Hooked: A Love Story on 7th and Main

by Elizabeth Hunter

  “Yes. We went on a picnic and the food was great. He may have bought some things though. Not sure. Don’t care.”

  “A picnic by the lake? That could be romantic or loud.”

  “It was romantic. Very. He did an excellent job setting it all up.”

  “That was all him, by the way,” Daisy said. “I just helped bring stuff.”

  “The tent was amazing.”

  “Tent?” Emmie’s eyebrows went up. “My, my. Is the city girl going wild? You were in a tent?”

  “It was one of those luxury safari tents like they have at music festivals. There were flush toilets very nearby.”

  “That explains it.” Emmie waited for Mika to set the sushi down, thanked her, then refocused on Tayla. “So you had dinner by the lake. I saw the pics on Instagram. You went hiking before?”

  “We went for a walk. Not a hike.” Tayla chose a piece of tuna with her chopsticks. Yum.

  “It looked like you went on a hike.”

  “It wasn’t.” Or… was it? There hadn’t been a path. They’d been walking in dirt and there were lots of trees and flowers. Damn it, Jeremy had tricked her into a hike. He was getting way too good at this.

  “Now the real question.” Emmie leaned forward. “Is he a good kisser?” She narrowed her eyes. “Wait, do I want to know if Jeremy’s a good kisser? Is that weird?”

  “It’s a little weird,” Daisy said. “So I’ll ask. Is he a good kisser? Is the beard scratchy?”

  “No.” Tayla smiled and shook her head. “And yes. He is. That’s all I’m going to say. We had a beautiful dinner in the outdoors. Lots of fresh air and sunshine. And I’m planning the next date.”

  Daisy and Emmie were both speechless.

  “What?” Tayla shrugged. “What was I supposed to do? Tell the man sorry, this is the most amazing date I’ve ever been on, but we definitely can’t repeat it?”

  “The most amazing date you’ve ever been on?”

  “You’re planning a date?” Emmie blinked repeatedly. “You don’t plan dates.”

  “Well…” That was true. She usually insisted on men planning dates for her. Which generally led to a series of forgettable dates unless the conversation was really stellar. “He went to a lot of trouble to plan this, and I thought I’d take him out of his comfort zone a little and see how he does.”

  Daisy cocked her head. “So you’re planning an interview with a fashion company in San Francisco and also an elaborate date with a mountain man in Metlin.”

  Tayla spread her hands. “What can I say? I’m a woman who multitasks.”

  Initially Tayla had been hesitant to take the bookkeeping job at Bombshell Tattoos. The business was run by Ginger, Ox’s ex-girlfriend, who’d been more than antagonistic to Ox and Emmie on occasion. That said, sometimes people brought out the worst in each other, and Tayla had a feeling that was the case with Ox and Ginger.

  A conversation with Spider had reassured her, and Tayla took the job and hadn’t regretted it.

  Yes, Bombshell smelled a lot like stale beer much of the time.

  Yes, the clientele ran a lot rougher than INK.

  Yes, Ginger yelled. A lot.

  But she didn’t yell at Tayla. She just had a short fuse when it came to a couple of the artists who worked for her. Generally the ones who fucked up. She told them so regularly.

  “Your area looks like a damn pigsty, Cash. Clean it up.”

  “I have a client coming in five minutes.”

  “All your clients are late because you’re constantly running behind!” Ginger put her hands on her hips. “This isn’t a debate. Don’t be a fucking slob.”

  Cash muttered under his breath as Ginger shot daggers with her eyes. Then she turned back to Tayla and asked, “So, what were you saying about my net income?”

  Tayla ignored the blaring music Cash turned on in the back of the shop. Ginger had hired her to do the books, but she’d also asked Tayla for help balancing her budget. Tayla was happy to do it. For a little extra fee. “You’re doing fine, but I’ve been tracking for a few months now, and I think there are ways you could trim your expenses. The cable, for example. I don’t ever see anyone watching that TV when I’m here.”

  “Yeah, maybe once or twice a month for a game. Mostly I just wanted Wi-Fi. The cable package kind of came with it.”

