tres

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The next day, grandma and I were sitting around the pool. She was telling me one of the stories from when she'd worked in an office in London.

"His name was Robin," she told me. "He was a right bugger."

I swirled my vibrantly coloured drink in my glass, before guiding the straw to my lips and taking a sip. "How come?"

"Well, he would just get around a lot in the office, if you know what I mean," she said, winking at me. I know what you mean, grandma. "Like one time we were at this work party and it was getting late, so people started leaving. And you know you know the offices where they're just glass?" I nodded to say I had. "He had one of them. Some officials were making their way out, and they see him absolutely gunning for it with one of the girl runners."

I choked on my drink. "Oh my god."

"He told me about it the next day," she said, taking a sip of her own drink. Sofia came back from the bar and sat beside us. "I had to laugh."

"What's this?" She asked.

"That Robin bloke I was telling you about," grandma answered.

"Ah," she said with a small smirk, so like her the boy not too far away. "Seemed like a character."

Sofia has quite clearly been a looker in her youth. I mean, at forty, she was still a stunning woman— dark hair, dark eyes, and skin so perfect she could quite possibly have been blessed by the gods.

"Did you hear about the party tonight, Julie?" Grandma asked.

I shook my head. "What party?"

"Some of the local kids go down to the beach every year," Sofia answered for her. "Music, alcohol—" she waved her hand. "All of that stuff."

"Sounds fun," I said, but it didn't really. Partying just wasn't my speciality. It was Tim's. "I hadn't heard about it. It's tonight, did you say?"

Grandma and Sofia both nodded. "Why don't you go along?"

"I can't go alone."

"Nicolás will take you, I'm sure," Sofia said. "Hey, Nico!"

He turned to her bellowing voice. "¿Si Mamá?"

She started speaking very quickly in Spanish then. They went back and forth a few times, Sofia gesturing to me, making Nicolás' eyes flicker toward me before shaking his head. Sofia wagged her finger at him, until his shoulder slumped and I heard him say, less than willing, "Fine."

"You really don't have to—" I went to say. "I don't want to be any trouble."

Nicolás looked pleased. "Actu—"

"No, no," Sofia cut in, sending him a glare. "It's no problem at all. Right, Nico?"

"Right," he grit out.

☼  ☼ ☼

It was when I was getting ready that I got the fateful text. A text, I thought bitterly to myself as I read the message. How cliché.

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