Page 197 of Embriagado

“Making money.” He pulled out a packet of smokes from the front pocket of his shirt before offering me one. After I shook my head, he proceeded to light it. “A lot of money.” He blew out the smoke while staring into the horizon, almost like he was remembering the good old days. “I was also good with women.”

“Were you handsome?”

He laughed until his laughter turned into a throaty cough, not that it stopped him from smoking.

“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you this face”—he pointed at himself—“used to knock women off their feet.”

As if to play along, I narrowed my eyes and scanned his tanned skin, now full of tight wrinkles and dark gray hair that I was sure was once raven black.

“Yeah… I can see it.”

He smiled before going back to his cigarette. I didn’t notice what brand he smoked, but whatever tobacco it was, it had a strong smell.

“But mostly, I was always good at reading people,” he said, taking my mind off the smell.

I tsked. “Well, I’m horrible at it.”

“Why would you say that?”

Shrugging, I stared at my empty hands. “Who knows? Just never been good at it. Actually, I’d say I’m the opposite. I wouldn’t know how to read an open book even if it hit me in the head.”

For example, how I’d completely misjudged Ariyan since the very beginning. Even now, I had no fucking clue what was going on in that head of his. It drove me nuts while it also made me so much more eager to find out. With him, it was always an ongoing battle, and the rush of it was what kept me going.

“Well, we can’t all be good at everything, can we, Mr.…” He glanced my way.

“Rivas. Santiago Rivas.”

“Ha.” He smiled at me widely before taking another long drag. “If that ain’t a champion’s name.”

Now feeling a bit awkward, I scratched the back of my neck. “Yeah… I’m nowhere near that.”

“You should have more faith in yourself, Santiago.”

I snorted, not because he was funny, but because this geezer was delusional.

“Well, I’m no champion. Just a fuckup.”

“You could be both.”

I shook my head. “Nah. I’ll never be a champion, not with my shitty past.”

“A past?” He laughed, scratching his jaw. “Child, you’ve yet to live enough to have one, and besides—” He took in a slow draw. “—who knows what the future holds?”

I stared ahead, taking in his words. He was damn right about nobody knowing what the future holds, but still⁠—

“Trust me, I’ve fucked up one too many times in my life to deserve anything like that.”

He patted my shoulder. “Take an old man’s advice… The future is only kind to those smart enough to challenge it.”

“Challenge? Challenge how?”

He shrugged. “Beats me. I’m soon to be seventy and am still trying to figure it out.”

Then what’s the point in giving advice you didn’t even follow?

“But I can promise you that there’s nothing majestic about guilt, only pain. So leave the past where it belongs.”

My phone rang then, and seeing it was from the hotel, I quickly got up. “I need to take this, but it was nice talkin’ to you.”