AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I flinched. The sound of the lighter frightened me with a reminder of Claire, who began smoking like a fiend shortly after my father left. The smell of cigarettes had always turned my stomach, but his was different, something unlike I’d ever smelled before. Through the grate of his teeth, Alex exhaled a plume of smoke, only to inhale it back with the snap of his jaw. He stared at me, savoring the flavor, studying my moves. It wascherryscented, sweet but spiced, calming a disgust I often loathed to feel. This was nice. Still, I reached up to my neck, the sound of the lighter bringing an uncomfortable memory to mind.
“Does my smoking make you uncomfortable?” He asked as he studied the cigarette in his hands, held in place with the tip of his thumb and middle finger. I swallowed, pulling my hands away, knowing how observant he was.
“What was it you wanted to see?” I clarified, “You mentioned that this was by design?” I avoided his question, evoking a subtle smirk on his face. He was letting me off the hook, but maybe, just thisonce.
“I want to see the clothes you pick. To see what you think of me.” His tongue played with the corner of his lip as he stood up from the chair. “I want to know, what is it that you have, what is it that you think? I don’t usually come across people like you.”
“Like me? Well…” I completely hesitated, unsure of how to approach what he wanted, or what the hell he even meant, “I have a lot of things to show you.” I began to sweat. This felt less like a job and more like a quiz. How was I supposed to know what it was I saw in him? I saw nothing, I knew nothing, except the possible facade of a Hollywood star.
He placed the cigarette in his lips again, exhaling with the stretch of his neck, patiently waiting as I combed through the rack. Everything had a different message, picked from various merchants whose samples were loud in color. This job was to help define the image of a new soda, not Alex specially. I figured he was complaisant with whatever I had picked, which were actually really good looks. Even Nevia approved them, using corporate lingo to describe my choices as, “on brand” for their “targeted audience.”Did I miss the assignment?I worried, realizing as I sifted through the looks that my selection was more for Drip the product, than Alex the person. He lowered his gaze, staring at the shirt I pulled out for him. “This could be a contender, I know you have a wild side…” I said half unconvincingly, lifting an animal print shirt up to his chest, “paired with some tawny slacks, gold accessories…” His Adam’s apple bobbed, swallowing what I imagined was cherry flavored spit.
“Leopard?” He asked. “Wild?”
Yes, wild, like the man who fought strangers for no reason, though I couldn’t say that. Unlike his assistant, Drip sent a packet of mood boards to be inspired by, though Alex seemed less interested in the keywords I was using. Was he expecting something else? Suddenly, I felt uncertain about my choices. Maybe he wanted to see what I thought of his onscreen persona, considering he had a catchphrase that made people swoon.
“Yes! Like the action star that you are.”
“And what do you know about that, Gemma? Humor me.”
His movies? Was he really asking me this? Maybe he thought I was a fan, which would be a serious misunderstanding. Not only did I not watch action movies, but I avoided them. I didn't like the explosions, or any loud noises for that matter. I could have lied, but he was too clever for that, so I told the truth.
“I’ve never seen any of your movies.” I admitted, revealing how little I truly knew about him as a character that people saw.
“Good, neither have I.” He coaxed me with his voice, not intentionally, but by the gravity of his growling accent. It slithered, slipping like a pill that melted my mind. “Look at me now, and ask me what you want to know.” I clung the shirt to my chest, as if to shield myself from the burn of his eyes, which made me feel both scared and protected.
“I’m not sure what to ask… this job was specific for a brand. I figured the clothes were…”
“Never mind that,” he interrupted. “I’m asking you to stop what you’re doing, to look at me, and ask a question. What do you want to know?”
I wasn't sure what I would do if he stepped any closer. All I could do was stare at his hands, their massive size, wielding the sweet-scented cigarette that teased my senses. His knuckles were scraped, bruised with a red hue, as if pounded against a wall. They were clues to his night, to the nose he ruined in Bushwick.
“Does that hurt?” I nodded toward his hand, asking a question just like he wanted. “They look... sore.” Alex followed my eyes, his head not once moving as he observed the stinging wounds.
“I’ve had worse.” He replied.
“From?”
“Harvesting in an agave field.” He massaged his knuckles with his large, calloused fingers, proven to be tools for more than I expected. “The plants have needles, they’re thick spikes that cut if you get too close, but they’re necessary. It’s everything needed to protect the stem, but it’s the stem you want, it’s what you’re harvesting for.”
“So, you’re a farmer too?”
“No.” He laughed, twisting his jaw, “Not necessarily, but I’ve put in my fair share of hours from the past couple years. I’m a busy man.”
I assumed so. According to Parker, Alex was consumed with lawsuits, though he didn't act as if this was even true. I would’ve been a mess, but he was out here unbothered and apparently harvesting, an unlikely hobby for a Hollywood superstar.
“I can’t picture you doing that, especially in Los Angeles.”
“Jalisco.” He corrected, extinguishing his cigarette on the marble table by his side, “InMéxico.”
“Is that where you’re from?”
“No.” His quick words snipped, “Fresno, California. It's not as strange as you think, I was raised by harvesters. Immigrants.”
“So your family is still with you in California then?” I asked, but Alex was slow to respond, taking a subtle but noticeable deep breath. He concentrated his eyes into mine, his dark brow and full lashes squinted in thought. He didn't like the question and remained silent as my phone buzzed loudly. I glanced down to see a text from Parker but silenced it, returning my eyes back to Alex. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Have you been toMéxico?” He avoided my comment by asking a question instead.
“No, that would require money. Though the idea sounds nice.”
