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“I bet they are,” Mom said knowingly.
“Until I can find a job and get us our own place,” Emilia added quickly, smiling at Rhett. “I should probably start the search tonight.”
“What kind of job are you looking for?” my mom asked, pointing out to Rhett where a puzzle piece should go.
“Anything really,” Emilia said, pulling her sweatshirt back on. “Retail or waitressing or whatever. Something that will pay the bills.”
My mom hummed. “You ever make coffee?”
“Every morning,” Emilia replied dryly.
“I meant espresso.” Mom chuckled. “Charlie’s always looking for baristas. I bet you could get a job there.”
“I don’t need any favors.” Emilia smiled uncomfortably.
“No favor,” my mom said easily. “I wasn’t joking when I said she’s always looking. I swear turnover is shit at her carts. She’s always hiring.”
“I’ve never worked as a barista,” Emilia replied, widening her eyes at me like she wanted me to say something. I wasn’t sure what exactly she was hoping for. My cousin Charlie was always looking for help, and I knew the pay was okay. Nothing spectacular, but above what the normal rate was. She could do worse.
“She’ll train you. I’ll call her later,” my mom said, going back to the puzzle. “See what she’s got.”
“Okay,” Emilia said faintly as she sat down in my dad’s recliner.
“You two coming over for dinner tonight?” my mom asked.
“Dinner?” Rhett asked.
“Can’t, Ma,” I replied at the same time. “Gramps invited us over.”
Mom’s lips twitched like she was holding back a smile.
“You already knew that.”
“Your grandma called me,” she said with a laugh. “Just wondered if you’d tell me that Asa caught the two of you steaming up Em’s car.”
“Asa?” Emilia asked.
“Grease,” I clarified. “Gramps. She calls him Asa to bug him.”
“It’s his name,” my mom said with a shrug.
“Oh right,” Emilia said, realization dawning. “You’re named after him.”
“Yep.” I looked back at my mom. “We weren’t steaming up anything.”
“That’s not what the old man told Rose.”
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered.
“Bad word,” Rhett said in horror, turning to look at me.
“He’s an adult, Rhett,” Emilia piped up. “He can use whatever words he wants.”
“Bad word,” Rhett repeated, still looking at me.
“Sorry, bud,” I replied. “I won’t say it anymore.”
“Good luck with that,” my mom muttered.
