Page 2 of Raspados & Regret

“Good for her,” I deadpan.

“And your cousin was supposed to help with setup.”

“Which cousin?” I stare, running through the list of twenty-seven first cousins that could possibly have volunteered to help.

“Junior.”

I laugh once, and it comes out flat. “Junior can’t set up his own phone charger.”

“Well… he sprained his ankle.”

That fucking tracks. “Doing what? Running from his baby mama’s brother again.”

“That’s still an ankle injury.” My tío shrugs.

“I respect the brother.”

My tío shoves the paper against my chest. I have to take it or let it fall. I take it because my tía will make it everyone’s problem later.

“You just need to help set up the booth,” he says. “After that, maybe stay for a few hours. Help carry the coolers and, you know, keep an eye on things.”

I unfold the paper, and the logo at the top says Bahía Nights Summer Market in bright turquoise letters, like the graphic designer was being paid in mango paletas and optimism.

“Keep an eye on what?”

He doesn’t answer fast enough, and that tells me whatever the reason is, I’m going to want no part of it.

“Tío?”

He scratches his jaw.

“Nah—”

“There was a small issue with the permits.”

I close my eyes. “Nuh uh… I’m out.”

“Very small.”

“Don’t do this to me.” I whine. “It’s summer.”

“You don’t even know what happened.”

“Because you’re speaking in riddles like a man who owes money to some sketchy-ass people. Pardon me for not wanting to deal with what I know is gonna be a nightmare.”

He glances toward the office, and my tía suddenly goes silent, which is never a good sign. Silence from that woman means she is listening with her whole soul.

My tío lowers his voice. “We have to share the space.”

I open my eyes and squint at him. “With who?”

His face gives it away before his mouth does, and a vein in my temple starts knocking like it wants to come inside.

“Don’t say it,” I mumble.

“Fabián.”

I shake my head.