Chapter 13
The next day, Scott got up early and walked onto the patio and stretched his arms toward the rising sun. The sky was baby blue and the sun the color of yolk.
Last night’s run-in with Carlos felt like a bad dream, but the prospect of today’s date with Daniela pushed all those bad thoughts away.
Good Vibrations by The Beach Boys played from his bluetooth speaker as he walked out onto his private patio buck naked. The pink flower petals floating on top of his private pool scattered as he plunged in.
As Scott waded in the pool, he thought about Carlos’s Christmas party tomorrow evening. To go, or not to go, that was the question.
Scott considered possible excuses to get out of the party but nothing good came to mind.
Maybe skipping the party wasn’t worth it.
The last thing he wanted to do was offend a man called the Hyena.
Plus, he couldn’t help but wonder what Carlos meant by Scott would “profit” from the meeting.
Maybe he’d make a quick appearance at the party then quickly, but politely, say goodnight.
He got dressed in white trunks and a blue Aloha shirt with World War II Navy ships on it. His dad bought him that shirt when they visited Pearl Harbor two summers ago. His dad was the kind of guy who was always studying WWII. He loved everything about it. If only he were here now.
After a quick shower, Scott strolled down the hill and followed the signs to the café.
A stone path opened up to a small patch of grass along the bay where a sign read, Café del Mar.
In the middle of the grassy area was a lime green shipping container with a window underneath a white awning, where a man stood in front of a steel espresso machine.
Alongside the café were tables and chairs which faced the bay, which today was as calm as an untouched cup of coffee.
The barista had a short haircut, an athletic build, and a baby face.
Scott didn’t have to meet Daniela for an hour, so he decided to have a coffee first.
“Quite a night last night, Mr. Scott,” the young man said.
Scott tilted his head. “Have we met?”
“No, but I heard about last night. You’re a very brave man.”
Scott scratched his chin. “I am?"
“Of course. Now what will you have?” Scott ordered a cappuccino.
The barista made the drink with a steady, skilled hand, first producing a rush of steam, then a slow rich flow of coffee.
The steaming wand whistled as it plunged into the cold milk and soon a white foam froth filled the steel cup.
The barista mixed the coffee and milk together and handed it to Scott. “That one’s on the house.”
Scott hesitated. “It is?”
The barista came around the front of the container and led Scott to one of the tables. “Yes, it’s on the house. For what you did last night.”
“What exactly did I do last night?”
The barista turned around with a big smile. “You stood up to those thugs they call the Dogs, even faced down the Hyena himself. Amazing, se?or. I cannot believe you’re alive.” Scott laughed nervously. “The Hyena has killed people for much less.” More nervous laughter.
Scott sat down and took a sip of his perfect cappuccino, then noticed the man cleaning the pool across the patio staring at him. The man waved at Scott and called out, “Good morning, se?or.” Scott turned around to make sure he wasn’t talking to someone else, then waved back.
A few minutes later, a lady wearing an apron and a white chef’s hat stopped by his table. “Buenos días, Se?or Scott,” she said. “From all of us in the kitchen, we want to thank you. If you need anything special for lunch, just ask.” Scott sat there frozen with the cappuccino halfway to his mouth.
A group of restaurant workers waved at him on their way to Oceania, one gave him a thumbs up as she walked away. Another man sweeping the pool deck did the same. Scott quickly finished his cappuccino and headed back to the room.
He passed through the lobby where the bellhop bowed ever so slightly in his direction. The receptionist for the spa came out of her office and grabbed his hand. “Thank you so much for what you did last night.” Scott could only shake his head in disbelief. Was this some elaborate prank?
“Wonderful to have you here, Mr. Scott,” she said before releasing his hand.
Scott headed back to his room, his head spinning. Everywhere it was the same.
“Feliz Navidad! Se?or Scott.”
“Isn’t it a beautiful morning, Mr. Scott?”
“We are so glad you are staying here.”
And on and on it went. What the hell was going on? He was an advertising guy from New York, not Che Guevera.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he got back to his room, leaning against the door. But his ears perked up when he heard a woman humming in the next room.
“Good morning, Mr. Scott,” said a woman’s voice. “I hope I didn’t startle you.”
Scott, too overwhelmed to speak, quickly made for the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
"I brought you some breakfast, Mr. Scott,” she said through the door. “It's waiting for you on the patio.” He heard the door close as the cleaning lady left. He walked out onto the patio and lifted the lid — eggs, bacon, toast, and a steaming cappuccino."
On the chair beside the table was a box of cigars and a bottle of tequila.
The cleaning lady, who he had thought was gone, was peeking through his front window.
“Feliz Navidad!” she said and waved enthusiastically.
“From all of us in housekeeping! You know, Mr. Scott, we could use more men like you in Acapulco, brave men who are willing to stand up to the Hyena, brave like matador.” She blew him a kiss before leaving. “Bless you, Mr. Scott.”
Scott sat there shaking his head. Matador? All he could do was laugh. He felt like drinking some of the tequila but decided to take a plunge in the pool instead.