Julieta pointed to Mamá’s makeup palette, which Mamá clutched in her hand as if it was their secret taco recipe. “Let’s just hurry. We have to set up.”
Mamá didn’t waste any time. She ran a brush across Julieta’s cheek. Julieta closed her eyes, the gentle swipes soothing her.Rhinestones were stuck around her eyes, then more makeup was applied. For the finishing touch, Mamá affixed a floral headpiece with an attached veil to Julieta’s long black hair.
“Mija, you’re gorgeous.” Mamá shoved a mirror into Julieta’s hand.
“Thank you.” Julieta saw her reflection and gasped. She reallyshouldbe thankful. Mamá had made her skin shimmery, and the embellishments Mamá had put on had enhanced her dark eyes. Even her intricate tattoos matched the look. Julieta had a Catrina sleeve watercolor tattoo on her arm, much to Mamá’s disapproval. What did Mamá expect? Julieta was an award-winning chef, not a nun.
“De nada.” Mamá called the event coordinator, and staff was sent to help them gather the food containers. The scents of spicy cumin and sweet cinnamon filled the air as Julieta made her way through a maze of revelers dressed for the event. Ballet Folklórico dancers with elaborate, colorful costumes performed in the square. Young children were getting their faces painted.
Julieta paused at an altar filled with intricately woven marigolds and ornately decorated sugar skulls. There was a picture of a man who resembled Papá above it. A chill filled her soul; she yearned to hold his hand just one more time. Julieta said a quick prayer, did the sign of the cross on her chest, and then forged on to the venue.
They finally reached their stand, which had been decorated with blooms overhead and papel picado, and the staff helped them set up. Julieta reached into the cooler she carried and pulled out the fish. On the menu tonight was a high-end fish taco—an ode to Mamá. With a seared sea bass in an al ajillo sauce, this fish taco would be nothing like anything anyone had ever tasted—definitely not like the cheap farmed tilapia taco the Taco King chain restaurant used for their tasteless version.
Julieta began placing the other ingredients on the table.
¡Mierda! The most important one isn’t here.
She tapped Mamá on the shoulder. “I’m going to go back to the van—I forgot my chiles.”
Mamá nodded, and Julieta turned around and headed toward the parking lot.
Julieta reached the van and grabbed the chiles. But before she went back to Mamá, she took a brief detour. She needed a moment to herself before beginning the exhausting shift.
She opened a gate and strolled through a public garden adjacent to the main street. Normally, this area was busy, but tonight, everyone was in the plaza for the party. The bright bougainvillea draped the walls like magnificent curtains, and there was a colorful Talavera birdbath in the center. She dreamed of owning a home with room for a garden. She would grow all her own herbs and vegetables, and even some flowers. And maybe she would be blessed with kids who she could teach to care for the plants.
Ha! Kids? Who was she kidding? She couldn’t even find a boyfriend. She supposed she could have them on her own, but she really wanted to find a partner. And Mamá never ceased to remind Julieta that her only hope to have grandbabies rested with her. Maybe she could take some time off from work and focus on her personal life.
One day.
She just hoped it wouldn’t be because her restaurant was closed.
Why wouldn’t any of the banks give her a loan so she could buy the buildings instead? She was a successful chef. She was an upstanding citizen, for goodness’ sake—was she truly seen as a flight risk? Julieta’s hands clenched into fists.
Just breathe.
She couldn’t get worked up like this now—not when she had a cooking pop-up to focus on.
She bent down to smell a red rose when a deep male voice interrupted her, causing her heart to leap into her throat.
“ ‘A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.’ ”
Ay, Dios mío. Her pulse ratcheted back down. Did he really just quoteRomeo and Juliet? What a player. She looked up.
Whoa—sexy dead mariachi alert! Was she dreaming? Her heart stuttered.
A tall man with a strong jawline and twinkling dark eyes framed by impossibly long eyelashes stood before her. He was definitely handsome, even though his face was obscured by makeup. His charro suit seemed painted on his muscular body.
He winked at her, which caused her to grin unabashedly.
The shiny silver buttons on the sides of his tight black pants outlined his legs. She couldn’t help staring at his strong thighs... and that huge bulge in his pants.
Breathe, Julieta, breathe.
He held a guitarrón by his side. Julieta loved that big instrument with its deep, rich sounds. Papá used to play it and sing lullabies to her when she was a little girl.
Julieta stood and examined the big Mexican guitar closely. It had six thick strings and a beautifully ornate rosette around the sound hole. It had to be expensive. Maybe this guy was some famous mariachi musician.
She pulled herself together. “That’s a gorgeous guitarrón. Can you actually play that thing? Or did you just buy it as a prop to get some likes on Instagram?” Julieta prided herself on her sarcasm, a trait cultivated from years in the restaurant industry reacting to the idiots who didn’t believe that she could be successful.
