Octavio clucked his tongue. “Oh, Celia. I’m here to celebrate Christmas with my family!”
“So glad you could make it, Papa,” Logan grinned wider, pulling his father to the prep table.
I tilted my head to look at Octavio. His hair was thinner from the last time I laid eyes on him. Almost half of it was gone. He was pushing 60, so that didn’t surprise me in the least. It made me giddy that this vain lunatic was going bald. It wasn’t enough to approve of today’s mess, though.
“This isn’t your family,” I put my hand on Octavio’s chest to stop him. He was a good head taller than me, but I would put this jackwagon on the floor if I needed to. “Don’t you remember walking away and not sending them a dime?”
Octavio gripped my hand on his chest in a crushing hold. “They didn’t need my dimes. They had your trust.”
I yanked my hand away from him. “And you’re not getting any of it.”
Octavio waved around. “We’ll see about that.”
He turned to the Skinny Chef. “Sorry, I’m late! I was working on a surprise for my family!”
Skinny Chef smiled. SMILED! I now had afull hate-onfor this poser.
“No worries,” Skinny Chef picked up his knife. “Tis the season and all. Now, back to our onions…”
“Papa, are you going to stick around for a while?” Lance smiled expectantly at his father.
My heart broke. I knew what Octavio was doing here. I knew what he wanted, and it wasn’t his sons.
“We’ll see, my boys,” Octavio smiled at them.
Lance and Logan took that as an affirmative. I just glared at their deadbeat sperm donor, waiting.
I pointed my knife at him. “What are you really here for?”
Octavio turned toward me with crazy eyes. “I’m here for what’s due to me.”
“Due to you?”
“Half of your trust is mine, sweetheart,” Octavio’s garlic breath nearly burnt the eyebrows off my face. He also smelled like a frat house floor the day after a two-day kegger.
I reeled back, hoping for some fresh air. “We’ve been over this. The judge ruled it isn’t. I made that money before we married.”
“Doesn’t matter. I found a judge that is,” Octavio searched for the word. “Sympatheticto my cause.”
My temper flared. “How much more sympathetic can this judge be that the one from our divorce wasn’t? Hmm? You got your divorce without having to pay me a dime in alimony or child support.”
Octavio reached out and grabbed my shoulder. Hard. “What about my support? I had less money than you. You should have had to pay me for the divorce.”
“The divorce YOU wanted!” I was over the whispering at this point. Let the student cooks hear us. “The divorce brought on by your infidelity!”
“You drove me to it!” Octavio dragged out this tired old argument for the hundredth time.
I slapped my hand on the prep table. “You need to get the heck out of here! This isn’t your family and hasn’t been for a long time. You left us on our own so that you could find a younger model. I owe younothing!”
“Mama!” Logan cried.
Lance glared at me with betrayal in his eyes. Me. The one person who loved them unconditionally. The woman who taught them to walk and drive and wiped their butts.
The woman who’s been cleaning up their crap ever since.
“Mark my words, Celia Cruz,” Octavio pointed in my face. “You’ll pay up.”
“Overyourdead body!” I screamed, pointing at him with my knife.
