A song rang out in the plaza. His heart skipped when he saw a group of mariachis playing in the main square. Ramón would love to still play music regularly, but he just couldn’t justify taking the time away from work. But tonight, dressed in his suit and holding his guitarrón while serenading a beautiful señorita, made him wistful forhis music-making days. What would his life have been like if he had chosen another path? Could he ever have made it as a musician?
It was doubtful. And unpractical. Besides, these days, mariachis were mostly relegated to quinceañeras, weddings, and Mexican restaurants. Very few people respected mariachi music. Hell, even his own brothers made fun of him for playing it.
Speak of the bastards...Jaime and Enrique emerged from the historic Wells Fargo building with their cousin Benicio, friend Mateo, and a handful of scantily clad women. Should he pretend he hadn’t seen them?
Ramón wanted to schmooze with the mayor, talk to a few reporters, grab a bite to eat, and check on his restaurant before returning to the garden in the hope of Juliet’s return.
Before he could even make a decision, Mateo ran over to him. “Ramón! I recognized your suit. Man, I haven’t seen your guitarrón since college. I didn’t think you were coming tonight.”
Mateo had been Ramón’s roommate at Stanford. He was now a successful architect, but Ramón had been so busy with work lately that Mateo spent more time with Ramón’s brothers than he did with Ramón. “Well, I wasn’t, but I’m here. My dad wanted me to butter up some politicians and meet the press because we’re closing the Barrio deal tomorrow.”
Benicio glared at Ramón as he joined the conversation. “Hold up—you are putting a Taco King in Barrio Logan?”
Ramón’s throat scratched. He might as well tell him now. “Yeah, we are.”
“Are you serious?” Benicio kicked the dirt on the ground. “Are you stupid?”
Ramón clenched his jaw. Benicio grew up in the heart of Barrio Logan, accepted by his people and his culture. Ramón had always been an outsider, no matter how hard he had tried to fit in, especiallyas a child. Benicio’s father was Papá’s younger brother. Once Papá had become successful, he had asked his brother to work with him, but Tío Miguel had refused. He had raised his kids very differently from the way Papá had raised Ramón and his brothers. Tío Miguel’s wife, Tía Rita, was a stay-at-home mom. Ramón, on the other hand, had spent little time with his mom and was raised by his nanny. When Ramón had been a little boy, he had loved going to his uncle’s home and staying there during the summer when his parents went on their annual vacation to Europe. Tío Miguel’s home didn’t have a pool or maids, but it had something that Ramón’s house had never had.
Love.
“I’m not stupid. I know there will be protests. But we got it under control.” And they did. Nothing could go wrong. Ramón had been preparing for the deal—and its guaranteed backlash—for months.
Benicio held his hand up like a stop sign in front of Ramón’s face. “Whatever you say, primo. You know how they feel about the Taco King. Howwefeel about you. We don’t want you there.”
His words stung. Benicio was part of Ramón’s own family. But that part of his family had always considered Arturo a sellout.
Enrique inserted himself in between them. He placed his hand on Benicio’s shoulder. “Relax, man. Those buildings on that block were going under anyway. If we didn’t buy it, someone else would have. We’re not the bad guys.”
Benicio just shook his head. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.” His eyes darted away from them. “I’ll see you guys later.”
Benicio walked away from the group and toward the crowd. Ramón’s chest constricted. This night had started out on such a high.
Jaime playfully strummed Ramón’s guitarrón. “Don’t worry about him. He’s always like this.”
Ramón nodded. “Yeah, but he’s right. They don’t want us there.”
Enrique knocked back some tequila from his flask. “This isn’tnews. You got this. Anyway, I’m glad you showed up. You work too hard. Take the night off.”
“I plan to—after I meet with the mayor.”
Mateo pointed back at the women Ramón had seen them talking to. “Come join us. We are meeting their other friends down the street. They said they want to party.”
It could be fun. But Ramón had to work. That was why he was here, after all.
And there’s a certain brunette I’d love to see again a little later...“I can’t. I have to meet with the mayor and some reporters.”
Jaime tugged on Ramón’s sleeve. “Come on! They’re hot. I call dibs on the pachuca chola.”
Ramón glanced toward the women. How Jaime had found a woman who was also dressed in the 1940s zoot suit style was beyond Ramón. Her obviously dyed flame-red hair was styled into a bouffant that probably concealed the requisite razor blade. Definitely Jaime’s type. The two of them would make a viral video swing dancing before the night was over.
“I would, but I already met someone. I’m seeing her later.” Ramón was confident Juliet would come back to the garden.
Enrique’s eyes bulged. “Damn. You didn’t waste any time. Bring her along with us.”
Ramón smirked. He shared enough with his brothers—his home, his cars, his privacy. “Nope. I want her all to myself. Good night, gentlemen.”
Ramón walked back into the center of the square and in the direction of the main stage. On his way, he looked at his phone.
