Ramón shoveled a bite into his mouth. His taste buds were on fire. The eggs were excellent—spicy and smoky but not overpowering. “These are great.”
“I know.”
Ha. He loved her confidence.
Rosa brought two coffees. “Ramón, this is my cousin, Rosa. Rosa, this is Ramón. He just bought the building.”
Rosa’s eyes widened, then her lashes fluttered. “Hi, Ramón. Mucho gusto.” She covered her mouth and then tugged at Julieta’s hair. Julieta shooed her away from the table.
Well, at least one member of Julieta’s family didn’t despise Ramón.
Julieta dug into her own plate of food. She was a chef—of course she liked to eat. Ramón was relieved. He loved eating out at nice restaurants—it would be nice to take Julieta with him. He was sure she would actually eat the food instead of just taking pictures of it for Instagram.
“So, what is the plan? When are you shutting me down?”
“Not for at least a couple of months, until the deal goes through escrow, and then it will be another three months until we open.”
Her lips twisted. “Okay. But you are paying me now, even though it is still Las Pescas?”
Ramón nodded. “Yup. I will put you on salary now, and you will retain ownership and proceeds for the restaurant until you close. Iwill spend some time shadowing you to learn everything about your restaurant.”
And you.
“Then we will discuss our vision of the place and plan different menus. After that, we will finalize any renovations that need to happen and schedule the grand opening.”
“Well, at least I will have time to say goodbye to my customers.”
Ramón gave Julieta a quizzical look. “I get they will be upset with the changes, but they will still be glad that you are the chef.”
“You still don’t get it Ramón, do you? Yes, I will be here. But many of my customers will no longer support the place if it’s a corporate chain. Of course, you will get new customers, tourists from out of state and residents of the beach towns who think coming to Barrio Logan is some type of Mexican Disneyland, where they can buy churros and take selfies in front of Chicano murals. But many locals will avoid us like ICE. And there will be protesters, including members of my own family and my friends. I can guarantee that.”
Ramón’s throat tightened. “Julieta, you are from the community. And I’m no gringo—I’m Mexican, too.”
“You’re a coconut, Ramón. You may be technically Mexican, but you are not part of this community.”
Ramón was painfully aware he would never be accepted. And he definitely had to figure out the best way to address the protester issue. Hopefully, by the time they opened, Julieta would be proud of what they’d built together. If the locals saw her supporting the restaurant, maybe they would, too.
Quizás.
Maybe not.
But he had to portray that air of confidence—that was what made business deals work. “I’m confident everything will work out.”
“What about the other businesses on the street? Will you be shutting them down? Raising their rent?”
Ramón did not want to talk about that yet. “There have been no decisions made about the rest of the block. But once we get going on the transition here, we will be exploring all options.”
“Okay.” Julieta pursed her lips and twirled a single lock of hair. “So, I did want to thank you for the job opportunity. It will be life-changing for me.”
He grinned. “De nada.”
“And I wanted to apologize for everything that happened before. Storming out of your place on Day of the Dead, dropping your food, kicking you out of the restaurant. I was just overwhelmed.”
“Apology accepted.” Ramón took a sip of his coffee. It was smooth, and he tasted a hint of cinnamon and Mexican vanilla. He lowered his voice and gazed into her eyes. “But I have to ask, why did you leave my house that night? You couldn’t have known I was planning to buy this building. The bids were secret.”
She looked out the window. “Right. I didn’t.”
“What was it? I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable in any way.”
