“You know,” I say with a shrug and take a bite of my shrimppatacon.I grabbed a smoothie after my meeting with Millie Delacroix, but that was like seven hours ago. I’m so hungry I could eat a beer can dipped in ketchup.
AndPatacon,the Latin cuisine hole in the wall on Bertrand, is a favorite. I savor the bite, the salty-sweet plantain patties, the smoky etouffee shrimp, and the ripe tomatoes, sighing in satisfaction. I swallow and answer Cesar’s question.
“Papi’shobbling around on his cane, griping about how I’m ruining the business. Mami’s feeding him every carb known to man, deep fried and sprinkled with powdered sugar—”
Cesar’s ill-timed laugh interrupts me. He’s mid-bite around hisarepas,and the result is messy. Laughing, I offer my goof of a best friend a napkin. He wipes butter sauce from his chin, shaking his head.
“I can’t take you anywhere.”
He chews and swallows, eyes narrowed into laser beams. “This place is one of my accounts. If anything, I’m taking you.”
Cesar works for Waitr. He started out as a driver when the company first moved into Lafayette. He slid right into middle management as soon as he graduated with a degree in business. Cesar is good at what he does, and that company is expanding every day, giving UberEats some serious competition. Cesar is going nowhere but up.
I’m happy for him. And proud.
“She still busting your balls about Ronni?”
I take another bite and roll my eyes. “You should have heard her yesterday at Alex’s soccer game.”
The words summon an instant memory. Not of Ronni, my ex, but of Millie Delacroix. Looking away from me in those bleachers.
She couldn’t look away from me today. And I sure as hell couldn’t stop looking at her, try though I might.
Cesar shrugs, his expression knowing. “You should just tell her the truth.”
I wash down a bite with a gulp of Canebrake, shaking my head.“Mamiand Ronni’s mom are close. If I tell her Ronni slept with that fuckwad boss of hers, it won’t go over well. You know my mother.”
He snorts. “Uh, yeah.” Cesar takes a pull from his beer before leaning forward and pointing the neck of the bottle at me in accusation. “Every time we got in trouble in high school, she fussed atme. Even if it was your idea.”
I grin in spite of myself. “What can I say? Neither of her boys can do any wrong.”
“Please,” he insists, holding up a hand. “I’m eating.”
I smother my laugh with the last bite of mypatacon.Damn, that’s good.
Cesar narrows his eyes at me. “But why would you care? I mean, Ronni’s the one who cheated. You’d never pull shit like that. Unlike when we were kids, this time,” he holds up a finger to single out the incident, “you didn’t do anything wrong. What’s wrong with people knowing that?”
I wince. “What’s wrong with people knowing my shit? My mom? Her mom?Yourmom? Every Chicano in town?”
Cesar’s look is dry as sand. “For the record,mymom also thinks you can do no wrong.”
I grasp onto this. Anything to change the subject. “I’ve always admired Delores’s wisdom.”
Cesar’s wadded up napkin hits me in the face. He gives me the evil eye while I laugh, and to make sure the subject is dead, I poke at his soft spots.
“So, how was yourdate?”
He scoffs. “It wasn’t a date, and you know it.”
I nod. “Only because you haven’t grown the balls to ask her out yet.”
Cesar has been ass over eyeballs crazy about one of his clients for a good three months. She owns a sandwich shop near the university, and he stops in for lunch to check on her every Tuesday and Friday.
His eyes cut to his empty plate. Cesar pretends to be absorbed in the task of picking up crumbs with the tip of his finger. “Masie is a client. You know that’s forbidden fruit.”
Fruit that smells like strawberries and summer...
“Tell me about it.” The words, heavy with meaning, are out before I know it.
