Page 33 of Bad Reputation

“Trust me, okay? I’ll order for you. You don’t eat chicken, beef, or pork, right?”

She gives me a long look, then slowly nods. “Yeah…”

“Hola,” I say, greeting the middle aged guy who runs the cart. “Que pasa?”

“De nada,” the guy says, his voice surprisingly deep. “What will you have?”

“Let me get the chilaquiles, two barbacoa tacos, and two tinga tacos. A tofu taco for her… and two of the vegetarian pupusas. Oh, and let me also get two Cokes.” I glance behind me, and see a little patio setup that is currently empty. “For here, please.”

“You got it. That’s gonna be… twenty two dollars.”

We exchange currency, with me leaving a fat tip in the tip bucket. He hands me the Cokes, after he uncaps the bottles. He starts cooking, and I point to the two little tables.

“Your choice,” I tell her.

She chooses one of the tables, and I sit down in a plastic chair across from her. I pass her Coke over, and she takes a long sip. She settles down, considering me.

“You come here often?”

I slide my backpack to the floor. “Not often enough. I love the food though. It’s the food that I almost spent my life making.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah. I had two job opportunities at the same time. One was bar-backing at a dive bar. The other was working at a place just like this. I often wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t chosen the job I did.”

Emma considers that for a minute. “I feel like you would’ve been successful no matter what industry you chose. You just bring a certain passion to any job, and customers can tell. That’s what makes you succeed.”

I frown. “I don’t know about all of that.”

She rolls her eyes. “Take it from me, okay? I’m telling you. You’re smart, and you’re a go-getter.”

I clear my throat a little. “I mean, I’m only doing well because your brother thought he should invest in the business.”

“My brother was the lucky one, Jameson. If he didn’t invest in you, someone else would have, for sure. The reason that Asher has good business sense is because he is smart enough to see as opportunity when it’s right in front of his dumb face.”

She takes another long pull on the Coke, her throat working delicately. As she crosses her long legs, I tamp down any reaction I feel, either about her looking so good or about her compliments.

Instead, I change the subject.

“Do you ever think, if I hadn’t gone to law school, what would I do?” I ask.

At that moment, the food cart guy comes over, his arms loaded down with plates. “Hot food, okay?”

“Thanks,” I say, my mouth watering when I get a whiff of the barbacoa beef and chicken tinga.

“Omigod, look at all of this!” Emma exclaims. “It looks amazing.”

I set us each up a plate, dividing the tacos and the pupusas. The chilaquiles I put between us, letting the mixture of eggs, peppers and onions, and tortilla strips cool down to earthly temperatures.

She takes a bite of the tinga taco, and then moans loudly. “This is so good!!”

I take a bite of my pupusa, savoring the corn tortilla and the cheesy filling. She’s right, it’s just as phenomenal as I thought it would be.

We eat for a minute, our mouths too full to bother with words.

“You didn’t answer my question from before,” I point out, sipping my Coke. “What would you be if you weren’t a lawyer in training?”

“Mmm! I don’t know.” She wrinkles her nose. “I feel like I was set on this path from a young age. I had the option of being a lawyer, or a housewife. And fuck being a housewife, you know?”

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