Page 26 of Scout Takes the Lead
I sat down with Scout and closed my eyes and listened to the music, even though I hated it. It seemed to take a long time, but it was probably only about ten or fifteen minutes before the drummer launched into a solo, banging at them in a way that triggered a memory of bombs going off.
I felt myself shaking, and Scout nuzzled me, but I couldn’t seem to get out of the dream. After a moment he was on his feet, tugging on the lead. I held onto him. He was my tether to the real world and I couldn’t let go.
He was strong, though, and he kept pulling, until finally I opened my eyes and stood up. I was still shaking but ahead of us I saw Grace motioning toward her, and Scout pulled in that direction.
My body was filled with adrenaline and I could barely walk, but Scout’s presence on the other end of the lead was comforting, and so was seeing Grace. The two of them were looking out for me. She put her hand on my upper arm. “Sorry. I didn’t realize that would be so bad for you. I shouldn’t do this. I’m not a therapist. I’m just a dog trainer.”
The warmth of her hand on my arm stilled me even more, and I forced myself to smile. “My dad used to say it doesn’t work unless it hurts,” I said. “But I don’t think I can do that again right now. Can we get out of here?”
“Sure.” She led the way out of the park, and Scout and I followed. We took our time strolling down Hollywood Boulevard, in the shade of the trees, and stopped for ice cream. I got Scout a tiny bowl of vanilla and put it on the ground in front of him. He sniffed it curiously for a moment, then began lapping it up eagerly.
I ordered chocolate peanut butter and Grace had strawberry, and we sat at a table on the sidewalk. “I know I’m messed up, but I feel a lot better when I’m with you,” I said, digging out the last of my ice cream. “Would you consider going on another date with me?”
She smiled. “Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”
14: Find My: Grace
I was sorry that I had to put Alex through the trauma at the Arts Park, but he bounced back, and it seemed like Scout might learn the guiding command.
The only other thing I wanted to teach them was deep pressure therapy. But to do that, I’d have to go over to Alex’s house. I wasn’t sure either of us were ready for that kind of intimacy.
I stopped at the Publix on my way home, and I was examining avocados when a voice behind me said, “Hey, stranger.”
I recognized the voice without even turning around. It was Garrett Lam, and when I did turn, I saw that even though pets weren’t allowed in the store, he had his Pekingese, Lily, with him, on a leash.
That was Garrett. Rule-breaker.
“Hey,” I said. I leaned down to chuck Lily under her chin. “How are you, pretty girl?”
She opened her mouth wide in a doggy grin. I hadn’t missed Garret, but I had missed Lily.
I had deleted Garrett from my contacts when we broke up. I remember my hand shaking when I hit those buttons. And now he was back?
“I’m sorry for the way we ended things,” Garrett said. “I was in a bad place then, lots of stress from work and my parents. I’m much better now.”
“That’s great,” I said. I grabbed one of the avocados and put it in my cart and tried to walk away, but Garrett kept talking.
“It’s really fate that I ran into you today,” he said. “I’ve dated a couple of girls since we broke up, but none of them compares to you.”
Garrett and I had one of those explosive, lust-based relationships. He worked with Becca at the Seminole Hard Rock hotel, where he was a blackjack dealer and she was a customer relations rep while she was getting her master’s degree. Becca and I were walking on the Hollywood Broadwalk, the paved pedestrian walkway along the beach, when we ran into him.
I felt a spark immediately. His father was Chinese and his mother Scotch-Irish, and liked many mixed-race people, he was gorgeous, with the best features of both sides. He was five-nine, a couple of inches taller than I was, with an oval face, floppy black hair, and a slight tilt to his eyes. We started flirting immediately, and eventually Becca peeled off and let us go to dinner together. “You’re blonde but I’ll bet you have Latin blood in you,” he said. “I can tell, you’re very dynamic.”
“My mom’s maiden name was Castillo,” I said. “But I look more like the de Windt side of the family.” I put my thumbs in my cheeks and wiggled them. “Little Dutch girl.”
“It’s in the eyes,” he said. “Shakespeare wrote that the eyes are the window to the soul, and I can see that in you. There’s a depth to you I’ll bet nobody else has seen.”
Guys usually said I was sweet, or perky, or cute. Nobody had seen depth in me until Garrett. Of course it was a line, but I fell for it. Looking back, I see that we only told each other parts of our stories—-the parts we wanted to share.
I talked about my parents’ romance and growing up in Miami with Mercy. How we went swimming in Biscayne Bay, hiking in the Everglades, fishing in the Keys. His parents were hard-working immigrants who owned a restaurant in Lakeland, in the middle of the state, and he was desperate to get to the bright lights of Miami. His parents had only agreed he could go to Florida International University if he majored in hospitality, so that one day he could take over the restaurant, but he wanted to own a nightclub and he was never going back to Lakeland.
That should have been a warning. A boy who was willing to lie to his parents about his future could lie to anyone about anything. And though he didn’t say it outright, I believed that Garrett saw owning a nightclub as the key to dating a succession of beautiful women.
“I’m glad things are better,” I said. “Do your parents still expect you to move back to Lakeland?”
He shook his head. “My dad sponsored a cousin from Hong Kong, who has a wife and two teenagers. All four of them have been working in the restaurant, and he thinks eventually he’ll sell it to them.”
“That’s great. You’re still at the casino?”
