Chapter Twenty-Seven
By the time Elena was finished, Marisol was fanning herself with one of their laminated menus.
“You okay there?” Elena tried not to laugh at the gobsmacked look on her friend’s face.
“I can’t believe they—” Marisol blew out a huge breath, her eyes wide. “Just—wow.”
“Super wow,” she added as the memories of this past weekend flitted through her head. She hadn’t shared every detail; just enough to get her bestie off her back for a little while. “And that’s just the Clit’s Notes version.”
“Girl,” Marisol said, looking Elena up and down. “I don’t know if I should be proud or worried right now. Is your chalupa okay? How are you sitting on that hard as fuck stool? Can I get you a cushion? Maybe an ice pack? I’m guessing your chalupa might need both.”
“Will you stop calling it a chalupa?” Elena reached out to smack at her grinning friend. “We’re not twelve anymore.”
“Pardon me, my lady,” Marisol said dramatically in a posh English accent. She elegantly waved an arm towards the door that led to the kitchen. “Dost thou require some ice for your vahh-ghinah? I can call my servant boy to fetch some.”
“I hate you,” Elena told her with a laughing snort.
“Seriously though,” her friend said, dropping the accent. “One yell is all it’ll take to get Ricky here with an ice pack.”
“I’m goo—”
“I’d offer you my lip gloss,” Marisol interrupted, “but it already thawed out.”
Elena pinched the bridge of her nose, finding it hard to keep a straight face. She should have seen that one coming. “’Sol?”
“Yes?” the other woman choked out, her face bright red. It was obvious she was trying to not crack up.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“BAHhahahahaha!” her bestie laughed, the sound both obnoxious and contagious. The wobbly bun she had wrangled on the top of her head threatened to bust free as she doubled over laughing at her own joke. “I’m so funny.”
“You’re an idiot,” Elena told her with a smile and shake of her head.
“Nah. What I really am is jealous,” Marisol admitted with a big smile. She moved close and gave Elena’s shoulder a little squeeze. “And, I’m also really happy for you.”
“Thank you.”
“Seriously though…” Her friend gave her a look. “You found not one but three hot, single, gainfully employed men that are not only able to pass a background check but can also bang you like a screen door for forty-eight hours straight…”
“It wasnmphhh—” Marisol’s finger smooshed Elena’s lips.
“Shoosh,” her friend ordered. “I’m just saying, don’t fuck this up.”
“Thanks for the pep talk—” Elena stopped at the sound of the bell signaling someone coming in. She stayed sitting as Marisol turned to the counter to greet whoever had walked in.
“Welcome to Medina’s!”
“Hello.”
Elena stood to leave. She had enough time for a quick scan of the kitchen before she had to hightail it out of here. She’d already filled her friend in on more than she should have, and it was way past time to get moving.
“Oh,” the customer stalled halfway between the door and the counter. “She’s here.”
“Who’s here?” Marisol asked before glancing back at Elena where she’d stopped just a foot from the kitchen door. She pointed at her, obviously confused. “Elena?”
“Yeah,” the man frowned. “She work here?”
“Not tonight,” Marisol answered, giving him a strange look. “Can I help you, sir?”
He glared at her before turning his attention once again to Elena.
She took a physical step back at the hatred burning in his eyes. It was unsettling. She had no idea who this old dude was, but he was scary. It was customers like this that reminded her why they had a baseball bat for security beside the register.
“I don’t need nothing,” he spat out, projecting enough anger to make her stomach turn. He stepped forward, his fists clenched. “You—”
“Get the fuck out,” Marisol interrupted him before he could finish. “You’re done here.”
Elena looked over, both relieved and a little worried to see her childhood friend wielding their ‘security system.’ If the man knew what was good for him, he’d back away real quick. Marisol was the Medina’s designated hitter at family baseball games for a reason. She wasn’t much over five feet but when she swung, she swung hard. One kapow from her and his head would be out of the park.
“I’d listen to her if I were you,” Elena warned, hoping he’d use the two brain cells he had in his head and skeedat. “She doesn’t miss.”
“Bah,” the guy laughed, stupidly taking another step towards his imminent doom.
“Give me a reason, motherfucker,” Marisol growled at him. She twirled the bat in her hands, the words BIG BADA BOOM spinning where it was carved into the wood. “I could use a little practice before the family reunion.”
The man shook his head at Marisol, not backing down.
“THAT,” he pointed at Elena, practically frothing at the mouth and obviously ready to continue whatever it was he’d started earlier.
“RICKY!!” Elena yelled, as his sister prepared to swing. The last thing they needed was a dead body in the lobby. They didn’t have nearly enough Fabuloso to clean that up.
In the blink of an eye, Marisol’s big brother was through the kitchen door and at the counter spinning his knife. She had no idea how he’d managed to move that quickly, practically appearing out of nowhere like some sort of goddamn Mexican genie.
“We got a problem?” he asked with an anticipatory grin on his face.
The customer took a step back.
“Need help, sis?” Ricky nodded at the bat Marisol was handling. “Or you got it?”
“I’m leaving,” the angry customer shouted at them as he moved to go. “But I’ll be back! With reinforcements!”
The bell jingled as he left.
“Reinforcements?” Marisol echoed, glaring at the door he’d practically run through. “What the fuck does that mean?”
Elena shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Do you know that guy?” Her friend gave her a look full of concern. “Because he sure as hell acted like he knew you.”
“I have no idea who that was,” she promised with a shake of her head. The man was honestly a total stranger. She didn’t know what that look was about, but she was sure they’d never met. “I’ve never seen him before in my life.”
“I feel like I’ve seen him before,” Ricky told them, his brow furrowed in thought. He walked around the counter to look out the front windows. “I can’t place where, but he looked familiar.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Marisol asked, looking at her. “That was intense.”
“I’m fine,” Elena answered, pretending she wasn’t quite so shaken up over the frightening encounter. It wasn’t the first time a customer had gotten aggressive, but it was the first time she’d personally been the target. The look in his eyes had been unnerving. It scared her more than she’d like to admit.
“I’ve got it!” Ricky announced with a snap of his fingers. He moved back up to the counter, a look of triumph on his face. “It took me a minute, but I remember where I’ve seen him.”
“Where?” both women asked in unison.
“He’s with that church group from Topeka. The ones that protest everything.”
“Ewww.” Marisol wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“I thought they’d moved on already.” Elena hadn’t seen them annoying people at the garage, so she’d assumed they’d left town.
“Apparently not,” her brother informed the girls with a frown. “He was with the group that was protesting just down the block earlier last week. They got in my way when I was running shit down to Flying Taco Two.”
“Great,” Marisol groaned, leaning against the counter with a slump. “Do you think he’ll be back?”
“With reinforcements?” Elena added as she recalled his parting shot. The possibility of it made her stomach turn.
This was the last thing Medina’s needed.