Instead he high-tails it several blocks away, pullsinto a strip mall parking lot.Esperanza’s is a great little taqueria,one of Aunt Cora’s favorite “hiddenhot spots.” Apparently it’s oneof Bryce’s favorites too.He pulls up in front. They havekiller burritos here. Oh, hey,you do like Mexican food, don’tyou? Wow, this place is rocking.“Well, yeah. It is lunchtime.And yes, I do, in fact, like Mexicanfood. We’d better hurry, though,or we’ll be late back to school.”We go inside, squeeze our waythrough the crowded tablesto the takeout counter. Bryceorders his burrito. I ask fora chicken soft taco beforeI discover, “Oh, no. I didn’tbring any money.” I must haveleft it in yesterday’s jeans.Bryce doesn’t miss a beat.I’ve got it. I invited you to lunch,remember? Surprise number two.Some guys are still gentlemen.We eat in the car, listeningto music I could never playat home, at least not withoutheadphones, at least notwhen Grandfather is around.He isn’t big on metal.
