It suddenly smelled like laundry detergent. Lorena, my housekeeper, walked into the kitchen with a bunch of clothes in a basket. She must have noticed my expression. “What’s so funny?”

I shook my head. “You don’t even want to know.”

She kept squinting her eyes and looking at me as she folded. I decided to tell her the truth about my cam-girl obsession. Lorena could pretty much handle anything, even though she was fairly conservative. I loved shocking her.

After I spent about five minutes telling her the whole story, she said, “So she’s, like, a nudie model?”

I chuckled. “Yes. A nudie model. She takes her clothes off from time to time. Even though you might not believe me, that’s not why I watch her.”

“Why are you bothering with that?”

I rubbed my eyes and chuckled. “I have no idea. Boredom, I guess?”

Lorena pointed at me. “That’s the problem. You have all these putas throwing themselves at you all of the time. Nothing interests you anymore. Now you’ll move to porn and hookers.”

I lifted my index finger. “Hey, I’ll have you know, I’ve never once gone to a hooker. Don’t plan to, either. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But I don’t have to pay for it, if you know what I mean.”

“You’re paying with this cam girl, aren’t you?”

Good point.

“Yeah, but this is different…I guess. It’s just innocent fun. And I only pay her to sing to me.” I laughed, realizing how crazy that sounded—paying some chick to sing for me.

“She sings?”

“Among other special talents, yes. The first night I met her, she was singing “Blue Skies.” Mom used to sing that song. So it freaked me out. That’s how she initially got my attention.”

“That and her big tetas.”

I nearly spit out my coffee. “Yeah. Those are nice, too. Really nice.” I cleared my throat. “Anyway, it was like I was meant to hear that song or something. And in the process of that…I discovered I like watching her.”

She stopped folding for a moment. “Mijo, you need to go in the opposite direction of what you’re doing. Stop going with the sluts and this porn and find someone who’s a good person, who you can settle down with. Someone who is gonna take care of you—like one of my nieces.”

Oh boy. Here we go.

I cringed. “No offense, but I’m pretty sure the last niece you wanted to set me up with had more facial hair than I do. Nice girl, but she legit had stubble.”

Lorena was laughing, because she knew about that shit when she set me up with her.

“Okay, maybe not Adriana,” she said. “But I have lots more. Twenty nieces. Lots to choose from. I know you like the pretty ones.”

“Well, it helps if I don’t have the urge to pull over on our date and buy a BiC razor to shave her face, yeah.”

She laughed, even at the expense of her niece, because she knew it was true. The chick had whiskers.

“What about my other niece, Larisa? She’s always asking for you ever since I brought you to church that one time. Such a pretty face on that one.”

Larisa had tried to go down on me in a church hall coat closet within thirty minutes of meeting me. I hated to ruin Lorena’s perfect image of her niece, so I’d never divulged that piece of information. I enjoyed aggressive women—but not that aggressive.

“She definitely gives good face,” I joked, unsure if she’d get it.

She threw a dishtowel she was folding at me. “You know, I told your mother before she died that I would look out for you.”

Wow.

“I never knew that, Lorena. She asked you to do that?”

“Well, no, but I told her I would, and that made her very happy. So, I feel a responsibility. You know?” She looked like she was tearing up.

Lorena had been my parents’ housekeeper. She was always like part of the family. When I moved out on my own at eighteen, my mother sent her to come work for me, knowing Lorena would keep me in line. I wasn’t happy about it at first; I didn’t want to be under anyone’s watchful eye. But as I’d gotten older, I’d come to appreciate having someone around who had my back, especially after my mom died.

At the same time, Lorena knew I had her back, too. She never asked me for help or for extra money, but there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her. I truly considered her a second mother and was grateful that she looked out for me and cared about my well-being. My father, who meant well, had always been oblivious to what was happening in my life—and he became even more so after my mother’s death. He’d ended up throwing himself more into work than ever. I couldn’t say I blamed him.