The Taste of Home

Chapter 3

As the sky darkened to match the restaurant's dimly lit interior, Miguel fought to keep his spines from trembling. Other customers came and went, with those that had witnessed his sister's outburst casting him sympathetic glances.

They knew as well as he did that just because the police hadn't gotten involved yet didn't mean they wouldn't come at all. Since The Crimson Goat catered to chupacabras, it wouldn't do for them to make too much of a fuss during the dinner rush, if it could be called that. The place had only been about half full when he and Isabella had arrived, and now only a handful of stragglers lingered, almost ready to return to their packs for the evening. After what Isabella had done, Miguel would be lucky if he could do the same.

Humans had the power to get chupacabras penned like livestock, and they knew it. One claw out of line, and anyone who wasn't a high-ranking member of the pack would find themself alone with nothing but scraps to feed on. The imprisonment itself wasn't the worst threat levied against them— that could be borne with enough patience— but the isolation...

A chupacabra without his pack was nothing.

A light touch on his arm jolted Miguel out of his thoughts. "Mr. Kaminski is ready to meet you," Alejandro said.

Miguel got up with a grunt, waving off the arm Alejandro wordlessly offered him despite his bad leg making him wince. He'd manage. He always did. Better to muscle through his soreness than to risk hurting the man on accident.

Alejandro led him toward Mr. Kaminski's office, slowing his pace to match Miguel's when he noticed the chupacabra lagging behind him. Miguel's heart hammered harder with every step. Whatever the restaurant's owner wanted from him, it couldn't be good. Stars knew his pack's boss, Mr. Miller, avoided interacting with any of them unless there was trouble.

"Go ahead," Alejandro said gently. "It shouldn't take too long. I think he just wants to ask you a few questions."

Alone, with none of his packmates present. Miguel swallowed, but forced his lips into a shaky smile. "Alright. Thanks again for the lovely meal."

Miguel entered Mr. Kaminski's office the same way he'd approach another pack's leader: head bowed, spines flat, gait slow and deliberate. The room was tiny, not something he'd expect from even the most humble of leaders. Yet, there was a certain warmth to the trinkets lining the man's desk and the photos on his walls. As small as it was, the place felt like a home.

That was in no small part due to the man seated within it. Much paler than Alejandro, Mr. Kaminski's sharp features stood out not with the typical assertiveness of a pack leader but with a more subtle strength. Leaning back in his chair with a warm smile, it was clear he wanted Miguel to be as comfortable as he felt.

Or perhaps that's just what he wanted him to think. What better way to put a chupacabra in his place than to face him with such relaxed ease?

"Have a seat."

Miguel sat in the chair across from Mr. Kaminski with equal parts relief and anxiety, wincing as his scales scraped against the worn leather. Who was this man staring him right in the eye without the subtlest scent of fear?

"That was quite a commotion out there," Mr. Kaminski said. "Can I get you anything for your scratches?"

Miguel crossed his arms, hunching over to hide his injuries from view. "I'm alright. It's nothing time can't fix."

"I can't say I've ever seen a customer so upset." Wrinkles creased Mr. Kaminski's forehead. "Could you shed some light on what got her to react like that?"

"A lot bothers Isabella these days." Miguel couldn't maintain eye contact, not knowing how easily his pack could be punished for such an incident. "Listen, what do I have to do to make this go away? I'm not as strong as my packmates, but I could hunt rodents for you." Shit, now he'd think he was insulting his territory's cleanliness. "O-o-or I could help—"

Mr. Kaminski held up a hand. Miguel clamped his jaws shut.

"Did you think you were in trouble?"

Miguel could only muster a nod.

"After what you did, I can't thank you enough!" Mr. Kaminski reached out and shook Miguel's hand so enthusiastically his fingers cracked. "Now tell me, what did you think of the food?"

Miguel didn't even know what to think of what he'd just heard. "Well, the soup was good," he said slowly, each word as careful as a hatchling taking their first steps. "I didn't get the chance to try the special, but that smelled wonderful, too. The dessert..."

"Wasn't a winner?"

"I was surprised by how thick it was," Miguel admitted. "I think I could get used to that, but it was honestly too sweet for me."

"Sounds like that still needs work." Mr. Kaminski sighed as he jotted down a note. "The desserts are the hardest to get right. We've been trying to incorporate customer feedback, but it's hard without an expert in the kitchen."

"Trust me, you're doing a much better job than any other restaurant we've tried." At least they were trying to cater to chupacabras. Usually, they were lucky if restaurants let them inside at all.

"Well, it's not good enough. Your sister made that very clear."

Miguel sucked in a breath. Perhaps he hadn't forgiven them after all.

"How would you feel about working here?"

So he did want compensation. It was a strange request, but he'd expected worse. Still, there was one glaring issue. "I can't cook. My pack mostly hunts for its meals, so none of us have ever tried learning how."

"That's nothing training can't fix. We could start you off helping out with the prep work and giving us some insight into how we could make the food more appetizing. Does seventeen dollars an hour sound okay to start with?"

"To pay you back for the damage Isabella caused?" That would keep him busy for a few months, but it beat getting thrown in jail in her stead.

"That and helping me keep this place open." Mr. Kaminski smiled tiredly as he waved to the bills piled on his desk. "We've been scraping by, but after what happened tonight folks might not be so eager to eat here unless the food knocks their scales off. So, are you interested?"

He was offering more than any but the most skilled of Miguel's packmates made, with training no less. Perhaps this would be good for the pack in the long run, help them put away a little extra money. If nothing else, this would hopefully keep them in the humans' good graces, assuming the others would tolerate his presence.

"Are you sure the other staff won't mind?" Miguel asked. His spines sagged at the memory of the waitstaff tiptoeing past him after Isabella's outburst. "My sister made a bit of a strong impression on them."

"That wasn't the first scuffle they've seen, and it won't be the last. They should be alright once everyone's had time to calm down."

After a little more discussion, it was settled. As long as Isabella and Mr. Miller gave him permission, Miguel would start his first shift at The Crimson Goat in a week.