per aspera ad astra ✨

“I’m not sure that would be such a smart move,” cashing in on those sorts of things? Well that was just trashy. She could always sue on defamation claims. This was his piece of advice for her, but he knew she wouldn’t do anything like that unless the trouble had a worthy price. “You’ve known me long enough to know that everything I do is done with burning passion,” not the words he would have used. Unrestrained rage. That sounded closer to it.  Burning passion was her thing. Unrestrained rage, that was more his. And people were still surprised they got along?

“Oy,” he protested, but there wasn’t much he could here other than hope that she would not mess with his phone too much. Jedd probably would have changed  the language to turkish, like he did back in the days, and Garrett would have spent a good thirty minutes on that. “I have a mirror in the bathroom at work, I’ll be fine,” he retorted, running his hand on his cheek.

“Perfectly fine is a polite way to put things,” although he wasn’t sure why he tried to defend his wreck of a marriage. Things didn’t work out. They had different plans for life, and then, it went all to shit. “I have other ways to get old dudes to play by my rules, thank you,” although he could admit to being more charming to old ladies to get them to sign on insurances they didn’t really need or have savings accounts for their grand kids. “You are right though. I’m better off on my own,” hard to say whether he believed what he was saying. He had days when he did, that was for sure, and for now, that would be enough.

“Your innuendos get more and more subtle each time,” he gave her a blank  look and exited the elevator. “Go on then, open the car,” motioning toward his phone with his chin, he then indicated the direction of his Tesla with his hand. “He’s not some intern, chill. But fine, guess I’ll keep him for myself for now,” a councilwoman’s kid was good to have under your heel, correct? This being said, he was sure she would have hated someone personally close to a politician anywhere near her. “Spoil you?” In a rare moment of softness, he reached out to poke her arm. “Shut up. You deserve the world for putting up with so many assholes. Me included,” he smirked, open the car door for her before slipping behind the wheel himself.

Scar’s glare shot daggers at him, not like she would actually go for it. There here were better, more challenging and exciting ways for one Scarlett Edelweiss to make money nowadays-- she wouldn’t have to stoop so low anymore. Before, well before was a different story. Every icon had an origin story, an entire history of their being. And each history, as well as Scarlett’s, had a period known as the dark ages. Garrett, as she believed, had his suspicions, but the man was still blissfully ignorant. His mirror comment earned him a smirk. “I’ll give it back, relax.” A beat. “Have I mentioned how many mirrors there are where we’re headed?” She remarked sweetly. “You’ll be pleased.”

“Polite? What good marriage is polite! Not one! You know why, because polite isn’t real, corazón!” Recalling all their business interactions and negotiations, Scarlett had no choice but to draw the conclusion. All plastered smiles and small talk, while necessary, were utterly fake. “You’re perhaps not better off on your own, you’re better off with someone better for you. Not someone just waiting for an opportunity to stab you in the back.” A beat as she took a deep breath. “... You deserve someone who is openly venomous, standing in front of you, indulging themselves, watching your pretty face.” and a bright smirk followed. Either that or sunshine-embodied, but Scar couldn’t help him in that regard, couldn’t offer to help him someone suitable, as she had been surrounded by snakes. 

Her smirk lingered, mostly thanks to the remark regarding his intern, about keeping him all to himself. What an interesting notion. “And you dare call my innuendos not subtle,” she scoffed, teasing him, but for once she decided not to push his buttons but his phone’s, opening the car. The time had come, for yet another obligatory tender-ish moment between the two of them. He poked, she chuckled. “I do, don’t I. Glad we agree, you should set up a monument in my honor. That way I might consider promising not to haunt you in afterlife,” with one last amused look thrown his way, she slid into the vehicle. "Now, let me tell you about this street artist I found, practically wasting their talent away in their mother's basement," 

      “ on the contrary, i’m tons of fun. you’re just not looking in the right place for it. ” cal punctuated the comment with a slow smirk, one that tugged at the corners of his lips in slight and could have easily been lost against his beard if she didn’t look for it. they never met his eyes, though - that sparkle simply wasn’t there - as if his mind were too preoccupied at any given moment to even afford something as realistic as that. “ i do. that’s why i like food in general. i don’t care if it’s art - i just want it to taste good. it could look like a steaming pile of shit, so long as it’s delicious i don’t care. ” lazily he trailed behind her, continuing his work on the cotton candy until the puff was reduced to just a stick. he’d cleaned it so thoroughly that there were no light wisps even remaining —and he tossed the stick into a trashcan as he passed by, never once breaking his slow stride.

