I can tell Alexander is uncomfortable by the way he fiddles with his watch, which helps soothe my racing heart.
“I appreciate that there’s a lot of speculation about my love life, my personal life, but that speculation over this last week has already caused a lot of damage. Rita Watson’s family had to sit by while the press and people online vilified her. She actually needed our support and understanding.”
There’s a sincerity in his voice that pulls at my heartstrings.
To have to go through this. On national television.
I shake my head at the thought of being forced to do the same.
“As for the video that leaked online, what the footage didn’t capture was the camera crew in the ballroom. We were filming a scene I was rehearsing with a movement coach for an upcoming film I’m going to be shooting at the end of summer.”
My heartstring snaps.
So that’s how they’re going to spin this.
I’ve gone from dialect coach to movement coach. From stranger to hookup guy, from boyfriend to discarded, all in the space of two weeks.
“A new film?” the host acts surprised.
Like he’s not in on this whole masquerade.
Three fast blinks and a twitch in his lip, and Alexander’s face shifts ever so slightly. He’s more stoic, more composed. It’s the way he acts whenever he’s confronted by someone he doesn’t know.
“Yes. I wasn’t planning to announce it until we began shooting, but I’m going to be starring in my first feature film, calledDisposed. It’s a psychological thriller, set in New Mexico, about a man that’s seeking revenge on a town that destroyed his family.”
That’s it.
That’s all I get.
Is that all this relationship was to him?
I’m barely a footnote in this conversation.
And as for the title of the film! Doesn’t look like he’ll need to do much rehearsing at all to get into character. He’s clearly already skilled in the art of disposing things he no longer needs or cares for.
“You know what, let’s switch back to the finals. Kelly can find out what he says online,” I say, pushing myself up off the couch.
“You sure?” Andrew leans forward to grab the remote.
I look at the TV one more time, and the thought of listeningto another word of what Alexander has to say makes me want to grab the bottle of beer off the table and throw it at him.
“Yeah,” I say, picking up the beer and gulping the last of it instead. “Want another one?”
“Sure, why not.” Andrew flips back to the NBA Finals as I make my way into the kitchen.
I grab two beers and a lime from the fridge and take a moment to rest my arm on the door. The cool air helps cool me down. Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe this wasn’t meant to work out after all. And at least I still have a roof over my head and I’m one hundred thousand dollars better off. It could be worse.
I close the fridge door and head over to the counter, setting the bottles down and picking up a knife to slice the lime into quarters. I pop the bottles open and slide the lime slices in.
“Chris, your phone’s ringing. It’s someone called Skater Boy?” Andrew says from the lounge, and I freeze. My hands lose their ability to function, and I drop both Coronas. The glass smashes and the beer spills out all over the floor.
“You okay?” Andrew comes into the room, sprinting toward me. “Is Skater Boy the one who has you all up in your feels, buying ice cream and beer?”
I shake my head.
“Sorry, I thought I saw a spider,” I say, stepping carefully out of the mess and grabbing the kitchen roll to clean it up.
I avoid Andrew’s gaze as I try and compose myself. He goes to the fridge and retrieves the last two beers, popping the lids off.
