Chapter 9
9
Iris and Ray seemed to be the only two people in their group who were awake and alert on the flight to Seattle the following morning. They were concealed away in first class, which was new for Iris, who’d experienced only business class and economy. Dominique had pulled out all the stops to ensure Angel’s comfort. Last night, the LA Refine store had not only sold out of the Save Face Beauty’s skincare bundles they’d had in stock, they’d sold out of all their Save Face Beauty inventory, period. If this kept up during the rest of the week, and the hype from the tour continued to influence online sales, they’d hopefully be able to get the company back on track.
Iris startled as Bree let out a loud snore beside her. Bree leaned her head against the window and snuggled deeper beneath her airline-gifted blanket. In the aisle across from Iris, Angel was fast asleep as well, with Ray seated in the row behind him, sitting upright and looking out the window. Iris’s gaze lingered on Angel. His hood was pulled over his head, and his eyes were concealed behind sunglasses. His chest rose and fell in a measured rhythm. Earlier in the hotel lobby before their flight, he’d said good morning to Iris and smiled briefly before putting on noise-canceling headphones and climbing into the back of the SUV that took them to the airport.
Iris couldn’t help feeling like she’d somehow offended him last night at the club. She’d been enjoying their conversation up until the moment when that guy had fallen and spilled his drink on her. She’d been annoyed at first, but she’d quickly gotten over it. What had troubled her was the way that Angel’s demeanor had changed. His mouth had been set in a concentrated frown as he’d wiped off her legs, and it was almost like he’d purposely avoided making eye contact with her. Growing up with two younger sisters meant that Iris had gotten very good at taking the temperature of a room, determining who needed what and when, if someone was in a certain mood and why. But she couldn’t get a good read on Angel right now. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think that he’d felt embarrassed last night, which didn’t make sense because it wasn’t like he’d spilled a drink on her. Maybe she was overthinking this.
Maybe he was just really hungover.
What she should be doing right now was focusing on her work.
She pulled out her laptop and began drafting an email to Dominique and Paloma, sharing the success of last night’s event. She checked the weather in Seattle. The forecast called for rain, which was unsurprising. Iris’s loud, quick typing must have disturbed Bree’s sleep, because she stirred and rubbed her eyes. Her locs were pulled away from her face in a low ponytail. She adjusted her clear-framed glasses and sent a shy glance toward Iris.
“I don’t usually go out much, just FYI,” she said quietly.
At twenty-four, Bree was eight years younger than Iris, and Iris wouldn’t fault her for taking advantage of a night with free food and drinks, especially since Bree was a good assistant. Iris had chosen Bree from a pool of almost twenty candidates when she’d hired her two years ago. Iris dug through her purse, pulled out a Liquid I.V. packet, and handed it to Bree.
“Here, take this,” she said.
“Thank you.” Bree smiled gratefully and shook the contents of the packet into her water bottle.
“Did everything go okay last night after I left?” Iris asked.
“Yeah. I left not too long after you. Angel and Ray made sure I got home safe. I’m not sure when they got back, though.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Angel got pretty drunk last night. The DJ asked him to get on the mic and sing.”
“Did he?” Iris asked.
Bree nodded. “He sounded good too, even though he was slurring the words a little.”
Iris glanced over toward Angel again. He stretched his arms high and blinked slowly as he roused. He stretched his neck from side to side, and his gaze locked with Iris’s across the aisle. He gave her a small smile before reclining in his seat and closing his eyes again. She started to wonder about what had gone through his head last night before she’d left the club.
Spending time with an attractive, famous man who is known for his romantic pursuits can have its…let’s say, temptations.
Dominique’s warning. It reminded Iris of the other reasons why she and Angel wouldn’t make any sense together, so there was no use in pondering.
Iris refocused on her email and didn’t lift her eyes from her screen until she hit send.
—
Iris knew to brace for rain, but it was pouring in Seattle. Rain fell from the sky in heavy sheets and rushed down the streets into gutters. People who dared to venture outside walked briskly in their raincoats or struggled with umbrellas against the wind. Iris had traveled to Seattle a handful of times for work conferences, and she’d experienced Pacific Northwest rain, but nothing like this. They were on their way to the Refine store, not too far from the University of Washington. The car ride was quiet as everyone stared at the rain. Iris winced down at her white Stan Smiths, wishing that she’d thought to pack rain boots.
“It’s really coming down out there,” Angel said softly. He was seated beside Iris in the back of the SUV.
This was the first thing he’d said to her all day since their brief exchange at the hotel in Los Angeles earlier that morning. Then again, he’d made a general statement just now, so it was possible that he wasn’t even talking to her. She turned slightly. He was looking at her instead of at the rain.
