Chapter 28 #2
“I want you both to work on a brief and get it back to me ASAP.” Pietro points at Marco and me.
“Sure thing,” I say, my eyes drawn to Marco, whose green eyes smile widely back at me.
“Do you think we should make it pop out a bit more?”
Marco grabs my laptop and adjusts the font and positioning of the tagline on the deck.
I’m so unused to working collaboratively with someone that I’m slightly ruffled by Marco’s way of working.
Or the lack of personal space. It doesn’t help that every time he reaches for my laptop, his skin brushes against mine and I lose all ability to concentrate.
“That looks solid,” I say, noticing the time on my watch as I take the laptop back, and realizing I should have left the office half an hour ago. “Can we pick this up tomorrow morning? I need to head home.”
“Of course.”
I close my laptop, grab my bag and shove it in, and get up from my chair as Marco scoots his chair back to his desk.
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
I almost run to the door and out into my Jeep. I fling my bag onto the passenger seat and pull out my keys to start the engine. I almost sprain my wrist during my eighth failed attempt to start the ignition.
I stop, breathe, and reach for my phone and dial AAA.
After a short hold and telling the AAA adviser what’s wrong, she informs me that they’ll send someone out to help, but that there’s currently a three-hour wait. She assures me that it’s no joke when I demand to be seen quicker, telling her that I have places to go, people to see.
I get out of my car and start to order an Uber, when I notice Marco walking toward me.
“Everything okay?”
“My car won’t start,” I say, kicking the tire.
Stupid fucking car. Or should I say two-ton weight with commitment issues.
“Want me to take a look?” he asks.
I know he doesn’t mean it, but the way he asks has never made me feel less masculine. But I’m clueless when it comes to cars, and right now I could use any help I can get.
“Yes, otherwise I’ll still be here in three hours.” I’m unable to hide my disdain as I open the car door again, hand him the keys and let him jump in.
“I think it might be your starter motor or a busted radiator,” he says, popping the bonnet open and jumping back out to head to the front.
His biceps bulge as he lifts the hood and I reach for the back of my neck.
What Julie wouldn’t give to see this right now.
“Yep, think I’ve found the problem,” he says, motioning me to come forward and pointing at something he assumes I’ll recognize.
“Is it something that can be quickly fixed?” I ask, hoping and praying.
“You’ll need to have it changed out at a garage I’m afraid.”
He closes the bonnet before wiping the dirt on the back of his jeans.
Fuck. This is the last thing I need.
Not only am I late dropping off my keys to my old landlord, but at this rate I’m gonna miss Alexander’s pre-Grammy party too.
“Do you want me to drop you off anywhere?” Marco has picked up on my distress.
“Could you?”
I don’t want to impose on his evening, but I could really do with his help.
“Sure. I’ve not got anything else to do tonight.” His brows lift.
“You’re a life saver,” I say and head to the trunk to retrieve the boxes out of my car. “Could you give me a hand?” Marco stares in surprise at the number of boxes.
“This place is huge.” Marco places down the last two boxes on the dining table. “I can see why you moved from your old place.”
Marco had questioned why I’d given up an apartment in the heart of WeHo, but his jaw dropped when we entered the gated community and pulled up at Alexander’s house.
“It’s pretty cool, right?” I say, closing the front door with my foot and placing the last box down next to his.
“I think I need to ask Pietro for a pay rise, if you can afford a place like this.”
He laughs and then stares at me, a hint of inquisitiveness in his eyes, as if trying to work out how I can afford this.
“My friend cut me a good deal on the rent,” I say, palming him off.
“I need to get me one of those friends.”
He laughs, winks, and then nudges me in the arm as the door latch clicks open. Harrison walks through, drops his bag on the floor, plugs his key into the jack rack and then stares at me.
“You didn’t tell me we had visitors.”
The judgment in his tone grates against my ears. and his smirk as he folds his arms across his chest tells me he’s loving the role reversal from twelve hours earlier.
Marco steps forward and offers his hand.
