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I hesitated to speak, feeling somehow privileged to hear his perspective. It was a personal thing to admit, and I wondered what—if anything—I could do to recognize what he was sharing. This man had everything, but what did it cost him? His identity? His name, the very one he gave me to say out loud.
“Well, I like your name,” I confessed. I wasn’t sure if it was enough to say, but it may have made him happy regardless. Everyone had an opinion on him, but who really knew him? Even Parker saw Alejandro from one aspect of his life, nothing beyond a history of lawsuits. “You’re more than what others think, we all are.”
“Is that so? You make it sound so simple.”
“Well, maybe not simple, but it’s true, I guess it just takes time to see it.” I struggled to believe the things I said myself. I was the culmination of other’s perspectives. Gerard saw me as a piece of garbage, and Claire saw me as the failed daughter who never called. I knew I was more than these things, but at times it was impossible to accept, if not completely reject. Maybe the same was true for Alejandro, for the assumptions people made. “I wouldn’t hide your name, it's not just for me to speak, but for people to know. Especially now.” I looked back at his bruised hands, at the notion he actually defended someone. That was honorable, wouldn’t that person want to know the real Alex Rivers? “People love you, and you can’t deny that. I’m sure your fans want to know who it is that they admire. People unlike Richard that is,” I reminded from Drip campaign. “I hope he learned his lesson. The way he spoke to you was wrong, and I’m glad you left the shoot actually. That took courage… I’m not sure if I could do that, but you did.”
“You think the whole world could accept the truth of who I am?” He asked, not curious but pointing out the naivety of my sentiment. Maybe I felt to close to the idea of being defined by others, having been labeled all the awful things I wished to erase, a sister included.
“I think there is more to share than just what’s written about you. Maybe it's time people listen.”
“Or maybe, just one person.” He added firmly, leaving little room to think that he meant anyone other than me. I hushed my words, accepting the silence that fell between us. I wasn't sure if it was the cherry scent or not, perhaps it was his stare, no longer putting me on edge, but relaxing my nerves. If I allowed myself to admit it, I’d say it was nice, calming even.
“Thank you.” He craned his neck, slowly peering down.
“For?” I asked unsure.
“For what you said about Richard. I don’t need the validation, but the recognition is nice. Maybe you should be my agent instead.” He joked, but it was sweet. “And what about you, Gemma?” He asked, “Who accepts you for who you are?” His question was strange, but not in the context from his experience. He seemed to have this perception of me, that my authentic self was still in hiding. He was wrong though, my past was separate, something I kept away from who I was. I was honest, at least for most of the time, and what was shared was only with Parker. No one else.
“I have someone,” I mumbled, shrugging.
“A boyfriend?”
“Yes.” Without thought I replied, as if it were true all along, but shook my head, “Well, he’s my friend, and he’s a boy… but it's more.” I slid down to my knees, running the tape along his leg, “It’s complicated.” I hated to talk about it, I hated opening up, and Alejandro could sense that.
“I like complicated,” he affirmed. “Complicated is interesting.” It was hard to stare up while down on my knees, his legs spread, and his stature towering. I tried not to look but couldn’t resist as my hand accidentally grazed over the large package that bulged down his thigh. I squeezed the muscles in my tummy, braced for the clammy wave that rushed to my hands. “The best friend?”
“I’d rather not say.” Doing my best just to avoid it all together. I had already made a fool of myself tonight, and now I felt as though it were happening again.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Be a brave girl for me, and share.” He slipped his words down from his lips. I followed them along, past the cooled sweaty muscles and towards his crotch. My knees started to sting, pressed into the wood floor in a position that he’d probably seen plenty of women in. Was he thinking the same, and how could I stop him if he did? Had he tugged the bun in my hair and forced himself between my lips, I’d be helpless, enslaved to blow him like the subordinate I was. This made me blush, and I hated that it did. “You tell me more, and I’ll tell you a secret of my own.”
A secret?What could he possibly share? I was sure he was filled with them, his age and experience alone had years on me. He was older, maybe the age my father was when he left, but nothing like that man. He was assertive, he was present, he was the cherry smoke that defied what I knew about yucky cigarettes. I flicked my tongue against the inside of my cheek, considering the payoff.
“You promise?” I asked, almost like a child unsure of his word. He crossed his heart, his long finger traced along the dark wings of his chest. This was a game, one I was tempted to join.
Show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.
“I swear it.” He said, snarling with an emphasis on the wordswear. I really contemplated his offer, unsure for a moment before sighing out loud.
“Ok, it’s complicated because he’s my best friend, but now he has a girlfriend and…”
“Stop.” Alejandro raised his finger, shushing my words. He was adamant to control the conversation, to lead the questions.
“What is it?” I asked.
“This isn’t complicated.”
“Yes, it is.” I maintained, but he persisted.
“Have you two fucked?” He asked callously.
“I’m sorry?”
“I asked you, have you two fucked?” He spoke more clearly, my body still down on my knees, looking up at his height.
“No…”
“Has he ever tried?” He asked, going through a mental checklist, a criteria. Of course he hadn’t, he never made a move; it was only me, always was. I thought of that embarrassing night, back in college, the moment I confessed and puked on his shoes.
