The Taste of Home

Chapter 7

Mariachi music welcomed Miguel and Alejandro to The Tilted Sombrero just as the sun started setting. Papel picado depicting cacti and armadillos adorned the walls, and tourists munched on extra cheesy quesadillas with their margaritas close at hand after shopping along San Antonio's river walk.

The staff welcomed Alejandro with warm smiles that grew strained as soon as they caught sight of Miguel. It wasn't long before the restaurant's chatter faded to hushed whispers that were easily drowned out by the trumpets blaring overhead.

Miguel didn't need to hear the customers to read their lips. He'd heard all the euphemisms before. Nip and sip. Grab and stab. Fast food. Some people saw chupacabras as nothing but blood-sucking predators.

"This isn't quite what I imagined when you said you'd be bringing a friend." The host's eyes flitted between Alejandro and Miguel before he reached out a trembling hand. "Nice to meet you. You're the new guy over at The Crimson Goat, right?"

Miguel shook his hand as gently as if he was cradling a freshly laid egg. "It's nice to meet you, too. And yeah, I just started there this week."

"Neat." The host shifted from foot to foot, eyeing the customers that were already seated. "We've got a pretty full house tonight, but I can set you guys up on the patio."

"You don't usually open that until May," Alejandro said. His tone was light, but there was a tightness to his jaw that hadn't been there before.

"Yeah, well, even the off season's been busy this year."

Empty booths betrayed that lie, but Miguel knew better than to argue. "That's alright with me."

"They have seats," Alejandro said quietly.

"I don't mind eating outside." Especially if it got him away from the stares tracking every twitch of his claws.

The host smiled gratefully. "I'll have your table ready for you in a jiffy."

It was hard to imagine the patio being ready for anybody. Miguel's muscles ached as the chair's cold metal bit into him, and the host had to stuff a handful of paper napkins under one of the table's legs to keep it from wobbling. "I'm really sorry about this, guys."

"It's alright," Miguel said. "I've eaten in everything from a heat wave to hail, so it'll take more than a little chill to keep me from enjoying this."

Once they were left alone with their menus, Alejandro sighed, slumping forward in his seat as he massaged his forehead. "Sorry about all this. I wasn't expecting them to leave us out in the cold."

"This isn't too bad, actually. Usually, I'm lucky to get a seat."

"That doesn't make it okay."

"No, but can we not talk about that right now?" Miguel had to worry about this sort of thing often enough without anyone else getting bothered by it.

"Okay." Alejandro let out a long sigh before curling his lips into a smile. "So, how've you been liking The Crimson Goat so far?"

"It's been great! Minus the part where that stupid mouse got into the scorpion cage." Despite how much chaos it had caused for the scorpions, Miguel had still been the most exhausted one in the room by the end of that fiasco. His hand still ached from being pierced by a stinger, although scorpion venom was harmless to him.

"If it makes you feel any better, you're not the first to let one escape. I swear they might as well be covered in butter." Alejandro took a long sip of his water. "You know, when I told my family we'd be serving mice, they thought we were nuts! Usually having rodents in the kitchen is a surefire way to get shut down."