The floor was coated in faded linoleum, the edges by the wall curling upward. Tinny salsa music blared through wall-mounted speakers. At the cash register in front, customers could buy condoms and cigarettes one at a time; in the back, crack cocaine and marijuana. But you needed a membership card for that, Rosie explained. Summer watched Rosie stab half a lemon with a fork and dribble juice over sliced avocado. She didn’t know why Rosie, after her initial refusal, had decided to help her find Ignacio, but was relieved that the gulf between them seemed to be closing. Rosie had called Summer right after court was adjourned. That was Friday. Today was Sunday. Aware of Summer’s reluctance to wander around Rosie’s old neighborhood on her own, she had even insisted on picking her up. The place catered to the entire Latin community, offering all kinds of goods and services, legal and illegal. A family sat around a nearby table. Every time the child squalled, the parents shoved food and toys at him until he quieted.
