“Billionaires have hard lives, actually” & other lies | Ramón and Julieta by Alana Quintana Albertson

I cannot believe that in this, the Year of Our Lord And Savior Lil Nas X, somebody had the audacity to write/publish a romance where the main conflict is gentrification, as told from…the perspective of the gentrifying billionaire CEO of (fake) Taco Bell? But he’s really not an asshole, guys! Really!

Meet Ramón:

Ramón was grateful to have the privilege and the opportunity to be the CEO of a restaurant group at such a young age. He owned an oceanfront home in La Jolla and drove a lime-green McLaren sports car. Financially, he had everything he could possibly want.

Number of times Ramón’s McLaren is mentioned in the book: 30.

Number of times it should have been mentioned: 1, maybe 2 if they had sex in it.

And lest you’re worried about Ramón having any transportation issues, fear not, because:

The garage opened. It had more cars in it than an auto lot, including a Tesla SUV, a Porsche, a Lamborghini, a classic lowrider Mustang, and a pimped-out Ford Raptor.

I’m confused. Does Quintana Albertson think that shoving her protagonist’s gaudy and extravagant spending habits in her readers’ faces is going to endear him to us?

She sure must! Because we get this fun fact in Chapter Twelve:

Ramón drove up the street the next morning to the La Jolla Country Club, one of the most exclusive clubs in San Diego. It cost one hundred thousand dollars to join, required two member recommendations to even apply, and there was a three-year waiting list. Not to mention the annual sixty thousand dollars in dues.

… I have nothing to say about this that should ever be uttered in (im)polite society.

Aside from being a gross 1%-er who doesn’t pay nearly enough taxes, Ramón is also currently working to buy up a city block in an historically significant Mexican-American community. I could describe this at length, but I feel like Ramón’s own words really say all that is necessary:

Ramón wasn’t a dick—he would try to work with the businesses to see if they could stay there. But he knew most of them wouldn’t be able to afford the new rent increase.

The current tenants had all been paying under-market rent for years. If they had to relocate, then that was sad but just business. He would revitalize the street and bring in new ventures. A flagship Taco King, one that was a bit more authentic, would anchor the street no matter what. And maybe he could convince Starbucks or a small-format Target to lease the other open spaces. The possibilities were endless.

Guys! Seriously! He’s NOT a dick. He just wants to rip out existing Chicano-owned business and replace them with pumpkin spice lattes and an endless supply of chalupa gordita crunch. He’s giving the masses what they want! Clearly not an asshole thing to do, guys. Really!

Ramón focused his gaze on Julieta. “Look, Julieta, your food is out of this world. I wish I could tell you that you could stay here. But the truth is that even if I didn’t buy the property, someone else would’ve. You have been paying below-market rent for years. You’re a good businesswoman; you know that. I’m not the bad guy.”

Y’know, if you have to remind yourself, your love interest, and the reader who is (hypothetically) being forced to spectate inside your brain, multiple times that you’re not the bad guy…maybe…okay hear me out: YOU ARE INDEED THE BAD GUY.

Just a thought.

Oh, and of course, Ramón spends a lot of time feeling sad and misunderstood because all of his friends consider him a traitorous “gentefier” and an all around fake Latino. Wonder what gave them that idea, huh?

GUESS IT’S A MYSTERY NEVER TO BE SOLVED.

Have no fear, though! Ramón does (kinda) realize that he’s (slightly) an asshole. But the only reason is because he wants Julieta to deepthroat him on the regular. (Tangent: everybody has their thing, but reading about a nasty-ass millionaire masturbating while he imagines forcefully skull-fucking his tenant is Very Unsexy to me!)

Taco King would be replacing a beloved local independent restaurant run by a local chef who lives in the community with a reviled chain. Ramón had known this all along, but the issue hadn’t been abundantly clear to him until today, when he had seen Julieta and been inside her apartment.

And just in case you were on the fence as to whether Ramón deserves anything more than sharing a prison cell with Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk, I must sadly report that he’s also a misogynist who likes Julieta because she’s Not Like Other Girls:

He couldn’t explain it, but there was something special about his Juliet. Most of the women he dated were like his mom’s fine china–gorgeous to look at but very fragile and too focused on appearing perfect and acting like prim and proper ladies. They always wanted to talk about the two Fs—the future, in which they saw a big ol’ wedding, and his finances, which Ramón wasn’t keen to discuss.

I have a wild suspicion that Ramón’s disdain toward women is returned in full force and effect. Especially if he’s been expecting all of them to give porno-style blowjobs whenever he feels horny!

To conclude: FUCK ALLLLLL THE WAY OFF.

Ramón didn’t want to hurt his culture; he wanted to celebrate it.

Sure, Jan.

Full Disclosure: I DNFed the book the second Ramón decided to buy a 3 million home because the commute from his 10 million dollar home in La Jolla was too arduous.