San Diego. Land of the white sand beaches and home of...something Mitch didn't care for he was sure. Don't they hold that comic book nerdy thing here? Definitely not his cup of tea.

There wasn't a cloud in the sky as he stared out of the bus window that would be taking him to his new place of work. It was nearing midday and the sun was shining harshly through the glass, causing sweat beads to form underneath his neatly combed hair. The extreme heat was not something he was much used to, the annual two weeks vacation in Venice as a child not really helping with this rare hot day. He'd been told that despite it's southern location, San Diego rarely exceeded seventy in temperature. It would be his luck that on his first day at work in a busy kitchen, it was nearly a hundred.

San Diego itself was a city of deep canyons and hills separating its mesas. Traditionally most of the homes and businesses had been built on these mesas, splitting the city into segments and contributing to its low density. It also meant the majority of the neighbourhoods were car-centred, extremely helpful when he had yet to buy one.

And so that was why he was getting the bus, the one he had nearly missed when his apartment door had helpfully jammed itself shut somehow during the night. Mitch had a feeling the wood had been sweating from the heat in the night and swollen up. It was just another job to add to the never-ending list of issues to sort out with his apartment.

There was already the leaky bath, the loose panelling in the kitchen and the dodgy light in the living room. There was a reason the place had come cheap. The neighbourhood his rented apartment was located in had a median income $25,000. A big difference to the $95,000 average in the streets he grew up in.

Living in a cramped apartment - in what Mitch's college buddies would call a ghetto neighbourhood - was definitely not what he foresaw for himself a year ago. He had graduated from NYU Stern Business School last year and stepped straight into a high tier job at his father's business.

A year ago he was busy attending meetings and gaining more clients and earning the company even more money. He had worked solidly though the week and partied just as hard at the weekends. He was someone people wanted to hang around with. He thought it was because they liked him. He was wrong.

In fact he had been wrong about a lot of things. He had thought his life would be pretty straight forward. He was born in Manhattan at Presbyterian Hospital. He was raised in the upper east side, in a five story townhouse in the extremely affluent Lenox Hill neighbourhood. His mother and father were both entrepreneurs, husband and wife but also business partners.

His mom was the one who did most of the parenting. His mom was the one who nurtured and loved him, read him stories, taught him how to ride a bike. His mom was the one he clung to on his first day at kindergarten. His mom was the one he always drew pictures for. His mom was the last one to kiss him goodnight at bedtime. His mom was the one who was killed in a bank robbery when he was just five years old.

She had gone in to set up a trust fund for his sixth birthday and left with a shotgun wound to her stomach. She died two hours later at hospital. Mitch also felt that a part of him died that day too. The part that could laugh freely and live life joyfully, leaving in it's wake just an emptiness.

But hey, he often thought. That's life.

And so the majority of his childhood the boy had been raised by people - mainly women - who had been hired by his father. He often thought that was why his view of the opposite sex was a lot more positive than that of his fellow man. Girls really did run the world, because if you thought about it, they were the ones who raised the next generation the majority of the time. I mean, how many times did you hear of a woman walking out on her children leaving a single father on his own. Obviously it did happen, just nowhere near as much as the other way round.

Don't get him wrong, he and his father got along - or had gotten along - well enough. They weren't what you would call close; the both of them very guarded with their emotions which could make for some terse conversations but it wasn't like they had argued a lot either.

Feelings weren't something either of them expressed very easily, and there had been many a time growing up when Mitch had kept things that had been bothering him - when he was being bullied at school or his father had made a snide comment about his dress sense - bottled up inside, learning to hide behind sarcastic wit and forced smiles.

Coming out to his father had taken over a year since Mitch came to realise he preferred boys to girls and that had been one hell of an awkward dinner out. He had told his father in company just in case he kicked off but quite the contrary, the man had choked slightly on his food and told him fair enough. Still, he had ignored him for the rest of the evening as the boy simmered in anger at the blatant dismissal.

But that was the extent of their squabbles. They had to work together so remaining polite was kind of essential. Coming to work for his dad's company straight out of college had earned him some jealous glares and rude comments behind his back about a trust fund kid getting everything handed to him on a plate but Mitch had soon proven his worth when he began getting the big names on board. He was good at his job, pure and simple. The result of two incredibly business-minded people reproducing.

His first year had gone beyond well. He had been due a raise. But then he had made a mistake. It had been a simple business mistake and a terrible misjudgement on his part that lost the company huge amounts of money and put a few people out of their jobs. His dad had handled the damage enough to make sure the outcome wasn't disastrous but the damage on Mitch's reputation had been done.

When his father had asked him why, why had he taken the huge risk that endangered the jobs of so many? Mitch couldn't come up with a better answer other than it was an opportunity to make huge amounts of money at such a young age was too much of a pull. That wasn't the real reason, but it was the only one he could provide for his old man at the time.

And so as a punishment his father had cut him off and cut his trust fund, saying he could only come back when he'd learnt to fend for himself. It had come as a shock when all his supposed friends and work colleagues had cut him off also. People he had been going out with for years suddenly all became unwilling to lend him some money or let him sleep at theirs.

Fuck them. Fuck the lot of them. Mitch didn't need them or his dad in his life.

He suspected his father only expected for Mitch to move to another part of the city, or possibly the state, maybe to New Jersey, but Mitch had been too angry. He thought it had been a slight against his dad when he informed him he was moving to California but quickly realised the joke was on him. He knew absolutely no one in the state, had only visited Los Angeles once during summer break, and mentioning his father's company over there didn't impress anyone.

But anyway, he had moved as far away as he could get. In fact, if he travelled just a little further south he'd be in Mexico. After calling around for days and sending emails he had finally scored a job as a kitchen assistant in an independent Mexican restaurant called Mestizo's. He had nearly given up on finding a well paying job when he had no relevant experience, only to get on a call with Antonio, the owner of the restaurant, who immediately rejected him only to call him back half an hour later to offer him a job paying $23,000 a year - ha, that'll fit me right in with my new neighbours - and an immediate start.

So he had rented the cheapest apartment he could find, booked the first flight out and was now starting work two days later. Hopping off the bus, he checked his phone for the directions and headed off in the blistering heat.

Mestizo's was a very large but unassuming building that you could smell way before you saw it. It advertised itself as an authentic taste of Mexico, but in reality it was just the same as the next major chain. Nothing special about it. It had the concrete archways and columns typical with Spanish architecture and a multitude of lights hanging from the roof and doorways. Bright yellow letters spelt out Mestizo's above the door but Mitch could see the staff entrance round the back.

He steeled himself and attempted to calm his nerves. He didn't really manage to but there was no turning back now.

This is it.

New city, new job. New start. Just until he had enough money to catch a business flight back home and start his own business to show his dad what he was made of tougher material than the asshole thought.

Mainly background info in this chapter. Will be introducing lots of new characters next chapter!