  “Check with them again. You should be able to get internet without cable.” Tayla slid over a sheet of paper. “Here’s a list of suggestions for things I think you could cut without missing them much, or certain things that seem high. These are just suggestions, by the way. It’s your business, so you may have different priorities than me.”

  The corner of Ginger’s mouth turned up. She was a hard woman, but she was beautiful. She was petite and had an hourglass figure. She leaned into the rockabilly style in her hair and her wardrobe. It really worked for her.

  Tayla noticed her dabbing her eyes with a tissue. “Allergies?”

  “This fucking town. Ever since I moved here, I’m flat-out miserable for two weeks every spring. At least it’s only two weeks. Better than it used to be.”

  “Really? For some reason, I thought you were born here.”

  “Me?” She laughed. “Hell no, I’m from LA. Born and raised in Long Beach.”

  “So how did you end up in Metlin?”

  Ginger rolled her eyes. “Oldest story in the book. Followed a guy. Started a business. Guy took off, but so did the business.” She took out her vape pen and stood. “I had better credit, so the building was in my name. And I bought it when it needed a ton of work, so it was cheap. To get a place this size in LA?” She shook her head. “No way. I’d be working for someone else. I don’t always love it here, but I hate taking orders. So I stay.”

  “Cool.” Tayla opened her laptop.

  “You thinking about leaving?”

  “Yeah. I may have a job in San Francisco. But don’t worry—if I do go, I’ll give you at least a month’s notice to find someone else.”

  “Cool.” Ginger walked toward the door, paused, and turned around. “It’s not a bad place. You know I have my issues with Ox, but most of the people around this neighborhood are good. And honest, which you can’t say for every place. And they give a shit, which is pretty rare these days. Just putting that out there.”

  “Thanks, Ginger.” She pointed at her laptop. “I’ll have this done in about half an hour.”

  “Cool.” She stepped aside to let a tattoo artist with a red Mohawk through the door. “Nice of you to show up, Lee. What the fuck? You had someone here half an hour ago, and I had to make excuses for you.”

  “You didn’t make excuses, you gave them my cell phone number.”

  “Because I’m not your damn mother, you little shit!”

  Tayla put her headphones on and let the sounds of Halsey take her away.

  Cary opened his laptop and spread a map out on Jeremy’s gaming table. The shop had just closed, and they were taking advantage of the quiet.

  “I don’t know, man. I’ve never been up to this spot, but there are two or three well-mapped routes.” Cary tapped his fingers on the map. “We’d probably both need to bring a few extra anchors, but if we got another couple of people, I think it’d be challenging but doable. And the views of Grand Sentinel are supposed to be amazing.”

  Jeremy nodded. “Morning climb?”

  “From what other people have posted, you want to start early so you reach the crux before it gets hot. And if you make good time, there’s a second, shorter climb just across the ridge.”

  “That sounds cool, but if we start too early, the visibility is going to suck. The cliff is west-facing. It’ll be completely shaded.”

  “The trail starts here.” Cary pointed to the map. “And it’s a couple of miles to hike in. Not bad. We could start early or we could camp the night before and start in the morning.”

  “I like the camping idea. You have any other climbers in mind?”

  “Couple I met earlier this year.
Husband and wife about our level. No hotheads.” Cary rolled up the map. “I’m too damn old for hotheads.”

  Jeremy’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and read Tayla’s message.

  “You’re sure smiling a lot these days.” Cary closed his laptop. “I take it that means good things are happening with your girl.”

  “We’ve only been out the one time. Met for drinks the other night with a bunch of people at the Ice House. She told me to reserve Friday night for her.”

  And Jeremy was excited. More than excited. He was having trouble keeping a stupid grin off his face anytime he thought about it. The girl who didn’t date, the girl who always played it cool… was planning a date for him.

  Cary nodded. “Good deal. You talk to her much on the phone or anything? How’s the conversation? Does she talk to you without arguing?” Cary looked off into the distance. “That would be so nice.”

  “You’re showing your age.” Jeremy dodged to avoid Cary’s punch hitting his shoulder. “Texting, man. The girls love texting.”

  Funny texting. Dirty texting. By the time Jeremy finally got his hands on Tayla, she was going to be in for a very long night.

