“You want us to share a man?” Sky asks, completely deadpan, and I almost spit out a large gulp of sangria.
Sonya smacks Sky’s knee. “You know what I mean.”
“What if we want a woman?” Laurel asks.
Sonya raises her eyebrow, considering. “Just like any man, she better have money.” She turns to Nadia. “What about you? When’s the last time you’ve been on a date? A decade? Más? Don’t you think it’s time to do something other than—” She lifts her hands, as though gesturing to the air explains what she means.
Nadia narrows her eyes. “Other than what, Sonya?” Her voice is dangerous and low.
My sisters and I look at each other in alarm. The last time these two viejitas had a real fight, supposedly Sonya walked away with a bloody nose and Nadia walked away with a poltergeist haunting her. That’s Sonya’s gift, by the way. Ghosts.
“Teal has a date to Nate’s wedding!” Sky announces, pointedly ignoring my wide eyes.
“Who’re you going with?” Sage asks. Then she narrows her eyes. “Oh, wait,no. Teal. You didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?” asks Laurel.
Sonya tsks disapprovingly at me. “Youshould be the one marrying that Nate Bowen boy. Nowhehas money.”
“Did you, though?” Sage asks, ignoring Sonya and pointing at me with her wineglass in her hand. It looks like she hasn’t taken a single sip. “Did you seriously ask—”
“Sky refuses to update her wardrobe from the early aughts!” I announce.
“Hey!” Sky glances down at her outfit. “There’s nothing wrong with this.”
“Not if we’re in the year 2006, there isn’t,” I respond with a smirk.
Sonya wrinkles her nose, then turns to Nadia. “You didn’t take her shopping yet? She’s been wearing her eight-year-old clothes for all these months?”
“When am I supposed to have time to take her shopping, Sonya? Some of us actually do work for a living.”
“I work, Nadia.” Sonya’s hand is nearly crushing her glass.
“Spying on your neighbors to report them to the HOA doesn’t count as work, hermana.”
It’s like watching a NatGeo doc of two wildcats circling each other as they prepare a battle for dominance. These two need a shiny, glittery distraction to keep them from attacking each other, but I desperately don’t want any distraction to include the wordCarter. “Back to the topic of Sky’s ugly clothes.” I ignore Sky’s cry of offense. “Sky won’t let anyone take her shopping, Amá. That’s what I was saying before.”
Sonya gives me the stinkeye next. “¿Y tú? Why do you always dress like you’re about to do a push-up? Haven’t we talked about this?”
I groan. “Yes, Amá. We have. Many times.” I have a feeling she’s going to continue this conversation anyway, and Amá doesn’t disappoint.
“To attract a high-quality man, you need to dress con elegancia. No más”—she tosses a hand at my body—“looking like you’re competing in the Tour de France.”
“I bet all the ladies competing at the Tour de France have high-quality men, Amá.”
“You think you’re being cute, Teal, pero all that sass will repel a man.” Sonya sips her sangria. “Who are you taking to this wedding anyway?”
I inhale too fast and get slightly light-headed. “Jesus. Why does everyone care about my date? Shouldn’t we be focused on the dateless?” I glance around “Who areyoutaking, Laurel?”
“I’m taking Alex Ramirez.”
“¿Quien?” both old ladies ask.
“She’s the sheriff.”
Amá frowns thoughtfully. “How much do sheriffs make? It needs to be six figures at least, mija. Or you’ve got to let her go.”
“Carter.”
