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“Why would he do that?” I asked out loud, wiping coffee off my lips.
“Ask him yourself.” She motioned to the door, “He’s finally here.”
CHAPTER 17
The swing of the door startled me, but not as much as the thud of heavy boots. I tried to cover the blotch of coffee on my shirt but panicked when I smeared loose pieces of tissues along my chest.
“You have five minutes!” An older man with thin white hair entered, following closely behind Alejandro, “I can’t pay for you to be late every day!” The man shouted, taking a swig of pink Pepto. Alejandro came in with a scowl, creasing the lines of a permanent stern expression. They softened, but only for a moment as his eyes locked on mine.
“Gemma.” He greeted, ignoring the man behind him. While I hadn’t seen him in weeks, I wasn’t prepared for the presence of his weighted steps or the gravity of my name spoken from his lips. I’d forgotten how to say hello, my mouth opened, but shut as I dropped the napkin onto the floor.Hewas presentable, unlike myself, fitted in a black button down shirt and tapered black slacks. Had he dressed for me, a chic mafioso style, absent of the leather jacket I was accustomed to?
“Good morning.” I replied softly as I kneeled for my napkin. There was something in my shyness I knew he enjoyed but knowing that made me even more shy. It was as if he wanted to punish me for it or, instead, praise me for it. I wasn’t sure. Even now, my timid voice provoked the twitch of his lip, a signal that the resistance he showed was slipping. Calmly he took his seat.
“You have four minutes, now!” The man barked, looking at Ivanna, “Get your client under control.”
“I’m his assistant,” she corrected, “and he’s a big boy, he can control himself.”
“Enough is enough! We are wrapping up in June, and we have these final scenes that need to be worked out.”
“And you’ll have them,” Alejandro argued, his eyes fixated on mine, “when I say so.”
“It doesn't work like that.”
“Then get rid of me, or better yet, I’ll leave.” Alejandro threatened, his expression for once alleviated. It was as if he invited the words, the approval to be shut out and closed off. This is what Parker mentioned, the stressed man who leaves when things get tough. I wasn’t sure how true that was anymore, given the insight Ivanna shared. He seemed less in control, and more like he was just existing. Maybe he didn't know what he wanted, but when his eyes met mine, that question didn't exist.
“Don’t be an asshole,” the man barked. “It’s not you the studio will fire, it’s me!” Alejandro sighed, checking the expression of an unamused Ivanna. She jutted her chin, giving some hidden message to make things better. Alejandro seemed to understand, shutting his eyes with a deep breath as he shoved his hands through his hair.
“It’s me, baby, deal with it.” He groaned, replying with the familiar words I first read in a billboard weeks ago. A catchphrase of sorts, not Alejandro’s, but rather Alex Rivers’. Those six little words melted both Ivanna and the director’s face into a smile, as if the words, “Come on down,”were just announced on The Price is Right.
“Fuck, he’s good.” The man conceded, “Don’t you agree?” He turned to ask me, but Alejandro interrupted.
“Don’t talk to her,” he barked, rolling his eyes up to the man. “Now leave, before I do.” The room fell flat with a buzz, a strange energy suddenly cut by Ivanna’s loud slurp of coffee. The director mumbled some obscenity as he left, and Ivanna snickered.
“Who’s hungry?” She chirped, flipping through her phone as if to make an order. “Gemma?”
“Nothing for me.”
“I’ll take the usual,” Alejandro answered sharply, “and be sure to bring Gemma the same. Along with a new dress.” He studied my body, noticing my stain.
“That won’t be necessary.” I replied.
“It is if I say so.” He looked at Ivanna, “Put it on the card and go to Saks.”
“Anything in particular?” She asked, looking at me, but instead, Alejandro answered.
“Something spring, something with flowers.” He gestured with a sudden realization, “Daises, if possible.”
“If possible.” Ivanna repeated, almost in a question.
“At any cost.” He asserted, shooting a look that boosted Ivanna’s urgency. She quickly got up and parted with a smile. The snap of the door latch was loud, highlighting the new sense of silence that filled the room.
Finally, against my better wishes, we were alone, and my dread returned. I still didn't know what to say. The last time we saw each other was ugly, yet impactful. I felt a lot of things, but mostly confused, leaving me with no balanced opinion; I was both frustrated and curious. Yes, The Met was terrible, but his brutal honesty was refreshing in a way. I’d wanted that for myself, or at least to try, the problem was I just didn’t know how. Maybe that was what Ivanna meant by growth, a mutual exchange of people learning through experiences.
“I don’t need a new dress.” I started, unable to think of anything else.
“A turtleneck and jeans?” He questioned, slowly rolling up his sleeves, “Now you’re really trying to throw me off.”
“It’s just a shirt.”