“Yeah, it is,” she agreed.
His forehead pinched as he frowned. “I wonder if people will still come.”
“Of course they will.”
Iris and her team had specifically picked the Refine store closest to the university because they’d expected a ton of college students to show. Her theory was proven right when they arrived, and his fans stretched for several blocks, donning raincoats and ponchos. They shouted and waved as the SUV came to a stop. Ray opened the passenger door and exited, letting out Bree, who’d sat behind him. Wind and rain whipped into the car as Ray held the door open for Angel, who tugged his oversize leather jacket closed and waved to his fans. Ray procured an umbrella from seemingly nowhere and held it over Angel’s head. Iris scooched toward the door and braced herself for the downpour, but Angel held his hand out to her and didn’t move until she was safely out of the car. He thanked Ray for the umbrella and held it over Iris as they rushed into the store.
“Thank you,” she shouted over the rain.
“No problem,” Angel shouted back.
The umbrella hardly helped. They all got soaked. Water seeped into Iris’s sneakers, dampening her socks. Angel wiped his face, and Iris realized wryly that today would have been the perfect day for him to demonstrate how to use the face wash.
The rain was loud and threatening as it pounded against the roof. A rumble of thunder shook the entire store.
“Uh…” Bree said. “Is this the rapture?”
“Everything’s fine,” Iris reassured their group, just as another roll of thunder was followed by a strike of lightning.
Iris bit her lip and looked around the crowded store, trying to locate the store manager, Gia, whom she’d been emailing with. She spotted Gia’s short form hurrying toward them, blonde curls bouncing as she walked, followed by…a police officer?
“Iris, hi,” Gia said. She shot a quick, enamored glance at Angel. “Hi, Angel, thank you so much for coming to our store!” Her expression sobered as she turned to Iris again. “I’m so sorry, but Seattle PD showed up minutes before you arrived. We have to shut down the event.”
“ What? ” Iris gasped, and Bree sucked in a breath.
“We have a flash flood warning for this area,” the police officer explained. He wore one of those bright green heavy-duty rain jackets. “It’s a hazard to have this many people in the store and outside at once. There’s a storm coming. We need people to be safe and inside.”
“It doesn’t usually rain this much here,” Gia explained. “They’re saying on the news that we’re experiencing record-breaking weather. It’s definitely not something that we anticipated.”
Iris blinked, speechless. Her first concern was the inventory. The skincare bundles stacked behind the register. If the event was canceled, how would they sell the product? People would buy it over time, sure, but that could take months. What was she going to tell Dominique?
“What about the fans waiting outside?” Angel asked, breaking her train of thought. “They’ve been out there for hours, some since this morning. Is there something we can do for them?”
Gia sent a hesitant look to Iris, obviously not wanting to displease Angel.
Think, Iris, think.
“Can we give them the option to buy the products without coming into the store?” she asked. “Do you have one of those portable card readers?”
Gia bit her lip and shook her head.
“I’ll buy them,” Angel said. “I’ll buy all of the bundles, and we can hand them out to the fans before we leave.”
Iris turned to him, stunned. “What?”
“I’ll buy whatever skincare bundles they have here and give them to the fans as a thank-you for waiting.” His gaze was imploring. “That’s something I can do, right? It won’t be an issue with your boss?”
“No, not at all,” Iris said quickly. His generosity would save their revenue.
She turned to the police officer. “Can we get at least another twenty minutes to hand out products to the fans?”
The officer sighed and glanced outside at the rain. “Twenty minutes and that’s all I can give you.”
They quickly jumped into action. Gia went to the register to handle the bundles, and Iris and Bree, along with a couple Refine employees, began piling the small boxes onto trolley carts. Gia gave Iris and Bree black ponchos with the Refine logo printed in the center.
“I’m coming with you,” Angel said, following Iris outside.
“You don’t have anything to cover yourself with,” she protested as he shrugged off his leather jacket and lifted it over his head. “Your jacket will be ruined.”
“I’ll donate it to a fundraiser.”
Their voices were quickly drowned out by the rain and the shouting crowd. The police officer announced to the fans that the event was being canceled, and disappointed murmurs rose around them, but when the fans learned that they’d each receive a free skincare bundle while supplies lasted, the cheers were thunderous—in addition to the actual thunder as it tore across the sky.
“We’d better hurry,” Iris said.
