Ocean Drive is the Beverly Hills of Miami. Wynwood, on the other hand, is known as “Little San Juan.” Although it’s safer than it used to be. I pause my hand-restored yellow 1970 Chevelle with black hood stripes two houses up from my dad’s house, cursing the load roar of its engine. Just need to sit here for a minute or two and compose myself, plan my words. I had planned on going to the gym to go a few rounds with the heavy bag. God, do I need it! But Jorge’s reminder guilted me all up. So here I am with a pizza and a six-pack in the back seat, and there’s the house. Jammed in tight between the two neighboring houses, my childhood home has a white iron gate around the tiny square of front lawn. Iron bars over the windows, painted an ugly red to match the trim on the ugly rose-colored stucco. My dad’s ancient blue Ford Bronco parked alongside in the narrow driveway. Why do I dread going in so much? Maybe because Mom isn’t here to act as a buffer. She’s in Puerto Rico taking care of my grandmother who has Alzheimer’s.
What do You think about Heat (The Stark Affair Book 1)?
