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“Agave plants. Or what you might know better as the fruit that will soon become tequila consumed across the world.”
She shuddered.
“What, you’re not a fan?”
“Only if you have limes—lots of limes—and a beer to chase it down.”
“Don’t say that around my mom. She’ll brand you a heretic. Out here, tequila is an experience, almost a religion.” At New Year’s his mother usually brought the good stuff out and passed it around so they could all toast to prosperity in the coming year.
“Let’s just say that six shots followed by a soak in a hot tub was not my brightest choice in college.”
She turned a devilish grin his way, her hair blowing in the wind from her open window. It put an image in his mind of a younger but just as mischievous Payton Vaughn drinking shots in a bikini. A white bikini. She’d have been something to look at. Still was. “No. Probably not,” he said, savoring the image.
“How about you? You haven’t said where you went to college.”
Definitely not as scintillating of a conversation, but probably safer. “Not much to say. I worked with my dad out at the construction sites through
high school until I was in my early twenties. By then I was more aware of the many opportunities that were ours to take, but we didn’t have the wherewithal as how to do it. Don’t get me wrong. My dad’s a pretty sharp guy. But his goal had always been supporting our family, providing food and clothing, splurging on the occasional family trips. We grew up the better for it, but at the same time, a lot of prestigious and lucrative jobs passed us by. Something I wanted to change. So I went to community college and after I had enough credits, transferred to the U. Eventually got in to the business program there. The rest you already know.”
“Driven. Dedicated. Got it. But what did you do for fun? Did you go to any parties? Hang out with a bunch of kids and just goof off? Live a little? I mean, you’re only young once.”
“I had responsibilities to the company. My family. My dad.”
She looked over at him with something akin to sympathy. “That’s admirable. But also…a little sad. As obsessed and hard working as Kate was, I always managed to get her to take a break every once in a while. Go to a few parties, head south for spring break.”
“I kept my eyes on the prize. Partying wasn’t going to get me what I wanted.”
“Which was?”
“Success.” He stared at the rows of agave plants as they passed. “You wouldn’t really understand.”
“What do you mean?”
He pulled his fingers through his hair, uncomfortable even mentioning this. It was the past. He made the future. But there were things that maybe he could help Payton understand. “You are wealthy, pretty, and…white. People didn’t look at your skin color and think that you were destined for nothing more than cutting their lawn or cleaning houses. When we were little, I saw the looks people gave us, especially when we were out with our mom, and they weren’t respectful.”
He remembered hearing a couple of ladies once mock his beautiful mother, who with her halting English accent, was clearly not originally from the States. They looked at them all with barely disguised contempt. “They’d watch us carefully in the grocery store line, waiting to see if we pulled out food stamps or tried to pocket a candy bar—anything they could use to judge us.” Things had improved, of course, as things gradually did over time. But there were still a few people with preconceived ideas of who he was, what he was capable of doing.
Making him all the more determined to prove them wrong.
“I’m sorry, Cruz.” She hesitated and snuck another look at him. “Did this play any part in that story you mentioned? Of not being in love since you were seventeen?”
He rested his head back on the headrest and sighed. “Something like that. It’s not anything to make a movie out of. I was just a stupid-ass kid who thought that the pretty girl I was dating was my one and only true love.” He snorted for added measure at that naiveté. “At least until the new hotshot rich kid pulled up in his shiny sports car. A car he gave her the full tour of the night of the spring formal a week later. Something that wouldn’t have been so bad had she not arrived with me.”
She grimaced. “Ouch.” She turned and looked him over. “Who was he? Brad Pitt?” she asked.
“Interestingly enough, it was your former fiancé.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You’re playing me.”
“Wish I was.”
“What happened? I mean, clearly he and this ex-girlfriend of yours didn’t ride off into the sunset together.”
“Not even close. Rumor was he was seeing some other girl not less than a week later. Someone reportedly linked to the Dutch royal family.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s actually correct. I remember her. She was horrible. But then again, so was Brad back then. I was about twelve, maybe thirteen, and I couldn’t understand what every girl was going on about. His head and ego were bigger than the Goodyear Blimp. He used to call Kate carrot-top—which she hated—and me her highness—which I really hated.”
“And yet you agreed to marry him.”
