Ramón arrived at Las Pescas at eight. He wore a polo shirt that showed off his muscular arms and nice slacks. He looked sexy as all hell.
Julieta kissed him as he handed her a dozen red roses.
“Ah, thanks!”
“Don’t mention it. Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise. Just drive.”
She directed him up the coast to Leucadia. Julieta was friends with a chef at a cool Spanish restaurant and bar up there.
And, more importantly, they had an open mic night.
As they drove along the coast, the wind blowing through her hair, a handsome man by her side, a sense of peace and calm overtook her. This was nice—living her life instead of serving people who were living theirs.
“So, how’s business?” she asked.
“It’s rough. I had a bad week.”
Oh no. “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
Gotcha. Being with Ramón was still so new. She didn’t know when to push and when to let go. Did his bad week have anything to do with her telling him her vision for Barrio Logan? Not that anything she had said was new. And she could tell that Ramón had truly enjoyed himself at La Vuelta. He’d been smiling and laughing and carefree. She still held out hope that she would never have to close Las Pescas. Either way, she hoped that this night would make him feel better.
Julieta directed him down the road.
When they arrived, she had him park in front of the restaurant. It was dimly lit and romantic. Small tables on an outdoor patio with Christmas lights hung around the building.
“I know the owner here. We used to work together.”
“Cool. This place looks great.”
Julieta greeted Carlos when they entered. He sat them at a table in front of the stage. A group of ladies talked animatedly to their left, and a family with young children dined on their right. After Ramón ordered some wine and tapas, Julieta let him in on her little secret.
“Look at that chair over there.”
“On the stage? Why? Is a cool band coming tonight?”
“Well, not a band, but a talented musician.” She batted her eyelashes at him.
“Julieta, you didn’t...”
“I did!”
Ramón shook his head. “Julieta, no. I don’t play in public. I don’t even have my guitar.”
“The owner has one you can play.”
He scrunched his fingers in a fist and then released them. “No. I haven’t played in years.”
“That’s not true. You played for me in Old Town. And you were glorious. I can’t stop thinking about it.” Julieta whispered in Ramón’s ear, “You turned me on so much that night. I love hearing you sing.”
Ramón’s eyes darted at her and then at the stage and then at the restaurant patrons. “Fine. I’ll do it for you.”
“Yay!” She kissed Ramón on the lips. “Go now.”
Ramón glared at her, then walked over to the stage. Carlos was standing by the stage and handed Ramón a guitar.
