Chapter 20 Christopher Sunday #2
“He actually works out of one of our Texas branches,” Chloe says, leaning in toward me. “He’s quite the hit down there with customers.”
I’m not surprised, given that everyone in the store has actually focused more on him than Alexander. Literally all of the women inside and some of the men are fawning over his every movement.
“I bet they literally get down on their hands and knees to worship him. Though I’m not sure whether that’s in prayers or blowjobs.”
Both Pedro and Lucy cut me a look as they press record on their phones and I fight back a laugh.
“Can I get the Holy Roast please?”
“Sure, can I get a name?” Alexander stands there with a cup and pen in hand.
“Jesus.”
Alexander’s eyes widen, as the guy—who has also insisted we call him Jesus when the cameras aren’t rolling—gives his name.
“Okay, Jesus. Coming right up.”
Jesus moves down the line, and the next customer approaches.
“How may I help you?” Alexander smiles as Santa steps up.
“Ho, ho, ho! Can I get seven Coal Brews and one Sleigh All Day latte.”
Santa starts to pull out his wallet, but Alexander reaches over and pushes his arm away.
“Oh no, Santa, this one’s on the house.”
“Why thank you, Alexander.”
“Yo, Santa.” Alexander leans forward across the counter. “Can you tell me if I made the naughty or nice list this year?”
Santa pauses for a second, looks at the food selection, and leans in.
“Chuck in a few of those mince pies for my reindeer and I’ll see what I can do.”
He winks, rubs his belly, and lets out another Ho, ho, ho. Alexander grabs the tray, sliding seven mince pies into individual bags and hands them over.
Pedro and Lucy capture the rest of the Brewed special Christmas menu orders on their phones as Alexander works his way through the orders for the rest of the line.
Caryn and Chloe smile away as it all plays out, and I take a breath of relief. Two happy clients helps ease the pain of the last forty-eight hours. My gaze drifts to Paul, who’s standing at the door with Connie, where Rob keeps watch to prevent anyone from entering.
“I think we’ve got it,” Pedro says.
He walks back over to us and plays back the clips on his phone.
Lucy helps Alexander out of his apron and gets pictures of him with Jesus and Santa by the Christmas tree.
“These are fantastic!” Caryn clasps her hands together.
“Thank you for everything, Christopher,” Chloe says, giving me a hug as Alexander walks over to us. “And thank you, Alexander, for everything this week. You’ve been an absolute delight to work with.”
Chloe gives Alexander a hug and Caryn quickly follows.
Alexander nods toward the side of the counter where the trash bin and condiments are set out and I follow him over.
“Thank God, that’s over,” he says, his smile disappearing once his face is hidden from everyone’s view.
“Thank you,” I say, wanting to hug him, to squeeze his hand, but settling for grabbing his arm instead. I shouldn’t show any affection in such a public setting.
“For what?” His nose crinkles.
“For sticking it out. For not walking out when you found out about the article. For helping me out.”
I think of all the small actions he’s taken over the past couple of days. Biting his tongue, plastering on a smile—all for the sake of keeping this campaign alive—has warmed my heart and helped build back my trust with him.
Connie and Paul start walking toward us, and Alexander waves them away.
“Guys, I need a minute.”
He nods for me to continue once they’re out of range, and grabs a sugar sachet out of the display next to us.
“This could have all gone tits up, but you stuck it out, despite the PR situation.”
“I’ve already almost caused you to lose your job once.” He shoves the packet into the chest pocket of my black-and-yellow flannel shirt. “I couldn’t be responsible that happening again now.” He pats my chest with his hand.
“What’s with the sugar?” I scrunch my face up as I go to retrieve it.
Alexander stops me as I reach into the pocket, pulling my hand away.
“Now I get to call you sugar tits,” he chuckles. “So, our date on Tuesday…”
The cheek. Well, two can play that game.
“Yes.” I pause and grab the marker on the side, pull out another sugar sachet, and start writing on it.
“Do you want me to pick you up or meet you somewhere?” he asks.
“Why don’t you pick me up.”
