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“Three months,” Tlali says.
“Two weeks,” says Izel.
“Two weeks is too long for you?” I ask.
Izel nods and sips her wine. “Yeah. Isn’t it for you?”
I shake my head. “No. I’d say months would be long, but not just a few weeks.”
“Speak for yourself,” Mandy says. “I’m with Izel on this one. Can’t go that long. Why? How long has it been for you?”
I feel the heat creeping up my neck, and I stare into my glass like it’s the most exciting thing in the world, so it’s hard to look back at Mandy’s face, but I do.
Mandy narrows her eyes. “You little slut,” she says in a playful tone. “You did it, didn’t you? You listened to me?”
I look up at the cousins, hoping they’ll help, but they blink at each other.
“We’re lost,” Tlali says.
“I told Valentina to have a sex-athon, and I think she did.”
“Fine,” I say. If this is what it’s like to have girlfriends, then I should go all in. “Yes. I picked up a guy at a bar yesterday, and we spent all morning together until he had to go at noon today. That’s all the details you’re getting.”
“No,” Mandy whines. “We need details. Who’s the guy? Is he hot? You can’t leave us hanging like this.”
Izel jumps into my rescue. “Come on, Mandy. Leave her alone. She’s clearly not acochinalike you. Not everyone shares as much as we do.”
I try to communicate a telepathic ‘thank you’ to Izel, and she tips her chin at me. If there is a chance Mandy knows Rory, I can’t give out any further details.
“You said there werethreehot delivery guys?” Tlali asks.
“Yeah,” Mandy says.
“And you have all three cell numbers?” Izel asks with interest.
I can almost see the moment when the matching floating light bulbs over the cousin's heads light up.
“I do!” Mandy rummages through her purse, producing a yellow Post-It note. She crosses off something, presumably Chris’s name and number, and hands the piece of paper to Tlali.
“I’m going to go put this on the fridge door before we spill wine on it,” Tlali says.
“So,” Izel turns to me. “Let’s get to know you. What do you do? What brings you to Kansas City?”
Mandy smiles at me, and I remember her words from the car. I only have to tell them as much as I want to.
“Well, I was training as an MMA fighter—”
“Whoa, like an actual fighter? Like a UFC fighter?” Tlali asks, now back in the living room with us.
“Yeah. Well, I wasn’t in the UFC yet,” I say.
“You will be one day,” Mandy reassures me.
I smile at her. I don’t know if it’s the wine that has relaxed me or how welcome Izel and Tlali have made me feel, but I find myself confiding in them openly. “I’m here for treatment. I met Mandy at the hospital.”
Tlali and Izel eye each other in a gesture I am starting to understand is some sort of telepathy orbrujeriabetween them.
“I have cervical cancer, and I’m on Dr. Ramirez’s clinical trial. I’ll be in K.C. until treatment is over.”