      “ ms. lucas will not be opening up any dutch restaurants. she barely had the time to cook when i was a kid, i imagine it’s less-so now. besides … i think she’s starting to consider retirement. last thing she wants is to open a business and cater to people’s picky tastes. ” jest as it was, cal couldn’t see his aunt doing anything so social. she was pricky at best to those who didn’t understand her demeanor —it was part of why he loved her, really. “ yeah? i don’t strike you as the kind  of guy that likes spice? i might surprise you. ” with any number of things. his preferred dishes were latin in nature, the marriage of flavor and spice always had him salivating just a little more. he wouldn’t oppose one of these tourists staying and opening an indian restaurant, either —curry dishes he could die for, cuisine that he couldn’t fine in elmerton. “ sounds like you need to work on that —getting a tolerance to hot things. i figured you could handle the heat … ” tone light, the teasing obvious, cal even quirked a brow at her back in case she turned to scold him for the comment. and still he didn’t drop his cadence.

      but when she began the commentary about why he wanted sweets he could only offer a snort. “ i like candy and sweets. i don’t need a reason to eat them other than i feel like it. ” and that was that. there were few things that truly got under his skin (short temper as he had), and dosing himself with sugar wasn’t the way he eased out of those moments. the answer was more problematic, less legal in the vein of beating someone to a pulp. to the public eye he had worked on that - reformed. (the truth was less pretty). “ dutch orange is ugly. the moment you catch me in any shade of orange or yellow is when you suspect i’m not me. ” a beat, he shook his head, grin lingering, “ julien says mean things to me all the time. it’s part of his charm. “ some people just like sugar. i’m one of them. ”

Scar released a soft hum in agreement. “Es cierto, I’m not looking.” A beat as she fixed him with an amused look. “You would not want me looking, either.” She reminded gently-- her tone a stark contrast to the darkness which would inevitably be found if either of them let the other scratch beneath the surface. “Exactly, you don’t enjoy it, you don’t care for it.” Scar pointed out and couldn’t help the slight irritation lacing her tone. And so, to cool off a bit, she kept walking in front of him-- until he finished devouring the colored sugar. “Thank heavens for me! For how well I’m paying you! Because you’re going to need a new set of teeth soon!” Playful as ever, Scar called out over her shoulder. 

Jade Lucas had been known to perform miracles in the courtroom-- and she didn’t even have a wand! And ever since Scarlett herself began running with lions, there had been this one notion in the back of her mind. “That’s a shame-- she’d be the first person I go to, if I ever experienced a run-in with the law. I’d even be willing to cut all ties with the bearded, charming, dead-eyed nephew of hers if she asked me to do it,” and the Edelweiss widow truly meant she’d do it. 

“Quite frankly you don’t strike me as the type to like anything,” while she could appreciate raw passion, it didn’t count. Most people had their needs and in this world filled with stress, sex did wonders to relieve it. “Cariño,” she came to a sudden halt, but didn’t turn to face him. Instead, she waited until she could feel his own body heat. “You of all people should know I can handle the heat, play amazingly well with it too,” a finger reached out to faintly scratch the beard along his jaw. “I’ve never had to use the freakishly long Dutch word we have as our safe word.” A beat, back to safer topics. “Mi abuela used to blame my eccentric personality on my mother’s eating habits-- last I checked, they don’t recommend spicy food while breastfeeding.”

“Duly noted,” she remarked with the faintest of laughs. “I’ll make sure to sprinkle you with holy water, to chase away the demons. If I don’t get burned first, that is.” Mental note to self: put on your new yellow pantsuit the next time you and Lucas are meeting. “Come to think of it, you would be easily possessed-- the demons like hollow creatures,” she remarked lightly. Those words might have come off harsh, but they weren’t meant to insult him. Cal should know by now, Scar didn’t care enough to hurt him. Good for him-- the man was better off with those walls up, that way, the world wouldn’t hurt him. No one could even reach him.

“Mm, no need to worry. We’ll sweat it out later,” a casual remark about the probably most exciting part of the day, filled with tedious meetings. Holy Guacamole-- the magnificent sign, she could see it straight ahead. Scar would sprint towards it, but she still had one problem to deal with-- the man before her. Work had to come first. “Listen up,” she began, snaking a hand around his, demanding attention. “You probably won’t be joining me for dinner,” she spoke in a soothing voice, almost a conspiratorial whisper. “We need to talk business first and--” eyes lowered to his lips. “Well, actually, it all depends on how long it’ll take us to reach an agreement.”

