Carlos de la Vega

The morning heat had already settled over the neighborhood by the time Carlos de la Vega unlocked the bodega. He pushed the door open with his shoulder and immediately stopped.

A box of canned goods sat half-open near the counter, newspapers were scattered across a table, and the drink cooler looked like someone had simply given up halfway through stocking it.

Carlos sighed. “Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

“Morning to you too,” Chris called from behind the counter, casually sipping his coffee.

Carlos pointed at the mess. “You see this?”

“Yep.”

“And?”

“Looks like a Leon problem.”

“Traitor.”

A quiet laugh came from behind the shelves before Leon stepped out, wearing the most innocent expression he could manage.

Carlos shook his head. “You two are gonna be the death of me.”

“You're welcome,” Leon replied.

Carlos rolled his eyes, grabbing a box and beginning to restock the shelves. He complained under his breath, but there was a small smile on his face. This was his life: early mornings, long hours, familiar faces, and two idiots who somehow always ended up helping him run the place.

Still, as he glanced through the front window at the busy street, his smile faded slightly.

Someday, he'd have something bigger. A business of his own. Maybe he'd finally leave the neighborhood and see what was waiting beyond these streets.

But that was a problem for another day.

For now, he had a bodega to run.

Carlos leaned against the counter and looked between Chris and Leon.

“So,” he said, lifting his coffee, “what kind of trouble are we getting into today?”