The Taste of Home

Chapter 13

After more than a little begging, Miguel convinced Rosa to cover for him while he went to The Iron Cactus with his coworkers. Fluorescent lights shaped like cacti were the main source of light in the dimly lit restaurant, and the bar stools were so tall that for once Miguel didn't have to bend his legs at an uncomfortable angle just to sit. Seated between Alejandro and Mr. Kaminski with a basket of extra spicy wings in front of him, he couldn't imagine anywhere else he'd rather be.

"Cheers to Miguel and a wonderful service," Mr. Kaminski said with his glass raised high. "May we have many more together."

Everyone clinked their glasses together before taking a long swig. Not for the first time that night, Miguel wondered what humans found so appealing about alcohol. Ralph had already downed more than enough to sway precariously from his stool, and Yolanda was laughing at everything as if it was the funniest joke she'd ever heard. The closest they could get him to try was a tall glass of ice-cold cranberry juice with a paper umbrella perched on the rim, and even then he'd quickly switched it for a bottle of sriracha, much to the bartender's concern.

"You're going to burn a hole through your stomach if you keep this up," she said as she brought him his third bottle of the night.

"You're looking at the champion of Zest Fest," Alejandro said as he threw an arm around Miguel's shoulder, earning a surprised thrum. "It's going to take a lot more than sriracha to bother him."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't come crying to me when he gives himself an ulcer."

"Speaking of giving," Alejandro said as he bent to grab a bag off the floor, nearly falling off his stool in the process, "I got you a little something."

Miguel gave the bag an experimental sniff before reaching inside. After carefully maneuvering his claws through a rustling rainbow of tissue paper, he pulled out an apron. Emblazoned with a dark red goat standing atop a mountain and Miguel's name in elegant cursive, the apron covered his entire front without chafing against his scales.

"I noticed the one you've been wearing didn't quite fit you right. Hope I didn't guesstimate your size too badly."

"This is amazing! What's that thing people say? Fits like a glove?"

"It's a miracle he didn't get you one of those stupid Kiss the Chef aprons." Yolanda's cheeks flushed almost as darkly as Alejandro's as she cackled. "He's about as subtle as a rhinoceros."

"And you're about as tactful as one." Ralph hiccupped. "Quit embarrassing them!"

"Would you mind if I ask you something?" Mr. Kaminski said after taking a long sip of his club soda.

"Go right ahead," Miguel said, grateful for the distraction.

"Now that you've had time to get settled in, I've been wondering if you might be interested in helping with publicity. Giving your packmates free samples, maybe doing an interview on TV, that sort of thing."

Miguel chewed on one of his hot wings before answering. "I know a few folks who might be interested in coming..."

"I'm sensing a but."

"But I'm not sure if Isabella would approve," Miguel said apologetically. "Besides, a lot of us can't afford to eat out. We don't exactly make much money."

"Fair enough." Mr. Kaminski gave him an understanding smile. "How about this? You help me fine-tune the menu, and I'll see what I can do about making things cheaper."

Miguel raised his sriracha. "I'll drink to that!"

A round of cheers rolled down the bar as they clinked their glasses together. As strange as it still felt to spend so much time among humans, his coworkers truly were becoming a second pack to him.

Unfortunately, he couldn't say the same about all humans.

Laughter as harsh and unforgiving as the midday sun broke through the restaurant. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" David sauntered over to the bar alongside a pair of equally belligerent young men with scraggly facial hair and crooked sneers. "What are you doing out so late? Shouldn't you be laying in your barn like the animal you are?"

"Ignore him." Miguel polished off the last of his wings, flicking his tongue between his teeth to clean out the scraps. He'd seen David stir up trouble more than enough times to know giving him attention would only make him more aggressive.

"Kind of hard to ignore a rat waltzing into a bar like he owns the place." Ralph puffed up in his seat, flexing his tiger tattoo.

Mr. Kaminski put a restraining hand on his arm. "Don't start anything." He fixed David and his companions with a look that could have extinguished a fire. "I'm sure these gentlemen will gladly leave us be or go someplace else, whichever suits them."

"We would, but y'all are in our seats. Move."

The instant David put his hand on Alejandro's shoulder, a growl rumbled out of Miguel's throat. "Hands off. Now."

"Maybe we should grab a booth instead," one of David's cronies said. He backed away from the snarling chupacabra. "I wouldn't want to sit where that thing sat, anyway."

"Don't tell me you're afraid of that overgrown lizard?" David scoffed as his friends stared at their shoes. "Alright, Miguel. You have until the count of three to get your ass out of here. One. Two."

Alejandro wrapped his arm around the back of Miguel's chair to hold it steady as David's steel-toed boot lashed out.

It never reached its mark.

Half a margarita glass splashed into David's face. "Oops!" Yolanda cackled as David landed squarely on his rear end. "Careful, or you might hit your head and lose that last brain cell."

"That bitch attacked me!" David staggered to his feet, snarling like a coyote. "You're lucky I'd never hit a woman, or else I'd—"

The bartender cleared her throat. "Sir, you and your friends need to leave, or else I'm calling the police."

"But—"

She peered down at him over the rim of her glasses. "I ain't going to serve you nothing but a heaping helping of humble pie. Now get!"

His fists trembled by his sides, his face red with drunken outrage. "Damn uppity lizard." He spat, his saliva joining the spilled margarita on the floor. "You'll regret this!"

The door slammed behind him and his friends on their way out.