Joshua

by Beatrice Sand

  I slap the bagel together and put it on a plate. The coffee aroma already wafts from the pot, numbing the scent of alcohol. I pick up the plate and mug, then place it on the table as I remove the rest of the bottles, gathering them on the bar counter. When everything is set in place, I sit down and pick up a magazine to kill time.

  Only after I finish a magazine or two, does it dawn on me the water’s been turned off, and I don’t hear anything coming from the other room.

  I put down the magazine and walk up to the door where I saw him leaving, and knock. “Josh?” I knock again when he doesn’t answer. “Are you all right in there?”

  I’m in two minds while wondering what to do. Can I just enter his private space? I chew the bottom of my lip as all kind of horrible scenarios flow through my head. He was barely able to climb the stairs and might have slipped in the shower, his head against the tiles, and be lying unconscious.

  He could have choked on his vomit…

  “Josh!” I yell, then storm into the room, only to find him passed out on his bed.

  On top of the sheets.

  Naked as a jay.

  And smelling like freaking heaven.

  “Perfecto,” I mumble as I study his features, which are now soft and kind. His body is still wet from the shower, his wavy hair moist. One arm is draped around his head, and the hand of his other arm lies loosely on his inner rock-hard thigh, his fingers pointing at his groin. It’s stupid and irrelevant, but I’m pleased to see the only adorned parts of his body are his arms and a small part of his chest.

  Josh’s large, muscled thighs are spread wide open, almost as if inviting me to approach for a better look, and my eyes, working on their own, drift to the crotch area. It’s safe to say Josh isn’t into the whole manscaping-thing. His flaccid manhood, correction, his flaccid though impressive manhood, is nestled in a thick bush of dark curly hair. And, perdóname, never thought I would be saying this because the one man I ever slept with actually made it a point to show off his crown jewels in a perfectly shaped pubic area, but it’s hot as hell in a Neanderthal sort of way.

  I tear my eyes away. This is so inappropriate. I would have put a blanket on him if he weren’t lying on it, but I have no interest in waking him up. God knows he’s exhausted from his drinking binge.

  I walk back into the living room and find a throw on the couch. I return to the bedroom and cover him up, then place the tray with the bagel and coffee on the bedside table, together with a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin I found in a cabinet in his bathroom, next to a package of condoms, but who’s looking?

  Quietly, I close the front door and descend the stairs.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  teresa

  Undeterred by this setback, I carry the bag into my apartment, and still in good spirits, start unpacking the ingredients again, planning to make the three carefully chosen recipes by myself.

  “I’m back, Felipe!”

  I’m not surprised he doesn’t answer, since he’s most likely studying while listening to music wearing earbuds. If he’s studying… Only one way to find out without making it look as if I’m putting a tail on him.

  I switch on the transistor radio standing on a kitchen cabinet, and listen to a golden oldie, while making him a perfect latte with a sumptuous, smooth layer of foam. I place the tall glass on a saucer, together with a latte spoon, and walk up to his room. I knock on his door. “Felipe?”

  “Yeah, come in.”

  I open his door and try not to look suspicious, as though sniffing like a first-class drug-sniffer dog, or scanning the place to find where he hides his stash. “Hi there. I’ve made you a latte.”

  He gazes away from his laptop and removes his earbuds. “What are you doing here? Thought you were off baking cookies with Mr. Tough Guy.”

  I smile as I put the latte on his desk. “Something came up.”

  His eyes widen. “You mean he stood you up?”

  “No!” I reply, flinching slightly. “He just wasn’t able to cook with me today.”

  “That’s basically like standing someone up,” Felipe says, giving me a pitiful look.

  Smartass. I should ground him for that remark. “Well, whatever it was, it wasn’t intentional,” I say in a merry tone.

  “I’m sure it wasn’t. Thanks for the coffee.”

  “You’re welcome. Hey, listen, I’ll be trying out new recipes in our kitchen here. Come and taste if you need a break, okay?”

