“You’re cutting it real close Jack. Thought I’d have to let you go this time,” Randy said as he counted the money in the drawer for the 3^rd time this morning. “How long do you think you’d last in this city without a job? Three weeks? Na, maybe two at best. Yeah, my money's on two weeks.” He shook his head, satisfied with himself for nothing in particular.  

A short bearded man stood in front of Jack, regarding him with drooping eyes. His belly swollen up like a pregnant mother expecting triplets by the end of the month. His breath carried all the way from the other side of the room, foul and offensive like cheap beer stewed in a hot garbage truck. He reached his fingers inside of the tip jar, loose change rustling around as he probed the contents for something else. 

“Damn new waitresses always taking from the tip jar,” he muttered under his breath as if the money was meant for him. His eyes widened when his fingers finally caught what he was looking for. He pulled out a large bill and looked around to see if there was anyone besides Jack paying attention. He rubbed the money underneath his fingers and put the bill back into the jar before giving Jack a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's good to know that we still have some generous customers out there." 

Jack sighed, hoping over the counter and heading towards a small screen attached to a clock on the wall. “I'm actually five minutes early.” Jack tried to enter his time on the cracked screen, but it kept on taking him to the settings menu instead. He smacked his hand against the side of the box and the screen turned blank for a second before returning to the time entry view. This time he was able clock his time without any issues. Just another thing that needs to be fixed. Jack turned his eyes to Randy, the walking birthday ballon that signed his checks every two weeks. Although Jack didn't care much for him, he had to admit that being around Randy had its benefits. Well not too many benefits. For one thing, Randy never asked too many questions. Most likely because he couldn't care less about anyone but himself. He was too busy trying to steal from the tip jar and making unsolicited passes at the girls who worked for him. 

"Hey, did you see what Megan wore today?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively, waiting for Jack to make any sort of sign that he ackwoldged the remark. When Jack didn't answer but instead walked past him, he crossed his arms and shook his head. "Ah that's right, you got that pretty girlfriend of yours waiting for you at home right? If you ask me, ain't no point in sticking to one girl like. Especially when you could have some fun." A young girl with bulky glasses on walked in at that exact moment and gave a short polite greeting to Jack before walking past him, specifically ignoring the glares from Randy. She was wearing one of the many grease stained company t-shirts along with a long skirt then just barely went past her knees. Her hair was tied in a bun and her bulky black sneakers squeaked on the tile dirty floor. She grabbed a heavy box of condiments ....Randy nudged Jack as soon as she left the backroom. "See what I mean Jack! You really need to dump that girl." 

Jack opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. This was the city he grew up in and a few words weren't going to change that, let alone change a creep like Randy. Who was he to stand up for someone else? He wasn't a hero. Far from it actually. The only thing he'd accomplish by opening his mouth is losing his job. He'd  just end up out on the streets looking for another one and end up working for some other slime a few blocks down. The beautiful and just city of Aztlan. 

Corrupt moneylenders with more equity than the local banks. Businessmen in suits moonlighting as drug dealers. Petty theives stealing from one another, filling their pockets with meager change that wouldn’t last them till the end of the week. Orphans making their homes in condenmed buildings. Young kids loitering around liquor stores hoping to score cigarettes. Bug infested restaurants passing inspections with a few whispers behind closed doors. The beautiful and just city of Aztlan. Truthfully, it was a panicked hub of people crying for someone to save them from themselves. 

Randy clapped his hands in front of Jack, bringing his focus back to him. “Like I said, you’re cutting it close. You got another delivery sitting in the kitchen. Make sure you smile this time, alright? A few customers complained that you look like some kid who got punched in the balls.”  

Jack's eyes focused on the dried brown stain of his boss’s shirt, not quite sure what it could have been. Randy didn't exactly ever get his hands dirty in the kitchen. "Yeah, I'll give it a try." 

"I didn't ask you to try. I asked you to smile." Randy stuck his jaw out as he glared at him. "Don't make me repeat myself." 

Without another word, Jack grabbed the box filled with greasy to-go bags on the counter and left. He always wondered how anyone could stand working for a roach like Randy. He could barely stand it himself, but it was the only way he could afford the simple act of existing. His only saving grace was that he never had to step foot in the kitchen since he was on deliveries, He had worked at El Tio long enough to know that this restaurant was one of the many in this city that should have never passed an inspection. Insects hidden in small crevices, little brown pellets littered the floors, and ingredients well passed their expiration dates. Even customers didn’t dare use the bathroom. A justified fear of contracting some airborne virus.  

At twenty-one, he couldn’t help but wonder, is this it for me? Is this all I amount to? Delivering tacos for an ungrateful ass in a crumbling city. Jack knew that he’d never have earn a college degree. Not like I have any records that could get me into a school, he bitterly thought to himself.

Everywhere Jack looked, he saw despair and resentment on people’s faces. Almost everyone was struggling just to get by, and all he could manage was delivering tacos around the city. This wasn’t exactly the life he wished for, but this was the reality he lived. 