“The press likes to sell paper,” perhaps was it best that she wore that title like a badge of honor, after all. Garrett knew he wouldn’t have liked her company at all had she gotten sappy over it. “I don’t know, it’s funnier to call you la mécréante, isn’t it?” He didn’t do that, of course. If no one mentioned her to him, Garrett tried not to speak of her either. Perhaps his reputation as a brute sufficed in keeping nosy people away, but he couldn’t really recall having to argue with anyone about his friend. People must have known better than to end up on his shit list.

“Oy vey,” he had absolutely no doubt that she must have had her fair share of men wrapped around her finger. He saw no appeal to that. Maybe he should have indulged her, but he knew that it would not do any good to anyone. “I have a point, huh? Well you don’t have to sound so surprised,” he breathed out through his nose, his lips quirked up in what seemed like amusement, but as per usual, that didn’t last too long. 

She might have been teasing him now, he knew all too well what she meant by that. The power to change a whole room’s energy on his own. This was something she too had gained. A reputation did that to you. “Glad to know I’ve still got it,” reaching for his phone, he skimmed through his inbox, leaving his messages unread for the time being. Exiting the app to open the one that monitored his car, he listened to her with one ear, a sigh escaping his lips out of his control. “My misery. Bit dramatic, Charles.” Dickens. “I had something perfectly fine, but if that didn’t work out,” well, what could possibly work? Of course he’d want the things he couldn’t buy. Nothing could quite be an alternative to it, but company like hers, and substance abuse, combined, did a good job at numbing those needs, shoving them into oblivion.

Later. The devil sure worked hard, but Scar worked harder. “Don’t you have an assistant to do those things for you? You should consider that option,” he understood the need to have the upper hand on everything, but how could you do a good job if you exhausted yourself like that. “I’m sure our intern would be thrilled to get that sort of job,” responsibilities and the illusion of being important. “I got the AC running already. Car will be cool by the time we reach the 1st floor,” pushing the elevator’s button, he moved aside to let her come in first.

“They like to make money on me,” careful enough to enunciate the last word before she scoffed. “If I were any smarter, I’d cash in as well. Reach out to them and demand my share of the profit!” Scarlett did like to throw them a bone, every once in a while-- just for giggles, to see how far they would go. Most titles and articles she found annoying, but others had earned themselves a hearty laugh. “b>Call me whatever you want, corazón, as long as you do it with burning passion.” Words Scarlett lived by, pretty much.

There Garrett went, reaching for his phone. En serio?! Scar could feel her blood pressure rising and if it reached the tipping point she might smack him. No, the safer option was to take the goddamn phone, definitely. “Si, your miserable misery.” Her brow furrowed, half concerned-- until she reminded herself the stubbornness of this dandy before her wasn’t worth the inevitable wrinkles. Garrett mentioned the thing he had once had and in the meantime, Scar used his phone to take a selfie. “It’ll do you good to have some beauty in your life,” after nearly 10 hours of hard work, she still looked smokin’ hot, kudos to her-- or better say, thank heavens for good genes! “Just so you know, ‘perfectly fine’ means it wasn’t good enough. Not good enough for you. --Fine is a terrible word, and we only use it to charm old white dudes, don’t you ever forget!” If she were a worse person, she’d pinch his cheek or caress his arm. However, she had his preferences in mind and decided to behave. What’s next, a loving hug? Por amor de Dios, she needed a drink before she got too soft.

“I have an assistant-- an entire troop. However, you know I like to be on top of things,” she casually reminded with a wink. Running the hotel & the casino had been a challenging task, but Scar could manage it. With hard work and a lot of planning. And trusting no one. Not even members of her own family-- yes, we’re looking at you, Ehric Edelweiss, who else! “I’m not trusting an intern, Garrett.” Dead serious, she told him, and thus, concluded the matter, she would not be questioned by her banker. Inside the elevator, the atmosphere changed, though. Scar exhaled, reminded herself she could relax and, utterly pleased with his words, she allowed herself a genuine smile. “Gracias, I appreciate the efforts. I’d tell you-- para, you’ll spoil me. But, by all means, be my guest.”

