“Alba, ma, I’d like to file a complaint for misrepresentation of the facts,” José piped up from the corner he was inspecting. I raised an eyebrow in expectation for the ridiculousness I knew was coming. “You said He was tall.” The capital-H he in question could only be my former boss. “But you didn’t tell us he was the size of a small country and had pecs like hubcaps,” José said in a fake whisper, and the other two laughed. “I mean I did my due diligence on the internets and knew he was fine, but the pictures were old. Mr. Ganas has been hitting that CrossFit gym regularly since Las Olimpiadas, baby.” He actually smacked his lips.

I narrowed my eyes and shook my head. “Is he always like this?” I asked, but José continued undaunted.

“Girl...that man can destroy my life any time he wants.” By now he was on his back on the bed fanning himself with a cushion, both legs up in the air. “Whew, I need a cold drink after seeing all that azucar parda.”

“Damn, José. I’ve never seen this dick fiend side of you,” Salome cackled.

“You know what... I’ll kick you all out of here,” I threatened, trying hard not to giggle because José was doing a snow angel on the bed.

“Uh, no can do, sis. We’ve been invited to stay for dinner.” I whipped my head over to where Salome was tinkering with the record player that came with the room.

“Who invited you?”

“Your roomie,” Julia said with a shit-eating grin.

“Don’t you have to go home and help Rocco with his sister?”

“Nope,” my best friend informed me, lacing her fingers behind her head. “They’re all settled in.” I wouldn’t put it past her to have made up the flooding, but Rocco wouldn’t let her lie her ass off like that. She tapped the very sturdy arm of the chair. “Come tell us how it’s going so far because even from here I can tell your head is a mess.”

“I’m fine,” I lied and sank next to her, then breathed out a long exhale.

“Yo, I know we’re supposed to hate him and all, but my man’s mad friendly,” Tariq said as he burst into the room. “We were shooting the shit about basketball and he knows a lot about sports.”

“He’s an athlete, dumbass,” Salome cried, from where she was sitting on the floor playing with a wood puzzle she’d found somewhere.

“Tariq, you think absolutely everyone is friendly,” José said, at the same time that Julia echoed Tariq’s sentiments with “Yeah, why do we hate him again?”

“Because I don’t know why he’s here. I don’t know what he’s doing,” I enunciated, while my friends looked at me like I’d grown horns.