Did his have flags on it? I couldn’t remember; I was too distracted by the gorgeous stranger laughing at me. That interaction had been bizarre, even for Ithaca. One does not expect someone so hot to all of a sudden act like a lunatic.
Not that it mattered if it was the same guy. A) he was probably straight, and B) lusting after men I most likely couldn’t have was not on my to-do list. However, for Carmen, hard-staring at hot guys was like a competitive sport. If anything, she’d at least do or say something hilarious.
Carmen waggled her eyebrows at me, and I rolled my eyes in response, then gave her a thumbs-up. I opened the file with my proposal for the board and got to it. I could at least channel the rage over my desecrated salad by making some progress.
“All I’m saying is someone at some point needs to call Misty on her bullshit,” Carmen complained as we pushed out of the library and onto the sunny street.
“Since she lost all that weight people treat her like she’s some sort of mystic. If you ask me she’s the same old bitch she was before, except now she’s fucking insufferable.”
“This is true,” I concurred as we waited to cross the street.
Carmen huffed before launching into another Misty rant. “She goes out of her way to shame people about what they eat and acts all superior about her workouts as if anyone who isn’t running eighteen miles a day like she does is a lazy slug.” The look of disgust on her face would have been hilarious, except she was one hundred percent right.
Misty was awful.
“Did you see that poor intern walking out of her office just now? I think she made her cry because she brought a donut into work. Ugh, she makes me so mad.”
“Well, it won’t be me calling her on any of it. At least not while I’m trying to get this project approved,” I reminded her as we got closer to the gas station where Carmen spotted the food truck earlier.
Carmen’s answer was another exasperated sigh, but I could tell she was already off of Misty and on to figuring out what to eat. From where we stood I could see the front of the truck with the awning up, looking ready for business. It was definitely the same one from the gas station, I remembered the black logo with a red background.
“This is the truck from yesterday,” I said to Carmen, who was busy inspecting the scene. I noticed a chalkboard hanging tothe left side of the window, with what looked like a short menu. There was a respectable amount of people waiting to order already, a good sign for a brand-new place. We quickly walked over and took our place at the end of the line.
“So, what are we getting?” I asked Carmen as she stretched her neck to look at the menu.
“Let me check what they have. It’s so sad that this is the most exciting thing that’s happened to me all spring.”
She started reading and after a few seconds clapped her hands and did a little happy dance. She was wearing a bright yellow shirt dress, which looked amazing contrasted against her dark brown skin. Her mahogany curls streaked with blonde highlights bounced on her shoulders as she moved.
“Oh my god, please let this be legit! There’s Dominican food on the menu, Jude!” She grabbed me by the shoulders with a big smile. “Do you know what having real Caribbean food in this frozen tundra would mean for me? Oh man, I wonder if the owner is Dominican. He kind of looked Dominican,” she said, tilting her head to the side.
I laughed at her because Carmen was always on the hunt to spot a fellow Dominican, and yet never really made an effort to befriend any of the ones who lived in town. She said it was like having a fire extinguisher, it’s reassuring to know it’s there, but you don’t need to carry one around all the time.
“It does sound promising. I wonder if they’ll have more options in the future. I think I’m going to try the Lupe. I love Cuban black beans. Should we get the tostones? Yumm. We can share,” I said, getting excited for the food. “The smells coming from the truckreally are incredible.”
Carmen bobbed her head giddily next to me as we moved up the line.
“Yes, yes, yes. Imma get the Mayimbe. They have a DOMINICAN burrito, Jude.” She pointed toward the menuagain and gave the guy in front of us, who was now openly eavesdropping on our conversation, a thumbs-up.
“I already fucking love this guy for naming the burritos after badass Latinx singers. If the mastermind behind this is the hot guy I saw this morning, it is going to be averygood summer for us, Jude!” She broke into another happy dance.
“I don’t know if I’m ready to declare this the ‘best summer ever’ just yet, but if the food’s good and they’re here for a while, it will be a nice addition to our lunch repertoire.” Carmen didn’t respond and was now trying to get a photo of the menu with her phone.
I left her to it and looked over at the guy taking the orders in the window. Although he was good-looking and possibly Latinx, he was not the guy from the gas station.
I pointed in the direction of the window, and gently nudged Carmen to get her attention.
“Is that the guy you were talking about? It’s not the same one I saw yesterday.”
The man had to be in his thirties and was very handsome. His face looked like it was carved from ebony, and he was so big I was surprised he could fit in that truck. He had long locs tied up into a knot on top of his head and he was wearing a white t-shirt that said,More Amor, Por Favor.
Very attractive, but not dead sexy like the guy from yesterday.
Carmen finally looked up from her phone. I assumed she was reporting our new food discovery to her husband.
“Umm,” she said as she gave the guy a long look. “Uh, no that’s not him. Although this one’s pretty hot, too.”
She got closer and after a second leaned back with her mouth pursed. “Maybe this truck is run by part-time models, because damn.”
