Hot Set (Art of Love #2)

7. Alex

Chapter seven

Alex

T he Manhattan FBI building didn’t look like much. It was dark brown and lined with rows and rows of rectangular, glass windows. But while it didn’t look like much, it was still the FBI building, and by some miracle, I’d been lucky enough to get an interview. I took a deep breath and tried to muster some confidence as I walked in with my cheap suit and cellphone filled with encouraging texts from my new coworkers.

One of them was from Brandon. I shook my head and tried not to think about him; about what we’d done. Or about how I’d left like a coward before he woke up. I’d left a note, but I knew that didn’t really make everything okay.

“ Thanks for the sex! It was great!”

I didn’t want to think about it in terms of sex, although—really—that was the only way one could think about it. It had been amazing.

Potentially the most amazing sex I’d ever had.

But I wasn’t even attracted to men, or was I? Sure, Brandon was attractive, but anyone would say that. It was hard to argue that a blond-haired, blue-eyed man who clearly worked out wasn’t attractive in modern-day America.

It’d just been some harmless fun.

But if that was all it was, why did I keep lingering on it?

I greeted the secretary, who sent me to the third floor for my interview with Michelle Magaletta. The elevator ride seemed to take forever, and my feet felt as if they were lead. When I entered her office, Michelle smiled. She was a sharp looking woman with dark hair, cold blue eyes, and a serious, angular face. “Alex?”

“That’s me,” I replied.

She stood for a shake. I hoped she didn’t notice how badly my palms were sweating. “Please, sit,” she said, as she lowered herself once more to her chair.

I did, and clasped my hands together in my lap, trying to keep from shaking or bouncing my leg as nervous energy jolted through me.

“So,” Michelle said, folding her hands over her desk, “Tell me about yourself.”

I sucked in a breath of air. I hated that question more than any other because I could never think quickly enough. Although I started strong, I was always inevitably reduced to a rambling mess. I shoved Brandon away from my mind and began talking about myself—my age, my love for art, my educational background. All the things that Michelle had already seen on my resume. After a few seconds, my rambling tapered off, and I waited, searching Michelle’s face for judgement.

“It says in your resume that you concentrated in Renaissance art,” she said, without even glancing at my resume. “What drew you to that?”

I gave a blank stare, trying to devise a clever answer. “I suppose it was the ideas,” I said. “The Renaissance was a rebirth. I mean, everyone knows that, but I liked that there was this explosion of new and old meeting together. I liked that people were beginning to look at Greek and Roman art through a new lens. I’ve always liked that about art. It isn’t just a painting or a sculpture. It’s a conversation.”

“I see,” Michelle said. “And you would be able to tell a real piece from a fake piece?”

I swallowed, unsure if this was a trap. I suddenly imagined Michelle whipping out a Raphael painting and demanding I prove its authenticity. “Maybe,” I said. “I know a lot about pieces and about paint, but I don’t know everything.”

Michelle smiled. “You’re honest,” she said. “That’s refreshing. Of course, if you join the art forgery team, we’ll have you trained to recognize such things. We don’t expect you to know everything from the start. It’s actually better that you don’t come in with a bunch of pre-conceived ideas; sometimes, what we think we know, we don’t really know.”

“Absolutely,” I agreed.

“Any experience in criminal justice?” she asked.

“Some. I’ve taken…a few classes here and there. A couple of forensics and criminal justice classes.”

In hindsight, I probably hadn’t taken enough, but when I’d been an undergrad, I hadn’t given much thought to what I’d be working at. I’d crammed in whatever general education classes let me get the most days off.

“A little experience, then,” Michelle said, although she must’ve already seen my transcript. “Well, I think I can safely say you’ll be hearing back from us.”

My eyes widened. I wanted to jump from my chair and shout for joy, but I knew that was a dumb, deal-killing idea. “Really?” I asked instead, trying to keep my enthusiasm at bay.

I didn’t want to look desperate, but I couldn’t really help it. This was the FBI , and they were going to call me back! It had taken years of trying to get this interview!

Michelle’s smile was indulgent. “Meet with the secretary on the way out, and we’ll schedule your next interview with Jim Weis.”

Another interview. Of course. I stood and extended my hand. “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you so much for your time.”

