Bonus #3: A little slow, is all.

“A party?”

“Yap, for the end of the season of the production, Magnolia is hosting. You should come.”

Janine utters as she removes the last set of jewellery from me.

For a minute, my gaze on the dresser reminded me of the forcefulness Marko held me in.

The delightful intensity of his silver eyes that held me in the mirror and the foul language that slipped from his lips as he buried himself inside me.

A shudder escapes me at the memory.

For a man who doesn’t talk much, he is a beast.

My teeth find my lower lip as I press my centre harder on the chair, hoping to squelch the throb that came alive.

We haven’t talked since then; we either had to film separately, or he had affairs to handle being an A-lister, of course.

But if I go to the party then, we can talk and maybe even define this so that I do not have to hesitate to dial his number on my phone.

How weird would it be if a one-time thing had the audacity to call from a number she had to get from the director?

He is an A-lister, so that can’t be the first time he’s had sex with a co-worker; yet before I demean my presence in his life, shouldn’t I ask?

“Have I been invited?”

“Of course you have; she invited everyone from the production.”

“Oh, that’s great! Could you, um…help me dress up?”

“Ohh! Is there someone you want to impress that you need old Janine’s skills?”

I chuckle and poke her side in response.

**

“Thank you for coming, Alba, and right on time. I was about to give a tour.”

Magnolia utters after a quick hug.

“That’s great. Has everyone else arrived?”

“Everyone but Marko, but I wouldn’t expect him; he doesn’t attend these things.”

Right…of course he doesn’t.

Of course.

Our walk to the living room was quick and contrary to her expectations; I was the only one who wanted a tour of her magnificent white marble-floored perfection that bore the kind of luxury I had only ever seen on set.

“You know…”

Magnolia begins as she leads me to the room beside her exquisite office that is spacious enough to hold a chandelier.

“I still can’t believe they killed my character like that.”

“Who knows, you might make a comeback soon.”

“Oh, please, there is no need for politeness Alba. The only way that’s possible is if there is another production under another name later, but we both know the next season is the last. I really wanted your part, you know.”

“To be ‘Alba’?”

“Well, she would have been ‘Magnolia’, but yes.”

“I find Magnolia regal; you quite literally suit her.”

“I do, don’t I?’

She jokes as she leads me down a hallway filled with photos.

On closer inspection, some held Marko.

In every photo that Marko was in, the ones where he showed joy in his expression were the ones that held a dark-haired and hazel-eyed beauty standing beside him.

An odd feeling I cannot fully claim to understand roams my chest.

Perhaps it is my imagination, but…I resemble, albeit slightly, the black-haired girl.

“You know.”

Magnolia begins, grabbing my attention as she lifts one of the framed photos off the wall.

“When I first told Marko about the production, he wasn’t interested.”

A slight sense of dread leers in my gut; I both want to hear and not hear what she says next.

“Oh? What got him interested?”

It surprises me that there is no tremble in my voice.

“You. Well, most specifically, your looks; his first love, Bridgette. Oh, here she is.”

She offers me the frame she took and points at the dark-haired woman next to him showing off rings with a sign scribbled ‘engaged’.

“She looks like you, or you look like her, whichever you prefer. Anyway, that’s why I think he took the part after I showed him your picture.”

I...am so stupid.

Of course…there had to be a reason for his abrupt interest.

Of course.

 “They almost got married, it wasn’t announced to the public, but they were lovely together, but you know shit happens.”

Magnolia continues, but her voice is too distant to place.

My chest must have shattered, for its tightness feels far too painful for it to be normal.

**

I don’t know when the tour ended or if we visited any other room after that hallway. All I know is that I shouldn’t be here.

After a few seconds of fiddling with my phone in Magnolia’s line of sight (Mainly texting Rhett, who also couldn’t make it), I grew courageous enough for my lie.

“Hey, uh, I am sorry this is a little abrupt, but an emergency popped up, and I have to leave. Perhaps next time?”

The doorbell rings before she can answer, and rather than the ringer waiting for her to open, they waltz in with the confidence of one accustomed to being in the house.

“Marko, you came?”

A commotion stirs around him at Magnolia’s question, but his gaze meets mine solely.

Instantly, my gaze lowers.

It doesn’t matter anyway; if all he sees is Bridgette in me, he doesn’t need to see the colour of my eyes for a reminder of where my capabilities as a replacement fall short.

Magnolia’s focus is no longer on me; I am starting to think she didn’t need my lie.

After grabbing my coat from the door, I scour the house for another exit that did not hold Marko’s frame. Unfortunately, there is none, so I squeeze past the crowd forming around him, but his hand is quick on my wrist, halting my grand escape.

“Are you leaving?”

“She has an emergency to tend to.”

Magnolia excuses on my behalf.

“I’ll drop you off.”

“Marko, you’ve just arrived; she is a big girl she can handle herself.”

My gaze turns to Magnolia, and her face contorts to…embarrassment.

She might have a crush on Marko; that explains her telling me about Bridgette.

Still, even if she means to put me in my place, it worked; his fiancé and I do look alike; where she was present in the photos, he was bright, and an engagement always means ‘commitment’.

I must have looked so pathetic trying to get his attention over the past weeks. Thank God I did not have the confidence to dial his line.

Still, between Magnolia and me, I guess nobody wins.

I struggle to free my wrist from his hold, and when he doesn’t budge, I speak.

“You are delaying me, Marko.”

I should have kept my head down.

I can’t even start an argument with him because it might affect the quality of the production, and worse, he has more power and fan support than I do.

‘Alba’ might be killed off if I stir unnecessary drama.

“Please.”

At my plea, he lets go of my hand, and I slide out the door without another word.

**

The cool air billowing my hair reminds me of the seconds ticking by; I should have called a cab before this.

"Have I done something to offend you?”

Marko’s deep voice finds me the second I notice the headlights from the cab.

Thank God.

"No, of course not, Marko.”

Thank God for the dark night covering most of my expressions.

“I am just a little slow, is all.”

"What is that supposed to mean."

"It means I have an emergency, and my cab is here. I will see you in a few months for the last season; take care, Marko.”