Saturday finally arrived. In the Campos kitchen, Dora was already at work with a bright smile on her face as she prepared yet another chicken lasagna. She shredded the chicken with rhythmic precision, her hips swaying to the beat of “He’s So Shy” by the Pointer Sisters playing on the radio.
William stumbled into the kitchen in his boxer shorts, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The music had been his unwanted alarm clock.
“Who’s shy?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep.
“Good morning, son! I’m glad you’re up,” Dora said joyfully. “Go wash your face, brush your teeth, and then come back to help me sort the beans for lunch.”
“Are we really hosting a lunch for that p*****t who wants to dishonor my sister?” William asked, his brow furrowing.
“No,” Dora pondered, tilting her head. “Actual
