For years, he took good care of me. Looked the other way when I took leftovers home to the wife and kids. He always seemed to know when we needed something, and mysteriously, there'd be extra clothes, or towels, or dishes, or utensils, or toilet paper or food, available as a "donation". And he'd gruffly tell me to take them somewhere where they could be used.
And La Migra! He's been very good about dealing with La Migra. Made sure I had the right papers. Everything above-board. When La Migra occasionally came by, everything was always in order.
He pays more than minimum wage.
He does more than the Health Department requires.
He doesn't watch the clock when I take my breaks.
Of course, no workplace is perfect. In my case, El Jefe has moods. For many years, he was dark and grumpy and brooding. I was used to it. Then a certain Señorita started coming by. And sometimes he was in a good mood, other times, I needed to say five Ave Marias before coming into work.
But after many years, a--how do you say it--milagro--miracle!--happened. The Señorita became his lady.
Boy those were good times working for him. He was much more generous, and because he was making the beast with two backs with the Señorita, I got much more work. He even gave me--finally--after ten years--the keys to the place.
Aye aye aye, that Señorita is something. I thought El Jefe would go for a JLo type, but no. He likes them smoldering, but long, cool, and lean. Though I tell you, his apartment lets a lot of sounds through, if you know what I mean…and she's not a quiet one, that one.
The place is always livelier when the Señorita is in. She's a good person. A saint. She caught me once, eating the pie, but didn't tell. Si, she's a good one too.
They had a rough patch last year. El Jefe was lucky he had such good relations with the police, because he was getting rough with the customers. Then she came back and everything was even better than before.
I don't see the Señorita that much ever since El Jefe moved in with her. He rebuilt her house and everything. It gave a lot of work to the boys at the day labor center. My cousin Armando did the walls. And the Señorita gives work to one of my girls.
My old lady, now she's seen Jefe Luke and the Señorita together, and she says they belong in a telenovela on Telemundo…
Which is why what's happening now is so strange.
Dios mío, I think Jefe Luke is stepping out on Señorita Lorelai.
He's been acting strange, that one, since Thanksgiving. Always going to the apartment upstairs and making phone calls. I looked at the phone bill once and they are all to the same number. Señorita Lorelai is never there when he makes those calls. I notice these things.
¡Dios mio! He's even started spending a night or two in the apartment again. Without Señorita Lorelai.
I don't think I can stand to see how heartbroken the Señorita will be when she finds out.
He's acting very strange. I peek out from the kitchen and see him round the corner. Señorita Lorelai is talking to one of those little futbol girls, I think.
El Jefe, he looks like he's a dead man.
¡Dios mio! Es muy malo. Worse than El Chupacabra.
I hate it when I'm right. They are outside now. Señorita Lorelai looks like she's going to cry, just like the day I saw her following El Jefe out of Señor Doose's last year. Jefe Luke, he looks beat.
He's coming back in. I need to warn Miss Lane.
I like the Señorita but he's my bread and butter. So for his sake, I hope his new lady is JLo. Or better. Because otherwise, adios.
I'm just Cesar. Doing my job, working the American Dream.
-fin-
A/N:
El Jefe: the boss
La Migra: street name for the US Immigration Service
Dios mio: my God
El Chupacabra: mythical goat-sucking monster
Es muy malo: it's very bad