“It’s okay. My life got much better after I was out of that hellhole. Once upon a time, my mother had her good points. I got my love of music from her. But she had damaging tastes in men and a codependent personality. Bad combination. I just wish I could’ve taken my younger brother and sisters with me when I left.”
“Do you have relationships with them now?”
His expression darkened. “No. My brother died in a car accident a few years ago. And the girls were too young when I left for them to really have memories of me, so all they know is what my mom and Red have told them. I’ve tried to reach out, but they’re not interested in knowing me.”
Simple words, but she could see how deeply they affected him. Happy-go-lucky Pike had retreated for a moment, exposing a stark sadness in those green-gold eyes. She reached out and pulled his hand from his pocket, then she laced her fingers with his. “I’m sorry.”
The smiled returned, though a little strained. “Hey, how’d we get into this heavy conversation? I brought you here for killer tamales, not to unload my Jerry Springer family drama on you. Come on. Let’s eat.”
She gave his hand a squeeze and let him lead her inside.
Mariachi music and the smell of roasted chiles filled the air as Pike held the door open for her. She inhaled the decadent scent. “Okay, now I’m officially starving.”
“Right? It’s like they lace the air with crack,” he said, his tone much lighter now that they were inside, the somber conversation abandoned in the wet streets outside.
She grabbed a paper menu from the slot by the door. “So what’s good here?”
Pike’s lips parted, but before he could answer, another voice sounded from her right. “Paco!”
Pike turned, a grin breaking over his face, and guided Oakley toward the main counter where a young guy with dark eyes and a devil-may-care smile was waving them over. Pike let go of her hand briefly to step around the counter and give the guy a one-armed, thump-the-back man hug. “Emilio, qué onda?”
“Qué onda?” Emilio repeated. “You ask me what’s up? I live. I work. The news report isn’t all that exciting. But what about you? We haven’t seen you in months. Mamá was worried.”
Pike slipped back to the other side of the counter and took Oakley’s hand again. “I know. Things have been crazy. But I couldn’t go another day without Mama Flo’s food in my belly.”
“She’ll be happy to hear it.” Emilio stuck his head through the doorway to the kitchen and yelled something in Spanish.
Oakley leaned over to Pike. “Do you know what he’s saying?”
Pike smirked. “He’s telling his mother that her ungrateful boy, Paco, is here and that he’s looking too skinny and needs her help. And that’s he brought a pretty girl with him.”
“Paco? Her boy?”
He chuckled. “The Rivera family lived on my block when I was a kid. I was friends with Emilio’s older brother and every time I went over to his place, his mom would tell me I was too thin and would feed me. She didn’t speak English and my Spanish was spotty at the time, but I got the gist, especially with her pinching my arms and then heaping beans and rice on my plate.” His face took on a pensive look. “She figured out my home situation was screwed up and took me in like a stray even though they barely had anything themselves. A neglected, underfed kid was a cardinal sin in her book. I knew a good thing when I saw it, so I hung around as much as I could until my mom hooked up with Red and moved us to the suburbs. But I was around enough that Emilio started calling me Paco. He said if I was going to be part of the family, I couldn’t have a ridiculous gringo name like Pike.”
Oakley smiled, the affection in Pike’s tone making her love this woman and her family already. “She sounds kind of amazing.”
“She’s a force to be reckoned with for sure. And now that she knows I’ve brought a girl, I’ll give her three, two …”
As if on cue, a petite older lady with silver-threaded black hair burst through the doorway from the kitchen. She wiped her hands on her apron and made a beeline for Pike, wagging her finger. Her words were in rapid-fire Spanish, but Oakley got the sense they were firm ones. The smile didn’t leave Pike’s face, though. He let her have her say. Then she smacked his arm with her dish towel and hugged him.
He hugged her back, speaking fluent Spanish back to her—tone apologetic and soothing, but amused at the same time. He sent Oakley a wink over the woman’s head.
“Mama Flo,” Pike said, extracting from the hug. “This is my friend Oakley.”
When Flora turned around, her perturbed expression had been replaced by a beatific one. She flipped her dish towel over her shoulder and took Oakley’s hands in her callused, warm ones. “Flora Rivera. Nice to meet you. I’m so happy my Paco finally thinks my food is good enough to bring a woman here.”
Oakley lifted her eyebrow at Pike.
Pike put his hands on Flora’s shoulders. “Flo, I haven’t brought a girl by yet because none have been worthy of your food. You’re my best-kept secret in Dallas. I can’t just share you with anyone.”
Though Pike’s tone was light, the fact that he’d never brought another girl here to meet people who were clearly important to him registered with Oakley. She didn’t know whether to be pleased or worried.
She squeezed the woman’s hands. “I’m glad I get to be the lucky one to eat your cooking.”
She nodded. “I’ll make you both a plate.”
“Can we have the number three?” Pike asked. “You know it’s my favorite.”