  “Okay,” he says with a quick nod.

  I close the door and head back to the kitchen, where I turn up the volume and loudly sing and move along with Madonna’s “Dress You Up,” as I preheat the oven, then zest lemon and ground cinnamon for my Mallorquin almond cake.

  ***

  Hours later, my countertop is stacked with almond cake, a crema catalana, and of course, the national snack of my home country: chocolate con churros.

  “Yum, you made churros!”

  I smile up at Felipe, who flops down on a barstool. I was wondering when he’d appear. The divine kitchen smells must have driven him here. “Don’t look at the presentation. This is all about flavors now, and by tonight, one of these dishes will be my signature dish. You can assist me to pick one, although you reached your sugar quota for the day.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll eat your oatmeal tomorrow.”

  “Good. So,” I say, gesturing to the display of sweet dishes, “which one would you like to sample first?”

  Temped by the churros, he takes a strip of the fried-dough pastry and dips it in the hot chocolate; the chocolate I made with the bar I took from Josh’s stockroom. To my great satisfaction he hums with contentment. “The churros, definitely!”

  I laugh. “You haven’t even tried the others yet.”

  “I don’t need to,” he says, beaming. “It tastes just like the one in that little pastry shop in Palma, you know, the one on Plaça Weyler.”

  Wow, what a compliment! “Thanks. Now try the almond cake. I’ve made basil ice cream to go with it.” I turn around and take the container out of the freezer.

  “Listen, Tess… I, uh, I’m going out with Scott. Could you give me an advance?”

  I cock my brow as I shape an ice cream quenelle. “You got your allowance Friday.”

  “I know. I was wondering if we could renegotiate my weekly allowance.”

  “Why?”

  “So I can save up,” he replies with a shrug.

  “Save up for what? If you need something, all you have to do is ask.”

  He glances at the money lying on the table. It’s money from the restaurant I haven’t deposited yet. “Well, since we have enough money, I figured it would only be fair I’d get a little more. It’s expensive out there,” he adds.

  “Let’s get one thing straight, Felipe. We don’t have enough money. Not by a long shot. That pathetic little pile over there just barely covers the rent of the restaurant.”

  He rolls his eyes. “What about the insurance money from the accident? Half is mine and you control it. You could raise my allowance with that money.”

  I just knew he would bring that up. It’s not the first time, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. “Is that your pitch?”

  He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Yeah.”

  “How many times have we gone over this, Felipe?” Impatiently, I shove the container back in the freezer. “I’ll tell you something else, I’ll even show you the papers if you want me to, but if you think you can endlessly withdraw cash from that account, then think again. It won’t last if we start spending it.”

  “It’s not fair you control my part, and you take whatever you want. I can’t even go out and buy my friends a drink,” he says in an aggrieved tone.

  “With thirty bucks a week, you can spend a perfect Friday night. Your friends can pay for themselves, thank you very much. You, my friend, have zero expenses. I even pay your phone bill, for crying out loud. I wonder how many parents pay for their kids’ phones.”

 
“You’re not my friggin’ parent!” he yells.

  I bang my fist on the table. “No, I’m your sister,” I say in a dark voice without raising it. My mother once told me yelling is a sign of weakness. “But I’m your legal guardian as well, whether you like it or not, and it’s my responsibility to take care of you and raise you. The money we got after Mom and Dad died is for your college tuition, fees, a room, a car, and everything else you need when you’re off to college. And for your information, I didn’t take one dime for myself. I only invested some in Camila’s Kitchen. There’s no you or me part. It’s yours, but not until you turn twenty-five.”

  His eyes widen. “Twenty-fucking-five?”

  “I set up a trust fund, and it’s managed by a trustee who’s protecting our assets.”

  “You’re kidding me, right? I reach the age of majority in eighteen months.”

  “Sorry, buddy. It’s twenty-five. It’s for your own benefit, so you have money to spend after you earn your degree. When you’re twenty-five, you have access to the rest of the money, then you can buy your buddies a drink.”

