Hot Set (Art of Love #2)

4. Alex

Chapter four

Alex

S eth sauntered in with a carton of fried rice and a set of chopsticks. He bounded into the make-up chair beside which I stood, heedless of anyone or anything I might have been working on. I glanced up from my make-up brushes; I’d been in the process of trying to figure out what shade of blush I needed for Eliza Hamilton, wife of Alexander Hamilton and—in Brandon’s vision—an immortal sorceress. Seth shifted his position, sprawling over the chair as if determined to take up as much room as possible.

“How’s it going?” Seth asked.

“Good,” I said. “I guess.”

Seth nodded and tipped his head back to eat a few kernels of rice. He was good with chopsticks, or maybe I was just bad with them. Any time I tried to eat my food with them, I felt embarrassingly American and usually resorted to stabbing whatever I was trying to eat.

“Want some?” Seth asked.

I shook my head.

“Not a fried rice kind of guy?”

“No,” I replied. “I’m just weird about eating after other people.”

Seth nodded. “What time is it?” he asked, looking to all the world like he’d only just noticed he was at the set.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and looked. “Three.”

“Crap,” Seth replied. “I’m late.”

He didn’t sound particularly concerned about it, though.

“How late?” I asked.

“Three hours.”

And yet he sat in my make-up chair acting like absolutely nothing was wrong. My jaw dropped.

“Close your mouth,” Seth said. “You look like a fish.”

“You’re three hours late? .”

Seth shrugged. “The set didn’t burn down.”

“I know,” I replied, “But don’t you think it’s kind of a big deal you’re late?”

I’d have been an anxious mess if I’d shown up even twenty minutes late. Three hours was unthinkable. I would have literally died of embarrassment.

“No,” Seth replied. “If it was a big deal, Brandon would’ve gotten rid of me already.”

“But doesn’t that hold things up?” I asked.

“It does,” Brandon replied for Seth, coming from behind me.

“Hello, boss,” Seth said.

Brandon crossed his arms and sighed. “The good thing is that I’ve kind of gotten used to him just showing up whenever he wants. The bad thing… is that I’ve kind of gotten used to him just showing up whenever he wants.”

Seth didn’t respond; he was too busy stuffing his face with fried rice.

Brandon wrinkled his nose. “How you eat that and not croak is beyond me. Your sodium must be through the roof.”

“It’s not,” Seth replied smugly.

Brandon cast his eyes heavenwards, probably seeking patience from the divine. “Can you at least hurry?” Brandon asked. “You’ve already missed two scenes.”

“Not mine, though,” Seth pointed out.

“I don’t care if you haven’t missed your scenes. You needed to be here on time, so we can get you ready with wardrobe and pass on script changes,” Brandon said.

Seth smirked. “So, start talking,” he said.

Brandon shook his head. “You know,” he said, “Every time I think I’m lacking in direction, I think of you, and I feel much better.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Seth said. “So glad I inspire.”

“Come see me when you’re finished,” Brandon said. “I’ll probably be with Caitlyn.”

“Good to know,” Seth said.

Brandon sighed. “Alex,” he said, patting my shoulder, “Will you get Seth when he’s finished eating? Hopefully, before next year.”

Honestly, I was surprised he was caving. I wondered if it was because Brandon really had just gotten used to Seth’s behavior and didn’t mind or if Brandon just wasn’t sure exactly how to handle the situation. Or maybe Seth was one of those questionable people Brandon had confessed to hiring. Brandon had told me to watch out for him, after all. “Sure,” I replied.

Brandon shook his head and headed off to find Caitlyn.

“Oh, good. I have company, then,” Seth said. “Fresh meat.”

Since I was stuck waiting for Seth, I closed my make-up case, massive and black, that Bioncia had dragged out for me. “That sounds like something a serial killer would say,” I said.

“Have you known many serial killers?” Seth asked.

“No, but I watch a lot of movies.”

Admittedly, I wasn’t really a big fan of gore, so I hadn’t watched that many.

Seth hummed and chewed thoughtfully on his rice. “Most of us have,” he said. “We’re movie people anyway. That’s why we’re here.”

“Is this your first film?” I asked.

Seth laughed and shook his head. “Hardly,” he said, “I’ve been in a ton of indie films.”

“B-movies like these?”

“Not intentionally b-movies. Some of them just went that way,” Seth said. “Things happen.”

“Big budget films?” I asked.

“No,” Seth replied, a bit sourly. “Hollywood has yet to recognize my innate star quality. Instead, I’m here in Nowheresville.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say Bluehaven is nowhere ,” I replied.

After all, this was my childhood home, and I had to defend it. Even if I didn’t necessarily disagree.

“You haven’t gotten around much, clearly,” Seth said.

“I believe in quality, not quantity.”

Seth shifted in the chair and propped his feet up on my make-up case, just an inch or so to my left. “If Bluehaven is your idea of quality , I shudder to think at what you consider a dump,” Seth said.

“So, why are you here?” I asked.

