Page 8 of Check Mate

Marco looks at me with a sympathetic expression. “What was that all about?” he whispers, looking at the double doors like Mama has superhuman hearing. Honestly, she probably does.

“You don’t even want to know.” I grab one of the tablets we take orders on from the charging station next to the double doors, and head out to meet the man who will most definitely not be my future husband.

As I walk toward the back corner of the restaurant, I take in my surroundings. My family’s restaurant is nostalgic for me. Although Abuela’s has been in the same location since my grandparents opened it forty years ago, my parents have completely changed it since taking over. It used to have ugly red carpet, and the walls were adorned with colorful sombreros. Mama and Papa modernized it so the ambiance matched the amazing Mexican cuisine. The walls are now stucco with colorful paintings of flowers native to Mexico, and the floors are light brown tiles. We even installed more windows to bring in light. The restaurant has really taken off since they remodeled five years ago.

Weekends are the busiest, of course, so it’s a full house tonight. I smile at the other servers, noting that our usual Saturday evening staff is here… meaning we aren’t actually short-staffed. Just as I suspected.

One server, Courtney, walks toward me with a smile. She’s blonde and has a bubbly personality, which makes her great with the customers. She leans in to whisper, “Did Rosa warn you?”

I sigh. “Yep.”

Courtney grimaces and pats me on the shoulder. She’s probably close to my parents’ age, but she’s worked here so long she feels like a big sister. The staff all feel like part of the family, and I ‌enjoy working here. But if I wasn’t working at the restaurant so much, I’d have more time to dedicate to building my website and getting sponsorships.

I continue walking around the tables, smiling at any customers looking my way. Finally, I make it to the back corner. There’s a man alone in the corner booth, looking at his leather-bound menu. His white linen shirt looks nice against his brown skin but is unbuttoned one too many buttons, exposing his furry chest. I bet he told my parents he’s Catholic, maybe even hung some rosary beads on his rear-view mirror for good measure. I wish I knew what vehicle he drives so I could go out to the parking lot and see if I’m right.

I’m sure this man isn’t a horrible person, but the fact that he’s in on this scheme with my parents makes me instantly dislike him.

Stepping close to his table, I clear my throat. “Good evening. I’m Isabella and I’ll be your server this evening.”

He smiles up at me with decent-enough teeth and brown eyes. “Well hello, I’m Fabio. Nice to meet you, Isabella.”

Fabio? My parents really want me to marry someone named Fabio? Yikes.

“Can I start you off with something to drink?” I smile, keeping our interaction professional.

“Sure! What do you recommend? What’s your favorite beverage?”

I decide to have a little fun with him. “I love our margaritas, just don’t have too many or you’ll end up dancing on the table with your top off… I had to learn that the hard way.”

His eyebrows shoot up and then furrow in concern. “Oh dear. Thanks for the warning.”

I bite the insides of my cheeks to hold in my laughter.

“I think I’ll just have water for now.”

“Good choice. I’ll be right back with that.” I spin on my heel and walk toward the kitchen. As soon as I’m through the double doors, I allow myself to laugh.

My youngest sister, Lily, is in the kitchen now and stares at me with a bemused expression. “What’s so funny?”

She’s chopping vegetables for Marco and wearing a white apron. Her dark hair is pulled back in a French braid. She looks youthful and adorable as always. I walk over to her and give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Nothing, just having a little fun.” I wink.

She smirks. “Does this have anything to do with Mama switching our duties for the evening?”

I laugh. “Maybe…”

Walking across the kitchen, I grab a glass and fill it with ice and water, then head back out to Fabio’s table.

“Here’s that water, sir.”

He smiles and takes a sip of water. “Thank you, please call me Fabio.”

I nod my head. “Are you ready to order, or do you need some more time?”

“I was actually wanting your input. What’s good here?” he asks, holding eye contact too long.

I bite my bottom lip while I think. “Well, that depends… if you’re congested, I’d recommend our spicy chimichanga. But if you’re having digestive trouble… our burrito platter could solve that right away.”