  “You have it all figured out without consulting me. Perfect,” he says sarcastically.

  “You expected me to consult a six-year-old on what to do with seventy-five thousand dollars?” I ask with my brow raised. “You were barely able to tell time.”

  “Well, in my defense, I could tie my own shoelaces at six.”

  “And you made me proud too. Listen, Felipe, I was too young to decide myself too. Our family helped us. We did it to protect ourselves from squandering it, and now I’m protecting you.”

  He pushes away from the table. “Damn it, Tess! I don’t need your protection. I can take care of myself. You think I’m not responsible?”

  “What do you need the money for, Felipe? Tell me, is it so you can buy your friends drinks? Because I’m telling you, you don’t need to save. The saving part is being handled.”

  We get interrupted by a ring of the doorbell.

  “I wanna do whatever I choose, okay?” he says angrily. “And I don’t need your permission where I spend my money. Even if it’s on damn ink, whether you like it or not, it’s my body.”

  “Hold that thought,” I say as I walk over to the intercom. “Yes?” I say, agitated.

  “Teresa, it’s Josh.”

  “Josh, uh, this is not a good time.”

  “Five minutes, Teresa. I need five minutes of your time.”

  I release a sigh. Perfecto. “You can come up.” I press the button to gain him access, and open the door a crack before turning back to Felipe. “Listen, Felipe. I…” My eyes widen as I see him bend over the coffee table and take money. This is so not happening. But it is, and I’ll be damned if I let it. “Put that money back, Felipe,” I say quietly. “It’s not yours to take.”

  “Then raise my allowance.”

  “No! And that’s non-negotiable. We’ll negotiate a raise when you turn seventeen. Now put it back. I need that money to pay rent and suppliers.”

  “Then get it from the freaking trust fund. I’m taking an advance payment.”

  “No, you’re not,” I say, adamant in my veto. “Put. That. Money. Back. Ahora!”

  He walks past me, bumping into my shoulder. “I can’t survive on thirty bucks a week. Can you? Try it if you don’t take my word for it.”

  I whirl around to make him stop as he simply takes off, but then I catch Josh’s big frame in the doorway. He’s blocking Felipe’s only way out.

  “Why don’t you listen to your sister, Felipe?” he asks evenly.

  Startled by Josh’s appearance, Felipe comes to sudden stop. “That’s none of your damn business.”

  “Basically, you’re right, but I am making it my business when a, I hear you took something that isn’t yours, and b, you almost ran over your sister on purpose. So, what’s it gonna be, Felipe, because I’m not stepping aside before you and your sister have it out.”

  “You stood my sister up this morning, and now you’re probably here because you want to get into her pants like the rest of them. So why don’t you have it out with her?”

  “Felipe!” I shout. “Bastante! Josh, please go!” But my demands get me nowhere. Neither one of them pays attention to my little form as they’re too busy staring each other down.

  “You think you’re mature talking like that?” Josh asks quietly, totally composed. “Or that it’s cool taking money you haven’t worked for?”

  “Stay out of it, okay?” he replies, raising his head. “You’re not my brother, and you don’t know anything about me.”

  Josh smiles. “I think you would be surprised at how much you and I are alike. You see, I was like you when I was your age.”

  “I’m sure you were,” Felipe grumbles, then turns and tosses the money back onto the table. “Here’s your stupid money,” he says, looking at me unaffected. “I’ll find a way to get it myself.” He turns back and faces Josh again. “Happy? Now get out of my way, or go home like my sister just asked you.”

  Josh stands straight and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m staying, now empty your pockets!”

  “Are you freaking nuts? Why would I do that?”

  “What’s in your pockets, Felipe?” I ask, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst, judging by Josh’s tight features.

  “Either you take it out, or I’ll do it for you,” Josh orders in a calm voice. “Either way, you’re not leaving this house before you do, because even though whatever happens in here is none of my business, if I let you go, and the police catch you with drug possession, stealing money will be the least of your problems.”

