Page 90 of Reno

“We’re ready to order,” I said. “If you’re ready.”

As we placed our orders, Carma scribbled everything onto an order pad. I recalled the day we met, and her ability to retain the long list of items the group had ordered. Things were certainly different at the diner.

I liked to think the location, established customer base, and constant flow of foot traffic would make the change a lucrative one for her. I was sure, however, there would be things about La Cocina that she would forever miss that weren’t related to income.

Grateful that she had a job, but sorry she had to leave one that she enjoyed, I sat with mixed emotions while we waited on our food to arrive.

We ate our breakfast and discussed our upcoming payday. After fees and taxes, we should each see just shy of two million each. I’d gambled away nearly every cent I’d made during my tenure with the club and lived off my weekly paychecks from the carwash job.

I had no intention of wasting any of the upcoming funds on gambling. In fact, I had other plans for the money, all of which were legitimate long-term investments that should secure my financial future.

It was time for me to grow up, and at least act like I had my shit together. If I chose to believe Crip’s rendition of how his life turned around after meeting Peyton, I’d no longer need gambling as an outlet.

After we finished our meal, I looked at Cash. “You interested in riding to Chula Vista?”

“For what?” he asked.

“Go to Carma’s old restaurant.”

“Fuck, Brother,” he whined. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”

“Not going there to eat.”

“Why we going there?” he asked.

“Someone there I want to go see,” I replied.

“Who?”

“What fucking difference does it make?” I snapped. “You don’t know anyone there. You wanna go, or not?”

“Grumpy bastard,” he said under his breath. “Sure.”

Carma rushed from table to table, trying to keep half the establishment happy with her service. We gave her a hearty wave, and then bid farewell to Goose and Ally.

I left with a smile on my face, knowing by the end of the day Carma would have dozens of people who would be just as impressed with her abilities as I was on the day we met.

* * *

We got to the restaurant just after it opened, which was when Walter normally showed up. When we walked through the door, I glanced toward the table where he normally sat.

His back was to the window, and his nose was buried in the newspaper. His fork was blindly searching for his plate of huevos rancheros.

I gestured in his direction. “We’re going over to where that old man’s sitting,” I said. “And you’re going to be civil, understand?”

“I’m always civil.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Well, I will be this time.”

“You better be.”

We meandered through the half-full restaurant, toward his table. Upon reaching it, I cleared my throat.

“How’s it going, Walter?”

He lowered the paper and looked up. When he recognized me, his face lit up. “Good morning, Reno.”