Page 37 of The Producer: Aaron

She doesn’t even turn to look at me but continues with her complaint.

“Do you have any idea who she is, or are you such a loser that you don’t even watch TV?” she asks him arrogantly, crossing her arms.

“Serena, please, let’s go.” The embarrassment that her arrogance causes me makes me almost run away, leaving her here alone. Every time it’s the same story.

People at the tables next to us begin to look in our direction. The guy who would like to slap my friend looks at me, and I see the exact moment he recognizes me. The irritation becomes visible on his face, and I already know what his following words will be.

“This way,” he pronounces with gritted teeth, and I am mortified.

He thinks I’m yet another celebrity who uses her status to get what she wants. Just a post on my Instagram where I speak badly of the restaurant, and immediately their business loses clients. It becomes a place where celebrities don’t bother to come. That’s why I hate when Serena uses my name this way. They don’t give us the table because it’s been freed up but because they feel obliged. They think I’m going to give bad publicity to the place.

“Look, if you don’t have a table, it’s really not a problem to wait. I don’t want to steal someone’s spot,” I tell the guy.

“No problem. This table is free,” he tells me with another fakesmile.

“Don’t apologize to him. It’s his job to find a place for us,” Serena says, sitting in front of me and raising her hand to call the waitress.

I would like to answer her, but the two guys we met at the skatepark come to sit next to us among the protests of the guy at the entrance. When he sees them taking a seat at our table, he shakes his head angrily, and I am more ashamed. I will definitely never come back to this place again.

The waitress comes to pick up our orders, and when she asks for the IDs for the alcohol they are ordering, Serena pulls out her fake one. The other two guys don’t look much older than her, and from how nervous the curly guy is, I suspect their cards are as legitimate as my friend’s.

“For me, only sparkling water, thank you.” I smile at the waitress, who seems relieved that at least one of the four of us will not get her fired.

“Of course, you’re the party pooper. Couldn’t you order a cocktail like the rest of us?” Serena’s tone is so disgusting that it gets on my nerves.

“It’s noon. Isn’t it a bit early to get drunk?” I bite out angrily.

The blond bursts out laughing while Serena rolls her eyes. I look out over the ocean in the distance, and my brain shuts off any conversation at our table. Almost two hours pass, and Serena and her two friends indulge in ordering the most expensive things and leaving them half-eaten on the plate because no one can eat all of this without getting sick. All this waste bothers me, but I don’t say anything simply to avoid making it worse. I hope they choke on the dessert they just ordered.

“At my three, we jump the railing and run,” the blond suggests, attracting my attention.

They are all looking at me in expectation. Only the curly guyseems embarrassed.

“Excuse me?” I ask, stunned by his proposal.

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t have the money to pay for all this stuff. Before the dessert arrives, we skip the railing and scoot. We will already be far away when they realize that we are gone,” he explains, and I feel the blood flowing from my face.

“You sat at a restaurant without having the money to pay?” I ask incredulously.

Serena bursts into a half-sarcastic laugh. “You are the only one loaded with money. Normal people don’t have the money you have.”

“And it’s okay to steal from the people who live with this work?” I ask.

“God, you’re boring. You’re nicer when you’re drunk.” She raises a bored eyebrow.

I don’t have time to answer that as the blond takes Serena by the arm and drags her over the balustrade, followed immediately by the curly guy. It all happens so fast that I’m still speechless when the waitress arrives.

She looks at me with compassion, immediately understanding what happened. “I suppose I’ll have to bring the bill to you.”

I nod, looking down and feeling my cheeks go up in flames. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so embarrassed. “Yes, thank you.”

I look up and see Serena and the blond sneering in my direction while the curly guy looks at his shoes. I shake my head in disbelief, and when the exorbitant bill arrives, I leave a generous tip to the staff.

***

It’s late afternoon when I enter the house. I had to take a long walk alone to simmer the anger I had in me. Tossing my glasses and cap on the kitchen counter, I breathe a sigh of relief. For the first time, after three years of moving to this city, I have the vague impression that I almost feel at home.

I peek out the window and contemplate Aaron’s statuesque physique as he swims in the pool. He really has nothing to envy about the twenty-year-old blond I met today. In addition to good looks, he has class to sell. I enjoy the view for a few more moments before opening the sliding door and heading toward the pool.

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