  I cover my mouth with my hand in complete shock and dismay. I caught him smoking joints a few months ago. I know the signs, and have always been aware it could happen again, even though he promised me he wouldn’t do it anymore. It’s why I was always on the lookout for those little plastic bags, but never found them.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Felipe removes a zip lock bag with fresh weed or marijuana, or whatever the hell it is. It’s illegal, and I want my kid brother far, far away from it if I can help it.

  “It wasn’t stealing,” he says, head down, then reluctantly hands the bag to Josh, who studies it with interest, even weighs it in his hand.

  “You’re smoking pot, Felipe?”

  “Just for chilling-out at a friend’s place.”

  “Yeah? Is that your story when Five-O puts you in the back of a police car? You don’t want to get charged with distribution when passing around a joint, believe me. I’ll destroy this for you.”

  I step forward and look into Felipe’s eyes. “Is that what you needed the money for, to pay your dealer? And don’t you dare lie to me.”

  He merely shrugs, not the least bit shaken that he just got caught.

  “You have nothing to say?”

  He shrugs again. “Not really. Just punish me and get it over with,” he says, showing me his I-don’t-give-a-crap attitude.

  “Don’t worry. You’ll get a proper punishment, but for now you can go to your room and think long and hard about what you’ve done.”

  “But I was on my way to Scott’s.”

  “Well, it seems as if you’re staying at home after all.”

  “What the fu–”

  I hold up my hand to make him stop. “Tone down your language, Felipe! Go to your room. We’ll talk later.”

  “Is Scott your supplier?” Josh informs.

  Felipe shakes his head. “He’s my best friend. We just hang out together, smoking weed.”

  “Is there anything else you need to tell us? Money problems?”

  Josh knows so much more about this stuff than I do. How could I handle this if I don’t know what questions to ask?

  “No.”

  Josh holds up the bag. “Where did you get this?”

  “From some men hanging around the school. Everybody buys it.”

  “You even have no idea what kind of shit they could be selling to you, do
you?”

  “No.”

  Josh sighs. “If you feel the need to talk about this, or if you have any problem whatsoever, I don’t care what it is, come and see me at my restaurant, okay?”

  Felipe nods. “Thanks.”

  “Okay, man.”

  “I’m sorry, Tess,” he says, then trudges out of the room.

  I run my fingers through my hair, and look up at Josh as soon as I hear Felipe closing his door. “I’m sorry you had to witness that, but thank you for intervening.”

  Josh gives me a half-smile. “No problem, Tess.”

  Exhaling, I flop onto the couch. “I don’t want to think about what could have happened if someone caught him. Even his friend’s parents, who could have called the police, and blame Felipe for sharing his weed with their son.”

  “That didn’t happen,” Josh says as he sits down next to me. He touches my knee, squeezes it. “He’s going to be fine.”

  “How would you know?”

  “Because I went through something similar.”

  “You used drugs?”

  “Just grass. Fortunately, I got busted. More than once.”

  “Oh God, Josh.”

  “You wanna punish him?”

  “I wouldn’t know how. I prefer talking sense into him, but I already tried that once.”

  “Make him get a job. Let him earn his own money. It’ll be good for him.”

  “Yeah, that’s an idea.”

  “Send him to me.”

  “To you?”

  “Yeah. He can work for me if he wants. I’ll keep an eye on him. Talk sense into him. If I’m suitable enough,” he says with a grin.

  I shake my head in amazement. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because I like him. He went through a traumatic event at a very young age, like me.” He pauses for a moment, and then pushes a strand of my hair behind my ear. “And because I’m crazy attracted to his sister.” His thumb brushes my heated skin, and my stomach flips as our gazes hold. His touch and intense gaze awake urges I haven’t felt in a long time.

  “How are you feeling, Josh?” I whisper.

  “Apart from a monstrous headache, I’m okay,” he says with a sweet smile. “I had a great breakfast this morning. Something with a bagel, coffee, and an aspirin. Great combo.”