“The devil? You? You gotta be joking.” Let’s not go so far as to say that he considered himself evil, but it was a safe bet to claim that most of those who went to high school at the same time as he and Scar had at one time or another associated the banker with the beast on hooves. Now, people certainly talked about her late husband’s mysterious passing, and that was more recent history than their high school days, but she at least had the benefit of the doubt. He suspected she had something to do with it. Not that she would ever admit to anything. Eyes following her hand, even as it touched his cheek, he didn’t look one bit soothed by her touch. “I’ll go out with you, but you gotta tone it down with the touching. Not your pet.” Or maybe he simply detested being touched. The fact that he didn’t even flinch to her touch was certainly another one of those things she could brag about.

“You’re not just a client, don’t insult our friendship like that,” and it was almost as if her words touched something touchy. Terrorized by the idea of loneliness, but too proud to ask for confirmation that they were past the stage of acquaintances or professional connections, Garrett still liked to tell himself that Scar was his friend. He’d never learned the difference between either of those things, and mixed to his distaste of social gathering, that made quite the bitter cocktail.

“Or so they say,” his secretary nagged him, insisted that he met her friend who went to Yale. He doubted a secretary had friends who got into the Ivy League, and didn’t like it either when people couldn’t mind their own business either. “What can I say? I’m picky.” Understand: my dates all end up going back home angry with him. There had been one or two women he ended up liking, but in those instances, they didn’t seem too fond of him in return.

He didn’t do much of her announcement, unsure of why he needed a new tie in the first place. The rest of her words were a lot more important. Catching up, secluded, private, selective and investment. “Well let’s get going then. I’d rather we discuss all this before I drink too much of these,” he raised his glass and finished it, getting up on his feet, and offering his hand for her to exit her own seat.

“The press seems to think so-- Miami Herald, Florida Times, even our poor little Elmerton Post, god help their souls.” Her eyes darted over to him, the playful challenge in her gaze. “If you disagree,” she smacked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “You’re always welcome to defend my honor in public,” doing so wouldn’t do his reputation any good, although she supposed them mingling at certain events spoke for itself-- the world knew they had been associated in some way. 

“Not my pet-- right, I forgot you aren’t that lucky,” she winked, but pulled away her hand as if it burned-- Scar liked her touch to have an effect on the other party. Needless to say, the positive kind. This, quite frankly, didn’t do anything for her as Garrett didn’t give her any material to work with-- he sucked all the fun out of it, as Scar would put it. “Besides, you do have a point, cariño-- proximity is how rumors get started,” no one would spot them there, high above the ground, on the double-digit floor of the Edelweiss hotel. Various clubs around Elmerton, no matter how exclusive, were fair game, though.

Scar pursed her lips in thought, taking a better look at him. Garrett wasn’t pleased, far from it. Was he ever, though? “The brooding needs to stop, and soon-- while it is a good look on you, the energy in the room shifts whenever you come in.” A faint smirk before she continued. “Come on, you can do-- and have-- anything you set your mind to-- there must be something out there for you, to bring you out of your misery!” Unfortunately for him, his beloved ally (also known as the selfishness embodied), wouldn’t take no for an answer tonight, so he was bound to come along, but perhaps he did deserve another break after tonight. Hell, she’d send him a self-care basket if necessary!

“¡Vamos!” Chirping, the fit forty-something-year old hopped up from her seat and slipped her hand away from his as easily as she took it, giving him a meaningful look. “Natalie and Marcus,” she called out in a sing-song voice as they left the main office. “Lock up and meet me later at home with the report.” Scar may not have been the devil, but the saying no rest for the wicked pretty much applied to her. After a night out, she couldn’t afford to go straight to bed. Business awaited still. “Now, are you giving me a ride? Or should we put one of my cars to good use?”

rashaad.

“Taco al pastor’s are a top tier option,” he concurred. When not in the kitchen himself Rashad does like supporting other local vendors. Tonight he finds himself on a taco finding mission at his friend’s spot called Holy Guacamole. “Prepare to clutch your pearls, I’m about to blow your mind with this option,” he probably isn’t, but he’s trying to match her energy regardless. “Actually, lower your expectations because I’m a simple man,” he backtracked within a manner of seconds. “For me there’s something about having tacos de pescado by the beachside. The fish is freshly grilled or fried, the and I like it topped with shredded cabbage and pico de gallo.” 

