They shone with intelligence and kindness. Skinny, of medium height with surprisingly broad shoulders, Jorge had very high cheekbones and amazing deep-set eyes the color of light just before dawn. "So, it's good, eh?" Jorge sat across from Kiley in one of Bettina's utilitarian orange plastic chairs. The closest they'd ever come in their gustatory experience to what she was experiencing at the moment was the Taco Bell next to the La Crosse Wal-Mart. Her mother was a waitress who was prone to panic attacks. Her father worked at the La Crosse Brewery and drank too much. Espanol was the lingua franca, and Kiley was the only white person in the place.īettina's might as well have been ten thousand light-years from Kiley's birthplace of La Crosse, Wisconsin-home of the world's largest six-pack.
This Los Angeles neighborhood was known for its high crime rate, gangs, and drive-by shootings. Kiley sipped her coffee and looked around Bettina's Cafe, which, according to Jorge, was the best breakfast joint in all of Echo Park. "What can I tell you? It's the best thing I ever tasted." She knew he was teasing her, and didn't really mind at all. "A little white girl," Kiley corrected, sipping some orange juice and digging in for another bite. Like a little girl on Christmas morning who just got a pony." "You should see your face," Jorge went on, grinning. "I'm what?" Kiley managed to sputter through her mouthful of eggs. It was so far afield from her usual Cream of Wheat or a toasted English muffin with jelly. white," Jorge Valdez teased as Kiley McCann chewed her first bite of huevos rancheros con camarones-fried eggs on floury tortillas, with chiles and sauteed Pacific shrimp-definitely the most interesting thing she'd ever had for breakfast.
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