We all murmur greetings. It doesn’t really matter what this dude’s name is or how nice he might be, Coco’ll kick ‘em to the curb in a few weeks. She always does.
Coco turns to me, wrapping her arms around my waist and pulling me in for a hug. “What did I do to deserve such good boys?”
I bend and kiss her cheek, inhaling the scent of sunscreen and lime margaritas. “We just wanted to see you,” I say, which is true. Just not the whole truth.
“Mmm,” she hums, patting my face like she doesn’t buy it for a second. “Rafe. Come give your momma some love.”
Rafe steps in, quick hug. “Hey, Ma.”
“Hi, sweetheart.” She pulls back, eyes narrowing slightly. “You eating enough? Sleeping? You look thin.”
“I’m fine,” he says smoothly. “I’ll come by for lunch soon.”
Cruz steps in last, dropping a kiss on her cheek. “Hey, Ma.”
She smirks. “Hello, my darling boy. I haven’t seen you around for a couple of days.”
“We’ve been working on something,” Cruz says, dimples flashing.
Coco nods slowly, that knowing smile blooming like she’s already decided she approves. “All of you together,” she says, gaze flicking over us. “I love to see it. Can’t wait to hear about what you’ve been working on.”
She turns to Evan, looping her arm through his. “Sweetheart, would you mind running to the store and grabbing more margarita mix? Or maybe some things for sangria? Whatever you find.”
“Of course, Coco.” Evan leans in and kisses.
I look away before I get an eyeful. There are some things you don’t need burned into your brain, and watching your mom make out before tacos is one of them.
“I’ll be right back,” Evan says, heading toward the driveway.
The second the gate shuts behind him, the air shifts.
We move toward the patio table like we’re a normal family having a normal dinner instead of a crew trying to sell our mother on a job.
Cruz sets down the food. Bishop pulls out her chair like the good son he’s supposed to be. Rafe heads toward the house with a casual, “I’ll get plates.”
I crouch at the outdoor fridge for beers, cold glass biting my fingers, and take a second to steady myself.
Coco settles in just as I set the bottles down.
“Now I really know something’s going on,” she says lightly. “My boys waiting on me hand and foot?” She taps the rim of her margarita glass with one polished nail. “So. What job are you trying to butter me up for?”
“Maybe we just wanted to visit,” I say, forcing a grin.
“Maybe,” she echoes, eyes narrowing with amusement. “But don’t insult me.”
Rafe returns with plates. Cruz is already tearing into the foil containers. Bishop sits stiffly at the opposite end of the table, shoulders tight, like his body’s already braced for impact.
“All right,” Coco says, lifting her glass. “I’m listening.”
Bishop flicks me a look. I guess that’s my cue.
“We’ve got a lead,” I say. “Highlight Entertainment. They’re above a music store in Bayview. Holding inventory for a festival next month. Security’s workable. The payout’s solid if we time it right.”
Bishop's nostrils flare as he exhales sharply, his mouth a tight line, eyes never leaving mine.
Coco’s head tilts. “Something amusing, honey?”
Bishop straightens a fraction. “No.”
