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Gillian was mind-linking the warriors so that they divided in a way that at least one Spanish speaker was in each vehicle while Gillian, Gabriel and Zack all climbed into ours. One of the SUVs behind us pulled ahead of us before we started moving.
We stopped at a small storefront with a line of customers going out and around the corner of the establishment.
“Umm, perhaps we try another place?” Gillian asked, looking at the long line when we slowed to a stop in front.
“Nonsense, I know the owner. They are expecting us. They own the house behind it. We'll be eating there. There’s no sitting space in the restaurant,” Tomas explained as we filtered out.
“Where are the other vehicles?” Markus asked, looking around.
“Right around the corner,” Tomas answered, and as if on cue, the rest of the warriors turned the corner on their way to us.
We headed into a little house around the back with a big table and a few kids running around the main area. When they saw all of us, they ran toward the back of the house.
“I guess eleven strange, six-foot-tall white men will do that to you,” Tomas laughed, and I giggled along with him. I could only guess the intimidating picture we made.
A petite sun-kissed young girl drying her hands on an apron came down from the second floor.
“TOMAS!” she squealed and ran the rest of the way down. “Por que no me dijiste que venias!”(Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?)
“Le dije a tu papa. Vengo nomas de pasada, y el me dijo que nos hace el pare. Queria darle una buena bienvenida de tacos a los gringos.” (I told your dad. I am just passing through. Your dad said he’d help us give a warm welcome by feeding the Americans some tacos.)
“Ah vale, dejame voy por unos menus. Mientras, cuentales que hay para beber. Ahorita vengo.” (Okay, let me get the menus. Ask them what they want to drink in the meantime. I’ll be back.)
“Come, Come. Sit. She’s getting menus. Beers for everyone?” he asked, and I swallowed bile.
‘Anything but beer guys, please,’I mind-linked the rest.
“Actually, we’ve heard great things about your or—jor –horchata?” Gillian asked.
“A claro. Of course. Everyone wants the same?” Tomas asked, and we all nodded as we sat.
The young girl came back and gave us some menus. “Que para beber?” (What are you drinking?)
“Que todos quieren horchata,” (Everyone wants horchata) Tomas answered with a shrug.
“Pos ven ayuda entonces. Nos traemos unos de los garrafones que hizo mama.” (Come help then, we’ll grab one of the containers mom made in the morning)
“Pardon me for one moment. I must help her get the drinks,” Tomas said.
‘Anything sketchy?’Markus asked via mind-link
‘Not outside of being called gringos.’I giggled while I looked at the menu.
“You guys know what you want?” Tomas asked when he returned.
“I’ll take whatever you have in beef. I will leave it up to what you think we would like,” Markus said.
There were a few chickens and steaks, and then he came around to me. “And for you, señora?” he asked.
“Dos de lengua, uno de seso y dos de trompo,” (Two tongue, one brain, two pork) I answered.
Tomas looked surprised and pleased.
“Me dijeron que usted era familia pero no que sabia español. Ha probado los tacos de seso antes? No son para cualquiera.” (I was told you were family but not that you spoke Spanish. Have you tried the brain tacos before? They are an acquired taste.)
“Mi mama me enseño. No he probado pero se me hizo la boca agua cuando los vi. A y uno de tripa por favor. (My mom taught me before she died. I’ve never had them but my mouth watered when I saw them. Oh,and one intestine, please.)”
“Bueno, salsa?” I nodded. Markus cleared his throat, and Tomas smiled. “I’ll be back after I tell them the order.”
