Page 97 of See My Words

“I don’t want to feel pain,” Scott muttered, and Pedro squeezed his shoulders.

“But when you’re not hiding from it, or shutting down, you aren’t giving toxic negativity and self-hate a chance to take root.”

After a moment, Scott gave a rueful nod. “Like I said, I’m trying, Pedro. Still a work in progress.”

Pedro chuckled. “I’m an old, old man, and I’m still a work in progress, boy. The thing about you and me…we’re not perfect, not even close, but we’re interesting. Right?”

Scott laughed. “That’s one way to look at it, I guess.”

“Eh, it’s the only way to look at it.” Pedro pushed past Scott into the showroom, beckoning to him. He headed for the display case in the window and took out the sculpture that so fascinated Scott the first time he’d visited Tlaquepaque with Rylan.

“Remember what I told you,” Pedro said softly, “about our choices making up the pattern of our lives.”

Scott ran his finger over the twisted branches of the piece, caught up once again in its hypnotic spell.

“My pattern will never be perfect, Scott, and maybe it’s ugly to some. I choose to see it as interesting and beautiful, because if I don’t, regret and self-loathing will eat away at my soul until there’s no coming back from it.”

Scott nodded, dropping his hand to his side, and Pedro put the sculpture carefully back in the case. “I want you to have this. Come pick it up after work.”

When Scott gasped and opened his mouth to protest, Pedro went on firmly, “Don’t argue with me, boy. Take it home and put it somewhere you can see it every day. Use it as a visual reminder.” He touched Scott’s shoulder. “We can’t change the pattern of the past, only learn from it.”

Scott thanked him with a fierce hug before leaving the studio to head for the restaurant and entering through the employee door at the back. He found Dawn in the bustling kitchen, going through a stack of order tickets with a harried look on her face. Scott slipped up behind her and tugged lightly on her glossy black braid.

“Hey!” She whirled around, and when she saw who it was, her face softened. “Why’re you here so early? Your shift doesn’t start till five.” She didn’t give him a chance to reply, hurrying on. “Well, since you are here, can you maybe help sort out the hostess stand? We had a bus full of tourists come in, and we’re swamped. People are getting testy, and Joy is about to cry. Or quit.”

“Of course.” Scott tied his half apron on as he made his way to the front of the restaurant and the chaos there. The hostess’s face crumpled with relief when she saw him, so Scott waded immediately into the fray, offering complimentary glasses of wine and soft drinks while apologizing for the long wait, fetching and serving with flourish and charm.

“You make it look effortless,” Joy said under her breath at one point, fanning her sweaty face with a menu. “Everyone was ready to tear me a new one, and here you have ’em eating out of your hand. How do you do it?”

Scott winked at her. “Lots and lots of practice.”

An elderly couple called to him, their voices querulous and loud. Scott crouched in front of them, cocking his head as he listened intently to their litany of bitter complaints. He did his best to smooth it over, bringing them each a cup of coffee and making sure they had a table not far from the roaring fireplace.

“This is the best table in the house,” he whispered conspiratorially to them as he pulled the woman’s chair back to seat her. When he left to place their drink order, he noticed with satisfaction their faces were now wreathed in smiles, their threats to “tell all their friends” about the poor service seemingly forgotten.

“You’re worth your weight in gold,” the owner, Barb, said to him later after closing, her tone weary. “Usually the tour bus companies give us advance warning so I can get a few extra servers and cooks to come in, but this one didn’t. Thanks for jumping in and picking up the slack, Scott.”

Dawn walked over and took his arm. “We all love you madly, and we’re so buying you some drinks tonight. No arguments.”

Scott grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

It was a merry group that made the trek to the small neighborhood bar down the street a short time later. Scott sprawled out on an overstuffed love seat next to the fire pit in the back courtyard, Joy perching next to him.

“Thanks for the margarita,” he said, toasting her with it.

She blushed. “It’s the least I can do to thank you for saving my ass…and my job.”

The conversation that ensued was lively, and Scott laughed out loud several times at the other employees’ stories of restaurant mishaps and Customers Behaving Badly. He nursed his drink, enjoying the atmosphere and the company.

So different from Spectrum, he mused idly, where the vibe was frantic, designed to make people feel impulsive, on edge. This bar was intended for conversation and relaxation, with its cozy furniture groupings and subtle lighting. There was a live band playing inside the bar proper, with dancing, while outside a blazing fire and strategically placed heat lamps created a cozy ambience that encouraged people to linger, get to know one another.

Scott was thoroughly enjoying himself, but weariness overtook him at last, and he bid everyone good-bye. When he saw Dawn gathering her things, too, he waited so he could walk her out to the parking lot and her car.

“I take it by Joy’s face things got a little awkward at the end there?” she asked drily as they ambled, hands stuffed in their pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold.

Scott thought of Joy’s impulsive invitation to continue the party at her place and his gentle refusal. “A little. She’s sweet, though.”

“She is.” Dawn paused. “You okay, Scott? You’ve seemed sad all night. Just tired, or something going on?”