California Summer

by Anita Hughes

  “Sometimes it just takes the right woman,” Rachel replied. “Look at Matthew McConaughey or George Clooney. They were Hollywood’s most eligible bachelors and now they’re married with children.”

  “What if the shop is a failure and I have to move back to LA and work at a movie studio?” Rosie asked.

  “I don’t worry as much as you and I’m Jewish.” Rachel hopped down from the stool. “I have to go. You’re going to do great. Break a leg!”

  Rosie watched Rachel walk down the street to Gold’s Chocolates. Tourists wandered in and out of art galleries. A young mother pulled a toddler in a red wagon. Rosie took a deep breath and flipped the sign to OPEN.

  * * *

  Rosie stared glumly at the cash register. She had imagined this day for so long: sunburned tourists clutching cold sodas, children dragging in buckets of sand. They would leave with sizzling fish tacos, and a new line of customers would take their place. It was almost one o’clock; the lunchtime “rush” was over. She hadn’t sold a single taco.

  “Excuse me, what can I buy with ten dollars?”

  Rosie looked up and there was a girl with straight hair and brown eyes. She was about ten years old and wore a pair of denim shorts and a halter top.

  “You could get our lunchtime special: two fish tacos and an Italian soda,” Rosie offered.

  “Does the soda have bubbles? I only like drinks with bubbles.” The girl walked to the counter and swung herself onto a stool.

  “The sodas are in the fridge.” Rosie waved behind her. “Pick any flavor.”

  “My mother always gives me money when she and my father get in a fight.” The girl waited while Rosie filled her order. “She digs in her purse, hands me a bill, and says ‘get yourself something, honey, while your dad and I work this out.’”

  “Tell her you had a delicious lunch.” Rosie handed her a white paper bag with the words ‘Rosie’s Fish Tacos’ in red letters.

  The girl unwrapped the taco and took a large bite. “This is really good!”

  “I just opened today.” Rosie grinned. “You’re my first customer.”

  “I want to own a jewelry store when I grow up.” The girl sipped her soda. “My mom said I should learn to support myself so I don’t have to rely on some guy to buy me stuff.”

  “Luckily you don’t have to worry about that for a while.” Rosie chuckled.

  “I’ll bring my parents here.” The girl finished her meal and hopped down. “They both love fish tacos; it’s one of the few things they have in common.”

  “They have you in common,” Rosie said.

  The girl stood at the door, smiling. “I’m going to tell my mom you have a cool shop, and you’re really nice.”

  * * *

  “Thank goodness we missed the lunch rush.” Estelle walked in as the girl left. “Dear, these are my friends from the garden club. I told them they have to try your fish tacos.”

  Estelle was accompanied by four women who looked like they usually lunched at the Four Seasons. They wore floral dresses of different lengths, and broad hats with silk ribbons. Their shoes were Ferragamo and their purses were Chanel.

  “We’ll have one of everything.” Estelle waved at the menu board behind the counter. “Marjorie’s daughter is head of the Boys and Girls Club in Montecito. She’s going to bring the children here for a field trip.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Rosie beamed, assembling tortillas.

  “And Portia is having a Mexican-themed engagement party for her son. It would be marvelous if you catered it.”

  “Estelle always gives the best recommendations,” Portia said, taking Rosie’s business card. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “We’re going to eat them in Marjorie’s garden. Her hyacinths are in bloom.” Estelle stood at the cash register. “Morris and Peg are scurrying around preparing for tonight’s party.”

  “You didn’t have to throw a party.” Rosie handed Estelle warm tacos wrapped in wax paper.

  “Peg is making tortilla soup and Morris is going to serve Mexican beer with lime wedges.” Estelle beamed. “Has Josh been in yet?”

  “He’s coming after work,” Rosie answered. “He’s going to bring in a bunch of surfers.”

  “If you have any tacos left,” Estelle said gaily. “Tell Josh we expect him tonight too.”

  Estelle and the other women strolled down the sidewalk. Estelle moved like a benevolent queen imparting favors on her subjects. Rosie was so grateful for her support, she wanted to run into the street and hug her.

  The rest of the day passed slowly. A group of teenagers ordered a dozen tacos and paid with quarters. A couple from Iowa told Rosie all about their vacation while she prepared their meal. A family with two screaming children left taco baskets piled on top of each other like Legos.

