Page 20 of Dina's Favorite Mistake

“I think we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

“You can hire all the help you need,” Steve pointed out.

“And we will,” Beto assured him.

“But?”

“But paying for help doesn’t always inspire loyalty.”

“It can if you pay more than anyone else.”

Beto laughed. “Yes, well, that’s not a problem for us.”

“I didn’t think it would be.”

“This way.” Beto gestured to a side door off the long hallway connected to the massive kitchen where the family’s cook had plied him with food and drink. “Jovita likes you.”

“She’s a sweet old lady.”

“She’s like a second mother to us. Sometimes, I think she understood us better than our actual mother.”

Steve wasn’t sure what to say to that. He’d only interacted with Soila Farias twice now, but she seemed a loving mother. Of course, he’d only gotten a glimpse into the family dynamics.

Beto led him through the door and out into the cool night. A gravel pathway meandered away from the house toward a hidden parking area and the ugliest truck Steve had ever seen. It was an old Ford, probably late 80’s and very boxy. The red and white paint job was faded and peeling, and the body was dented along both sides of the cab.

“I know,” Beto said, as if reading his mind. “But it runs well, and it doesn’t mind getting beat up by all the salt and wind when I leave it at the docks.”

“Where did you even get this thing?” Steve figured it was older than Beto by at least ten years.

“I won it in a bet when I was sixteen,” Beto explained before wrenching open the heavy driver’s side door. The metal squealed and clanged, and Steve carefully opened his door, worried the whole thing might come off and smash his foot. “I think I did the guy a favor taking it.”

“Probably cheaper giving it away to you than paying to have it hauled off for scrap,” Steve supposed. When he climbed into the cab, he expected a lungful of stink, but it smelled like old leather and Marlboros. The interior was surprisingly nice with only a few small tears in the cloth seats and a couple of scratches on the dashboard.

“I have to park out here because the oil leaks.” Beto turned the key in the ancient ignition, and the truck roared to life. “The lasttime Rafa found a puddle in the family garage he nearly blew a pupil over it.”

“He strikes me as the type to be particular about things.”

“A little less these days,” Beto said before shifting the truck into drive. “Jasper has really changed him.”

“And his wife?”

“She’s too good for him, but she loves him so...” Beto shrugged and smiled. “He’s crazy for her. She’s made him a better man.”

“I hear a good woman has that effect.”

“Like my sister maybe?” Beto didn’t glance away from the windshield, as if giving Steve a chance to deny it. “I saw the way you looked at her when she walked into Rafa’s office the other day and again today. You recognized her, and she definitely recognized you. How long have you two known each other?”

There was no way to answer that without revealing facts that Dina clearly wanted to keep hidden. “It’s complicated.”

“Uh-huh,” Beto dryly replied. “More so for her than you, I think.”

“Why do you say that?” He braced his hand against the door as Beto turned onto the two-lane road connecting the estate to a highway. The rickety old truck still had some life in it as Beto floored the gas pedal and ripped down the road at breakneck speed.

“Dina has always been complicated, even when we were kids. After the murders...,” his voice trailed off. “Well, things became much more complicated for her.”

“Those murders weren’t her fault.” Steve defended her because she wasn’t here to defend herself. “Do you blame her for them?”

“Me?” Beto shot him a surprised look. “No. Never.”

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