Emilia
"Come on! I need that box of tacos ready to go!" my aunt shouts from behind the counter. Her name was Gianna, but everyone in town called her La Regina del Taco, and she held on to it, which was hilarious because she was Italian, running a Mexican taco shop in Florence of all places.
"Make it fast! It's not nice to keep customers waiting. For heaven's sake, Rita, put down that lip gloss and get to work!"
I turned to look at my cousin, who was already looking at me. She rolled her eyes in frustration. Working at the taco shop means all hands are on deck from morning till night, or whenever Aunt Gianna chooses to call it a day. In here, there is no special treatment for the workers, who happen to be just me, Rita—my cousin—Aunt Gianna and, of course, Lilia, my bestie, who comes to my rescue when the workload gets too much and whenever I need to escape for a show.
With a lot going on in here, I wonder how Rita gets the time to use her lip gloss. She would apply it between chopping cilantro and somehow never cut herself.
Rita is tall and strong-looking, but surprisingly, she has a soft voice that doesn't match her look. One thing about her is her commitment to looking good. Her skin is all tanned and glowing. I have never seen her wear one hairstyle twice in a week; she is that dedicated.
Unlike me, I struggle to do these things— I mean, I try.
"Emilia, you will take the delivery," Aunt Gianna said, still looking at Rita. I wondered why.
"I get it, I'm on cooking duty tonight." Rita slips her gloss back into her apron pouch.
"Did you see the order?" I said, tapping the ticket pinned above the grill. "Ten tacos, with all different fillings, plus churros, extra dipping chocolate. Who eats like that?"
"Maybe someone is heartbroken," she laughed, then suddenly went quiet. "But do people really eat that much when they get their hearts broken? I couldn't even drink water when Simone broke up with me." She exhaled quietly, brushing crumbs from her hand.
Getting her to talk back then was harder than trying to get a network connection in a basement. She couldn't even open her mouth, let alone sip water. She would stare into space with tears rolling down her face like someone had squeezed onions directly into her eyes. It was that bad. I'm glad she got over it.
"Eh, basta talking now!" Aunt Gianna said. "Are you done packing the box? Is everything complete? You should be on your way already. When do you hope to return if you are still here chatting?"
Rita quickly shoved the remaining three tacos into the box, sealed it, and pushed it over to me.
I grabbed the box quickly and escaped before Aunt Gianna would throw a saucer at me; that's the only way to get my aunt to keep her from talking.
In front was my faithful ride, the company Toyota Tacoma. I'm mostly the only one who drives it when I'm around. I do all the deliveries, but I don't drive it to school. It makes me smell like I just walked out of the kitchen; it permanently smells like tacos. No matter how much you wash it, as soon as you step in and out of this car, someone will sniff the air around you and say, "Mmm… food."
I looked at the receipt for the address to load it on the GPS. "Are you serious right now?" I laughed. "No way. Nobody living in a place like this eats tacos from our shop."
While waiting for the GPS to load the address from the receipt, I peeked into the box. A bit of filling was out of place. I opened the box slightly, took it out, and threw it in my mouth. I carefully looked around to see if anyone was watching. I wiped some chocolate filling off the side of the box and licked it off my finger as well.
The British-accented GPS lady finally spoke and told me to head toward Collina d'Oro, a wealthy hillside area outside Lugano.
There are no more deliveries for tonight. This is the last one, and I hope that I can get it done on time before my rehearsals tonight with Lilia.
I finally got an opportunity to perform after the last incident. I wasn't at the bar when I was called up for my presentation, and this was even after I had pleaded much to get on the list. The organizer thought I was unserious and never gave me another chance after that—until now. I'm just so excited.
I drove fast, and I almost scratched someone's car. My whole life, I've wanted to be a musician. It's the coolest thing I could dream of, even though I'm still struggling with it, I love performing at concerts, anywhere basically, and sometimes I do background vocals.
After a pretty long drive from the shop, I pulled up in front of a literal mansion. I know I had checked this address earlier, but I double-checked the GPS coordinates and then checked again. "I hope this was not a mistake." I looked at the box and then at the mansion.
La Regina del Taco is undoubtedly delicious. Every single person who has ordered from us testifies to that fact. We know the tea when it comes to making delicious tacos, that's for sure, but we've never gotten orders from places like this.
"Nope, no no," I took out my phone and called Rita. I held the phone between my shoulder and the side of my face and grabbed the box, ready to step out when Rita answered.
"Are you done so soon?" she asked.
"No, I know this is dumb but, I don't know if i'm in the right place." I sat still in the car, waiting for her to prove me right and maybe say, Oh, wait, that's true. Instead, she asked loudly, "What? Don't tell me you are lost again."
"Heyyyy, Riri, you are shouting. Yes, I got the address correctly and no, I'm not lost, I guess…" I said, still doubting.
"You should see this place. It's big. I mean, it's a freaking mansion." I opened my mouth, looking at the building again.
Out of nowhere, Rita completely changed the conversation. "Do you think this 'special request' person is a hot guy?"
"We were just talking about the possibility of me being lost, and you are concerned about a hot guy?" I slapped my forehead in disappointment. "Does it even matter?"
"Yes," she said flatly. "It always matters."
"Do me a favor — if it's a guy and he's hot, get me his number."
"Hot guys are never single. That's why they're hot," I said.
"I don't mind, love," she replied.
I could imagine her striking a sexy pose — one hand on her hip with her tongue curled to the roof of her mouth. I rolled my eyes and hung up before Aunt Gianna found out what was going on.
I finally decided to leave the car because what else was I going to do? Return to the shop with the tacos because I felt too intimidated to deliver them? How could I even tell if rich people don't eat from our taco shop? I have never made any delivery to such a mansion before, but they could have walked in and picked up their order themselves.
I looked down at the box of tacos, and a bit of the filling was almost out of place. After so much swerving around sharp bends and braking. If I had seen it earlier, I would have done something about it.