“That’s not what I meant. When can I take you on another date?”
Julieta didn’t want to make herself completely available, but she did want to hang out with him as soon as possible.
“Next weekend?”
“Okay. Friday? Can you get off early?”
She could arrange it, but Mamá would have to agree. “Sure.”
A crowd had already gathered and was staring at his car, which over the past few weeks had become a welcome sight in the neighborhood.
Tiburón walked out of the restaurant; his eyes became wide, and Julieta could’ve sworn he was drooling. He stroked the McLaren. “Nice car, man. Let me take it for a spin.”
Julieta tugged Tiburón’s sleeve. “Tib, stop.” She turned to Ramón. “Ignore him.”
Ramón winked at Julieta and tossed Tiburón the keys. “Go for it, bro.”
Julieta grinned, but not half as big as Tiburón did.
“Seriously? Thanks, homie.”
Tiburón climbed into the seat and stretched out on the tan leather. Then he took a selfie. And then another flashing a peace sign. He finally revved the engine, blasted some musica, and drove down the street, waving at the passersby, as if he was the king of the Barrio.
Julieta turned to Ramón. “You didn’t have to let him drive it.”
“I know. I wanted to. It’s not a big deal. He’s your cousin.”
Ramón cupped her face with his hands and kissed her in broad daylight for the whole block to see.
Julieta didn’t care. She kissed him back and wrapped her arms around his neck. She couldn’t wait to be with him again. To spend the night with him. Everything so far had just been an appetizer. But she was ravenous toward him. She wanted to feel him deep inside her, to please him, to ride him.
Señora Flores walked out of the café, and Julieta pulled away from Ramón. Her eyes shifted from Ramón to Julieta, back to Ramón. Julieta’s stomach clenched.
Señora Flores waved at Ramón and smiled. “Hola, Señor Montez. I brought you a concha and a café de olla.” She handed him the goodies, which he readily accepted.
“Gracias, Señora Flores. You look beautiful today.”
She visibly blushed and shrugged her shoulders. With his Latin lover movie-star looks and dimples for days, Ramón was a hit amongst the ladies on the street. So far, they had been intrigued by his presence and, though worried about the future of their businesses, were hopeful that he would just invest in the community. Guilt swept over Julieta. She was kissing him in the calle, giving him some sort of seal of approval, knowing full well she had already accepted the position as chef at Taco King. Once the vendors found out, they would never forgive her.
“Where’s my coffee and concha?” Julieta asked.
Señora Flores shook her head. “You, mija, can come by later. I need to talk to you.”
Great. Now Julieta had to worry about MamáandSeñora Flores.
A few minutes later, Tiburón returned.
He stopped the car in the middle of the street, hopped out, and gave Ramón the keys. “Thanks, man. Hey, do you want to bring it back Wednesday evening for the car cruise?”
Julieta’s throat constricted. Had her cousin invited Ramón to La Vuelta? The sacred lowrider event in the Barrio?
Please say yes, Ramón. Por favor.
Ramón slapped Tiburón’s hand in some weird handshake, which for some reason, Tiburón instinctively knew. Men. “Of course. I’d be honored.”
“Awesome. Be here at five. I’ll drive.”
Julieta burst out laughing.