“Sorry, I’m Marco, Chris’s work colleague. You must be his housemate. I love your place,” he says.
“He offered me a lift back, after my car broke down,” I say. For some reason I feel the need to justify the reason for Marco being in the house.
“Nice to meet you,” Harrison says, shaking Marco’s hand but not taking his eyes off of me.
Marco picks up on the tension and slides his hands into his pockets, pulling out his car keys and shaking them.
“I best be off,” he says.
“Thanks for all your help. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Marco sees himself out as Harrison heads to the couch and turns on the TV, only turning back once the door closes.
“Work colleague…”
I let the words linger in the air as I reach into one of the boxes and grab a stress ball.
“What are you trying to say?”
I cast him an annoyed look but he ignores it.
“Didn’t look very work colleague-y to me.”
My wrist goes into overtime squeezing the ball as I make my way over to the couch while Harrison flicks through the TV channels. I stop when I stand in front of him, blocking his view.
“First of all, he’s straight. If that’s what you’re implying.
” Marco has not explicitly told me, but he confirmed he had a long-distance girlfriend on the drive to Alexander’s.
“Secondly, my car broke down, and I didn’t have time to wait around for AAA to come and fix it.
And third, me having someone help bring the last of my stuff to the house is very different from having someone walk around the house naked or get into my bed and try it on with me. ”
The last comment wipes the smug look from Harrison’s face.
“And anyway, shouldn’t you be at Alexander’s event?”
“I’m not interested in all that stuff.”
Harrison waves me out of the way as he lands on ESPN.
“Right,” I say, shaking my head.
The conversation over, I quickly hit the shower, change, and order an Uber to get to the party.
“I’m sorry, I only managed to catch the last song.”
I finally reach Alexander, passing through all the tables. His skin is glowing from the spray tan he got last night, making his ocean-blue eyes stand out even more than usual.
“How did it feel to perform again?” I ask, squeezing his arm.
“It was nerve-racking with all these artists watching me, but it’s a small room. I can’t imagine what Sunday’s going to be like at the Grammys.”
His body starts to shake and sweat circles start to form under the armpits of his blue shirt.
I grab a napkin from the table next to me and hand it to him.
“Here,” I say and then motion him to follow my breath and ask him to tell me five things he can see.
Alexander reels off the chandeliers, the twenty circular tables, the drum kit on the stage, the wait staff coming round with more drinks for the table, and the red drapes on either side of the stage.
A photographer approaches and stops right in front of us, his camera held up to his face.
“Can I get a picture?”
“Could you come back in a few minutes please?” Alexander takes a sidestep away from me and dabs at his forehead. “I want to freshen up if that’s okay.”
A pang hits my chest.
I can’t help but feel rejected by the way he stepped away. As if I’m not good enough to be seen with. I know what I’ve signed up for, but given that he just took a photograph with Sabrina Carpenter before I got to him, it feels kinda personal.
“No problem.”
The photographer lowers his camera and walks away.
“Will it always be this way?” I ask.
“What way?” Alexander asks, turning his attention from the stage to me.
“Not being photographed together. Having to keep our distance so as not to arouse suspicion anytime someone who doesn’t know about you passes by.”
“You knew this. You agreed to this when we got together.” His tone is curt as John approaches. “Plus, with so much of my life out there in the public eye, there are some things I’d prefer to keep private. Between us.”
His hand meets mine as he puts the napkin back down on the table.
“There you are,” John says to Alexander, champagne glass in hand. “Good to see you, Christopher.” John nods briefly, acknowledging me.
“Connie needs you to do some interviews with the media in the press room.”
John places his hand firmly on Alexander’s back and pushes him forward.
“I’ll be back in ten, enjoy the next performance,” he shouts back at me and weaves his way between the tables to the door next to the stage. He smiles and shakes people’s hands as he passes.
I’m starting to see why Harrison decided to stay home as I pick up the used napkin and twiddle with it. I smile at the two random people on the other side of the table and feel like I’ve crashed a party, but there’s no one here I know.