  Rosie’s head throbbed and her feet ached and she hoped Josh would arrive soon. She wanted to go to Estelle’s party and drink chilled champagne.

  “Still open for business?” A head poked in the door.

  “Colby!” Rosie put down the empty taco baskets.

  “I told Angelica we’d drive up.” Colby wore checkered board shorts and a black t-shirt. Sunglasses covered his eyes and a baseball cap hid his blond curls.

  “You drove to Montecito for fish tacos?”

  “This boy drove to the Oregon coast for fish tacos.” Ryan Addams walked in behind him. Ryan’s short brown hair was slicked back and he wore a chrome watch and leather loafers.

  “Only once.” Colby grinned. “And they were awesome.”

  “I’m honored.” Rosie walked behind the counter, trying not to blush. One of the biggest pop stars in the world was in her store to buy fish tacos!

  “I’ll take any excuse to get out of town.” Colby leaned on the counter. “I’ve been in the recording studio for weeks.”

  “How many tacos would you like?” Rosie asked, laying out tortillas.

  “Four for me,” Colby said. “Two for Ryan; he’s a wimp.”

  “I can’t eat too much or I’d have to spend all day on the treadmill like regular people.” Ryan punched Colby’s arm. “Colby has the metabolism of a whippet.”

  “Ryan works me like a dog,” Colby bantered back. “I drive him crazy eating Milk Duds and guzzling Cokes.”

  “Soda is terrible for the vocal cords.” Ryan shuddered. “It coats them with sugar.”

  “Recording twelve hours a day is bad for your vocal cords,” Colby countered. “Mind if we eat here?”

  “You have the counter to yourselves.” Rosie handed him two red plates. “You just missed a couple of kids who were on a search-and-destroy mission. This place looked like a two-year-old’s birthday party when they left.”

  “Children are worse than puppies.” Ryan opened his fish tacos. “My mastiff puppy chewed up three pairs of Gucci loafers.”

  “Get a regular-sized dog and he’ll stay away from your Guccis,” Colby said, eating his taco. He looked at Rosie and smiled. “Hey, these are great.”

  “I’ve never owned a store before,” Rosie admitted. “I feel like I’m jumping off a high dive.”

  “Did you know Colby owns restaurants in six states?” Ryan asked.

  “I’ve always liked food,” Colby said. “When I was little, my mom let me play in the kitchen. I learned to play the drums on her pots and pans, but I also learned how to make polenta and curry.”

  “What kind of restaurants do you own?” Rosie asked curiously.

  “I was in Chicago on tour, and I couldn’t find a restaurant with a panini press. So I opened my own.” Colby shrugged. “I have a rice pudding store in New York, and burger joints in Texas and Florida.”

  “I keep telling Colby to collect Matchbox cars or Star Wars figures,” Ryan groaned. “Do you know how much work goes into opening a successful restaurant?”

  “Ryan is just chaffed because I’m not under his thumb twenty-four seven,” Colby said good-naturedly. “Once I snuck on a plane to New York to buy some of my rice pudding.”
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  “And caused a riot!” Ryan interjected. “Colby got stampeded at Fifth Avenue in Manhattan. The police had to arrive on horseback to pry the girls off him.”

  “The police let me ride a horse!” Colby exclaimed. “It was cool.”

  “I read what was happening on Twitter,” Ryan said. “And then I tried calling Colby but he was in the hospital ‘under observation.’ I sweated off three pounds before I could get through to him.”

  “Ryan thinks I’m still fifteen years old.” Colby ate his second taco. “I love performing but I’m trying to grow as a businessman. I want to open a deep-dish pizza restaurant in Manhattan Beach. Have you ever tried to order deep-dish pizza in LA? It’s impossible. Makes me want to get on a plane to Chicago.”

  “You’re not getting on a plane to Chicago without telling me,” Ryan protested. “Your insurance is going to double if you keep cavorting around the country.”

  Rosie started to clean up and glanced at the clock. In fifteen minutes she’d flick the sign to CLOSED and Josh still hadn’t shown up.

  The door opened as she put away tortillas. Josh stood at the counter with three guys wearing board shorts and Rainbow sandals.