  “Bullshit. Women like to talk.” Cary slid his laptop into a messenger bag. “Who wants to communicate in little pictures?”

  Tayla. Tayla fucking loved to text, and Jeremy wasn’t complaining.

  “Listen, old man, I’ll start taking your romantic advice when you aren’t spending every night alone at your mom’s house. How’s Melissa, by the way?”

  The corner of Cary’s mouth turned up. “Pissed off at me because I’m not taking her calls right now.”

  “Why aren’t you taking her calls?”

  “’Cause I need a break from frustration.” Cary growled, pushing his silver-black hair from his eyes. “That woman drives me insane. She doesn’t have enough to do; she wants to micromanage my orchards too. And she wants to share a booth at the farmers’ market this summer which… I don’t even know where to start with that one.”

  “That sounds like something I don’t need to know about.”

  “Hell, I don’t want to know about it.” Cary walked to the door. “And you can give me shit about living with my mom, but just remember, if your mom cooked like my mom, you’d be living at home too.”

  “Pop is hanging out with his buddies, so it’s frozen pizza for me tonight. In short, you may have a point.”

  “Man, don’t eat frozen pizza. That’s just sad.” Cary paused at the door, fiddling with his messenger bag. “So let’s start putting it together. Say… next month? What weekend works for you?”

  “Let me check with my mom, ’cause I know we’ve got a family thing next month. I’ll text you.”

  “Cool. I’m doing a surf weekend with some friends on the twentieth. Any other date I can do.”

  “Got it.” Jeremy walked over to open the door. “See ya.”

  “Later.”

  Jeremy locked up and thought about going home, but his pop was at the senior center for bingo, so Jeremy knew he was on his own for dinner. Cary was right. Frozen pizza was just sad. Then he glanced at Tayla’s text.

  I hope ur ready to be wowed this weekend.

  She’d inserted the wow-face emoji along with the martini glass, the dancing couple, and an inexplicable dinosaur.

  We’re going dancing at Jurassic Park?

  You have amazing powers of perception. So what do you think? Heels or flats?

  You can only wear heels when you dance with dinosaurs. I saw that in a movie once.

  She sent back a laughing face emoji.

  Jeremy hesitated, then went with it. He tapped her picture and called. Tayla picked up after two rings.

  “So forward, Mr. Allen. You just call a girl with no warning?”

  “Only you.” He glanced at the clock. “Have you eaten?”

  “No, I just finished work.” Her muffled voice spoke to someone in the background. “Sorry, Emmie and Ox are going out. I’m tired, honestly. Kind of a long day. I’ll probably just grab—”

  “Let’s walk to Tacos Marcianos.” Jeremy winced. She was going to say no. “It’s just a few blocks and I’m starving. Have you been?”

  “Wait… what?” She cleared her throat. “I’m not really dressed to go out. I just kicked off my shoes and—other than for dinosaurs—I’m not sure I have it in me to put heels back on. Much less go for a walk. My feet are killing me.”

  “Borrow Emmie’s bike then. I’ll meet you at the shop and we can ride over. The tacos really are great.”

  “I mean… I hear people talking about it, but—”

  “Come on. It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. I don’t care.”

  “All men say that and none of them realize what they’re saying.”

  “Tayla, you could make jeans and a ratty T-shirt look amazing. Have dinner with me. Be spontaneous. You can’t leave Metlin without going to Tacos Marcianos.”

  Tayla huffed out a breath. “Fifteen minutes.”

  “I’ll put on a clean shirt, but I’m warning you, I’m not fancy either.”

  “Whatever. Men actually can look good in jeans and a ratty T-shirt. I refuse. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll meet you in the front of the shop.”

  “Done.” Jeremy grinned. “See you in a few.”

  Chapter Nine

  She met him on the corner of 7th and Main, wearing a pair of flowered Bermuda shorts, a comfortable and breezy orange top, and a bright blue hoodie. Pink canvas flats rounded out the look.

  “Look at you.” Jeremy braked on the street. “You’re like a really cute ice-cream cone.”

