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“Then where do you vacation?” He pressed, as I pondered the question, shrugging.
“The Hamptons during the summer. That’s about the only place I ever go.”
“The Hamptons?” He laughed, almost puzzled at the contradiction. “Lots of money there, now isn't that true?”
“Yes, but not mine.”
“Whose?”
“My best friend’s… family.” I didn’t want to get into this and was determined to avoid his question as much as he avoided my comment. “This endorsement of yours is for Drip; it's a bold company, a little edgy and fun. I figured the leopard print would be a good idea.”
“It’s not,” he corrected, “Dripisn’t edgy, it's an idea of what others think I should be. They believe since they added ahintof lime to their drink, the only way to promote is by using a Hispanic actor. But it's not mine, it's their perception of me and who I am. They see my skin, they hear my voice, and they see a stereotype.” He gently pulled the shirt away from my body, placing it back onto the rack. “It’s not me though, just like the Hamptons aren’t you, Gemma.”
I tensed at the thought, his cool perspective and voice snapped me into place like a puzzle. The Hamptons aren’t me? He wasn't wrong, but he wasn't right either. The Hamptons had Parker, it had Mama Meg and Mr. Jones, those were extensions of me, or so I’d thought.
“What makes you say that?”
“I saw it in your face, the moment Gerard mentioned your mother and home. He put you in a box, yes, but you weren’t disagreeing with him. You come from somewhere else. The way you carry yourself, your clothes, it’s all a presentation, but I still haven’t decided yet, is it a front or is it a truth? I need to know.”
I scowled at his presumption, this idea I could be fooling the world with my look. It wasn’t true; it was an idea he had of me, just likeDrip had of him. It’s not like he knew me or who I was with Parker. Just because I avoided my past, didn't make my choices less true, did it?
“You’re right. You’re not a leopard.” I turned away from Alex, searching the rack quickly for something new. “You’re cooler than a leopard, but you're not as bold as one either. In fact, I find you more guarded than you think.” I pulled out a black shirt, its cuffs and buttons detailed with a small gold design. “If you ask me, you’re a shadow, but there are glimpses beneath the facade that you put on, Mr. Rivers.” I handed him the shirt, “This suits you… for now.”
Alex was no different than what he accused me of. He was, in fact, the agave he described. A man guarded with needles and spikes, protecting the stem where the good stuff lived.
“For now…” He repeated my words with a contemplative smirk that caught me off guard. Did he like this? Pushing me to snip?
Alex pulled off his jacket, tossing it to the chair before removing his shirt. His bruised knuckles tightened as he reached up over his head, his back and shoulders evoked into a flex.
My lips felt the sting of adrenaline, a rapid pump of blood that burned along my ears. “I’m sorry.” I turned away, embarrassed by the apple red hue torturing my cheeks.
“Of?” He asked.
“I should leave, you need privacy.” I turned to walk, but his words caught my steps.
“Are you a child?” His deep voice caused me to blink, halting my steps as if the question itself were a demand to stop.
“Pardon?”
“You don't need to be shy or courteous. You can stand there and advise. If you don’t want to answer my question, I’ll answer it for you. You’re not a child, but if you act like one, then I’ll ask you to stand there like the good girl you are.”
The hairs on my neck pricked into fine pins, raised at the audacity of his words. I turned to face him, his size almost startling as he approached. Everything about him grazed the surface of my skin, climbing from my toes to my scalp, not once ever truly being touched. My reaction was an instinct, charged with wide eyes that attempted to ward him off, but unintentionally may have invited him in. I worried I may have looked startled, a disadvantage that I always took as weakness.
“I don't need to be told what to do.” I hissed as confidently as my parched tongue would allow.
“No? But I bet you’ll listen, you’ll like the things I tell you to do.” The light above formed a contour along the cuts of his body. Each muscle a defined ripple, pronounced with the rough edges of a strong man, gripped in a sleeve tattoo of dark ink and gold skin. “Am I wrong?”
His tapered jeans dipped far below his waist. The suggested band of his Armani underwear appeared lost, almost replaced by the strong V-cut shape of his taut abs. I stared too long at the thick vein that traveled below, coiled like a road map into the darkness of denim. “Put your shirt on,” I commanded. “You’ve kept enough people waiting, and now you’re wasting my time.”
“I bought your time. I’ll use it as I please.” He replied, his thumb tested the softness of his lips. What was he thinking as his eyes searched mine with an observant glare that dared me to protest? He placed the shirt over his thick arms, their strength formed not only by the gym, but by the labor of an apparent agave field.
“Payments still need to be discussed.” I retorted, observing the tattoos on his body. Near his chest was a black outline of angel wings, filled with the initialsAA. Maybe a past lover? I figured his violent side was as true as his womanizing one.
“I’ll take care of you.” He assured, slowly buttoning up the shirt. “You’ll see soon enough.” His boots once again thumped like my heart, stepping closer than before.
I’ll take care of you? The conviction of his voice felt both assertive and calm, as if I had no choice but to accept it. With the chance he offered to ask any question, I wondered if I chose correctly, not being more direct than I should have. I wanted to confront him about Bushwick, what business he had out there. I needed to know it wasn’t because of me. Suddenly I felt conceited, as if he’d travel to the middle of nowhere just because of what I told him in front of Gerard’s boutique. Still, I couldn’t shake the idea. I opened my mouth to speak, but all that emitted was the screech of a fire alarm.
I winced at the siren. As if the afternoon wasn’t hectic enough, someone walked through the fire exit just hours before. The fire department had already been out, using their universal key to shut off the sound but decided to stay. Even they were waiting for Alex, hoping to snag a photo before heading back to the station. I couldn’t help but think the alarm was on purpose, signaling our time to leave the tent.
