Page 34 of Sleeping with the Frenemy

“Tío Leo, are you mad at Tití Sofi again?” his niece asked, making him realize that he’d been scowling at the group for some time while he’d been lost in the past.

“Come here, you little motormouth,” Leo said to Rosie. “I’m mad because I still haven’t had a patented Rosie massage. You’re slacking on your job.” One day after watching Saint force Leo through his PT and OT routine, Rosie had decided that he needed a massage to help his shoulder and arm, so she’d ran into her room to grab her special lotion and proceeded to slather it all over his arm, shoulder, neck, back, and chest. She’d been too scared to hurt him to rub with any sort of pressure, plus she was five, so her massage had accomplished nothing except making him smell like Bubblicious gum. But Leo had let her do it every day for the entire summer anyway, because she’d wanted to help him and she was cute when she frowned in concentration, really thinking she was doing something.

“I don’t have my lotion,” Rosie said, climbing onto the stool next to him.

“Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to wait.” Leo reached over and plopped her on his lap using his good arm. Then he spun them so they were facing Liam behind the bar. “This little monkey needs a kiddie cocktail, stat,” he told him.

Liam scrunched his brows. “A what?”

Rosie’s eyes, so similar to his own, widened in surprise. “You don’t know what a kiddie cocktail is, Tío Liam?” she asked in the same tone she’d used when he’d claimed to dislike snakes. It was like she couldn’t believe her cute little ears.

Leo shook his head in mock disappointment. “The service around here has really slid downhill since I’ve been gone, right, Rosie?”

“There’ve been fewer broken glasses too,” Liam replied.

Leo smirked. “You can’t entertain the masses without a few broken glasses.”

“Did they teach you that in bartending class?”

“Hey, I’m a licensed mixologist now. Put some respect on my name.”

“Whatever, Cocktail, just tell me how to make it.”

Leo explained to Liam how to make a Shirley Temple with tons of cherries for their favorite six-year-old.

Rosie was about halfway done when Saint came up to them. “How many times have I told you not to make her those?” he scolded Leo. “Not only will she be up all night, but she’ll get cavities.”

“I didn’t make that for her.” Leo paused. “Liam did.”

“Tío Leo told him how,” Rosie said happily before taking a long pull from her straw.

Leo shook his head and looked at his brother. “I hope your second child knows how to keep a secret.”

“You know Abuelo told me the same thing when Rosie called him out for sneaking a piece of my jibarito.” He gave Leo a significant look.

Yeah he got it. He was just like Abuelo Papo.

“I’m going to teach the baby that kids are not supposed to keep secrets from their grown-ups,” Rosie said. “That’s like lying and lying is bad.”

“Rosie, do you know what they say about snitches?” Leo asked.

Saint cut him off with a threatening look. He scooped Rosie up from the chair and cradled her against his chest. “Rosie’s going to be a great big sister,” Saint said, pride and love visible in almost every line in his body.

Leo was happy for his brother, he truly was, but for some reason he just couldn’t join in the revelry. He felt weird. Like his skin was too tight and he needed to move. It was a familiar sensation. His leg started to bounce and his fingers began to drum on his knees. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his ever-present exercise ball. He began to flex and release his hand, ignoring the slight pins and needles sensation that traveled up and down his arm.

“Saint, Lola says it’s time for us to go,” Abuelo Papo said, strolling up to them. “We all have an early day tomorrow.”

The next day was the official start to the Fiestas Patronales Puertorriqueñas a huge holiday in Humboldt Park. The festival that celebrated the Puerto Rican community happened every June and was a wild time every summer. It spanned a few days and consisted of a parade, a bunch of music, and tons of activities.

“We’re coming,” Saint told Abuelo. “Say goodbye to your tío.” He held Rosie so that she could lean over and give Leo a kiss on the cheek.

“Bye, Tío. I love you. Have a good sleep.”

“I love you too, Snitch. I’ll see you tomorrow and I’ll make you a special drink that has even more sugar than a Shirley Temple.”

“You’d better not,” Saint threatened.

Leo just smiled.

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