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Parker:I don’t care, I’m coming.
Gemma:Well I do. This is an exciting time, meeting the parents already. I want to hear how it goes, so go hang out. Remember, I want you to live a normal life.
I sent the message, doubling down on this belief of a normal life, the one I tried to convince myself of. It had already gone this far, so why not continue? When the phone buzzed back, I didn't check it. I didn't want to see what he said, I only wanted to know how I left it. Maybe it was what I needed. Parker may not be in love, he may not be anything with Camilla, but I knew someday he would be, and he wouldn’t be there for me like he said he would. This was my reminder again, walking alone amongst the wet pavement, that dependency wasn’t Parker’s job, but instead my own.
I pulled out a single ticket, taking my place amongst the chattering crowd. Many people were couples, some were not. A few looked in my direction and I them, a silent connection of solitude that didn't go unnoticed. People did this all the time,thingsalone, it was fine to do, but my excitement fell flat as the usher tore my ticket. This wasn’t meant to be alone; this was meant to be shared.
Parker wouldn’t be here tonight, and his replacement became clear as I heard the sudden pop of uncorked wine near the concession. I was guided by the glow of an illuminated candy display as I sat on a stool, placing my purse on a golden hook near my knees.
“Red wine, and a large buttered popcorn,” I requested, not proud of the combination, but desperate for it nonetheless. The lady smiled, placing a napkin by my side as she left.
At first I was tempted to check Parker’s message, reminded by a bag of peach gummy rings in the glowing display case. Had he been here, would he have bought them, and if so, would he have placed one on my finger just like old times, or did having a girlfriend mean our entire relationship would change? This wasn’t the first time he had a girlfriend, but something felt different with her. I contemplated buying a pack, its flavor as soothing as my new appreciation for cherry cigarettes, but I couldn’t think about anything else, except the idea of Parker with Camilla.
I pulled out my phone along with an envelope holding Parker’s loose ticket. The bartender came by, dropping off my plastic cup of wine, but stopped as I reached out. “Would you give this to the front booth?” I asked, slipping her the single ticket. “They can give it away if they want, it doesn’t matter.” She twisted her lips, her pity something more uncomfortable than what I wanted, so I turned my attention towards my phone.
Parker was never one for social media, but I imagined Camilla was active enough for the both of them. It wasn’t a good look, snooping around, but the habit was new, beginning with Alejandro the night I found his pair of heavy handcuffs. What other surprises would I find, starting with the new woman in Parker’s life? Being a gossip columnist forNew York Prestigewas no tame indication, and her feed confirmed this. She was quite the socialite, every other photo being at an event, an extravagant party with wild cocktails and designer dresses.
I was surprised to see Parker, the freshly posted picture of his face welcoming her page. I wanted to cry. His expression was timid, almost lost in the candid photo of Camilla and her family. Parker wasn’t one for parties or large gatherings, which Camilla clearly enjoyed. Even in college, we spent our time alone on the roof, versus the actual frat parties themselves. I read the caption below the photo:Perfect night with my perfect man.In it, Camilla kissed his cheek, her long lashes on display, squinted and proud.
What she wrote was true, Parker was perfect and, in reality, so was she. It was no wonder why he liked her, and maybe that was my clue. I was just a sister to Parker, the opposite of Camilla, who was a voluptuous, dark haired, chocolate eyed beauty.
Maybe she had an energy to her that he craved, one I couldn’t produce. Confidence? She was compelling after all, her alluring stare was almost reminiscent of Alejandro, but only in color, not in effect. His were a synopsis of a powerful man or perhaps a delicate facade. Handsome and possibly dangerous, it was difficult to tell if his eyes revealed the truth, or mirrored a perception the world viewed him as, a Hollywood bad boy. The term itself made me laugh, he was anything but aboy, but instead an older and more assertive star. He wasn’t Parker, who was more considerate and kinder, who himself wasn't a boy, but whose childhood intertwined with mine. If I didn’t stop him, Parker would’ve come tonight, even if he missed it. I was sure Alejandro would never do something like that for anyone. Parker was different, he was sweet, but that notion alone didn't make me feel better about him not being here tonight.
Suddenly, my thumb slipped, liking the photo of Parker and Camilla, the woman whose page I wasn't even following. I panicked, but soon became startled as the crowds behind me grew louder. I was lost in the noise, the once quiet chatter more static now, met with the bright flashes of clicking camera phones. A group of suited large men walked in, shielding the view of a single man.
I was mortified.
I couldn’t believe who had arrived.
Alejandro.
CHAPTER 11
He kept his head down, his dark eyes squinted from the flashes, attempting a cooled wave of the hand nonetheless. He looked up, much taller than his own security, making eyes in my direction. Quickly, I spun around, twisting the cocktail napkin in my hand. Why was he here, why did he come? I knew the answer already, it was because I told him where I’d be. I rejected his invite to dinner during the Drip photo shoot, and now he was here at the Majestic, looking for me. I reached for my wine, raising it to my lips, trying my best to go unnoticed.
He wouldn’t dare come over here; he was in the spotlight, his reputation and all. I kept my head down, studying the playbill, rereading the same sentence over and over again. Mentally I wasn’t ready, already wrecked from tonight, the damp evidence of rain still on my dress and hair.
The woman at the counter dropped off my popcorn, her eyes trying to assess the commotion behind me. “Can I get you anything else?” She asked, half listening, half distracted. I dug my hand into the bucket and stuffed my mouth, nervously eating without enjoyment. I tasted nothing.
“I’m good.” I hushed, but knew it was too late. Her soft eyes widened into round empty plates. Alejandro’s presence was palpable, thick like a fog that hung in the air. The flavor of gummy peach rings was no longer on my mind, but rather displaced with the scent of cherry tobacco. I didn't appreciate how this sweet smell alone could shove my thoughts aside.
“Manhattan, Four Roses Bourbon, please.” The familiar deep voice announced itself, requesting a drink with silk-like clarity. The bartender was startled and so was I. It took everything in my power not to turn around, but my resistance was challenged, his deep welcoming voice earning a peek of my eyes, “Gemma.” He grinned.
I clenched my jaw, “What are you doing here?” I asked, not once looking his direction. His leather clad arm brushed against my body as he leaned against the counter.
“Here for the popcorn,” he took a piece, tossing it into his mouth, “clearly.” I peered behind him, staring at his security who blocked off the crowd. People stared with amazement, snapping pictures of him and me.
“I see you brought your friends. They should be able to keep you company.”
“They’re here for me, I’m not here for them. It’s a necessary displeasure to get what I want.”
“And what would that be?”
“More time with you.” He lifted his drink to his lips.
I scoffed. “Don’t do that.” I warned him, looking away, as people were escorted to their seats.
“And what am I doing?”