I hand him the packet and bite my lip to stop myself from laughing.
“Daddy?” Alexander frowns as he tries to make out my writing.
“And now I can call you Sugar Daddy.” My teeth lift from my lip and I let out a laugh.
“You think I’m your sugar daddy?”
He throws the sachet back at me, his mouth wide open. Alexander’s playful side ramps up a gear, much to my beating heart’s delight.
“What? I’ve been out here in LA looking for a sugar daddy for three years now and all I keep finding are sugar-free daddies. You think I’m not gonna lay my claim once I’ve found him?” I toss the sachet in his direction again, and hear a cough as Paul and Connie walk back toward us.
“If anything, you’re the daddy,” Alexander mutters under his breath. “Enjoy your night with Andrew.” He leans in for a bro-hug, patting me hard on the back. I know better than to do anything but reciprocate with everyone looking at us.
“Great working with you,” I say.
I release myself, turn, and say my goodbyes to everyone else before heading to the door.
The goodbye feels different this time, knowing I’ll see him again in two days.
The sound of Chappell Roan’s Good Luck Babe greets me as I open the front door to my apartment. I fling my keys and phone in the bowl underneath the mirror in the entryway, then pull my suitcase in and drag it down the stars to my bedroom. It’s too heavy to lift.
“Sorry I’m late. I got held up at the Grove,” I shout over the music coming from behind Andrew’s closed door.
I pull the monogrammed Louis Vuitton wallet that I’d picked up for him in New York out from my backpack.
It is the same one Andrew had eyed when we went window shopping a few weeks back on Rodeo Drive.
Andrew is a notoriously difficult person to buy birthday or Christmas presents for, which is not helped by the fact that they’re so close together.
I quickly write a message in his birthday card, seal it, and head to his bedroom.
“Andrew?” I knock loudly on the door as Good Luck Babe begins playing for the third time.
I wait a few seconds. When he doesn’t answer, I hedge my bets, closing my eyes as I open the door and hoping I don’t walk in on him having sex with some guy, like I did with one of his exes when we first moved in together.
“Andrew?”
My heart starts beating rapidly as I take everything in. A bottle of wine sits on the bedside table. Two of his prescription pill bottles are turned sideways, both empty. Andrew is lying motionless on the bed, face down, his arms spread out.
“Andrew!” My scream is loud enough to wake even the deepest sleeper.
I drop his card and present and run straight to the bed. I turn him over and slap his cheeks, but he’s completely unresponsive. His eyes are rolled backward.
“Talk to me, Andrew. Talk to me.” Time slows down as I slap his face.
I slide my fingers to where his jawline meets his neck to check for a pulse. A short exhale leaves my lips when I make out a faint beat, before terror crashes back into me.
“Stay with me, Andrew. Stay with me.”
I reach into my pocket for my phone to call an ambulance, but come up empty.
Where the fuck is it?
Ugh! The image of me dropping my phone and keys in the bowl upstairs flashes in front of me.
“I’ll be right back!” I shout at him as if he can hear me.
I dash up the stairs, climbing them two at a time to get to my phone as quickly as possible, and punch in 911 as soon as it unlocks.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“I’ve just found my friend unconscious in our apartment. I need an ambulance immediately.” My foot nearly slips as I make my way back down the stairs and into his room.
This cannot be happening.
“Okay, sir, can you give me your address please?” The woman’s tone is calm and collected as I put my phone on speaker and lean over Andrew, checking his pulse again.
“It’s 1129 North Larrabee Street. Please hurry, his pulse is barely there.”
“Is there an apartment number for your building, sir?”
My chest tightens and my eyes begin to mist over.
Quit fucking asking me questions and send the goddamn ambulance already.
“One,” I manage to answer in a blunt tone.
“Okay, an ambulance has been dispatched and will be with you…”
“Thanks.” I cut her off and hang up.
I slide my phone into my pocket, slide my hand behind Andrew’s head, and pull him into my chest.
“Please stay with me, Andrew.” I whisper gently into his ear. “Please stay with me.”