Page 10 of His Cruelest Moves

“Coffee,” growled Alex.

Isard nodded and they left the restroom, adjusting their clothes. Alex had weighed the option of dragging Isard into a cubicle, but you didn’t do that with a film star, did you? Even one who wasn’t yet famous. And it could possibly have had a horribly messy ending from a PR angle. Plus, this thing that had taken hold of them, whatever it was, he didn’t want to dirty it with just grabbing some cheap sex. He wanted to do this right. Isard was someone who deserved better, deserving to be made love to in every sense of the word, not just used for tawdry sex. As they walked toward the highway café, a good yard of space between them, Alex pondered how that word had popped into his thoughts, uninvited and undesired. Love. This was definitely not that. Neither of them had a use for that, and it didn’t figure in either of their business plans. So, he resolved, in the café, they needed to talk about this, and agree to put a stop to it.

The highway café was one of those older joints that are now being replaced by sterile self-service facilities throughout Spain. But this one still felt like an old-fashioned highway café, with a row of brown-painted alcoves along one wall opposite the bar, lined with cracked, red-leather benches. The tables were round with red-and-white checked tablecloths covered by a thick pane of glass for easy cleaning. An ashtray and posy of plastic flowers decorated each one. They slipped into a booth, and when the waitress came for their order, Alex ordered a cafè amb llet, a milky coffee, and Isard a soft drink.

“So…” Alex began. “We… This… needs to stop.”

“What?” Isard asked.

Was he being obtuse?

“This. You’re an actor, you’ve got a reputation to—”

“Are you about to savage my reputation?”

“No, of course not.”

“Well, then.”

“But you’re my client. We’re going to be working closely together… for weeks. We’ll be…”

“What are you afraid of?” Isard asked.

“I’m not afraid of anything!” Alex lashed out almost angrily. “But can’t you see? We’ll be—”

“Are we hurting anyone?”

“No.”

“So?”

There was silence while Alex stared at the plastic flowers. God, they were ugly. He could feel Isard’s eyes on him.

“Hey,” Isard said, reaching out to cover Alex’s hand with his own. “We’re both adults, we’ll be responsible… and discreet, if you’re embarrassed…”

“No, not that!” Alex looked up to meet Isard’s gaze. “Believe me, I’m not embarrassed, no way, not at all!” He grabbed Isard’s hand and clenched it in both of his own. “It’s just… this is… I didn’t expect this to happen at all. I’m not sure how to deal with this.”

Isard observed him for a long moment.

“Just breathe,” he finally said. “Breathe and accept the new into your life as a welcome thing.”

“Hey, I’m the one who’s supposed to be the Zen spiritual teacher,” Alex joked, but neither of them laughed.

They sat there in silence for a while, hands interlocked.

“But what is this?” Alex finally croaked. “What’s happening to us?”

Isard just looked at him and smiled. “Have you never been… Haven’t you ever had… someone who…”

“Like a boyfriend?”

“Or girlfriend.”

“Yeah, sure. Loads.”

“Loads?”

“Several.”