Page 39 of Stolen Hearts
“Shouldn’t be too much longer now.” Paul’s eyes widen as he looks at me.
Everyone else in the room is unaware that Alexander is currently as high as a kite. He’s off his face on cocaine or whatever the drug dealer gave him. Apparently, he spent the run-through for his VMA performance running back and forth between the stage and the toilet.
Paul described Alexander’s energy as “frantic” when he headed to the hotel to see him, and got me to switch up the shooting schedule to buy enough time to sober Alexander up. But now every remaining scene requires his presence, and I’m out of options for stalling.
“We’ll have to get you to one of his shows.” Paul bends down to meet the little girl’s sightline.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Matthew looks down at his daughter again as she moves behind his leg. Clearly, I’m not the only one who wants to hide from Paul anytime he comes close.
Paul’s phone buzzes, and he slides his hand into his pocket while he stays crouched by the girl.
“Alexander’s on the way!” Paul shows his phone to the little girl, whose face lights up at the news.
I excuse myself from the conversation and make my way past crew members and extras seated at the tables, wrapped in their red and green winter jackets and bobble hats, to find Tanu standing at the counter. She’s animatedly talking to an extra dressed up as a barista behind the counter.
I notice her name badge and have an idea that might help us get through the night. Grabbing a passing crew member, I ask for a blank badge, and write down a different name before getting the extra to swap it out.
“Alexander is on the way,” I whisper into Tanu’s ear.
“Finally.” Tanu lifts the sleeve of her leather trench coat to look at her watch. “Only two hours behind schedule.”
With the short autumn night and a 6:30 a.m. sunrise working against us, we only have a limited number of hours to capture everything with Alexander. Thankfully, Tanu had used yesterdayand the time lost tonight to pick up all the cutaway shots, but it’s gonna be tight to get everything captured.
She’d asked the photographer to wait to capture any stills till the end, but it might get all bumped together, depending on what state Alexander turns up in.
Outside of Brewed, the voices suddenly get louder, which cues me in to the fact that he must be close. My palms clam up and my stomach begins doing summersaults. I’m barely able to look at the door, worried about what’ll greet me when he arrives.
“What’s up everybody!” Alexander shouts as he enters.
His security guard, stylist, and assistant all follow him in.
Paul and Connie walk toward me as I take a hard look at Alexander.
To someone who doesn’t know him, he probably looks pulled together. But to the trained eye, his behavior and the way he fidgets like he has a nervous tic tells me something is very, very wrong. I turn to Connie and Paul.
“Okay, I’m in,” I say.
9.Alexander
Saturday
“But you don’tlooklike him.”
The little girl in front of me quickly looks away, unconvinced that I am who her father says I am.
“It’s only a beard.” I pull at it and the beard oil greases my fingertips. “You can touch it if you like.” I lean in as I bend down, pulling up my red-and-black flannel shirt slightly so it doesn’t crease.
“It’s him, darling, it’s Alexander Morgan.” Her dad pushes her toward me.
“I’ve had to grow it out for a film, and I can’t shave it off until after I finish shooting.”
The little girl’s eyes light up when I remove my sunglasses.
“It is him, daddy!” she squeals, jumping excitedly up and down.
The truth is, I’ve actually come to quite like the beard, and I told my team no when they tried to convince me to shave it off for the commercial and VMA awards. I even got Alfonso onside to convince them I needed to keep it, and that a fake beard would mess with continuity.
My gaze drifts over to Christopher, standing next to theBrewed CEO, whose face and shoulders have softened. There’s a kindness in his eyes that wasn’t there this morning.
