“What are you talking ab—”
“Dean. Oh good, you’re here!” Hector spots me coming and waves me into his office.
I look at Lara, who goes to her desk, avoiding eye contact. I don’t like it. I like the fact that she’s still upset with me even less.
“I want to talk to you before I leave,” I say.
“Oh? Well, I’ll have to check my schedule. See if I have room for dumbasses.” She swivels in her chair and taps away on her laptop. “Oops. Sorry. All filled up.”
That’s enough of this. I don’t have the energy for mind games. “You done?” I say sternly.
Her brown eyes finally look up at me. She arches a brow, and her lips flatten.
Yeah. That’s right. I just barked at you, lady. “Lara, I’m not sure what’s ruffled your pretty little feathers, but if you’re trying to piss me off, then keep going with this childish routine. Otherwise, grow up and talk to me like an adult.” I shake my head. “I’ll be back in a few.”
I walk away feeling, well, like kind of a dick. I’m not sure why I said that to her. Maybe because I trusted her, even admired her. She’s the last person I expected to act like a brat.
She wants me to do better? Okay. I will. I can. But she needs to step up, too, because I don’t have the patience for this.
I enter Hector’s office, where he’s seated behind his big desk. Hector is a tall, thin man with dark, leathery skin. A large picture window with a view of the sprawling hillside and endless rows of vines is behind him.
“Take a seat, Dean. We need to talk.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“You’re selling the Ranch?” I suspected he might be thinking about making a move, but the news still shocks me.
“I know you were considering a job here after graduation, Dean, but let’s get real. We both know it’s not meant to be.”
“Yeah.” I hang my head. “I wouldn’t want to hire a weak link either.”
“What are you talking about?” He frowns.
“I’m sure you’ve seen the mess—from last year. Now this week.”
“I don’t watch the news, Dean. It’s a packaged reality, and I don’t subscribe to any of it.”
“That a monk thing?” Hector used to be a monk in France somewhere. He left for unknown reasons, but the company website says he perfected his wine-making skills during a period of “reflection and a vow of silence.” I suspect a woman had to do with him going into the monastic life and him leaving it. He’s a passionate man, driven by his heart.
“No.” He chuckles. “Personal choice. But why don’t you tell me what these messes are all about?”
“I’d rather not.”
“You can trust me, Dean. I am the last person to judge you.”
I’ve heard that before. “Why’s that?”
“Because my entire life has been one screwup after another. I can hardly count all the times I’ve wished I’ve said or done something differently.” Hector threads his fingers together and rests his hands on the desk. “But I’ve also learned mistakes come and go. It’s what we take away from them that makes us worthy.”
“Worthy of what?” I ask.
“Love,” he says like it’s the obvious answer. “Is there anything else?”
“Purpose. Honestly. Loyalty.” And how about winning?
“All forms of love, tough guy. Purpose is about knowing how best to serve your fellow man, and serving others is a demonstration of love. Honesty is a show of respect—another form of love. Loyalty is the same. Anything worth living or dying for is a form of love.”
I give his words some serious thought. I read a lot—philosophy, history, porn magazines. A man has needs. Don’t judge. But as many times as I’ve encountered the concept he’s talking about, I never really connected with it. Bottom line, everything I do is out of a sense of duty, not love.
“I guess I just don’t see it that way,” I say. “But maybe that’s what happens when you’re still swimming around on the bottom of Maslow’s hierarchy.” It’s a pyramid, meant to explain how human needs influence our lives. At the very bottom is survival—food, water, shelter. The next level up is safety. After that comes belonging and love. Then esteem. Finally, at the top of the pyramid is living one’s full potential. It’s figuring out your purpose for existing.
The takeaway is that a person who is starving or freezing to death isn’t worried about fulfilling their dreams. Personally, I’ve never really made it past the second tier: safety. Yes, I say football is my dream, and it’s true, but that’s not why I work so hard. It’s because I want to feel safe from starvation, from the cold. I need the same for Flip.
“Maslow had it all wrong,” Hector says. “Faith in yourself and your purpose is the foundation. It can carry you through the worst hunger, pain, sorrow, and loss. Without faith in ourselves, man would just lie down and die at the first sign of adversity.”