“I worked seven days a week, Ramón. I dressed up like a fish witha taco wrapped around it and would dance around in the heat to get customers to come in. She didn’t do that—I did. This is my business. This is my legacy. Yes, that recipe was my inspiration, but we don’t owe her anything. She has no rights to my hard work.”
Ramón disagreed—they did owe Linda something, but he wasn’t sure what.
But shutting down Linda’s daughter’s restaurant forty years after Papá had taken her mother’s recipe didn’t sit right with him. It seemed not only completely unfair, but also cruel.
Ramón got up to face his father. “We owe her something, Apá. She could sue us. And the press will destroy us. We have to be careful.”
Papá put his hand on Ramón’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it. I can call legal tomorrow and get their advice.”
Ramón’s stomach hardened. How had he ever become involved in such a mess? Normally, their business acquisitions were clean and drama-free. He felt like he was trapped in one of those telenovelas his mom liked to watch.
“Look, I talked to Julieta. She told me that you stole the recipe.”
“Ramón! What are you doing? Is this why you have come to me? Did she tell you this story to get you to keep her restaurant in that location?”
“No, she didn’t. But she does know that you stole the recipe from her mom. We need to be careful here.”
“What do you think we should do?”
Ramón exhaled. “I think we should let them stay in the location. I have hired her as chef, as we had discussed, but I think we should keep the venue as Las Pescas. We can find another place to put in a Taco King.”
“Have you lost your mind? The only reason we bought the block was to put in a Taco King. This is a business, Ramón—not a charity.”
“Nobody wants a fast-food restaurant in the heart of Barrio Logan. Have you even tried her tacos? They are incredible.”
“No. I don’t need to. I tried her mother’s. But that is not the point.”
“It is, actually.”
Papá grunted.
Ramón rarely stood up to his father, but now he had no choice. Ramón knew right from wrong—he had to say something or he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. “I don’t agree with what we are doing to the community. We can find other ways to make money on this deal. I’m not going to be part of wrecking this street. I apologize for not bringing up my concerns sooner, but I clearly didn’t do the correct research. And had I known that you had taken the recipe from Linda, I never would’ve agreed.”
Papá’s face reddened, and he pointed his finger at his son. “Ramón. I order you to open the Taco King there.”
“Apá! You will do right by Linda. I’m calling our legal team tomorrow. It’s just money—and we don’t need any more of it.”
“This is my company. I founded it. I’m still the chairman of the board. You can’t tell me what to do.”
Ramón threw his hands up. “You’re right. I can’t. So let me put it this way—if you don’t agree to compensate Linda, I will quit.”
Ramón’s father stood in the middle of the den with his jaw open. Ramón didn’t even bother to say goodbye.
And with a nod of apology to Maria, who was standing in the kitchen doorway with a horrified look on her face, Ramón walked out of his father’s house.
On his way out of the neighborhood, he drove by the multimillion-dollar mansions with all the workers maintaining the properties. Some were blowing leaves, others were trimming hedges, all were working their asses off.
There would be no La Jolla without Mexicans. They were thegardeners, they were the cooks, they were the maids, and they were the nannies who raised the children of these millionaires—like his own nanny, Berta. They were important, and they had voices, and for years Ramón hadn’t heard them. But today he listened to their words, loud and clear.
Chapter Seventeen
The week had gone slowly. Ramón had texted Julieta that he needed to do some work on another deal so he wouldn’t be able to come in for a while. As for the details on this business, Ramón had seemed tight-lipped when she asked for specifics. She had assumed that he would already have made a plan to start turning Las Pescas into a Taco King. His lack of action led Julieta to hold on to the fleeting hope that somehow, against all odds, she could still keep Las Pescas in its original incarnation. But she knew deep down that though the restaurant was outwardly still Las Pescas, it was technically already a Taco King.
And she had spent way too much time staring at her phone, waiting for a text from him that never came.
But more important than the text, Julieta received her first paycheck.
Seeing that number in her bank account blew her mind. She couldn’t believe it wasn’t an error. This was so much better thanchecking her balance multiple times a day to ensure that she had enough money not to overdraw it every time she paid bills.
