Page 55 of The Producer: Aaron

It’s in these moments that the insecurity of her twenties comes to the surface. I thought I would be annoyed, but what I feel is tenderness. I like being older than her, guiding her in this relationship, and, in some ways, protecting her. It makes me feel important. I’ve never felt essential to anyone.

“Are you asking me if I’m taking this relationship seriously? If there will be a future?”

She nods. “I would like to know where we stand. I mean, we started with cohabitation, then we had sex, and now we are on our first date. I’m a bit confused, that’s all. Am I your girlfriend? Do you have a girlfriend at thirty-six, or is it something you don’t do anymore?” She giggles, embarrassed as she asks.

I smile and barely hold back a nervous chuckle. “Maybe at our age, we prefer the term partner because it looks less like a midlife crisis, but yes, I thought it was clear that you are my girlfriend.”

She breathes a sigh of relief, and her posture relaxes. I didn’t realize this label was so important to her. For me, it is obvious that when I sleep with a woman, I consider our relationship exclusive. I have never been one who dates two people at the same time, and I realize that this is not always the rule.

“I apologize. I’m young, naïve, and blond.” She winks at me. “I needed to hear that.”

I smile at her way of playing down her apprehension, liking her way of making fun of herself.

“Now that we have established the important details of this date, can you tell me how your day went?” I move the conversation toward the safe topics we are used to while we dine together.

Dakota throws herself into the recount of her day, and I baskin the normality of this conversation. I’ve never been used to these kinds of interactions, not even when I was a kid and lived with my parents. I had never seen any kind of love growing up in that house between my mother and father much less conversations sitting all around the same table. This is a novelty that immediately gets under my skin and warms my chest with a feeling of serenity.

Time in her company flies, and I don’t notice anything or anyone around me. Not the table next to us whispering or the waitress bringing us the dishes we ordered. I don’t even look at my phone to check work emails, which hasn’t happened since I had an inbox with my name. Dakota has the power to suck me into a world of our own.

When dinner ends and we leave to retrieve my car, the paparazzi in front of the door has grown almost as large as a parade on the Fourth of July. The camera flashes that hit us are blinding. I wrap Dakota with one arm around her shoulders and pull her to my side, walking toward the valet who will bring my car. While we wait, Dakota clings to my side, perhaps intimidated by the paparazzi who, this time, have no discretion and bombard us with questions.

“Are you on a date? Or is it just a business dinner?” asks one of them.

I don’t usually answer the questions they ask, leaving the floor to my publicist, but this is one of those situations in which the insinuated ambiguity gives voice to a thousand speculations that put our careers in a bad light.

“What do you think? Doesn’t it seem that if this were a business dinner, it would be completely inappropriate for me to put my hands on her like this?” I nail him to the spot with my stare while the flashes go wild.

Dakota looks up at me, surprised by my answer. I smile and wink at her as questions rain down, asking me if I am confirming the relationship. When the car arrives and we finally get in, I already know I will get a call from our PRs who will want explanations.

***

The first phone call I get in the morning at breakfast is the one I avoided answering last night while we were sitting on the couch reading a book. For this reason, as I walk to Sharon’s office, I already know that it will be an annoying conversation. I observe her tense face when I open the door, and she gets up before I sit on the couch in her office. I sit back and wait for her to start asking me questions.

“Did you call me into your office this morning to stare at each other?” I ask when she doesn’t speak.

“I don’t know. Do you have any idea why you’re here?” She’s furious.

“I know exactly why I’m in this office, but I don’t know what you want to know.”

“Maybe because you didn’t tell me you were going to dinner with one of your top actresses who is thirteen years younger than you?”

I wrinkle my forehead and look to see if she is serious. I have never shared my private life with her and I am not going to start now, especially since I have never been called to her office because of the women I date. She never felt the need to give me the third degree before making a statement to the press.

“Why should I tell you such a thing? I never told you about my private life before. You’ve always come up with a press release that silenced the gossip. Why haven’t you done it yet?”

She looks at me as if another head has grown under my shirt. She is building a scandal around our relationship, and I’m annoyed by that.

“Because we can’t come up with a press release about your midlife crisis. This situation requires more exposure on your part, especially after you have confirmed that you are fucking her. How the hell did it occur to you to say it was a date?”

The anger that boils inside me makes me want to fire her. I would have done it already if it weren’t for Sharon being the best in her field, and I would never fire her on a whim.

“First, be careful with your language when talking about her. And then, a midlife crisis?” My tone is so cold that Sharon pauses for a few moments to look at me. I never admonished her for her frankness. In fact, I always encouraged her.

“Aaron, you can’t tell me you’re serious about her. She’s twenty-three years old. What can a girl like her ever give you? When the novelty has passed, you will realize how ridiculous you are to run after someone who, in two months, will have already set her eyes on someone else and will discard you like the old drool with whom she experienced the thrill of adventure. You can’t seriously think that this story leads anywhere.” Her tone is so condescending that it makes me shiver.

I watch her for several minutes until she begins to squirm. I need time not to open my mouth and fire her on the spot. The fact that I have been reminded of this thought twice since I sat on this couch is a clear indication of my anger levels.

“Let’s make one thing clear. I pay you to keep the company’s public image clean, not to give me advice on my private life. I didn’t ask your opinion on my relationship status. If you can give me the results, we are fine. Otherwise, I’ll have to reconsider your position in this office. I’m not the one that has to do yourjob,” I hiss without ever leaving my gaze from hers.

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