Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 27128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
I say, “Essence, I’ve been thinking... You claimed environmental and still-life paintings were your thing.” Which has assisted me in determining the artwork Gustavo stole from you.
“Unless you appreciate stick figures. We can’t all be a triple threat like you.” Essence nibbles my bottom lip, then looks pointedly over her shoulder at the trash collecting there. “Someone’s gotta tell you that you’re the whole package, though.”
“Is Gustavo Lara a triple threat?”
Essence is pulling away when my arms lock her against me. “20 years ago, Gustavo drew life. I’d say, soulless crap, but the saying ‘art is in the eye of the beholder’ might stand in his case.”
“Then his portfolio expanded, preciosa. Because of you,” I growl out. Vexed by the truth, Essence struggles in my relentless embrace. We both know that Gustavo didn’t commission the Eiffel Tower. How many structural paintings of hers has he taken?
Chewing her lip, Essence mutters, “I’m hungry, Manny.”
I pick up the silk robe she’d worn out of the house and dress her like a dom would his favorite submissive.
“My precious... wants food. That’s what she gets,” I assure Essence, tenderly tying the knot. “What can I make you?”
“Pancakes would be nice.”
My fingers tangle with Essence’s, and I lead her up the seashore to the open area of the kitchen.
“Panqueques it is, preciosa.”
As we enter through the retracted wall, Essence bumps her hip against me. “And none of that boxed pancake stuff, Manny. Since you’re allergic to boxed-wine and microwaved food, I’ll take nothing less than pancakes from scratch.”
“You forget nothing.” I chuckle, placing her on the marble counter.
My mouth is a breath away from dominating Essence when someone’s throat clears.
Mi preciosa hops down, and we both turn to see Alexis at the panini maker.
“Oh, good morning,” Essence murmurs, fidgeting with her robe string.
“Good afternoon, you two. I’ve sautéed spinach and mushrooms and made enough for everyone as it’s technically lunchtime. But I can make pancakes. Trust me, Essence, you’d do better to pass on even my father’s boiled eggs.”
Essence stutters, “I-I’m fine. I’ll go get dressed.”
“No. Pop a squat. Inside, outside? Cheese, no cheese?” Alexis gestures to the glass table. “I want you comfortable, or Dad might kick me out.”
Essence smiles. “Cheese. Outdoors, because I know how you like the outdoors, Alexis.” She pauses, nervously chewing her lip. “For the record, I’d never be the reason you’d have to leave.”
We step back onto the lower deck, and I pull out a wicker chair for Essence.
“I’m all for child labor, but she’s too old, Manny.” Essence glances back into the kitchen before sliding into the seat.
“I’ll have you know, her abuelitos—ahem, my parents always have and will continue to spoil Alexis until they get their wings. She never went through the terrible two-phase. I paid dearly when Alexis turned 17.”
Essence cocks a brow.
“Dad, I’ll tell my stories,” Mi hija groans, placing orange juice before us. Leaning against the side of the table, she murmurs, “I wanted to show my dad that I could become an artist without our name.”
The aura of nervousness around Essence fades as she says, “You’re amazing, sweetheart.”
I exclaim, “I say that all the time.”
“Literally, every day! You have to, Dad!”
What’s so wrong with that?
Alexis glances at the ground, mumbling, “Three years ago, I, uh, reached out to an art critic who I thought was Dad’s friend.”
“Not a fucking amigo of mine!” I growl, forcing myself to stay seated and not retrieve my tequila.
Alexis’ voice grows fragile and strained. “I know that now. Essence, the critic offered to show me his personal vault of paintings. He... did.”
Essence lets out a shaky sigh. “Oh, you were 17, Alexis. A minor.”
“Sí. Alexis was jittery during my last art showing. That snake had the nerve to gloat in front of her. She came clean, and then I put my foot into the ass of the pinche pendejo who touched my blood.” My jaw clenches.
Alexis’ eye contact slips, and she mutters, “I should’ve said something sooner...”
“You didn’t deny it, Alexis. In the end, you had the guts to speak for yourself.” Essence’s mouth slopes upward at the edges. “Keep your head up, girl.”
“I’m learning how. For the last few years, Dad’s been silent, broody, while I’ve been who I always was. The shy girl. Only opening up after you found me, Essence.” Alexis finally shares Essence’s sympathetic smile. “Now I have confidence. A boyfriend.”
“A cholo,” I mutter.
“He’s not!”
“A cartel boyfriend...”
“Dad!”
Essence’s elbow whacks my ribs as Alexis stalks into the house.
“Manny, shhh, or we won’t get fed.” Mi preciosa pushes me again with her shoulder, then turns in her seat. The mischief is gone from her gorgeous face. “You were fighting for your daughter. All this time, people whispered about the roughneck whose anger got the best of him during an art show.”
I chuckle good-naturedly. “They thought I lost my shit over a nobody’s opinion.”