The Taste of Home

Chapter 18

One week before the event, Miguel set up The Crimson Goat's new menu beside the restaurant's front door. Now sporting pictures to help those who weren't familiar with human food, the menu proudly advertised modified recipes that highlighted the blood and meat above all else, with a few spicy additions that were sure to tempt even the pickiest chupacabra.

"Do you guys need any help with the mural?" Miguel asked.

"We've got it covered," Mr. Kaminski said. He and Ralph were painting over what remained of the graffiti with a mixture of reds, browns, and dark oranges to mimic a desert sunset. It wasn't nearly as complex as the artwork other restaurants boasted, but it would suffice until they could afford to hire some artistically talented help.

"The patio's all set, too." Alejandro set down the last of the outdoor pillows he'd brought. Miguel had long since lost count of the trunkfuls he'd unloaded, piling them into makeshift nests under the massive umbrellas Mr. Kaminski had set out to make their outdoor seating more hospitable while the sun was still out.

The staff had gone all out to prepare for the event. Even Yolanda had put her surprisingly impressive graphic design skills to good use and designed fliers for them to distribute. "I swear if your claws ruin these, you're paying for all the ink I used," she said as she shoved a stack of them into Miguel's hands.

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind." Miguel twitched his lips into a smile. The expression felt less foreign than it used to, but he still worried his fangs might show too much. "You all know where you're heading?"

Ralph snorted. "This isn't the first time I've visited Creosote Pack, and it won't be the last. One of those fuckers still owes me twenty bucks." Noticing Miguel's completely flabbergasted expression, he explained, "Hooked him up with all my meat rations when he got arrested for spooking an old lady or some shit. He didn't like to talk about it."

"I'll make sure he behaves himself," Mr. Kaminski said. "Can't have him goofing around with potential customers too much."

"Good." Miguel swallowed a lump of unease building in his throat. Other packs were civil enough, especially since adjusting to human society left little time or motive for territorial scuffles, but that didn't make him any less anxious about his coworkers waltzing over to them with fliers and free samples in hand. "Alejandro, are you sure you're okay with doing this? Agave Pack seem like a nice bunch, but..."

"I've dealt with my fair share of rowdy customers," he said, giving Miguel's arm a gentle squeeze. "I'll be fine."

"Alright, but if they see you coming there as a challenge—"

"Crouch and back away to the car. I know." Alejandro ran his hand down the back of Miguel's neck, teasing a thrum of pleasure out of his throat as he forced his spines to lie flat. "You're worrying too much."

"What's worrying is that you're going to go nuts having to keep your hands off him for so long." Yolanda rolled her eyes. "Seriously, can't you go five minutes without acting like teenagers?"

"We'll just have to make up for lost time later," Alejandro said. "You sure you don't want me to come with you to meet your pack?"

"Not yet." Not when the thought of having to mention The Crimson Goat to his pack at all sent unease worming through his stomach like rancid meat left to rot in the sun.

###

"What in the stars' name is in there?" Martha snarled as she sniffed one of the takeout containers Miguel was carrying. "You know how Isabella feels about human food."