Page 14 of The Producer: Aaron

I approach the pool, terrified of what I might find there, and when I find myself in front of reality, I realize that it is much worse than what I had feared. Bottles of beer are scattered on the patio and concrete around the pool. One of the deck chairs is turned upside down, and the pillows are partly soaked in the water. One of the umbrellas lies on the blue bottom of the pool, but the worst thing is that one of the guys has lowered his pants and is urinating in the water. Here, in front of everyone, while the people who are swimming scream and avoid his trajectory.

Only ten minutes have passed. The knot that tightens my throat is so big that, although I would like to shout at everyone to get out of here and go home, nothing comes out of my lips. I remain petrified, staring at the horror unfolding before my eyes without being able to do anything. A powerful voice behind me, however, attracts everyone’s attention.

I turn just in time to see the fury behind the calm mask that is Aaron himself. I follow his slow pace as he approaches the pool and observes the disaster that has become his home. I feel so small I’m sure I could disappear between the cracks of the wood on the patio. Or at least that’s what I hope because if I thought I saw Aaron furious the night I moved here or when he fired the pool guy, I was very wrong.

“Everyone out. And I advise you to run fast because I have already called the police.” His tone is calm, but no one is breathing.

They are all wide-eyed, and the laughter that accompanied them until a minute ago is just a distant memory. It takes just a fraction of time to process his words with their foggy brains to unleash a stampede leaving the house. Something I couldn’tachieve. Aaron is impassive, at least until Roland passes by him, and then he grabs his arm to stop him. Roland’s eyes are as wide as I’ve ever seen them. Green irises seem to want to escape from their orbits.

“You’re one of the show’s production assistants, aren’t you?” He asked it as a question, but I know Aaron knows exactly who Roland is. Maybe he doesn’t know his name, but in the few interactions I’ve had with him, I understood that he is never unprepared and never leaves anything to chance.

“Yes, I…” Roland stutters.

“You’re fired.”

The words are like a lash on Roland’s face. He physically stumbles a bit, even though Aaron is gripping his arm.

“But…” he tries to counter, but the coldness on Aaron’s face freezes him on the spot. I can’t breathe either.

“Don’t even show up on set tomorrow morning,” he says before releasing Roland’s arm and letting him go.

Roland throws me a furious look but reaches Serena, who is waiting for him at the door, and then disappears inside the house.

Aaron’s eyes move from the bottles scattered in the pool to my face, and my cheeks blaze with shame.

“Go to your room.” The disappointment that exudes from his words almost hurts.

For some stupid reason, the fact that I betrayed his trust gives me a sense of guilt I didn’t think I could feel for a person I have known for just over a few weeks.

“Aaron, I…” My voice trembles under his glacial gaze.

“I said, go to your room,” he repeats in a less calm tone thanbefore.

“Let me at least explain…”

He shoots toward me with a movement so unexpected I wince, almost for fear that he may hit me. He doesn’t, but the fury on his face once he drops the mask leaves me with a mixture of fear and humiliation. He no longer has to pretend now. There is no audience to project the image of the iceman, it’s just him and me, and the disgust that exudes from his person makes me feel small.

He is so close that I can smell his expensive aftershave, observe the texture of his shirt, and notice the small wrinkles around his eyes that make him look like the mature man he is, far from the kids who were here in the pool until a few minutes ago. He is furious, and knowing I am the cause of this fury makes me feel insignificant. Not because I am afraid of him, but because I betrayed the trust of the person who gave me a second chance by opening the doors of his house.

“I don’t want your explanations. I want to see you disappear from here. Go. To. Your. Room,” he hisses with such fervor that his hands clenched in fists along his hips tremble.

I look down, and with humiliation in my chest, I start upstairs until I lock myself in my room. The pool lights filtering through the window are a sad reminder of the wrong I did tonight.

I look out the window, hidden by the curtains, and watch Aaron by the pool. He’d taken off his jacket and tie, rolled his shirt sleeves to his elbows, and removed the deck chair’s cushions from the water. I watch as he grabs one of the bottles, then a second. He looks around, and there are so many that he will have to bend over for a long time to collect them all. He angrily throws one of the bottles and it shatters on the wall that divides the pool from the garden, then sits on one of the deck chairs and puts hishands in his hair. He seems defeated, and for the first time, I see Aaron not asThe Butcherbut as a man whose private life has just been violated, and guilt makes me slump defeated onto the bed.

The phone buzzes in my hands, and when I thought my evening couldn’t get worse, I realize it’s just the beginning of my nightmare. The video where I call Aaron an old mummy went viral, and the TMZ website reposted the news focusing on just one question: Why does the rising Hollywood star live in the producer’s house?

I stare at the computer in front of me as Tracy rattles off the appointments that have piled up this morning after Dakota’s video went viral. The PR office is on the warpath and wants to fire her, and I no longer know how to contain and justify her behavior.

“Aaron! Are you listening to me?” Tracy’s resolute voice calls me back to reality.

I look at her and find her frowning. I must resolve this situation before the newspapers turn it into a shitshow.

“Have I aged so much that I am considered a museum piece?”

The features of my assistant soften, and the shadow of a smile appears on her lips.

“Is this what bothers you the most about this whole story? That a girl sees you as a mummy?”

---