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“I can’t believe it.” I shivered.
“Believe what?”
“My heart! It’s racing!” I really felt it, the tipping point of chaos. Each move he made, each stare he shot, was like snipping a wire to a bomb. It was so simple, the act of being out, using our feet to get around. I did this every day, I even dreaded it at times, yet there was an inherent privilege to it. He couldn’t enjoy that, his experiences were usually limited through the window of a car, or possibly a high rise.
We crossed a large street with long white lines, making our way amongst the unassuming tourists and gift shops. Did he ever have the urge to go into a place like that, to get something simple such as a snow globe or a magnet? He was visiting after all.
“Do you miss it?” I asked, staring through the large window of a glowing convenience store. “Life before Alex Rivers?” Alejandro was quiet, soaking in the question as we made our way across a lighted path of flowers and canopies.
“I miss the mundane,” he grinned, “to grab a drink, to be where I want to be, to see and eat like you and others do,” he looked over, his lips almost twisted, “to do that, all without a photo, all without strangers wanting my name scribbled on a poster.”
Amongst all the benefits he had, the power and wealth, was there room to feel sorry for such a thing? I thought so. What is the cost of wealth, if it couldn’t be spent in peace? We turned a corner of the quiet street, pausing for a moment to stare down its path. From afar, the large glowing beacon of Times Square felt distant, like an island of light and noise, too crowded for the likes of Alejandro.
“It’s not that great, any self-respecting New Yorker actually hates it.” I comforted, leaning my head against his arm. He allowed it, maybe even encouraged it. His hand raised to brush my hair. “The crowds are too big; the stores are kitschy.” I assured.
“Still, it’s a piece of normal I could never have again… unless,” he paused.
“Unless what?”
“Unless I had to for you, like that night for thePhantom. Like I said, a small price to pay to get what I want.”
“More time with me?” I asked, remembering the words he said, how at that time his persistence frustrated me. Alone on a quiet street, I suddenly felt bad for him, along with the unpleasantries of the world’s attention. I had the sense that neither of us wanted that, but instead, something ordinary. “A piece of normal.” I repeated his words, my attention on something even the biggest celebrity could still enjoy. I let go of him and ran closer to the corner of the street. He followed.
“Gemma?” He called out, staying close as I opened my mouth.
“Two hotdogs, please.” I approached a small glowing cart, sheltered by a yellow umbrella and photos of food. I turned to Alejandro, “This here, this is normal, a dirty water dog with ketchup and mustard.” I stared up, making my eyes big for his view.
“A dirty water dog?” He laughed.
“A staple.” I nodded, approving the order to be continued. The man behind the cart lifted the lid of a silver tray, allowing a cloud of steam to plume into the air. You could smell it, its salty promise wafted along the display of assorted sodas. “It’s almost as New York as pizza. Tell me you’re not tempted?” I asked, slipping the man a five, taking the foiled dogs from his hand.
“Oh, I am.” He replied, fixing a strand of my hair, staring at me rather than the food.
“Well, I hope you’re hungry then!” I looked back, linking my arm into his.
“Starved.”
We made our way towards a brick wall. Alejandro unwrapped his dog, taking a big bite as he leaned against a decorated pillar.
“I mean, come on.” I laughed, my mouth filled with a bite.
“You can’t beat it,” he confessed, actually reaching up to remove his glasses. I could see his eyes, those perfect dark bowls, more illuminated by the glow of window light. He winked, taking another bite, staring at my own enjoyment of something so simple. “If you like this, then you’ll love Pink’s.” He covered his mouth.
“Pink’s?”
“You’ve never heard of Pink’s? Not too far from Santa Monica Boulevard. Los Angeles, that is,” he distinguished.
“Oh, I’ve never been,” I admitted. “Actually, I’ve never really been anywhere too far from New York, to be honest.”
“I’ll take you.” He motioned, wiping mustard from my lip and licking it off his thumb. “After production, that is. I’ll show you lots of things out in California.” His plans were matched with a stare, one that lingered from my lips and up to my eyes. For a moment, it took me out, forgetting almost that he wasn’t from New York. He would have to go back to Los Angles eventually, how did I feel about that?
“I’d like that,” I replied, “someday, maybe.” Not disillusioned by another fantasy of being whisked away. Not that I needed it or sought it, but his command did have a charm to it that I would possibly miss. It was nice to be around a person who knew what they wanted, who had both a direction and a plan.
“Someday.” He added, his tone as coy as it felt. He presented himself as though his mind were made up, a decision I wasn’t yet privy to. The night was so different than what I expected, assuming it would have ended with Parker, curled on the couch. As much as I loved that idea, I recognized this was nice too, possibly even better. It was new, and new was refreshing. Old meant repeating a cycle that’d probably hurt me as much as it helped. For a moment, I felt foolish again, remembering I almost asked Parker why he saw me as a sister. Would his answer have changed anything, or would it have been just another confirmation?
If confirmation is what I needed, then why did I need to look further? Alejandro was here, and though I tried to fight it, I was willing to accept what my body felt. Was there more than just the urge to be touched, to please the older man with compelling dark eyes? He wanted me, I knew it, and his plans seemed greater than what his production time allowed. We chewed silently, my gaze averted by the loud blare of a determined fire truck. It passed quickly, its siren screeching along the quiet brick walls behind our backs.
“There goes trouble.” I mumbled, taking another bite.
