Page 10 of The Producer: Aaron

“Are you amazed because I read? Do you think I’m the cliché of the blond dumb actress?” She’s not offended, but she seems to want to test me.

“No, I wasn’t surprised you read, but because you stay up all night doing it. It takes dedication for such a thing. I would fall asleep after a few pages,” I admit.

She shrugs. “Maybe because you didn’t find the right book. I can guarantee you that if a novel gets you, you get to the end and don’t even notice it.”

“What genre do you like?”

“Romance novels, mainly. Dark romance, fantasy, romantic comedies. Everything that has to do with love.” She surprises me with a smile.

“You are twenty-three years old. Wouldn’t it be better toexperiencelove instead of reading it?”

She shakes her head and smiles. “This afternoon, you ruined my chance to ‘experience love.’” She nails me with an accusatory look. “And then, do you see the people out there? It’s not easy to find someone who appreciates you for who you are and not just to get something out of you, especially if you’re an actress.”

I study her for a few moments, and then I nod. In a way, I understand it because I find myself in the same position. When you start making a name for yourself, you never know why people approach you, whether because they are genuinely interested in knowing you or getting something.

“Actually, you got a point,” I admit.

“Is that why you’re still single, or is it because you like to have sex with more than one woman? Isn’t monogamy for you?” sheasks with a smug smile on her lips.

Her question is so direct and flippant that I burst out laughing after a moment of confused silence.

“You remember that I am your boss, right? Indeed, the boss of your boss’s boss…whatever, I am the one who gives you a living, right?” I tease her, pleasantly amused by the spontaneity of this conversation.

“Of course, I know that, but apparently, you use this excuse not to answer. It’s you who asked for a civil conversation.” She winks at me.

She winked at me! This unapologetic twenty-three-year-old I should intimidate, just winked at me. I shake my head bewildered and smile.

“No, I don’t like to fuck left and right, but this job doesn’t leave me much free time to cultivate relationships.”

And then I had my chance and missed it, but that’s not something she needs to know.

“What the hell do you do with all the money, the million-dollar paintings, and a mega-mansion in the Hollywood Hills if you can’t enjoy life?” Her question is as simple as it is complicated to answer. Lately, I’ve been wondering about it too, and I haven’t found an answer yet.

“You know what? Why don’t you help me clear the table, and then we go to the bookstore to spend some of the millions that come out of my pockets? You can buy as many novels as you want,” I blurt out before my brain can even process the proposal I’m making.

How the hell did it occur to me to invite her to the bookstore to avoid giving her a direct answer to a question she asked me? The surprise is as much mine as it’s hers since she looks at me with wide eyes. I must seem crazy to her. I’m almost about to retract the offer when she anticipates me.

“Are you serious? You’ll pay? Can I really buy all the novels Iwant?” She seems to light up at the proposal, and I know it will cost me a fortune.

“Yes, as long as it doesn’t take a lifetime to choose because tomorrow morning I have an appointment at dawn, and I would like to sleep a few hours.” I realize I’m speaking like my father when he scolded us. When we were young, my brother and I would come home late and thought about nothing but having fun. Since when did I switch to the side of the grumpy old man?

“You are going to change, won’t you? Don’t make me look like the one who goes out with the… the… the middle-aged man with Chino’s, please.”

“You were going to say old, weren’t you?” I tease.

She shrugs and shows off two innocent doe eyes. “It’s not my fault if you dress like an old mummy.”

When I told her to start having a civil conversation, I meant something more like talking about the weather or if she likes her job or her commitments for the week, not this bickering in which she has no filter between brain and mouth. Neither do I, since I just invited her to the bookstore to buy books. I must say, however, it is the first time since this afternoon that I don’t think back on the conversation with my father, and it makes me so happy that the idea of going to the bookstore with her tastes almost pleasant.

***

When I told her that she could buy anything she wanted, I thought she was buying a couple of books, but when we walked in and I watched her pull out a mile-long list, I realized that mine was just an optimistic hope. She put a cart in my hand, not a basket, an actual cart like those used in grocery stores, and I’ve been following her for half an hour between the shelves while she picks up book after book.

“How do you get such a long list of books to read?” I ask her. If I find five or six interesting books to read in a year, it’s a miracle.

She glances at me, furrowing her eyebrow in concentration. I have never seen anyone so busy searching for books.

“BookTok. When you enter that spiral, you don’t come out alive. Every day, some new release teases me, and I add to the list.”

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