Empanadas de Calabaza y Chorizo
Huitlacoche Soup
Pan-seared Dorado with Mole and Nopales
Chocolate Tamales
The course list made her salivate. The perfect blend of tradition and innovation. Just like her restaurant.
After the pumpkin was pureed, the spices were toasted, and the dough was kneaded, Julieta immersed herself in her work.
She was in the zone. Her feet tapped to the music Mamá played. Time flew by when she cooked. The freedom to create experiences from fresh ingredients made her spirit soar. She had been born to be a chef.
She put the finishing touches on all the prep work and glanced at her reflection in a shiny pot.
Sweat dripped down her face, her hair was frizzy, and her skin was blotchy.
She was a hot mess—ugh. She couldn’t have a serious business meeting like this.
Julieta went into the bathroom and washed her face. She put on some moisturizer and lip gloss. That would have to do.
She left the bathroom. Mamá took one look at her and shook her head with disgust.
“What are you doing, mija?”
“I’m getting ready for Ramón. He will be here in an hour.”
Mamá’s eyes scanned Julieta from head to toe, and then she shook her head in disgust. “Go home, mi amor. Take a shower. Shave your legs. Wear a dress. Put on some lipstick. Get ready. Look nice for him.”
“Ay, Amá. What are you talking about? This is not a date. And you don’t even think this plan will work.”
“I still don’t, but you do, so I’ll go along with the charade. And if El Banco is anything like his papá, you should look nice.”
Julieta shook her head. “Well I’m not going to sleep with him to keep this restaurant, if that is what you are implying.”
She should just sleep with him for fun instead. The thought of Ramón naked awakened feelings in her that she had repressed.
She hadn’t stopped thinking about him since she had run out ofhis place last night. How his hands had strummed the guitarrón, how those same hands would feel caressing her breasts, clutching her waist, in between her legs, squeezing her ass.
Stop!
She couldn’t sleep with him—not when he held her fate in his hands.
“Of course not. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t look pretty. Make him weak, Julieta. And wear some perfume, for God’s sake.”
“Perfume gives me headaches.”
“You give me a headache. What kind of Mexican woman doesn’t like to wear makeup? I have failed you as a mother. Ay, sometimes I wonder if you are my daughter. Maybe they switched you at the hospital.”
Burn.Julieta hadn’t inherited Mamá’s love for bright red lipstick and heavy eye shadow. As a child, she’d preferred playing in the dirt with Tiburón to dressing up dolls with Rosa, much to Mamá’s dismay.
Despite her attraction to him, Julieta didn’t feel like she should have to look “nice” for any man, especially a man as blessed as Ramón. The last thing that he needed was an ego boost. Let’s see—multimillionaire,People en Español’s Most Eligible Bachelor, Stanford and Harvard degrees, a musician, a great kisser. The dude drove a McLaren and lived in an oceanfront house. He seeped self-confidence. She was probably the only woman in all of San Diego to reject him, a fact that made her proud.
It also might make her stupid.
Even so, she gave in to Mamá. “Fine. I’ll be right back.”
She set off out the back door to walk the three blocks to her home just off Logan Avenue. She didn’t just work in Barrio Logan; she lived here; she was raised here. These streets meant everything to Julieta.