  Tayla checked him out. He was wearing—as promised—a pair of nicely worn jeans, a Captain America T-shirt, and black Chuck Taylors.

  She walked to the curb, eye to eye with him. “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself.” He hooked a finger through her belt loop and tugged. “And by ice-cream cone, I mean you look edible.”

  “I know what you mean.” She allowed herself to be pulled and met his lips in a playful kiss. “You look nice too. Long day?”

  “Not too bad. You?”

  She put her wallet and phone in Emmie’s basket and hopped on the bike. “Long. Very long. And then my mother called, and that always becomes a thing.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  She had to smile. He was being so very casual even though she knew he was dying to ask. Jeremy had one of those families that reminded Tayla of the Waltons. Or the Bradys. Only not blended. He spoke of his parents lovingly. His sisters were actually his friends.

  So weird.

  “Yes, it becomes a thing because she wants to talk for an hour because she’s miserable and has no friends. You know where we’re going, right?”

  They cruised east on Main. The sun was setting behind them, and the lampposts started to flicker on in the late-afternoon shadows. They rode past the familiar storefronts and into a more industrial section of Metlin Tayla hadn’t explored.

  “Yep. Just follow me.” Jeremy frowned. “Why doesn’t your mom have any friends?”

  “Because she’s a miserable person who needs to make everyone else miserable so she doesn’t feel bad about her life.” Tayla stopped at 9th Avenue and waited for the traffic light. “And she’s a functional alcoholic and has been for years. That doesn’t help.”

  Jeremy pulled up beside her. “That’s sad.”

  “Yeah. It is. But her problems aren’t mine and I have to set boundaries.” She started peddling when the light turned green. “According to my therapist.”

  “Well then, you should do what the doctor ordered. It still makes me sad that you have to.”

  “I stopped being sad a long time ago. So tell me about this legendary taco place. I think Emmie avoids it.”

  “No idea why. Maybe she hasn’t been recently. Turn left up here.” Jeremy peddled forward and looked both ways before he turned left on 10th. “So the Marciano family are the owners. And when I was growing up, it was jus
t a regular taco place, you know? Family restaurant. Kind of a hole-in-the-wall. Grandma and son cooking.” He turned right and Tayla followed him. “And then Raquel came back from college and took over. And Raquel? She has a sense of humor.”

  Tayla spotted it from a block away. It was unmissable.

  “It’s amazing!” She couldn’t keep the laugh inside. “How have I missed this?”

  The exterior was a cinder block building typical of midcentury diners and drive-ins. The flat roof extended over a shaded area with metal-and-fiberglass picnic tables and a wide bar in front of a walk-up window. That’s where the typical stopped.

  The entire place had been painted in purple and green. A cartoon mural featuring a mariachi band of little green men decorated the side of the restaurant facing the parking lot.

  “There’s not much more than warehouses this far past 7th, so unless you know it’s here, it’s easy to miss.”

  “Marcianos!” Tayla said. “Martian tacos. Holy shit, that’s awesome.”

  “It’s a Metlin treasure.” Jeremy grinned. “Wait until you go inside.”

  “Is that a crashed flying saucer on the other side?” She craned her neck. “This is the best.”

  The place might have been in the middle of warehouses and auto shops, but it was obviously popular. Teenagers filled the picnic tables, and little kids ran around the grassy area by the flying saucer. Men and women speaking a mixture of Spanish and English glanced at them as they parked their bikes. Most were holding white paper boxes or bags.

  “So the portions are big?” Tayla noticed the take-out containers.

  “Depends on what you get. Some people just order extra to take home. I always get tacos, which are small. That way you can try a bunch of her weirder recipes.”

  “I am genuinely excited about this.” Tayla took Jeremy’s hand when he reached for it. “I have to come back for lunch and take pictures.”

  “Raquel would probably love that. She does all that kind of online stuff.”

  They walked in the restaurant, and it didn’t disappoint. The interior was a brilliant play on traditional Mexican art—the Aztec warrior, the Mexican caballero, the folkloric dancer in colorful dress—only all the faces had been replaced by little green men. Funky-colored booths, colorful traditional tiles, and vintage lights rounded out the feel of a really cool and modern twist on a traditional restaurant.