Jack was on his fifth delivery of the day when he realized it was taking him to East Jackson, a part of Aztlan he was usually reluctant to ever visit. He passed hunks of metal sitting on cinder blocks and curbside residents huddled in blankets. Many of the local stores barred their windows, giving the neighborhood a nice and comfortable sense of imprisonment. He passed a few kids on the street sitting on steps, all of them looking partically bored. Each of them wore clothes a couple of sizes too big. Jack kept on paddling by, making sure he didn't stare. 

He crossed a few familiar apartment complexes. One of them he lived in when he was a child. Somehow, it seemed much smaller to him now. The foundation crumbled under its own weight, cracks spreading like webs and stretching across the north face of the building, like the pressure of the city was too much for it. He remembered waking up to the screams of sirens on many nights. He must have only been a boy when his mother moved them here. He remembered there was a kind woman who lived on the same floor. She had strange men coming in and out of her apartment at all hours of the night. She always had nice things to say to him whenever they passed each other. He smiled briefly until he realized what those strange men had been doing. Next to her lived lived Phil and his girlfriend who was always covered in bruises. And above them lived the lonely old man who handed out candy to any children who walked by the building. Jack's mother forbade him from ever taking any. A sour taste came to his mouth as he remembered the broken lock to their room. His mother couldn’t afford to have it fixed, so they had to prop a table behind it every night to make sure nobody could try to break in.

Shaking himself out of those thoughts, Jack realized that he needed to hurry up and finish this delivery. Randy wouldn’t have a hard time replacing him if he ever proved to be ‘unsatisfactory’. He peddled harder, working himself to a sweat as he passed by a few more older cement buildings. Eventually, he found the complex he was looking for. To be precise, it was more so a structure hardly retaining the shape of a building. The sign read Ashford Jackson, or atleast it was supposed to. Somebody had spraypainted, "Fuck Off" over it. Not very creative, huh? The stench of rotted food and stale cigarettes greeted him as he got off his bike. A kaleidoscope of light reflected of the broken glass that littered the walkway. Each step filled with the sound of crunching glass.

He kicked the bike stand out next to a rack and grabbed a cable lock from his bag, wrapping it around the wheels. Checking to make sure it was secure, he grabbed the grease stained bag of food, which had just started to drip through, from the basket attached to the seat and searched the complex for the right building. He checked the address again on the bag, walked around a few times trying to see if the building numbers were going up or down. Finally sure that he was going the right way, he started to march forward. 

As he counted the floors one by one, Jack's mind started drifting again like a hazy mist descending over him. His mother's interview had been digging up old memories, useless memories he prefered not to dwell on. Only a few of them were vivid, but they were enough to feel like salt on an old wound. When he watched her release on the news, it all felt so distant like a bad drama playing out on TV. There was a documentary a few years back about overcrowded prisons, but it made no sense to let her go. Of all the people to let out, why her? It was...wrong. He woke up this morning hoping that yesterday's interview was just some horrible dream, that he’d never have to see her face again. Maybe ditching the TV would solve his problem.

By the time he got to the door of his next delivery, he had resolved himself to move on. Finish work, go home, and have an honest talk with Tessa. That's all he needed to think about right now. That girl was serious about moving in. He wanted to take think slow, but would that end up hurting their relationship. They'd known each other for years, but everything was still so new to him. He didn't have too much experience dating either, so he wasn't sure what a healthy relationship was supposed to look like. He could only guess and that worried him. 

Jack knocked on the door and read the receipt attached to the bag of now lukewarm tacos. “Delivery for M.D.” That's a little strange. Why'd they only put thier initials. He tapped his foot on the ground impatiently. Jack knew he needed to get back soon to pick up the next delivery, otherwise Randy would find another excuse to dock his tips. He heard the door click and the handle start to turn. He took a step back when the door swung open with much more force than was needed. He was caught off guard but still managed to mutter his famous lines, unenthusiastically at that. “Order of five spicy tacos from El Tio for an M.D. Quality and quantity at your convenience!” Who the hell wrote this shit? A fourth grader could do better.

When he looked up from the receipt to see the customer, he connected eyes with Michelle Dean holding the door open with white knuckles like she had been waiting behind it for over an hour. With tears starting to form in her eyes she muttered back, “Hi Jack. It’s me.”

His eyes immediately widened in shock. Taking a hesitant step back, he fumbled with the order and dropped it on the floor. The bag dripping with grease burst open and taco meat splattered to the ground making it look like a horrendous crime scene. He shook his head slowly and before his mother could say anything else, he closed his eyes and snapped his fingers. Just like that, he vanished into thin air. Nowhere in sight, leaving his mother all alone in the doorway. Michelle slowly closed the door and leaned against it. She slid down on the floor, feeling a lump start to grow in her throat as tears streaked her face.