Book 2 of Los Carnales
After going M.I.A. for months without a single word, Lauren returns to Miami only to find that she isn't the only person who has changed; the city she once knew as hers is no more. Candy has taken over her share of Miami-Dade...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
***
"What are those?" Candy sleepily asks, entering the living room with her slippers scuffing against the floor until they go quiet on the ice white fur rug. She sips her coffee in a mug she nurses close to her chest, closely inspecting the developed printed photos of her and Lauren during their journey up north. "Oh my God, these are amazing."
"Aren't they?" Lauren says, laser focused on carefully sliding them into the protective pockets within her big photo album. "Are you ready for the doctor's appointment? We gotta leave in eight minutes."
"We have an appointment today?" Candy scratches her scalp, conveniently looking away when Lauren's eyes finally land on her face.
"Mami. Come on—you knew this. Remember? I told you yesterday when we were—"
"All right, all right, I'll get dressed!" Candy quickly pivots and rushes off so she can evade being scolded. "Give me fifteen minutes; I look gross."
Lauren does a double-take, her face switching to a grimace, disapproving of everything Candy had just said. "Ah-uh, wait a minute, what are you doing? Come back here." She races after her, catching her arm first and destroying her momentum.
"What?" Candy whines.
"Don't 'what' me. You're not getting fifteen minutes; I don't like being late."
"Why not? It's expected of us; we're Cuban."
"Baby, who told you a thing like that?"
"It's something my family always said. And it was always fine!"
Lauren looks up to the corner right and rolls her eyes, yet she can't prevent the side grin of amusement that graces her face. "Of course. All the creative ways to avoid taking accountability is rich with you people. We're not gonna show up late, that's the first thing. The second is you're gonna wear exactly what you have on and do your hair."
Candy glances down at her grey sweatpants that came with her cropped sweatshirt and makes a face. "I'm not going out like this. Not with my name and status. Sorry."
"Try another response."
"Try another woman."
Lauren grits her teeth and says nothing as she yanks Candy's arm and pulls her to the bathroom, forcing her inside to get in front of the mirror. "Let's go. Do what you gotta do with your hair or your makeup—whatever. But today I want my wife in exactly what she has on, because she is smoking hot dressed down like this, and I'd love it if everybody could look at her and know that's all me. When they see you, they see me; that's how it should be. Entiendes?" (Understand?)
Candy stares at Lauren through the mirror, taking short breaks to watch her hands handle her makeup she gets from her baby blue pouch full of products. She's also oscillating between pouting and swooning. "You're so bossy."
