The glare of the afternoon sun immediately makes me regret not bringing my sunglasses. The cool afternoon breeze provides another reason to regret the clothing choices I packed. I was too focused on making sure Andrew was okay to look at what I needed for the week ahead.
My reliable white polo shirt isn’t warm enough to keep goosebumps from forming on my arms. I’d wrongly assumed that Alexander’s scene today would be shot inside, but here we are outside a cordoned-off block of shops in downtown Albuquerque. Connie and Paul sit in the director’s chairs in front of me, barely acknowledging my presence. Instead, they look at the monitor, leaving me to stand behind them.
I stare down at Chloe’s response to Paul’s request to cover Alexander’s travel expenses.
“They’ve come back saying they’ll cover a third of the costs.”
“Push back and ask them for forty percent,” Paul says. His tone is dismissive as his focus remains locked on the screen, Alexander’s scene playing out as he walks past a fire hydrant.
A surge of anger shoots through me.
Who the fuck does he think he’s talking to? He doesn’t even have the decency to turn and look at me when I talk to him, like I’m one of the minions he can boss around to do his bidding. I march around from behind the chairs and stand in front of them both, blocking their view of the monitor as the director yells cut.
“It’s one-third, and a guarantee that each show discusses the Brewed campaign. Take it or leave it.” My voice is clipped and full of rage.
I’m done negotiating.
The back and forth between Paul and Brewed has been relentless—not only on the budget—but on how to include the Brewed campaign in Alexander’s interviews. They’ve bickered over everything from the presentation of their signature Christmas drinks to who will deliver them. I’ve even had Alexander’s label pushing for the hosts on the TV shows to mention that physical copies of his coverIt’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Yearwill be available to purchase, which they’ve manufactured in a rush to capitalize on the exposure.
The appearance is now a far cry from the original vision where Alexander would appear, shine a spotlight on sexual abuse, and announce himself as an ambassador for RAINN, the Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network organization.
I crane my neck around at the sound of crunching leaves, and see Alexander striding toward us. His boots kick up the red and orange leaves scattered across the grass.
“What’s going on here?” he asks when he reaches us.
“Paul was just agreeing to the last few bits for the TV interviews,” I say. My nostrils flare as Paul cuts me a death glare.
“Yes, I was just confirming with Christopher that we can agree to all of Brewed’s terms.” He grips the wooden arm of his chair.
“You look cold,” Alexander says, rubbing his hands up and down my arms. He quickly pulls back when he notices a paparazzi behind a nearby food truck. “Lucy, can you run to wardrobe, see if they have something Christopher can wear?” Heturns to her and grabs his phone, which she’s already holding out for him.
Goosebumps instantly reappear on my arms as the hair stands up on the back of my neck. Not from the breeze that blows a couple of leaves down from the branches above us, but from Alexander’s kind gesture of taking a moment to think about me.
Maybe last night’s conversation to clear the air has helped.
Maybe hecanbe more thoughtful and considerate of others.
I stop myself from getting too carried away.
Baby steps, Christopher. Baby steps.
“No problem.”
Lucy shoots off toward wardrobe while Connie gets out of her chair, readjusting the red woolen shawl that covers her shoulders and locking Alexander in a tight embrace.
“That was great.”
“Yeah. Good job.” Paul leans forward in his chair and pats Alexander’s arm like a dog.
“I think that’s me wrapped for the day.”
Alexander looks over toward the director, standing by the cop car, and gets a thumbs-up, confirming his thoughts.
“Can you approve this?” Paul asks, handing Alexander his iPad. The artwork forIt’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year, mocked up in CD, cassette, and seven-inch vinyl, appears on the screen.
“I thought this was a digital-only release?” He scrolls through the options before flicking back up to the top two. The image on the cover is the same one Pietro said was the money shot.
“The label wants to make a real push for the track now that it’s climbing on Spotify and Apple. They think you could shift upward of a hundred thousand units. Brewed has already agreed to stock the physical formats in stores as soon as they’re manufactured.” Paul nods toward me.
