“Well, you clearly don’t know a thing about me. I would never consider working at your crappy chain restaurant. Ever. Now, you’vewasted enough of my time tonight. Goodbye.” Julieta turned again to walk out of the room.
“I’ll pay you two hundred thousand dollars a year.”
Julieta tripped on a Saltillo tile.
What did he say? Was he insane?
“I’m sorry, what? Are you mad?”
“No. I’m quite sane. I’ll pay you a salary of two hundred thousand dollars to be our executive chef. That’s a contract for one year. You will receive a signing bonus. And, of course, benefits including health insurance, stock options, life insurance, retirement, and paid leave. We even offer pet insurance.”
Pet insurance? Did companies actually offer that? Taco needed a dental!
But the real motivation was health coverage. Private health insurance was so expensive, and if Las Pescas closed, she would have to find a new job. How could she pass this deal up?
And she could probably get Mamá on the plan. With her lupus, she needed insurance. Not that Mamá would ever agree to work at Taco King. Julieta wouldn’t, either.
Would she?
Julieta felt woozy, and it wasn’t from the shot of tequila she had downed while she made Ramón’s dinner. Fine, two shots. Maybe three. Four, tops.
“That’s ridiculous. It’s way too much money.”
He took a step closer to her. “You’re worth it.”
Don’t give in to his flattery!“I can’t accept it.”
“My offer stands. You have forty-eight hours to make your decision. Either way, we are closing Las Pescas. Take it or leave it.”
Julieta couldn’t even fathom that kind of money and those kinds of benefits. Not now. Not thirty years from now.
That money could do so much good for her and her family. Shecould buy Mamá a new house, one with a bigger garden. She could take her on a vacation. She could pay off her own debts from culinary school. She could buy a car that ran.
But money wasn’t the only thing in life. How could she, a chef who had worked at a Michelin-starred restaurant, ever agree to be employed at a Taco King? Especially since they’d stolen her family’s own recipe.
All her credibility would be shot. Once he had stripped her restaurant of all its character, he would move on to the next starry-eyed ingenue that caught his fancy. And she would never have a career—in the culinary world or in Barrio Logan.
No. Julieta would not consider it under any circumstances. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t work at Taco King.
“I’m sorry, Ramón. The building was for sale but I’m not. You can let yourself out.”
Ramón didn’t move, so Julieta stormed out of the room. She would soon lose her restaurant and her income. But she had kept the one thing that she had always valued most.
Her foolish pride.
Chapter Twelve
Well, that didn’t go as planned.
Ramón quietly left the restaurant, got into his car, and drove back to La Jolla.
He had to get Julieta to agree. Not just because he wanted to see her again, but because if she didn’t work there, the new restaurant would never be a success. Ever.
Papá didn’t understand the depth of the problem at all. In this day and age, you couldn’t just take over a block in a historically ethnic area and expect acceptance. And you shouldn’t even want to. Barrio Logan was special. His father should know that—Papá fought for the rights of this community once. This was part of the reason Papá wanted a location here. What was he now thinking? Ramón didn’t want to hurt his culture; he wanted to celebrate it.
If Julieta would helm his restaurant, there was a chance it could be successful. But her accepting his proposal was very unlikely.
She should, though. It would be good for Julieta also. He had offered her an exorbitant salary, fifty thousand over the average incomeof an executive chef, to mitigate the pain of closing her down. And he was confident that the restaurant could easily turn a profit with her cooking skills and his marketing expertise. She could work there for a few years, save up, and open a new restaurant, either in Barrio Logan or elsewhere. Hell, Ramón would probably invest in it.