  “Sorry we’re late.” Josh’s damp hair stuck to his neck. “The swells were huge and I couldn’t drag these guys out of the water.”

  “You almost missed out pal.” Colby turned around. “We were about to order everything she’s got.”

  “You were?” Rosie asked.

  “I told you they’re awesome,” Colby said to Rosie. “I love cold fish tacos for breakfast with ketchup and a glass of orange juice.”

  “Josh, this is Colby Young and his manager, Ryan Addams,” Rosie introduced them.

  “The singer?” Josh raised his eyebrows.

  “Angelica’s a friend of mine. She told Colby about Rosie’s fish tacos, so we made a road trip up the coast from LA,” Ryan explained.

  “You drove to Montecito for fish tacos?” Josh asked.

  “We’re staying at the Four Seasons Biltmore,” Ryan continued. “It’s right on the beach and they have wonderful service. They even allow you to bring dogs.”

  “There must be good fish tacos in LA.” Josh’s voice was tight.

  “It’s great that they came, I’m so grateful.” Rosie stood next to Josh, squeezing his hand.

  “We’d like to order.” Josh crossed his arms over his chest. “These guys are starving.”

  “Are you local?” Colby inquired, leaning his elbows on the counter.

  “Josh works at the Classic Car Showroom, and he takes care of Oscar’s cars,” Rosie said, laying out tortillas.

  “Sweet!” Colby smiled his big, white smile. “I’m a huge car fan. I’ve got my eye on a silver Lamborghini.”

  “You are not buying a Lamborghini,” Ryan piped in. “With the way you take curves, you’d drive straight into the Pacific Ocean.”

  “Ryan drives like an old woman.” Colby rolled his eyes. “He thinks I should buy a Bentley.”

  “Tough choices,” Josh said curtly. He grabbed the fish tacos and passed them to his friends.

  “We better go.” Ryan glanced at his Rolex. “We promised Oscar we’d stop by and play him the new tracks.”

  “Keep up the good work.” Colby gave two thumbs-up. He pushed his baseball cap lower on his forehead and hopped off the stool.

  “Angelica said you’re staying in the guest cottage.” Ryan turned to Rosie. “Maybe we’ll see you later.”

  * * *

  Rosie turned back to the counter and finished cleaning up. She wrapped lettuce and tomato in plastic wrap, covered tortillas in aluminum foil, and wiped down the counter. She opened the cash register and counted crisp new bills. She exhaled slowly; the day had not been a disaster.

  “How long were they here?” Josh asked tightly.

  “I’m not sure.” Rosie smiled. “But they bought a lot of tacos.”

  “They could buy tacos anywhere.” Josh’s eyes narrowed.

  “It was nice of Angelica to tell them.” Rosie took off her apron. “Maybe they’ll spread the word.”

  “I’m sure Angelica had her reasons,” Josh continued, sounding like a stubborn child who was trying to get his point across.

  “What does that mean?” Rosie asked, surprised at Josh’s tone.

  “Angelica thinks anyone who doesn’t live in LA is dead,” Josh answered.

  “You think Angelica sent them to lure me back to LA?” Rosie demanded.

  “Colby’s a sweet kid with about a hundred million dollars in the bank. His manager is pretty slick,” Josh said slowly. “They didn’t drive ninety miles for tacos.”

  “I don’t know what you’re implying but I need as many customers as I can get,” Rosie answered. She ran a cloth over the counter and grabbed her purse. “Let’s go to the party, I’m exhausted.”

  “I have to give these guys a ride back to the beach.” Josh nodded at his friends, who sat at the counter eating their tacos. “Maybe I’ll see you later.”

  * * *

  Rosie stood on the Pullmans’ porch, her eyes glued to the driveway. She wore her red dress and her gold Manolo sandals. Her hair fell softly to her shoulders and her skin had a golden glow. She had been so excited to step out of the cottage and see guests beginning to arrive. But now the party was in full swing and she had the sinking feeling Josh wasn’t coming.

  Estelle had transformed the lawn into a Mexican fiesta. There were stations of tortillas, refried beans, steak, shrimp, fresh baked chips, and salsa. Round tables were set with red and white tablecloths and vases held red and white roses. A piñata hung between two oak trees and a dessert table held the ingredients for ice cream sundaes.

