Page 46 of A Not-So Holiday Paradise
I sigh. “I’m aware,” I say, tucking one errant curl behind my ear. Most of my hair is pulled into a braid, but several strands have escaped. I don’t have the patience to try to tame them into submission.
Beckett nods again, that same sharp nod he usually does—little more than a jerk of his head.
“Let’s look around, then,” he says. “These souvenir shops are probably our best bets. They sell knickknacks—so maybe string lights, ornaments, that kind of thing. We might be able to find something there.”
“Sounds good,” I say. I can picture it now—rows and rows of seashell ornaments with hundreds of different names printed on them. They’d probably have aMollyornament, but I doubt we’d find aBeckett. “I just want to visit Alfonso and Señorita first—”
“No way.”
Beckett’s firm answer has me turning and frowning at him. I’m surprised to see his arms crossed over his chest, mouth turned down stubbornly.
“Just for a second,” I say, stepping toward him.
“Those are demon monkeys, Molly,” he says, shaking his head. “They get all up in my space and stick their creepy fingers in my ears. I’m not getting within ten feet of that nonsense.”
“Fine,” I say, and I don’t bother hiding my smile. “I’ll go by myself, you little chicken.”
“I’m not—it isn’t—I’m notchicken,” he sputters. His eyes narrow as he takes a step closer to me, bringing him near enough that I have to tilt my head to look up at him. “This is basic logic. I don’t want to approach the animal that attacked my face.”
I nod. “You’re right. Very logical,” I say. I pat him on the shoulder, doing my best not to focus on how muscular he is.
“Well, now you’re just being patronizing,” he grumbles, and I laugh.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” I say, still laughing. “You’re not happy whether I agree with you or disagree with you.”
“Just go,” he says, gesturing across the square to where the dreadlocked man is walking around with the two monkeys perched on his shoulders.“And he’ll want a tip; here.” He pulls out his wallet and digs around for a second, emerging with a handful of coins. When I give him a skeptical look, his cheeks turn red. “The cash all got ruined in the storm,” he mutters.
“I know. Thank you,” I say, and I’m still smiling as I shake my head. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Make sure they don’t scratch you,” Beckett adds. He points to my bare shoulders.
“I’ll be careful,” I say as I begin to walk away.
“I’m not disinfecting any monkey scratches,” he calls after me.
I give him a thumbs up. “Yep.”
“Not a single one!”
I just wave over my shoulder at him. He’s being a little ridiculous, but I can’t help but find it funny. I can’t quite blame him, either; Señorita really did attack his face. Maybe he wronged her in the past and now he’s paying the price. Are monkeys vindictive creatures? Do they have the mental capacity for revenge?
I sigh as I cross the square. My brain comes up with the weirdest things sometimes. I make a mental note to look it up anyway; I’d be interested to see the answers to those questions.
I spend ten minutes with Señorita and Alfonso and the dreadlocked man, whose name turns out to be Nilson. Nilson is as mellow as they come, and not a big talker, but with a few well-placed questions, I manage to learn more about him. He’s lived here for twenty-five years, and he’s had Señorita and Alfonso for the last three. I laugh out loud when he tells me that Señorita is only rude to a select few—Beckett included.
“She can sense when someone doesn’t like her,” Nilson says, his teeth bright and white in a smile that takes up fully half of his face.
“He’s pretty grumpy,” I say, turning carefully to look at where Beckett is staring at us from across the square, eyeing the monkeys with way more distrust and suspicion than they deserve. Moving with Alfonso and Señorita on my shoulders makes me feel like an African woman walking miles with a basket balanced on my head, and I keep my motions slow and gentle so I don’t startle them or shake them loose as I turn back to Nilson.
“You don’t have to be so careful,” Nilson says when he notices my movements. “They hold on tight and balance well. They won’t fall.”
Easy for him to say; his deltoids are the size of human skulls. The man is huge.Icould probably balance on his shoulders.
“Right,” I say anyway, trying to relax. “I’ll remember that for next time. I should get going, though.” I point toward Beckett. “We’ve got stuff to do today.”
Nilson reclaims the monkeys with ease, and I roll my shoulders a few times before giving him a smile and waving to Alfonso and Señorita. I pass him the change Beckett gave me, apologizing that I don’t have more, and then stride back across the square toward Beckett. He’s still where I left him, glowering unnecessarily in the direction of the monkeys.
“You pointed at me,” he says when I’m close enough to hear him.
