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Her mother telegraphed something to her father with the briefest glance. Something judgmental. It was a finger poking Lauren in the chest.
“What?” Lauren could guess what her mother’s look meant, but she wanted to hear it.
“Nada, mi amor. I’m sorry she can’t make it.” Her lips were so tight they clipped the end of every word.
Lauren crossed her arms. “You’re never going to make it in politics if you can barely pretend to tolerate her. How will you fake it with all the people of Miami Lakes?”
“I don’t have to like my constituents,” she corrected, a wry grin curling the corner of her enhanced lips. “All I have to do is represent them well.”
Lauren accepted a water bottle dripping with melted ice. “You’re getting good at those canned politician responses.” She chuckled. “You might just win this thing.”
“With the dent it’s made in our savings, I hope so,” her dad muttered under his breath before taking a swig from his bottle.
“It’ll be well worth it,” her mom promised, hooking her arm around his slim waist. Tucked under his arm, she looked unusually small.
After practice, Lauren sat in her Jeep. With the top down and the doors off, she enjoyed the breeze cooling her overheated skin.
She glanced at her phone. More texts from Jenny.
Ignoring them, Lauren watched the sun set before starting for home. From the park to her house was a short, tree-lined drive. She’d purchased a foreclosed home in the overpriced Miami Lakes neighborhood. Anywhere else, her sixty-year old house, which had been a wreck before the bank took possession, wouldn’t be worth much at all. But, it was in a desirable zip code.
A place where upper middle class Cuban-Americans moved to obtain status in society. A place for them to whitewash their less prestigious Hialeah roots. A place that boasted about low crime rates, but only because white-collar crimes didn’t get nearly as much attention as burglaries.
Even with the renovations only half finished, Lauren could sell the property for an easy, and hefty, profit. A crazy notion to Lauren, but she couldn’t ignore the Porsches and McLarens parked on her street.
Apart from having been an incredible investment, it was only a couple of miles away from her parents’ gated community. Having been in Los Angles for four years, she’d been eager to be close to them again. This was as close as she could be without living in the pool house.
Her phone buzzed in the cup holder as Lauren waited for her garage to creak open. It had barely lumbered awake when it screeched to a halt midway.
Damn it. Not again.
Picking up her phone to call her father, Lauren couldn’t avoid the inundation of texts.
Jenny: I’m really sorry about missing your practice. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal that you’d be this mad and ignore me . . . .
With her foot propped up against the open car door, Lauren stared at the ellipses at the end of the last message. She tried to determine the meaning behind the most passive aggressive punctuation.
Lauren: It’s cool. Don’t worry. I just got home.
Truncated sentences were a little more direct. They made it clear that she was annoyed even if her words didn’t.
Jenny: Can I come over now? I’ll bring you some of that gelato you like.
Lauren: Don’t worry about it. Honestly. I’m kind of tired after practice. It was so hot today andI have to get up early.
She slid off her seat and slung her bag over her shoulder. Taking the cracked concrete path to her door, Lauren barely made it into the house before Jenny responded.
Jenny: . . . . . another 2am start?
Lauren narrowed her eyes at the dots on her screen. Jenny knew she always woke up between two and three. The question was a thinly veiled complaint.
Looking away from the phone, Lauren took a beat before responding. She was too tired and annoyed to trust any knee-jerk reply.
Taking off her shoes not to damage the reclaimed floors she’d just installed, Lauren moved from the foyer, through the original 1960’s kitchen, and out to the back patio.
By the time she plopped into the plastic chair angled in front of the empty pool in need of serious repair, Jenny had texted a few times.
Jenny: I just wish you could hear me.
