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“Here, let me help you.” He sets down his pole and reaches for mine, able to untangle the line with very little issue before handing my pole back to me.
“Show off,” I grumble.
He shrugs one shoulder and smiles.
“So, what other kinds of things did you like to do in Pennsylvania?” The way his accent rolls over the word Pennsylvania makes it sound almost unintelligible.
“I don’t know. I mainly just spent time in the kitchen.”
“Sounds kind of boring.” He takes a step back when a wave crashes around our feet, catching him slightly off balance.
“To some it might seem that way. But to me, I don’t know, I just love it.”
“So is that your job? Working in a kitchen?”
“It is. Though owning my own restaurant is what I really want to do one day. If I ever get out of here.” I grumble the last part.
“Just be patient. I know it’s probably not easy, but if Mateo says he’ll let you go, he will. I’ve never known him not to be a man of his word.”
“How well do you know him, though? You haven’t been with him that long.”
“You’re not wrong.” He pulls his line back in then casts it back out. “But I feel like I know him well enough. Enough to trust him with my life.”
“But why?” I can’t help but ask. “What has he done to earn that?”
“I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Good. Because I don’t.” And I don’t. Mateo killed his father. He threatened to kill his entire family. How does that justify a lifelong duty to stand and fight alongside him? To give his life for him if it comes to that?
The longer I’m here, the more confusing this world is to me.
“So cooking... You’re lucky you have something you’re so passionate about that you can do for a living.”
“Yeah,” I quietly agree. “What about you? What are your passions?”
“I don’t know. I was too busy worrying about taking care of my mom and my younger siblings to find out what I love.”
“Was your dad not around much?”
“Not really. The cartel was his life. Funny, it’s also the thing that ended his life.”
“I’m sorry.” I feel bad for bringing it up.
“Don’t be. I’ve accepted the hand I’ve been dealt.”
“At least one of us has.” I blow out a breath.
“You’ll....” Whatever he was going to say dies on his lips. “Shit,” he mutters, quickly pulling in his line. “We have to go.”
“What? Why?” I’m thrown by his quick change in demeanor.
“See that?” He points out toward the horizon.
I have to squint to see anything past the glare of the sun off the water, but eventually I spot what he’s referring to. A boat a few hundred yards out and it appears to be heading in our direction.
“Who is it?”
“No idea. Come on.” He wraps his line around his pole and helps me do the same with mine.
