Romero (The Moreno Brothers 4)

“She had to be there an hour early, so I wasn’t there yet.”

The smirk on Sal’s face was still there and it irritated Romero. “You gonna need a drink this early?”

“No, I’m not gonna need a drink this early,” Romero said, reaching for the paper again.

Sal laughed again, but handed him the paper. “So what was her ex doing there?”

Romero filled him in briefly about her damn sister and her ex being a big shit in the Navy—in no way hiding his aversion to the whole situation.

“Heads of military are not going to get him far ahead in an election. He’s better off sticking with the people he already knows. Being a judge, he probably already has all the connections he needs. City council members, legislators, and a bunch of city officials, who I’m sure owe him a favor or two.” Sal took the paper Romero was still staring at and tossed it on the counter behind the bar. “Will you stop? She’s with you now, not him.”

“Yeah, but if it were up to her f**king sister, Izzy would be with him.” Everything he’d felt the night before when he found out Jacob was her first, came flying back at him. “I’m no match for that shit, Sal. They all got their master’s degrees, Izzy’s gonna start working on hers soon—her dad’s running for Mayor for Christ’s sake!”

A waiter brought out Romero’s breakfast burrito and placed it on the bar in front of him. “Thanks Julio,” Sal said, and then he frowned, pouring Romero a soda. “First of all, it’s not like you’re trying to get the girl. You already have her. Right? And last time I saw you two together, she seemed really into you—shocker.” He laughed. “I’m kidding, but here’s my second point: I hope to hell you didn’t sit there with that mouth of yours and talk the way you always do in front of her family and would-be in-laws. Did you?”

Romero chewed and covered his mouth, remembering Max the night Isabel met his uncles. “No! As a matter of fact, I’ve been trying to tone it down. Ever since I realized how much my uncles f**ki—” He caught himself and Sal rolled his eyes. “How much they cuss.”

“Try harder, dude.” Sal tossed a few napkins in front of him. “No one’s perfect. I’m certainly not, but why call attention to your imperfections with something so obvious as your overuse of the cringe-worthy language. From what you tell me, I can guarantee you her family doesn’t toss around the F-bomb as much as you do, and especially not now that they’ll be in the eye of the public. Everything they do or say from here on will be scrutinized. And if you’re going to be rubbing elbows with all these big-shots, you don’t wanna embarrass Isabel or do something that would taint her dad’s campaign in any way.”

That pissed Romero off. “Why would I do that?”

Sal raised his eyebrows and tossed the paper in front of him again. He knew exactly what Sal meant. He thought the same thing last night. Romero didn’t look at it. Instead, he took a bite of his burrito and said nothing.

“These elections get ugly, Romero. His opponents will be looking for anything and everything to use against him. And your temper gets pretty ugly.”

Romero stared at him but kept chewing. Needing to change the subject he finished chewing and asked, “What do you know about golf?”

Sal’s eyebrows pinched. “Enough. I play a few rounds a week. Why?”

“Her dad mentioned maybe playing a round or two. I’ve never played. I told him I never have. He said I’d catch on.” Romero shook his head. “I don’t wanna make an ass of myself.

Sal lifted a shoulder. “I’m outta here as soon as Alex gets here. So I’m free for the rest of the day. We can go to the driving range and I’ll show you the basics.”

Romero shuffled his schedule around in his head, then swallowed the last of his burrito. “Let me make some calls. I can probably do that.”

***

Sal was definitely the most patient of the three brothers. He laughed at times like when Romero was sure Angel and certainly Alex would’ve been done with him. But it was a give and take. Alex or Angel would’ve just showed Romero how to stand and swing. Sal explained the steps one by one, from the proper way to shift your weight to the importance of the back swing and the rotation of the shoulders. Then there was the transition, the impact and finally the through swing and finish. “I’m going for one round of golf here, Sal. Not trying to take Tiger f**king Woods down.”

Sal wasn’t laughing. “I thought you were working on toning the language down?” He pulled on Romero’s arm, straightening it out. “And this isn’t rocket science, Romero. This is just the basics. ”

Romero frowned, concentrating on his transition. After about an hour of hitting balls, Romero couldn’t believe Sal was still completely committed to making sure Romero had it right. “Remember to keep your wrist locked when you’re transferring your weight to your left leg.”

Romero did as instructed, huffing and sighing through most of his lesson, but in the end, he was grateful Sal was so damned anal. He at least had the basics down. “So what else do you know about politics?” he asked, as they walked back to Sal’s car. “‘Cause I don’t know shit. All I know is they’re a bunch of f**ki… a bunch of crooks.”

Sal laughed. “That’s your uncles talking. They’re not all bad. Some actually want to make a difference.” They reached his car and Sal opened his trunk. He swung his golf bag in. “I wouldn’t worry so much about that. Something tells me he’ll be more interested in talking about you. What you want out of life. What you have to offer his daughter.”