Page 22 of That Last Summer

“Alex St. Claire was the reason you showed up at my door with your brother Adrián, a shabby backpack as your only luggage, looking homeless. Right?”

“We didn’t look homeless.”

“You were carrying a ragged backpack as your only luggage and you looked like you hadn’t slept or eaten in weeks.”

“But we were clean.”

“Well, there are a lot of fountains in Boston.”

“We came from a three-star hotel.”

“You looked down-at-heel. I was about to offer you food.”

“Oh, you’re a sweetheart... But enough of Priscila’s past for today! Cheers!” I drink my martini in one gulp and set the glass on the table. “Another one!”

Two rounds later... we’re in the same position, at the same place. Maybe our cheeks are rosier from the sun. Or the martinis.

“Adrián’s never told me about Marcos, River and Hugo being close friends with Alex,” I confess with annoyance.

“Come on, girl. You don’t let them even mention his name...”

“Yes, but things are different with Adrián.”

“Damn, you’re a complex woman.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“Yours!”

Two more rounds later... we decide to go back home, but we run into some... inconvenience.

“I think in this country it’s illegal to ride a bicycle drunk, Pris.”

“Not if we ride down the sidewalk,” I tell him very confidently. “It’s only illegal if we take the road.”

We pedal along the beach promenade, barely avoiding pedestrians, weaving a little from time to time and colliding with the occasional trashcan.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I am.”

“Well, ask your brother, just in case. I don’t want to end up in jail. I’ve never been in jail, you know? And I’m kind of fearful about it.”

“My brother?”

“Your brother’s a cop, right? Marcos?”

“He’s GEO—Special Operations.”

“Is he? He’s not a cop?”

“He is a cop. A GEO.”

“Fuck... really? We’ve talked about him a million times and you just told me he was a cop.”

“Because he is a cop.”

“He’s a GEO,” says Jaime, and I think we’ve entered a loop. “It’s not the same. And I’m realizing I have no fucking idea about your life before Boston. I didn’t even know that Adrián was an artist! Every time I asked about him you told me he just did his own thing.”