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Peekinginside aluminum foil to figure out whose tacos are whose,Ireply, “Usedto be a cemetery; they still find remains sometimes.Also, there’s the grim reaper ofMilamParkwho’s been seen haunting the grounds sometimes.”

Hetakes his tacos asIhand them to him. “Grimreaper, huh?Howdo you see him?”

“Getinto a fight or be mugged,I’veheard,”Isay with a shrug.I’mmore fascinated with dressing up my barbacoa with copious amounts of cilantro, onions, and lime juice, pausing to add extra spicy salsa verde because why not.IfTythinks he’s going to kiss me after this, he’s in for a bad time. “Oryou could rouse the spirits of the dead by walking through the park when you’re angry or thinking about something you hate.”

“Huh.”Hepoints at the greasy taco in my hand. “What’sbarbacoa again?”

“Barbecuedbeef cheeks.”

Tyscrunches his freckled nose. “Doesn’tsound that appealing.”

“Trustme, barbacoa tacos after a show or going a little hard on partying and you’ll be as good as new.”Ispeak through a mouthful, “Or, hell,Whataburger, too.”

Withthat first greasy bite as the mariachi plays a lively tune a little louder,Ican’t help a delighted squeal and wiggling in my seat.

Tychuckles. “You’recute, you know that?”

Iignore the comment and hold out my taco. “Wanta bite?”

He’sunsure at first, but then he leans in, tilts his head, and takes a bite.Hechews, making a face. “A’ight, not bad.”

Then, his face turns red and he coughs.

“Holyshit,” he chokes, grabbing his cup of sweet tea and quickly sucking up as much of it as he can.Hepauses to cough again.

“Oh, shit, sorry,”Iapologize, stifling laughter, watching him grab my tea next. “Ilike ‘em spicy!”

“Clearly.Fuck.”Hecoughs again and sets my cup down. “Sorry, that caught me off guard.I’llget you another drink.”

Hisglassy eyes follow passersby and linger on statues and memorials.

Myphone pings in my purse.Afterusing a wad of napkins to soak up all the grease on my fingers,Ireach inside and read the screen.

Thinkyou got the new songs down?

Whodo you think you’re talking to?OfcourseIgot them down.Justenough to let you lead, anyway :)

It’simmediately read and dots pop up on the screen.

You’llhave your rightful place back as lead next show

Idkletting you lead will probably get us more fans.Bitcheslove tattooed dudes shredding solos lol

Aslong as you’re president of the fan club

Ihide a grin behind my hand.

Lifetimeoffice baby

WhenIglance up,IfindTystaring at me.

Istuff my phone back in my purse and clear my throat. “Youhave enough tacos and mariachi?”

Henods. “Yeah, thinkI’vegot my fill of mariachi for a while.”

WhenIrise to my feet, so does he. “Oh, c’mon, you don’t like it?”

“Itall sounds the same to me.”