Chapter 4
Chapter Four
TIGO
Back at the bar, I hustle drinks for the afternoon crowd, but my thoughts linger on the handsome guy I left a few hours ago.
I invited him to dinner purely out of friendliness, given how shit his day went, partly thanks to me, but the longer I looked at him, the more that interest shifted from platonic to potential for more.
Shouldn’t get my hopes up though. He just went through a breakup, and he doesn’t even live in San Diego. If anything happened, it would be a fling, and that’s just not my jam. Still, the image of rolling around in some soft sheets with him isn’t a bad one.
Fitz enters the bar with a few people trailing behind him.
He’s explaining the amenities to the group, pausing to wave and introduce me.
A few minutes later, I pour two strawberry daiquiris and place them in front of the women at the bar.
They’ve been casually flirting with me for the better part of twenty minutes, and I don’t have the heart to tell them I’m solely into dick.
It’s better for the resort and my tips if they believe otherwise.
I’m always careful not to lead them on but stay friendly and just on the edge of flirty.
Samson bursts from the kitchen, wrapping his apron around his waist. He does everything like he’s running late, even when he’s not.
A product of being raised by a chronically late mother, he tells us.
He’s the youngest among us, just twenty-two, but he’s responsible, a hard worker, and everyone loves him.
He cleans up on tips every shift he works.
I’m sure his long, sun-kissed blond wavy hair, beard, and rugged good looks don’t hurt.
“Hey, bro,” Samson greets. “Did you hear what happened in the front fountain?”
I wipe my hands on a towel. “No, what?”
“The pink flamingos are back.”
I pull my head back. “Again?”
Samson nods, tying his long hair back into a ponytail. “Second time this month. Someone is trolling us.”
“Who would do that? Who even knows how much Howie hates flamingos?”
“No clue. It’s weird as fuck too. It’s not like it’s happening in the middle of the night. Anyone could catch them doing it.”
“So odd. Does Howie know?”
“Oh yeah. He knows. He was down there knee-deep in the fountain, digging them out. He’s thinking about installing security cameras at the curb so he can catch them.”
“That seems extreme for a few inflatable birds tossed in a fountain.”
Samson laughs. “Totally, but it’s pissing him off.”
“I get it.”
“Has it been busy?”
“Picking up. Should be a good Friday night for you.”
“Nice. Uh, have you seen Zane yet?”
I fight back a smirk. Everyone knows Samson has a huge crush on our head of Security services, except the man himself. Zane is completely oblivious.
“I don’t think he’s in today.”
Samson tries to hide his disappointment. “Cool. You getting out of here soon?”
“Yeah. I have dinner plans.”
“Ooh, a date?”
“Nah. Not really. A guest, actually.”
Samson looks at me with wide eyes. “Come again.”
Chuckling, I nod. “You heard me. I’m taking a guest out since I’m the reason he’s single.”
“There’s a story there.”
I explain to Samson the morning’s events. He laughs the whole time as he restocks glasses. “Dude. That’s epic.”
“It is. I figure the least I can do is buy him a meal and show him around a little.”
“Is he cute?”
I immediately recall his face. “Yeah. But—”
Samson raises his hand, stopping me. “Please don’t start with the whole speech about not banging guests. We know how you feel about it.”
“Man, am I that predictable?”
Samson shrugs with a grin.
“Fine. I accept that. I’m not into casual sex. Sue me.”
“I’m not mad about it. All I’ll say is that a hookup never killed anyone.” He tilts his head. “Actually, that’s probably inaccurate, but it's an extremely slim chance. Probably.”
I snicker. “Thanks for that.”
“He’s probably not a serial killer or one of those weirdos looking to harvest organs on the black market.”
“Probably not.”
“Right. See where it goes. You might be surprised by what a little physical fun can do for your mood. Dopamine and all that.”
“Point made. You good? I’m gonna get out of here.”
“I got it. Have fun tonight,” he adds in a teasing tone.
I just roll my eyes, playing it cool, but even I have to admit, it wouldn’t be the worst thing if something did happen.
I won’t take advantage of someone at their low point though.
As far as I’m concerned, this is nothing but a friendly meal between two people who will never see each other again after this weekend.
Back in my room, I stand in front of my closet, still wet from my shower and trying to figure out what to wear.
Choosing clothes always makes me miss the days of living at the clothing-optional resort in the Caribbean.
That was the life. It doesn’t fly here though, so I choose a pair of shorts and a clean T-shirt that isn’t too beat up.