  “Dear, what are you doing?” Estelle approached her. She wore a long white hostess gown and gold sandals. “Everyone wants to meet the guest of honor.”

  “I’m waiting for Josh,” Rosie mumbled.

  “This is your night and you can’t let anything spoil it.” Estelle squeezed her hand. “Let’s pop into the kitchen and have a cup of tea.”

  Estelle led Rosie into the kitchen and made her sit at the table. She put on the kettle and passed Rosie a plate of melba toast.

  “Eat this,” she instructed. “And tell me what’s wrong.”

  Rosie nibbled the toast and told Estelle how Josh showed up while Colby Young and Ryan Addams were in the taco shop.

  “He acted jealous!” Rosie exclaimed. “Colby is barely twenty and I couldn’t be less interested in Ryan.”

  “As I recall Ryan is quite handsome, and Colby is cute in that overgrown puppy way,” Estelle murmured.

  “I’ve met them both once,” Rosie protested. “They came to try my fish tacos. It was sweet of Angelica to tell them, since she and Dirk couldn’t make it to Montecito.”

  “One would think Angelica could attend her best friend’s grand opening.” Estelle pursed her lips.

  “She had a meeting with a producer,” Rosie defended her friend. “Josh was so cold, I hardly recognized him.”

  “Men have giant egos, even the sweet ones like Josh.” Estelle pulled out a chair. “He may have felt threatened.”

  “Threatened?” Rosie asked.

  “When Angelica comes home she throws around the names of her Hollywood connections. ‘I saw Mila Kunis at yoga this morning,’ ‘I ran into David Spade at Whole Foods, he’s much taller in person,’” Estelle explained.

  “She does.” Rosie laughed.

  “You lived in that world,” Estelle continued. “But Josh has always been in Montecito. Maybe he just didn’t want to listen to Colby and Ryan run on about the music industry. It’s all I hear when Oscar’s clients come to dinner.”

  “But they just came to try my fish tacos,” Rosie said. “All they talked about was how delicious they were.”

  “Josh will come around.” Estelle patted Rosie’s hand and stood up. “In the meantime, a couple dozen people want to meet you. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

  * * *


  Rosie followed Estelle onto the lawn and was immediately surrounded by guests congratulating her. She sipped a glass of sangria and picked at a side of refried beans. But the sangria made her head throb and the beans tasted like glue.

  “You didn’t tell me Colby Young was going to be here.” Rachel approached her. Her dark hair framed her face and she wore a silver necklace with a heart-shaped locket.

  “I didn’t know he had arrived,” Rosie replied.

  “I just saw him near the pool,” Rachel gushed. “You have to introduce me. I have his poster above my bed.”

  “You can’t be interested in Colby. He’s practically a teenager!” Rosie admonished.

  “I used to have a mad crush on Justin Timberlake and the Jonas brothers. But they grew up.” Rachel sighed. “Colby has those puppy dog eyes and that clear voice. I get goose bumps when I listen to his music.”

  “I barely know him.” Rosie wavered. “He’s here to see Oscar.”

  “I gave you peanut brittle when you were depressed. I need his autograph.”

  “What would Patrick say?” Rosie smiled. “He wouldn’t approve of you cavorting with a pop star.”

  “Patrick is at the town meeting discussing zoning ordinances,” Rachel grumbled. “I want to have fun.”

  “You win.” Rosie walked towards the pool. “But you can’t attack him and no French kissing.”

  “Just one peck on the cheek,” Rachel promised, hugging her arms around her chest.

  “Rosie!” Colby jumped up. “We didn’t know tonight was your party. I hope you don’t mind if we gate-crash.”

  “I’m happy you are here,” Rosie replied. “This is my friend Rachel, she owns Gold’s Chocolates.”

  “I’ll give you a lifetime supply of chocolate truffles if you write your name across my chest,” Rachel breathed, her eyes glued to Colby.

  “What do you think, Ryan?” Colby’s eyes twinkled. “You know how I love truffles.”

  “I’m Ryan Addams, Colby’s manager.” Ryan shook Rachel’s hand. “He’d love to give you an autograph, but he’s not allowed to write on skin.”

  “There goes my career as a tattoo artist.” Colby winked. “We were about to go swimming. Would you ladies like to join us?”