Gia, Bree, and the Refine employees handed out the bundle packages, and Iris went down the line behind Angel, dutifully snapping pictures of him and his fans. Ray attempted to hold an umbrella over Angel, but it was impossible to keep Angel dry as he kept moving to hug his fans and lean down and pose with them. Plus, he insisted that Ray hold the umbrella over Iris, instead. Eventually Ray permanently positioned himself beside Iris. Angel was getting completely drenched. Raindrops slid down his face, but his smile didn’t falter, even as his fans grabbed at him and screamed happily in his face.
The rainfall worsened. Bree confirmed that they’d given out every bundle package in stock. Angel wouldn’t be able to get to each of his fans, and his dispirited expression moved Iris. But he was also shivering at this point. He didn’t resist Iris when she grabbed his hand and pulled him back toward the waiting SUV. She instructed him to climb inside, and she asked the driver to blast the heat. Angel took off his wet jacket. Iris shrugged out of the poncho and used her cardigan sleeve to wipe Angel’s face. Ray stood outside of the door, guarding them. Iris angled the vents so that the heat blew directly onto Angel. Underneath his jacket, he’d worn only a thin white T-shirt.
“My sister needs to start dressing you in warmer clothes,” she said. Violet usually accompanied Angel for his album press tours and at fashion shows, but for the Refine campaign, they’d chosen each of his outfits ahead of time since Violet was taking her extended honeymoon sabbatical.
Angel laughed through his shivering. “You and me m-make a g-good team,” he said.
Iris glanced up at him, and he was beaming at her. She was surprised at the deep sense of relief that she felt to see him smiling at her again. She returned his smile with a soft one of her own.
“We do,” she said. “That’s why we need to keep you healthy. I can’t bench my star player.”
He laughed again, then fell silent as Iris rubbed her hands up and down his arms, attempting to generate warmth. Her palms tingled as she rubbed his smooth skin. She could feel him staring at her.
“I’m sorry if I was being weird today,” he said.
Iris stilled. She wasn’t sure what to say. Should she acknowledge that she’d felt the difference in his demeanor? Angel must have taken her silence for confusion because he spoke again.
“Last night before you left the club, I got in my head about some stuff,” he explained. “I’m not even sure if you noticed, but I got weird with you, so I wanted to say that I’m sorry. I feel like I’m finally getting out of that funk.”
“I did notice,” she admitted. “And it’s okay. I know what it’s like to be stuck in your head. It’s why I pay for therapy.”
She’d said that last part sardonically, and then she realized that her dry humor might not land properly without the context for why she needed therapy in the first place.
“I’ve been thinking about going to therapy for a while now,” he said.
“Really?”
He nodded. “My parents basically disowned me for a few years.”
She stared at him, blinking slowly. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “We’re okay now, I guess. But you don’t forget something like that.”
She admired him for sharing that information so effortlessly, because displaying vulnerability hadn’t always come easily to her. Through therapy, she’d discovered that this stemmed from childhood. She’d had to set an example for her sisters, who’d watched her every move. She hadn’t cried when she’d fallen off her bike or bruised her knee on the jungle gym because she’d had to show her sisters that they could fall and get right back up too.
For years, she’d thought that showing her soft underbelly was a sign of weakness—at times, she’d doubted if her underbelly even existed. But Terry’s death had pushed Iris to examine herself in new ways. Her underbelly was there; she’d just gone through great lengths to protect it. She still struggled with discussing her feelings, but Angel had shared something vulnerable with her. She wanted to do the same with him.
“I’m in therapy because my husband died in a car accident five years ago,” she said. “We were married for less than two.”
People tended to treat her like fragile china once they learned about Terry. But Angel didn’t look at her with pity or tilt his head and frown in that way she’d become accustomed to. Instead, his gaze was soft as he gently took Iris’s hand in his, not breaking eye contact.
“I’m so sorry, Iris,” he said.
She breathed deeply. “Thank you.”
“What was his name?”
“Terry.”
Angel nodded silently. They sat there, hands clasped together, honoring the silence, until Bree pulled the door open and interrupted them. Heart pounding, Iris quickly pulled her hands away and rested them in her lap.
“They’re already talking about this online!” Bree said, climbing through to the back row with Ray following behind. Bree’s poncho dripped onto the seats. She showed them a video of Angel shielding fans from the rain as he took a picture with them.
“They’re calling you Saint Angel!” she said.
Angel shook his head, smiling somewhat bashfully.
“It’s great publicity for us too,” Bree said, looking at Iris.
Iris nodded in agreement, clasping her hands together. As their driver started the SUV and pulled into the street, leaving the Refine store behind, the car jostled over a pothole and Angel’s arm brushed against Iris’s. He touched her hand once more, lightly, for only a second, before pulling away.
When she shivered this time, she couldn’t blame the rain.