really going to make your chicken soup?”
Like Red, Lucky was an amazing cook, having learned from his mother and aunt, though he made Cuban food instead of Red’s southern comfort food. Either way, it meant deliciousness.
“Yes.” Lucky side-eyed him as he removed a giant pot from the cabinet.
“Are you making it for Mason, or…?”
“You are not subtle. No, I am going to make enough for everyone.”
