“Ernesto Vasquez.”
“Ernesto, hi, my name is Harold Sheridan. I got your number from one of the attendants at your truck when I stopped there a moment ago. I’m a business investor here in Ithaca, and I’ve been following your food truck since you opened it in town. Some of my business associates assure me your burritos are the most exciting thing to happen to the Ithaca food scene in years.”
Okaaay, things had been going well, but I had no clue businesspeople werediscussingme. I recognized the last name Sheridan though, it was on half of the buildings in town, so this was certainly interesting.
“I appreciate you saying so, sir,” I answered, unable to hide my bemusement.
“Let me cut to the chase since we’re both busy men.” He was all business, but he sounded friendly enough. “I’m looking to expand into the restaurant business, and right now I’m interested in taking a closer look at some of the most popular food trucks in town, to see if any fit with the concept I have in mind.”
What did that mean? Did he want to open an actual brick and mortar restaurant? I was so fucking confused right now. But itoccurred to me if he wanted to see OuNYe in action, the festival would be a great opportunity.
“I’m not sure what you have in mind, Mr. Sheridan, but we’ll be one of the vendors at the wine and beer festival on Seneca Lake this weekend. It may be a good place to experience our food and see what we can do.”
He made a sound of approval on the line and my pulse sped up. “That’s ideal actually. I was already planning to go to the festival. I can’t say for sure when I’ll be there, but I’ll stop by sometime this weekend. Mind you, at this point I would just like to come sample food, observe, and speak with you for a bit.”
“That’s fine. I’ll be there all weekend from ten a.m. to closing. I look forward to meeting you, Mr. Sheridan. “
“Call me Harold, and likewise. Have a good day, Ernesto.”
I hung up the phone realizing I had arrived at the spot I usually parked across from the gas station when Mr. Sheridan’s words started sinking in. I wasn’t sure if this would end up going anywhere because the dude had been pretty vague, but holy shit this could beit.
I pushed the button to turn off the car and pulled out my phone. As I was dialing I realized I’d been about to call Jude.
Out of all the people in my life who would be ecstatic to hear my news and would cheer me on like Mr. Sheridan had actually offered to open a restaurant with me, the person I wanted to tell first was Jude.
Just as my poor brain was about to explode from all the mind-blowing shit I’d dropped in there in the last five minutes my phone started ringing. I looked at the screen and saw it was Juanpa.
Dude did have good timing.
I picked up after the first ring. “Where are you, motherfucker? You better be on your way to pick up the othertwo, I have important shit happening tomorrow. So please don’t tell me you’re flaking out on me.”
I heard Milo screeching from somewhere. “We’re already on our way!”
Juanpa’s annoyed voice came on a second later. “Camilo, what have I told you about yelling like that when I’m driving? We’re on the GW right now, do you want to die? You need to cut down on the caffeine, son.”
Patrice’s calm voice came through the speakers next. “Does everything need to be a three-ring circus with you two? Nes, we’re leaving the city right now. We’ll probably stop at one of the outlet malls since J seems toneedsomething at the Gucci store.” Patrice’s aggravation was kind of funny. “So we’ll be there around five. Where do you need us to go? We’ll be ready to help the minute we get there.”
Only my people would drive five hours each way to come and work like dogs for free an entire weekend.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you knuckleheads. Just text me when you’re close. Most likely I’ll be at the kitchen prepping for tomorrow. By the way, Jude’s going to help over the weekend, too, so if you fuckers could try not to scare the shit out of him, I’d appreciate it. I don’t mean you Patrice.”
At the mention of Jude I heard Milo making kissing noises on the phone, because he was a twelve-year-old.
“Oooohh, Jude! We can finally meet him, and get the deets from the source, since you’ve been cagey as hell every time we’ve brought him up, and none of us buy the ‘you’re only friends’ bullshit.” Camilo was so fucking extra.
“Yes, you’ll meet him, and I haven’t been cagey. I just said we were keeping things casual. Lots of balls in the air right now, doesn’t make sense to get serious.” Which was a complete lie since two minutes ago, I was figuring out how to stay in Ithaca so I could be Jude’s boyfriend.
“On other news. I just got off the phone with one of the major business guys in town and he’s coming to the stand this weekend to try the food and meet me. He said he’s thinking of opening a restaurant in town and may be interested in OuNYe.”
There was a moment of silence and for a second I worried the guys would be bummed out because it could mean I wouldn’t be coming back to New York City any time soon. But before I had a chance to react, I heard an explosion of cheers and whoops.
“That’s right! My boy is going to be a restaurateur.” That was Juanpa.
Milo was yelling in Spanish while Patrice tried to get a word in.
“That sounds promising, Nesto. I knew your business would do well, the hard work paid off, mi hermano.”
These fools were going to make me bawl in my car. “Thanks, Patrice, I appreciate that, man.”
