But maybe he could fix this.
He was a problem solver. He listened and was compassionate, probably from the years he’d spent consoling his younger brothers when they missed their parents, who were always traveling when they weren’t fighting. As for Julieta, he would start by taking her to dinner tonight—that was, if she agreed.
But first, he had to figure out what his plan was for Las Pescas.
He had intended to turn it into another Taco King—it was in the best location for a restaurant on the block. But now, he had his doubts.
He also now assumed that the tacos she’d brought him in the garden were ones she had made herself. Ramón typed on his phone. A few seconds later, his suspicions were confirmed—Las Pescas had a taco pop-up in Old Town last night.
He wished she hadn’t dropped his plate of eggs—he could pretty much guarantee that they would have tasted incredible.
Just like her.
He studied Papá, who was surveying the place, no doubt planning the fate of this café. Papá’s mind was as sharp as ever.
“So, what are we doing with Las Pescas?”
Papá sighed. “What do you mean, what are we doing with Las Pescas? We talked about this, Ramón. We are turning it into a Taco King. Our flagship store. We will hire a chef to create a specializedmenu. Add some new food items. Have the girls wear traditional outfits. It will be stellar.”
A bitter metallic taste filled Ramón’s mouth, and it wasn’t from the sweet pastry he ate. “Like the Old Town location? It feels almost offensive here. Old Town is more of a tourist location—Barrio Logan is a community. I don’t think dressing the waitresses in Mexican clothing is appropriate.”
Arturo folded his arms across his chest. “Ramón, Old Town is our most lucrative restaurant. People come from all over the country to experience some of our culture. We can do the same for Barrio Logan.”
But Barrio Logan didn’t want to be some tourist trap. Papá should understand that. Ramón had to think of a solution that would appease everyone.
Ramón’s head now ached. If they went ahead with Papá’s vision, he would never have a chance with Julieta.
But more importantly, Taco King would be replacing a beloved local independent restaurant run by a local chef who lived in the community with a reviled chain. Ramón had known this all along, but the issue hadn’t been abundantly clear to him until today, when he had seen Julieta and been inside her restaurant.
“Right, Papá. But this community is already resistant to us. I saw Benicio last night. He told me they don’t want us here. And he’s right. So we need to ease our way in and build trust. I’m not sure we should just go around changing everything. At least not immediately.”
Arturo’s brow cocked. “I want a Taco King in Barrio Logan. That is the whole reason we did the deal, why we purchased the entire street. We need a location here. A marketable one. It’s nonnegotiable.”
Ramón gritted his teeth. There was no way that Papá wouldbudge, and until he retired, Papá had the final say on everything. And Ramón couldn’t really blame him.
How had he not thought this all through while making the bid? Ramón had spent hundreds of hours researching the numbers in Barrio Logan. He had even driven by here a few times. But he had missed the mark. He hadn’t truly spent time here since he was a kid. He hadn’t realized what made it tick. Basically, he had completely fucked up.
But at least he was willing to admit his mistake and fix it.
“I got it. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.” Ramón looked around at the café. One wall featured a mural of a sexy chola clasping a rosary and a painting of some shiny purple lowriders. The place smelled like cinnamon and spice. A Juanes song played over the sound system. Ramón couldn’t help but tap his foot. This café had so much character. It had so much heart.
Ramón smiled at an older woman making coffee behind the bar. Was this her café? Was he about to crush her dreams and kill her livelihood? “What about this place? Are we going to close it?”
“Raise the rent. If they can afford it, they can stay. If not, we can approach Starbucks.”
How could he shut this café down? For a soulless Starbucks? He glanced at the merchandise—they sold hand-painted cups and local artisan crafts. What would the new place sell—a Starbucks Barrio Logan mug with a drawing of Chicano Park?
Ramón’s stomach clenched, but he blamed himself for getting into this mess. This had always been the plan for the block; nothing had changed except that he found out that Julieta was the chef at Las Pescas. Why hadn’t Ramón listened to Benicio, or more importantly, consulted with him about the project? Spent some more time here before he pursued the deal? Eaten more conchas at this café, dined at Julieta’s restaurant, understood the implications of this transaction?
“Do we have to destroy every business here? Maybe we can work something out with them. Apá, we want the community to like us.”
Papá glared at him. “Look, mijo, don’t go getting all soft on me because you want to sleep with Linda’s daughter. How do you know her again anyway? Did you meet her when you were doing research on this deal?”
“Nope.” Ramón smirked. “I met her last night.” Ramón didn’t go into details, but he was certain whatever Papá imagined was more scandalous than what actually happened.
“That’s my boy! She is beautiful, just like her mother.”
“Yes, that she is. But now, it’s awkward.”