Michelle shook my hand. “The pleasure is all mine,” she said.

In my excitement, I nearly tripped over her chair. When I walked into the hallway, I could feel the grin stretched across my face. I hadn’t gotten hired yet , but I was one precious step closer.

As I walked to the subway, I texted everyone on the movie set’s group text, letting them know that the interview had gone well. At least, I thought it had, but I still felt a cold jolt of fear that maybe Michelle really hated me, thought I was young and inexperienced and foolish, and just been too polite to say it.

“That’s wonderful!” –Brandon

I curled my fingers tightly around the phone. Every emotion I’d been trying to ignore the whole morning suddenly bubbled forth and hit me so strongly that, for one instant, I thought I might’ve forgotten how to breathe.

“Cool. At least I know you won’t quit if you’re hired.” –Seth

“I’m so happy for you!” –Bioncia

Despite the influx of texts, my eyes focused on the black letters spelling out Brandon’s name. What was I going to do about him? I sighed. This was my own fault, and I knew it. I shouldn’t have had sex with him. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have even been worrying about all this. But…but it had been a lot of fun, really. If I were being honest, I’d admit it was fun, but it was just sex, right?

Wrong.

It wasn’t just sex. I grimaced and forced myself to put my phone in my pants pocket. Why did this all have to be so confusing?

As usual, the set was bustling with activity. Everyone was covered in fake blood and latex. I wove my way in, dodging set pieces, cast and crew. A few people nodded and greeted me as I walked in. Although I hadn’t been part of the production for all that long, I already felt like I really belonged here in this community of artists and talented people.

I found Bioncia quickly. My heart skipped a beat, and time seemed to stop, crystallizing into some strange, solid thing around me. Bioncia was in a deep conversation with Brandon, his blond head close to hers as they looked over a smattering of photos spread over a prop suitcase. Everything Brandon and I had done flashed before my mind. Had Brandon told anyone? I hadn’t asked him not to.

Should I be embarrassed? Afraid?

Brandon was technically my boss, and I shouldn’t have gotten involved with him. The irrational urge to flee shot through me. I thought of bolting out, like a frightened rabbit. Already, I’d constructed a bizarre, extravagant fantasy where I disappeared and assumed a new identity far away from Bluehaven.

But then, Brandon looked up. His blue eyes caught the light and turned nearly silver. “Alex!” Brandon exclaimed with an easy grin. “Or do we have to call you Special Agent Alex now?”

“It’s just the first interview,” I said. “There’s at least one more.”

This was the easiest way to approach this. Just keep talking to Brandon, answering his questions. If I could manage to do that, I might be able to get through this. Heat flooded my face. What had I been thinking ?

Seth swooped in and threw an arm over my shoulders. “Congratulations,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve as good as got it!”

I wished I shared his confidence. I smiled awkwardly and tried not to look at Brandon, but despite my best efforts, my eyes kept darting up to him. His blond hair was bright beneath the set lights, whiter than blond. Practically angelic. He was so handsome. My heart fluttered.

I couldn’t possibly like Brandon. I couldn’t. Not in that way. The sex had just been…an experience. That’s all. It wasn’t that weird. And sure, things were awkward now, but eventually, this awkwardness would fade. Even if I did like Brandon, it was surely just an infatuation; a temporary crush. If I waited long enough, that crush would go away. I’d had crushes before on women, and they always faded eventually. Really, all I needed to do was just—just avoid Brandon.

Avoid him as much as I could, even though we were working together. I could do that. That would be for the best, anyway. I wasn’t attracted to men, or I hadn’t been. Did I want to be? I didn’t know. But Brandon liked men. What did he think about us having sex? Did he think it was just a one-night stand? A poor decision? Or more?

Oh, God, what if Brandon had interpreted what we did as me being in love with him? As some sign that I wanted a relationship with him? I didn’t want to break Brandon’s heart. Maybe I was jumping to conclusions, though. Maybe Brandon didn’t think that at all.

I could ask.

I wouldn’t, though. I’d die of embarrassment if I did.

“You’re late again,” Brandon said. “Honestly, Seth, you’re glued to your phone. How don’t you know how to read a clock?”

