Debt

31: Meet'n'Greet

The three of them headed inside. Francis was coming down the stairs. He smelled of soap and his brown hair was a little wet.

"Tío, this is mi novio, Evan."

Francis came down the stairs and extended his hand. Evan noticed that Larielle did look a lot like her uncle.

"I've heard a lot about you, Evan," Francis said. It was true. Whenever Larielle was home, she talked about Evan as if the sun rose and set on him.

"Take your shoes off. Go wash up."

Evan and Larielle stepped out of their shoes, and she led him past the maroon and black sitting room to the powder room to wash their hands.

Coco ushered everyone into the kitchen, and everyone sat down. Grace was said and the four dug in. Larielle hadn't exaggerated. Her mother prepared enough food for a big family gathering. Fortunately, between the two men and their appetites, at least half the food would disappear.

Larielle made Evan a plate, explaining to him what everything was: hallacas, little tamales; pabellon, rice; caraotas, bean, string meat, and plantain; carratos negras, black beans; and cachitas, croissants with ham.

Evan really was hungry, so he didn't complain as Larielle made him a plate, loading him up. He did do his best not to stare at her ass, though; it was a task. She had a great ass.

Larielle sat down and passed him his plate. "Eat up, big boy," she teased, smiling.

"You don't cook. I will."

After dinner, they still sat at the table for half an hour, Francis and Coco talking to Evan.

"You remind me of her father," Coco said wistfully, sighing. Then she took Evan's hand and pulled him to the living room. He looked over his shoulder at Larielle and she shrugged. The hell if she knew.

She got up to follow just to insure that her mother wouldn't torture the poor boy. She might scare him away.

Coco started pulling out picture albums and Lari sat in her father's armchair, looking on in disinterest.

Coco showed Evan pictures of Bellamy. He had been a handsome man; even Evan could attest to that.

She showed him the pictures of Bellamy holding a newly born Larielle. Then of Larielle having cake on her first birthday.

"Okay, picture time over. Let's have dessert," Larielle said, standing.

"Oh, Lari. What's the rush, mija? Let him look at the pictures."

"You don't want to look at those pictures, Evan."

"Sure he does."

Larielle slumped back into the chair and put her face in her hands, mumbling in Spanish about how embarrassing her mother was.

"Mamá. Dejame. Por favor."

Coco frowned at her only child. "I'm simply showing him-"

"Me naked eighteen years ago with a bubble beard and four teeth. Where is Abuelita when I have need?"

Evan tried not to snicker. But he couldn't help it. Larielle shot him a look. "Don't laugh."

She got up and went to cut herself some cake while Coco continued showing Evan pictures of Larielle. She smiled so wistfully at the quinceañera pictures of Bellamy dancing with his daughter.

"He was her favorite person in this world, you know. When he died, she didn't come out of her room almost the whole summer. I had to talk her into eating most days."