Page 36 of The Producer: Aaron

“We were going to eat something at the restaurant over there. Would you like to join us?” she asks, pointing at one of the restaurants whose terrace overlooks the walk that divides it from the beach.

I am glad she didn’t propose going to Nobu in Malibu. It wouldn’t be the first time she suggested something out of her reach and for which I’d have to cover the expense.

“You go ahead. We’ll come in a bit.”

The boy’s smile is so radiant that it begins to annoy me. Serena turns around, winking, and grabs my hand, leaving them there.

“You don’t even know their names. Are you sure you want to invite them to lunch?” I ask when we are far enough away that I don’t make myself heard.

“With abs like that, I don’t need to know his name. And then, you smiled at his friend, don’t tell me you don’t like him.” She throws me a cocky look that irritates me.

“No, he’s definitely not my type,” I burst out, irritated by the turn of the day.

Serena rolls her eyes and dismisses me with a wave of her hand.

“Of course, because you now live with Aaron and you don’t lower yourself to date guys your age. They’re all kids to you, aren’t they?” she asks condescendingly.

I furrow my brows and nail her with my gaze. “What the hell does my living with Aaron have to do with all of this? I didn’t say he’s a kid, just that he’s not my type.”

“Why? Do you fuck Aaron? Is that why you don’t give him a chance?”

I stop a few steps from the restaurant and grab her by the arm until she turns.

“I don’t fuck Aaron, got it? I never did and never will.”

“How can you expect me to believe you? You have been living with him for months. You see him half-naked, walking around the house. Don’t tell me you’ve never taken a ride onthatmerry-go-round,” she spits annoyed, and it makes me angry.

“No! I’ve never done that.”

“Is he a boxer or a briefs kind of guy?” she continues, making me want to punch her.

“Serena, stop.”

“Wait, I bet he’s a pig dirty-talking in bed. They say his father is a lousy man. I bet the apple didn’t fall very far from the tree.”

The mere thought of comparing Aaron to his father makes me shudder. The scene from a few weeks ago when he came to his house, the words that came out of those lips, are still imprinted on my mind, and I don’t want anyone to compare Aaron to that man. Not even as a joke.

“Serena, that’s enough!” My voice is still, and my gaze nails her on the spot because I see she’s surprised by my reaction.

She shrugs dismissively, turns around, and walks the few steps that divide us from the restaurant. The boy who welcomes us smiles at her.

“We would like a table for four.” She has a friendly expression, but her voice is stern.

“Do you have a reservation?”

“No.”

The waiter looks at his iPad and then shakes his head.

“The next free table is in an hour. Is it a problem for you to wait?” he asks with a smile but the bored vibes of someone who has to endure all day the complaints of those who arrive here without a reservation.

“Of course, it’s a problem. I see very well an empty table from here,” Serena points out.

The guy inhales deeply while I would like to take her by the arm and drag her away. Unfortunately, I know that if I do it, she willmake a scene worse than this.

“That’s for a person who has booked a reservation.” He smiles at her, but his tone reveals what he thinks: “You’re an idiot, but I can’t tell you to your face; otherwise, they’ll fire me.”

“Listen, Serena, if you don’t want to wait, let’s go to another place,” I whisper in her ear loud enough to make myself heard by her and the guy who would like us to disappear from his view.

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