Seth swept around me and climbed onto the edge of the trunk, clambering over half the photos spread out there. “Reading clocks stresses me,” Seth said. “They remind me I have obligations. I hate obligations.”

“Hate them or not, you do have them,” Brandon pointed out, “And deadlines.”

Seth grinned. That smile probably would’ve charmed most people; it was so friendly and daring. Seth was like a cat, trying to charm his prey closer. He leaned into Brandon, leaving only a few inches between them. “Well, you’re welcome to find another lead actor if you want,” with the sarcasm meter pegged. “Although I don’t know where you’ll find someone with my incredible looks.”

“Yeah, right. I’m sure there’s no one in New York City who’s possibly as attractive as you,” Brandon said.

“I’m one of a kind,” Seth replied.

“Oh, please, you’re barely the most attractive man in a Home Depot,” Bioncia said.

Seth shook his head. “It’s so sad how badly you lack in taste,” Seth said.

Bioncia gave me a longsuffering look. “Alex, will you get Seth ready for make-up? He’s supposed to look like he’s been shot in the face.”

That sounded fun. I mentally ran through everything I’d need to do—how I’d have to mix up the blood and make the guts. Wounds were always fun, the more gruesome the better. And doing make-up had the added bonus of getting me away from Brandon, which was important right now.

I tried to keep my eyes from drifting to Brandon. “I can do that, Bioncia,” I answered.

“Great,” she replied. “I’m glad someone can do their job.”

Seth slid off the trunk and stood languidly. “Do you see how underappreciated I am?” he asked, his voice husky. “It’s dreadful.”

“You’re definitely a martyr,” I said.

“More like my purgatory,” Brandon muttered.

I shook my head and led Seth to his make-up chair. He pulled out his phone and adopted an expression that dripped of boredom and nobility.

I opened my make-up case and dug through the pots and potions. When I’d first gotten into doing make-up, I’d thought of it as being a sort of magic; sometimes, I still thought of it that way. I wondered if Brandon was looking at me or what he’d thought when he saw me, or if he’d talked about me to Bioncia. Warmth flooded my face.

“So, what’re you doing to celebrate?” Seth asked.

“Celebrate?”

“Sure,” Seth said, smirking, “To celebrate your successful FBI career. Are you going to go hunt down some serial killers?”

“The art forgery unit doesn’t chase serial killers.”

Seth shrugged. “It’s all the same to me,” he said.

“Besides, I haven’t even gotten the job yet.”

“But you will,” Seth said. “Why don’t you? You should go out and celebrate. How do you feel about pizza?”

I frowned. “Just us?”

Seth arched an eyebrow. “I sort of assumed. I mean, if you want to bring people, it’s fine, though. I just thought it’d be fun. You haven’t been to Bluehaven in a while, so you probably haven’t gotten out much. That’s all.”

He was right about that. I sighed. “That might be nice,” I said.

My mom had just been talking about how much I’d taken to hanging around the house alone, so this might be a good idea. She was right; I did need to be more social. Not that I was going to tell Seth I was agreeing to hang out with him because of my mom .

“That could be fun,” I admitted.

I might’ve thought of asking Brandon to go with us, but I couldn’t now. Not after what we’d done. I looked over my make-up for the thirtieth time in the past few minutes and once more resisted the urge to look up at Brandon.

“Great,” Seth said. “Six? If you want, I can pick you up on my bike.”

“That’s fine,” I said. “I’ve never ridden one before.”

Seth grinned mischievously. “Motorcycles are fun,” he said.

Sure, they were. I believed that.

But I thought of Brandon. Some strange and sharp feeling split through my stomach and tangled in my chest. I felt…guilty. Yes.

Like I should’ve told Brandon that I was going out with Seth. But that would be stupid. We were just getting pizza to celebrate an interview. It wasn’t a date, and even if it had been, it wasn’t any of Brandon’s business. So, I shouldn’t feel uneasy at all. I was an adult and could go wherever I wanted with whoever I wanted, and it was as simple as that. Except I felt uneasy anyway.

When I looked at Seth, there was something strangely piercing about his eyes. It was as if he could look at me and read every confused feeling whirling about in my head. I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “Ready to be shot in the face?” I asked.

“Oh, I thought you’d never ask,” Seth said.