Page 5 of Best Friend Burden

“I should have let you know,” she said.

“It's okay,” I said, pressing my brain to come up with something to cook that would fit her needs, coming up empty. Virtually everything I could make a meal out of had some sort of meat in it. “We can order something in.”

“Let me pay,” she said.

I shook my head. “You're my guest, I got it.”

“No,” she said, pulling out her phone and stopping me. “It's research. I could write it off as a business expense.”

She told me about her food truck she was bringing out to Los Angeles and how she wanted to try some other food in the area to see what she was up against. As it turned out, when the food eventually arrived — plant-based burgers — the competition wasn't especially tough.

“This is bland,” she said. That was an understatement. We might as well have been eating cardboard covered toenails.

“What do you want?” I asked. “No meat. No dairy. No eggs. There's only so much to work with.”

“That's what you think,” she said, her eyes lighting up, “but flavor doesn't need animal products. How often do people eat just plain chicken or steak? They don't. There are spices and sauces that go into the cooking, all plant-based, and that's where the taste comes from. The problem with this is that they don't care. This isn't food, it's fuel. You'll probably feel less hungry when you're done, but you won't feel satisfied.”

“And your food?”

“Oh, I guarantee when you get what I've got to offer in your mouth, you'll be extremely satisfied.”

She blushed at that and started giggling.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “That came out wrong. But my truck was very successful back in Austin. And my customers always left with big smiles, vegan and carnivore alike.”

“I look forward to trying it, then,” I said, effectively letting the cat out of the bag and offering to see her again. “When are you opening?”

“As soon as I can get investors. That's what the meeting was about today.”

“How did it go?”

Her mood dropped a bit. “Not great. They weren't sure that Southern Californians were interested in Tex-Mex, particularly in what they referred to as a niche market.

“But that's the thing,” she continued. “The Vegan Vaquero transcends the plant-based community. If the food is good, people will come.”

I told myself I'd believe it when I saw it. Or rather, tasted it. Even the best substitutes always struck me as a pale imitation of the real thing.

“The issue, though, is location,” she said. “I don't know this area at all and didn't realize how expensive it was. And there's nowhere to park. I eventually found a place to leave the truck out in Thousand Oaks and Ubered here.”

“Thousand Oaks?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she told me. “That's where I'm staying for now.”

I was out in Santa Monica. Thousand Oaks was a solid hour away with no traffic. And Los Angeles always had traffic. That Uber ride must have cost her $75.

“It's not so bad,” she said. “I actually made a friend already.”

“Oh yeah?”

She pulled out her phone and started scrolling. “Yes, his name is Patrick, and he's super cute.”

Great, I thought.She's already dating somebody.There was some sarcasm to the thought, but, truthfully, it was for the best. I didn't need her complicating my life.

“What's he like?” I asked, just trying to make conversation.

“Well,” she said, “he's a good listener, really sweet and hairy.”

Hairy? I thought.

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