Seth shrugged. “Cheap rent. Bluehaven is no New York City,” he said. “That’s all. I can be close to my agent and the various studios, and in my spare time, I do things like this.”

“And you care so much about them that you show up three hours late,” I said.

“You’re smart, aren’t you?” Seth asked.

“Not really,” I replied. “I just can’t see how you can—in good conscience—show up three hours late.”

“I wouldn’t show up at all if Brandon wasn’t so great,” Seth said, resting his cheek in his hand.

“Really?”

Seth nodded. “Brandon is a great guy—just lacking a bit in direction. This is his millionth venture.”

“What do you mean?”

Seth waved vaguely with his chopsticks. “It’s always something with him. If he’s not making a movie, he’s modeling nude or trying to sail around the world. The man’s got absolutely no idea what he wants to do with his life, so he just sort of flounders around, hoping to fall into something.”

“Oh,” I said, unsure how exactly to respond to all that.

Seth swallowed another bite. “A lot of it goes back to his family,” Seth said. “They really want him to take over the family business.”

“What’s that?”

“Telecommunications or something boring,” Seth said. “I actually feel a bit sad about it. All my parents wanted was for me to stay out of prison, and they’ve had…dubious success.”

“ Dubious success?”

Seth laughed. “Hey, lots of college students have gotten arrested at protests. It was for a good cause.”

“Was it?” I asked.

“Yeah. I chained myself to a tree and everything,” Seth said. “To keep a park from being developed in East Tennessee. They tore the trees down anyway, but it was worth a try.”

I shook my head. “Should I congratulate you, then?” I asked.

“It’s better to have tried and failed than not to have tried at all,” Seth said. “Paraphrasing Alfred Tennyson…I think.”

“You think?”

Seth nodded. “I memorize poetry just to pick up people at bars,” he said, “But I’m awful remembering where it all comes from.”

Seth leaned forward and placed his mostly empty container on my make-up case, and then, rather than getting up, he leaned back in the chair, adjusting so he looked like a king on his throne.

“Shouldn’t you go and find Brandon?” I asked.

“No,” Seth replied. “I’ve got him trained. If I wait long enough, he’ll come and find me.”

What on Earth was I supposed to make of someone like this—a man with such a blatant disregard for what people thought and for what he was supposed to be doing? It was, well, a bit admirable. I’d always been a man who followed the rules to the letter, and I felt profoundly like I’d just met my exact opposite. The Anti-Alex. And maybe I should’ve immediately disliked him. Somehow, though, I didn’t.

“How many jobs have you been fired from?” I asked.

I tried to imagine Seth working at some every-day, throwaway job. I imagined him working retail or as a barista at some Starbuck’s, and the only thing I could imagine was unmitigated disaster.

“Six,” Seth said, as if it didn’t matter in the slightest, “Although I’ve also made a habit of quitting in a needlessly dramatic fashion. As you do.”

“I’ve never quit any job like that,” I replied.

“You should have,” Seth said. “Life’s more fun that way.”

“Maybe,” I replied, “But I just—I don’t know. When I quit, I always just put in my two weeks’ notice and then head out.”

“You must’ve thought about it,” Seth said. “About just…grabbing a megaphone and announcing you were leaving to the whole store, right?”

“No,” I replied.

“How boring,” Seth said. “How do you live with yourself?”

I shrugged.

Seth tilted his head back and hummed loudly. “You must have an ‘Alex’, deep inside you, who wants to go on some adventure and break all the rules.”

“That Alex doesn’t exist,” I said.

“Are you sure?” Seth asked.

“Positive,” I replied.

Seth loudly clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Well, you’re going to have to change that,” Seth said, sounding as if an authority.

He sounded so sure about it. It was as if he’d traveled to the future and seen a proverbial future me, who was infinitely more adventurous.

“I doubt that’s going to happen.”

“Oh, it will,” Seth said, leaning forward and grinning mischievously. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to do it on your own. I’ll help you.”

“Will you!” I asked, chuckling.

“Sure,” Seth said. “We’ll start small. Ever rode a motorcycle? I could teach you.”

I shook my head. “That’s never going to happen. It took me long enough to learn to drive a car. I had to take my driver’s license test three times before I passed.”

“What about just taking a ride?” he asked. “It’s fun. I have a spare helmet.”

“Now?”

“Sure,” Seth replied.

“You are supposed to be going to talk to Brandon,” I pointed out.

Seth heaved a long, dramatic sigh. “You’re definitely going to be a passion project,” he said, nodding sagely. “What about going for a ride some other time?”

“Maybe,” I said, “But not now.”

Seth slid out of his seat and grabbed a last, final bite of fried rice. “You’re no fun.”

I arched an eyebrow.

“But you have potential,” Seth said slyly.

He sauntered away without another word. I frowned and looked at his carton of Chinese. I’d been reduced to cleaning up his messes now. What a jerk! But damn, there was something kind of admirable about his boldness, his sheer level of just not caring. I wished I could manage that, to care a little less sometimes.