Page 98 of Nacho Boyfriend

OLIVE

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Iwait at the front entrance of the restaurant for Ignacio simply because I didn’t want to walk through the kitchen in these heels. When I see him pulling into the parking lot, my breath catches somewhere in my esophagus. This man literally takes my breath away. Even from this distance, I can see the exact moment his chest rises—like a wave swelling his upper body into one giant smile. I smile right back, overcome with emotion.

But then three men approach him. At first, I thought they might be regular customers or buddies of his. But then they pile into a Volkswagen bus, taking him with them. I can only guess that these were the people he was supposed to meet, but something in Ignacio’s expression sets off warning bells. Why would he ask to meet me here if his plan was to just leave?

The thing that throws me off is the casual way he went with them. When you get kidnapped in Jersey, thugs will throw you in an unmarked cargo van—or that’s what I’ve seen on TV shows. In California, it seems, kidnappers accost you with a beach-mobile with surfboards on the roof rack.

I shouldn’t jump to conclusions, but what else should I think? So I call Ignacio on his cell phone. He doesn’t pick up on my first try. The second time I call, however, he answers, seemingly calm.

I realize, here, that even if he were being taken against his will, there would be no way for him to tell me. Should I worry? Is he okay? Who knows?

And then he fires me.

Fires me!

My first reaction hurts. After all we’ve been through! But then I quickly recover. This has to be his code phrase, like ‘The eagle has landed’, or ‘The turd is in the punch bowl’.

If ‘You’re fired’ isn’t a code phrase, then I’ll have a few choice code words for him when he gets back. But I doubt it. Something is amiss.

Under the circumstances, I’m calm and collected. Heading inside the restaurant, I run into Rosa, who stops me in my path.

“Are you here to work? We’re slammed.”

“Uh, no. I was supposed to meet Ignacio.”

She sighs. “We’ve got the Huntington Park customers coming here now. Carlos is waiting in Nacho’s office.”

“Who’s Carlos?”

“Manager at Huntington Park. Are you sure you can’t jump in? You’ll get double pay. Of course you’ll have to change out of that dress.”

Gosh, I feel bad for Rosa, but I just can’t. My boyfriend could be in danger.

“I’m so sorry but I have to find Ignacio. He just left with some surfer guys.”

Rosa blinks with a confused expression. “Surfer guys? Okay, well, I need to get back to my tables. Can you tell Carlos that Nacho’s running late? Or whatever’s going on with that man. I can’t keep up.”

She hurries off and disappears into the crowd of patrons.

When I go into the kitchen, the cooks are bustling like I’ve never seen before. Most of the lunch cooks have left for the day, but a couple of the guys I know are still here. I get an appreciative whistle from one of them. I’m too focused on not slipping in these heels to acknowledge them properly.

The door to Ignacio’s office is open, and there’s a man inside, sitting across from Ignacio’s desk.

“Carlos?” I ask, closing the door behind me.

He looks at me up and down (because who wears a cocktail dress at a restaurant like this?), then glances back to the closed door.

“Yeah?” he says tentatively.

Now, I should probably mention that this guy is a hundred times more frightening than the surfers who took off with Ignacio. He wears a brown bandana around his shaved head, a white, sleeveless undershirt revealing tan skin completely covered in tattoos, and has a tough-looking goatee. He even has tattoos on his face—a face with a permanent scowl. I don’t think he’s scowling at me for any particular reason. I just think that’s his resting face.

“I… I’m Olive,” I say. “Ignacio’s—”

“Ah! You’re Nacho’s old lady. Nice to mee-chu.”

“Um, nice to meet you too. Listen, Ignacio said he had a meeting with someone at seven?”

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