Page 56 of Nacho Boyfriend

“He was an investor in the restaurant back when my dad first opened. We call him Pancho Two because… well, you know how my nickname is Nacho?”

“Yes. Makes me super hungry.” She licks her lips. Olive licking her lips is making me hungry—and just not for fried tortilla chips and cheese.

“The nickname for Francisco is Pancho. That’s why you sometimes hear my uncles and Abuela calling my dad Pancho.”

“Kind of like how William is Bill and Richard is Dick.”

“Yeah. Like that. Anyway, Francisco Ortega is the other Pancho for the restaurant’s namesake—Dos Panchos.”

“Ahhhh. That makes more sense than what I thought.”

“He did some bad things and I need to find him. Berna says you have his phone number?”

She takes her phone from her apron pocket. “He made me put it in my phone because he didn’t trust me not to lose a paper note. I’ll text it to you.”

“You didn’t give him your number, did you?”

She snorts. “Of course not.”

“Good.” My phone dings with her text.

“Wait a minute. What did you think Dos Panchos meant?”

She swats her hand. “Oh, you know. Those things you wear when it rains?”

“Things you wear when it rains? You mean ponchos?”

“Yeah. Why someone would name a Mexican restaurant after a rain slicker is beyond me, but who was I to ask?”

Hmm. I wonder if some of our customers also mix up the word poncho with Pancho.

“I’m going to my office now,” I say. “Don’t leave today without saying goodbye.”

She beams. “I promise.”

My gaze follows her until she’s out of my sight behind the server station. She doesn’t cease to amaze me. Guys like Aaron and Pancho Two underestimate her. She’s smart. I need her to know that in her heart.

I go in the back, waving at the kitchen staff. Alfonso makes a joke about seeing Pancho Two, saying he put ghost peppers in his lunch. The old guy was sweating like a pig as a result.

I enter my office, preparing myself mentally to confront Pancho over the phone. I’ll need to tread carefully to get him to cooperate. Maybe meet somewhere that’s not the restaurant. I figure if he wanted to remain hidden, he wouldn’t have come back.

He doesn’t answer when I call from the landline, so I try with my cell. Straight to a computerized voicemail. I really don’t know if I should leave a message. What if he gave Olive a bogus number? What if I’m walking into a trap?

I try again five more times. I’m getting really pissed and am about to call once more when my cell phone rings. It’s an unknown number. My palms suddenly feel sticky. I’d say it was from shaking Aaron’s hand, but it’s my own sweat. I need to play my cards ‌carefully.

“This is Ignacio,” I say. Hello seems too… friendly, and I’m feeling the opposite of friendly right now.

“We know he was there,” says a muffled voice. He sounds like… Optimus Prime.

“Who is this?” Duh. I know who it is. It’s the guy Churro from the freaking surfer gang. That’s who it is. “Are you using a voice changer app?”

“That’s not your concern.”

“Sorry. What? I’m having a hard time understanding. Your Kylo Ren mask needs batteries.”

“I said, that’s not y—”

“Heh?”

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