Double Blind by Dan Alatorre

Author:Dan Alatorre [Alatorre, Dan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-07-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

Debating whether he was hungover or not—and whether he wanted to wake up yet or not—Sergio lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The light haze of morning had not crept over the window sill and into the bedroom.

Probably about 6 A. M.

He reached to the nightstand and pressed the button on his phone. 5:45 A. M. Throwing back the comforter and sheets, he pushed himself into a sitting position on the bed. His feet hit the cool, carpeted floor. When no queasiness slogged in his stomach and no throbbing pressure seized his skull, he decided a hangover was not imminent, and got up.

His jeans and shirt were folded neatly on the chair.

She’s such a mom.

Scratching his belly, he got dressed and meandered to the bathroom. Two empty toothbrush holders greeted him there, a bright blue one and a bright red one. In the drawer, a few unopened toothbrushes like kids get after a dentist visit. Several mini floss containers were with them—unopened—and some tiny Crest toothpastes.

Spider-Man or Superman . . .

There were two Spiderman brushes, so he used one of those, hoping whoever it belonged to wouldn’t be too upset at him using it. He might be “Uncle” Sergio, but that didn’t mean he was allowed unlimited access to just anything.

On his way to the kitchen, he glanced at the living room. No empty beer bottles on the coffee table.

He reached past the Cheerios and Golden Grahams in the cupboard, to a box of Lucky Charms. With a bowl, a spoon, and milk, he was halfway through his second roof-of-the-mouth-destroying serving when the front door opened. Sporting a dark gray windbreaker, a sweat shirt, black yoga pants, black running shoes, and very red cheeks, Carly entered the house.

Sergio lifted his spoon. “Good morning. Out getting the paper?”

Panting, she made her way to the table and set down a stopwatch. “Very funny.”

“It’s still dark out. You should wear light clothing, so you don’t get hit by a car or something.”

“Thanks, Dad. I notice you wear stuff like that when you run—oh, wait, your only exercise is chasing waitresses.”

“And bartenders.” He shoveled another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “And that is a lot more physical than people think.”

“I’m sure. How’d you sleep?” She took off her windbreaker and tossed it over the back of a kitchen chair, then bent her arms at the elbows and twisted back and forth a few times.

“Great. Like I was in a coma.”

“Good.” She peeled off the sweatshirt and dumped it on the chair with the windbreaker. Her black t-shirt showed off her toned torso. She grabbed the dish towel off the refrigerator door handle and dabbed her brow with it, her long, dark ponytail bobbing and swaying as she moved. Leaning against the sink, she draped the towel around her neck and closed her eyes, tilting her head to the ceiling.

“How far did you run?”

“About three miles.”

Sergio nearly choked on his cereal. “You aren’t even sweating. How long does three miles take?”

She rolled her shoulders, holding the ends of the towel with both hands and keeping her eyes shut.

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