Rashaad loves talking about food, after all it’s been a greater part of his life. “Now, on the flipside if I’m not staying and eating at the beach, I go for lamb barbacoa.” This type of taco is traditionally prepared in an underground oven, but the tender and juicy results can be replicated in a kitchen by using a slow cooker. “Are you ready to face the mean old man for your taco al pastor?” He found it humorous when people spoke about Mateo. The man was a character indeed, who came off gruff and unapproachable but deep down there’s a heart of gold. This is something that he can attest to from personal experiences with him. 

“A simple man!” Scar feigned a gasp for a dramatic effect, doing her best to hide the dimpled smile for a moment or two. “That’s the worst thing you could’ve possibly told me,” an exaggeration obviously, anyone would agree, but in this very moment, to Scarlett it seemed as horrible as she made it out to be. “Never say that on a first date, but I suppose you’ll do, as my partner in crime, this lovely afternoon. I mean-- do I have a choice?” The brunette toned it down, if only for a moment, to hear Rashaad out. She pictured the image he painted for her-- fresh ingredients tenderly prepared, and served with care. She stored the information he shared, too-- always interesting to hear a gourmand talk about his food choices. “Beachside, how romantic! Should I expect our next business meeting to take place there?” If he played his cards right and even brought along tacos, he might be able to negotiate a better pay. Scar would go as far as 20%! 

“I’d be ready to face a dragoness in flesh for a taco al pastor, let alone a neurotic old man!” The Edelweiss stated boldly, and her actions proved she had meant ever word: with a chin raised, she marched on. “Have you ever done business with him? Have you ever wronged him? Tricked him to get more toppings? As I’ve said, for a good taco I would be willing to swallow my pride, but the older I get, the shorter my fuse is, there’s no point in denying... So I might just let you do the talking today.”

      if he were truly honest with himself cal had no preference for what he ate. he was much like a human garbage disposal in that regard (which served him well for the three-year visit to a florida correctional facility, where even the slop was knocked back like wagyu steak), though he stayed away from soy - thanks to an allergy. the question required a moment of thought, smaller gears churning in his head before he picked a tuft of baby blue cotton candy from the puff and slipped it into his mouth. “ food. in general. i’m really not picky. ”

      he liked sweets, he liked meat, vegetables as a side —any and everything was tried once and revisited if it really impressed him. there was little he considered in the way of distaste. but he moved, letting the candy floss melt on his tongue before sliding in another fingerful. “ c’mon, i’ll show you were the tacos are. ” tongue wet at his lips, capturing excess flavor of sugar before he gestured vaguely around them. “ i grew up on dutch food. it’s savory - stews, homecore, if you’re up with that kind of shit. but i’m really only fond of it when my aunt makes it here. i like spicy food. ” and that was the truth —the hotter the better, it made his tongue come alive.

      holy guacamole was at the end of the row, a straight-shot adorned with all sorts of vendors and food trucks that equally vied for the attention of the throng of people passing through it. he hated the tourism - new people were bumbling, confused, rude (but he could be more-so). so he ignored them, turned his attention back to scarlett. “ today i’m going to eat my weight in sugar and carbs and worry about the fallout later. ”

"You're no fun," she declared in jest, giving a him a look before pushing her sunglasses up and charging ahead (even though he was supposed to lead). “Do you have any idea how exciting food can be?” If done right, eating could be an experience involving all senses, not only a necessity for survival. “Art, even!” Scar added eventually, giving in to the need for additional emphasis. 

“My parents have been waiting for a certain Mrs. Jade to make a move, open a little Dutch diner, for all of us to enjoy," she teased-- aware it’d never happen. Scar didn't know the aunt personally, but if she had to guess, based on what she had heard, the stern woman wouldn’t do anything to accommodate some nosy neighbors. Hell would freeze over sooner. Her parents didn’t understand it, but Scar couldn’t help but respect it. "Can't imagine you miss spicy, though, I once lost a dare and had to eat an entire bowl of Phaal Curry from the place around the corner. The Hell I'm headed to after I die, will surely burn less," savory, spicy and hot-- they had all within reach in Elmerton. Perhaps Scarlett could blame spicy food on her extravagant personality. A thought to be entertained later, surely.  