I’ll take Cato over to Pacific Beach to my favorite fish taco place. It has a great view and a chill vibe that should suggest a friendly outing, not seduction. I hope he’s cool and the conversation flows. There’s nothing more uncomfortable than awkward silence.
Well, here goes nothing. I head out and walk over to his suite.
It’s a perfect day, a standout even in a place where perfect days are plentiful.
There’s the hint of a soft breeze that always delivers the scent of the sea with it, and the sun plays hide and seek with the clouds, so it’s not too hot or too cool.
Even as the day begins to unwind, there couldn’t be a more pleasant evening.
I arrive at Cato’s door, taking a deep breath before knocking. I hear a bit of shuffling behind the door, and a yelled out “one sec” before the door finally opens. Cato smiles, looking tempting in a white linen shirt, black shorts, and a gorgeous tint of pink on his cheeks.
“Hi, Tigo.”
“Hey. Everything okay?”
“Oh yeah. I just almost tripped on my suitcase.” He chuckles. “I’m good though.”
“Ready?”
“Yep. Just need some shoes. You can come in for a second.”
I step inside but hover near the door as Cato shoves his open suitcase out of the way before popping into the bedroom. He comes back with flip-flops on.
“Ready.”
“Great.”
Cato follows me out and around the lobby. Even though everyone knows I’m taking him out, I don’t need their prying eyes making him feel uncomfortable.
“Gonna take you over to Pacific Beach. We call it PB around here.”
“Oh, awesome. I’ve been dying to see a beach.”
“You’ll like this one.”
We get to my car in the parking lot, and I wonder for just a second what kind of life he leads back in Phoenix and what he might think of mine.
I pat the roof of the car as I unlock the doors. “She’s not pretty, but she’s mine.”
Cato shrugs. “If she drives, it’s good enough for me.”
His reply makes a smile tease my lips as I slide in the driver’s seat. “What do you drive?”
“A 2012 Jetta. It’s holding up okay since I don’t drive much working from home.”
“That’s good. Got a house?”
He shakes his head. “Apartment.” He fastens his seatbelt. “I think I might’ve been holding out hope Kyle and I would move in together.” His chuckle has a tinge of bitterness to it. “Oh well.”
I put my hand over his, which is resting on his thigh. Cato’s eyes follow the movement and his cheeks pinken again. “Maybe something better is waiting for you.”
“I have to believe that. If my relationships peaked with Kyle, I’m screwed.”
“Sorry, man. So shitty. It’s hard to get over being cheated on. I know.” I put the car in drive and back out of the space.
“What happened to you?”
“Same old shit. First, he grew distant, then he grew hostile, then he started lying, then I caught him.”
“How?”
“In our bed.” I glance at Cato. “Do you know how much contempt you have to have for someone to fuck another person in the bed you share?” I shake my head.
“I don’t even know what I did to make him treat me like that.
A mutual friend said he wasn’t doing well at his sales job, and he resented me for not achieving more. ”
“Well, that’s shitty.”
“It’s not like he didn’t know I was an artist. In the beginning, he supported me, but at some point it became a reason to fuck me over.”
“Did you love him?”
“I thought I did, but the further I get away from that relationship, the more I realize I didn’t. I think he stood for stability, or something I never had.”
Cato nods. “Anyone major since him?”
“Nah. It’s taken me some time to trust myself again. I let him get away with a lot.”
“Can relate,” Cato says, gazing out the window.
“Enough of that talk. We’re gonna have fun tonight. I’ll show you the San Diego I love.”
He smiles. “That sounds good.”
As we drive, I point things out to Cato, who seems interested. He’s quite a contrast from the man I met throwing fruit and drinks at a cheating cad. His demeanor is much calmer, softer even. I guess it makes sense because he’s a writer. I’m even more intrigued to get to know him now.
“Here we are. They have the most amazing fish tacos.”
“Great.”
I wait outside the car for Cato to join me before we walk in together. I ask for a table on the patio so we can actually see the water. Cato has a wide-eyed expression as he takes everything in.
“What do you think?”
“It’s nice. Is it true San Diego is laid-back?”
“Yeah, mostly. That’s why I like it here. I guess I hoped it would inspire the artist within me to reappear.”
Cato tilts his head. “What happened there?”
I rub the back of my neck, relieved when the server shows up to take our drink order and gives me a few minutes to process my emotions before I answer.
Once he’s gone, I sit forward in my chair. “I don’t talk about it much. None of the people at the hotel even know.”
Cato’s brow furrows as he nods. “I’m a good listener.”