"Sweet? Maybe after we’re done," Scar mused briefly, as her gaze lowered to the vile ball of candy in his arms. “Maybe never.” A pair of eyes sparkling with mischief returned to his features before her face broke into a grin. "Aw, how so? What happened, are you still thinking about that one fashion article that claimed the Dutch-orange to be terribly outdated? Did teenagers call your taste in music old-fashioned on air? Did Julien say something mean to you?" The brunette kept on teasing, for the most part. If something had truly been bothering the Dutch enough to seek comfort (read: drown) in candy, the chances were it had something to do with Julien, knowing how strong the bond between the two men was.  

justus looked up from his noodles, which he was quickly eating before his shift and he looked at scarlett. she’d been nice to him in school… and now, it appeared she was all buddy buddy with garrett, his high school tormentor. they raised their eyebrows and wiped their wet lips with the back of their hand. “oh, you’re talking to me? i am more inclined to send you somewhere gross than somewhere nice.” he admitted with a raise of his eyebrows, thoroughly unimpressed by her dramatic demands. “how about you call garrett and ask him?” he suggested, unable to  

“The double meat taco is great. I used to get the pizza taco when I first moved here, but nowadays pizza goes straight to my fucking hips.” Marcy said as she gazed at Scarlett.

“The food trucks here are great but I can’t help but miss New York food trucks. The lines at these food trucks are tame compared to the lines back home, I had to fight a guy once for a hot dog.” She mentioned before her phone buzzed, a notification popped up, her daughter posted something on one of her many social media sites.

Marcy squinted at her phone.

“Hey, uh what the fuck is a TikTok?”

She wasn’t too in the know with social media due to how busy she was a lot of the time. Plus she had grown up in the 70s where stuff like social media simply didn’t exist.

With a light smirk gracing her lips, Scar indulged herself and let her gaze shamelessly roam over Marcy’s figure. "The older I get, the more appreciate hips-- what can you do with a boney ass?" I've been sleeping next to a skeleton also known as Edgar Edelweiss during the entire course of my entire marriage-- gracias, no mas. 

The mention alone of New York and the street food there made her stomach turn. "No," she dismissed the idea right away. “Those godforsaken hot dog carts have given me food poisoning more times than I can count,” a beat. Vale-- Scar might be exaggerating, but only a little. It’d happened two times-- two times too many, if you asked her. Scar’s gaze found Marcy again, and she arched an amused brow. "Maybe I should have you reveal some of Big Apple’s secrets-- along with your new collection, tell me where to have a proper meal. You know I pay well," she reminded with a wink. 

A part of Marcy’s statement stood out, though, and it brought a genuine smile to Scar’s lips. "Kudos to you for fighting for it, I knew there was a reason why I liked you." Her immense talent and wonderful designs had something to do with it too, alright. "Why do you ask? Has your Tinder date brought it up? --TikTok is basically the reason why I want to hose down youngsters whenever I see them dancing recklessly in the street.”

“Glad you liked it,” you could have expected him to be arrogant. He had been born with it all, or  so they said, and he couldn’t really say he had a lot of obstacles on his path. But, having grown up in the Newman family had just ended up doing two things (and many more) to him: it had made him cautious and perhaps too humble. One might have called him insecure, but he would have never admitted to that. He could however appreciate this simple fact : she appreciated his work and efforts.

“Celebrate?” It wasn’t that the word was foreign to him, but his idea of a treat was sitting at home alone with a glass of wine, a book and a cigarette. He knew better than to protest, and ever since high school, he’d built himself a persona more socially acceptable than his perhaps too stern nature. “Bold of you to assume I had any plans,” good bye Hamnet, you looked like a great novel. “Little miss sunshine… I can’t tell if you mean I’d have one of those as a client, an employee or  a date. Somehow, all of those options sound like nails on a chalkboard,” he returned her gaze back to her, a thin smile tugging at the ends of his lips. 

“That’s actually the most consideration you’ve shown me in weeks,” yes, a lot of people were blissfully unaware of his distaste for social events, but not her. The fact alone that he hadn’t politely declined was the highest indicator of a good friendship. They might have both been a piece of work, they just seemed to fit together just fine.

“Glad I liked it too,” she remarked nonchalantly, a bright smile adorning her lips. Garrett must’ve known it by now-- happy Scar, happy life. “Excellent, now it's time for you to repay the favor and go out with me. The devil always comes to collect, haven’t you heard?" The Edelweiss insisted, making it all sound so simple. “Corazón, we simply must enjoy moments like these,” the woman began, putting a hand to his cheek, almost fondly. If they didn’t enjoy those little moments of triumph, Scar feared their lives might become as meaningless and shallow as everyone else made them out to be. 

“Client--¡no, por Dios!, I'm the only client of yours special enough to be called sunshine.” And the brunette, despite her bubbly personality, wasn’t a miss either. "I meant date, por supuesto que sí, are we pretending you're not one of the most eligible bachelors in town?" Scar smirked-- she quite liked being seen with him. Having a Newman on her arm secured her a sense of control and belonging, it made her feel untouchable. She had a sense of safety in the company of a former bully, the irony wasn't lost on her, though.

hakeem.

The slight furrow in his brow would be the only giveaway to his mild confusion. The facial features of the woman before him felt familiar, but he couldn’t quite place where from, so Hakeem dismissed the thoughts. Instead, he met her bright smile with one of his own. “Alright, alright,” he playfully held his hands up in defense. “Wow, no pressure, huh?” he added in jest. It took Hakeem a short moment to come up with a taco option he would usually go for at Holy Guacamole. 

“I can’t resist a good migas taco. It’s a problem,” he shared. “I know people see it as more of a breakfast option, but I can eat it any time of the day.” It’s just that good. Even now Hakeem’s thinking about the homemade corn tortilla enveloping the texture-packed filling of soft-cooked eggs, veggies and crispy corn tortilla chips, plus shredded Jack cheese, and avocado to top it off.

“I think you’ve just made me decide on what I’m getting for lunch now.” Truth be told Hakeem had not narrowed down any of the street food options prior to this delightful interruption. “All roads lead to Holy Guacamole,” the author announced. He was a fan the vendors simply because their homemade tortillas are always pressed and cooked fresh to order. “Their truck is usually parked a little further this way,” he gestured with his chin in the general direction. “Not that I frequent there or anything.” He does. “Can we just declare this part of town a judgement free zone?” 

Some people, some events and other people involved stuck with you no matter how far you’d gone, no matter how much time had passed-- Hakeem Jones from high school was one of those people. He didn’t recognize her, though-- the look in his eyes held no judgement, no grudge, no some irrational fear planted by the press or god-knows-what. Scar found it interesting, and decided not to confront him out loud, label him as a bad friend for not recognizing her, for not missing her, never mind the fact she had disappeared from his life. 

Back in the present, his teasing remark made it clear he perfectly understood how it was: all the pressure in the world. Scarlett only gave him a sweet smile in response, along with an unapologetic shrug-- determined to complete her mission.

“Consider this-- is there such thing an appropriate breakfast time around these parts? Or is it every man for himself,” tourists, as the main source of income, dictated the daily routine of most locals. The strip along the beach buzzing with nightclubs and beach clubs demanded lazier mornings, not only on Sundays, as Scarlett preferred it. “No, you’re not allowed to blame me-- that’s a look of craving, if I’ve ever seen one. I wouldn’t be surprised if they all knew you by name here,” she teased lightly. It just hit her, the Elmerton royalty when it came to baked goods agreed with her choice. Flattering, if anything.

“I can make no promises, though, there’s too much half-naked youth horsing around,” she scoffed. “Hah! Before I decide whether I’m gonna judge you or not, I need you to safely guide me to the divine taco truck in question.”

Regardless of class level, no Elmerton native could help their addiction to the street food, fresh from local vendors along the beach, bringing various cuisines-- a taste of the world to the vibrant town. “It’s been years since I’ve been here,” in this particular part of Elmerton, to be exact. Quite used to standing out, Scarlett didn’t bother blending in-- in her designer outfit, impeccable from head to toe, wearing bright colors--  but stranger sights had been seen around Elmerton. 

“And I can't seem to find Holy Guacamole-- taco heaven (tire repair also)? The owner is a mean old man who yelled at me one too many times, but I’m willing to let it slip for a taco al pastor,” she mused out loud, not ready to give up on her search just yet (Scar had never been the one to deny herself something she craved). 

“What’s your usual go-to?” Scar settled her expecting gaze paired with the brightest of smiles on a randomly picked person before adding for a dramatic effect. “Make it something good, por favor!” 

“Excellent work today, cariño,” she cooed, incredibly pleased with the way today's meetings had turned out. The modern-day dandy handled it well, he did have a talent to make them all dance to his tune, the most delightful smile adorning his lips all the while. Entertainment at its finest, if you asked Scarlett! Sure, the deal would pay off, but no amount of money could compare to the show he had put on for the easily-bored woman.