Tori hands Angel a tissue. "What do you want me to do?" she asks Angel.
Angel wipes her eyes. "It's fine," she says, "I just..."
Tori sets down the brush. "I'm going to give you a minute."
I stand there for one second, looking at Angel, before I know what I have to do.
CHAPTER 2
ANGEL
If Allister thinks I'm unfit for his image, then screw him.
And if all of the girls I work with don't want to be seen around me at a time like this, I understand.
It's Christmas. Their jobs matter. They have kids that are at home sick and bills that need to get paid. Losing this gig isn't an option for a lot of them. I get that. Any work right now is important.
I'm setting all of that aside and I'm focusing on one thing: the way Allister made me feel for eating a slice of my grandma's gingerbread.
She'd been in the hospital for four weeks. I could hardly spend any time with her over Thanksgiving thanks to this job. I thought I was going to lose her. I wipe the tears away, thinking I'm alone, but then I hear footsteps. I look up.
It's Andrew.
"Hey," he says, handing me a cloth handkerchief from his pocket. It's embroidered with a blue bird on the edge. It's vintage and lovely.
I shake my head. "A handkerchief?"
He shrugs. "I'm old school," he tells me.
"I see, and I always said a real gentleman would carry things like a handkerchief and a heart. My heart."
"Well, sounds like you know what kind of man you're looking for," Andrew says, crouching down, wiping away my tears with that handkerchief. I'm startled, but I let him.
I've hardly ever spoken to this guy. I mean, I've seen him around. I do a lot of fashion shoots for Allister. He offers steady work and he always hires me. I don't think he actually likes me, or maybe he likes me in the wrong way and that's why he keeps hiring me. He thinks he can get in my pants, not that he has, though he's tried.
I've seen this guy Andrew plenty of times, but he's hardly ever said a word to me. So now, the fact that he's crouching down and wiping the tears away from my eyes and speaking so tenderly kind of catches me off guard.
I shake my head. "You heard it? What Allister said to me?"
"Yeah," he says. "Pretty brutal."
"More than brutal," I say. I take the handkerchief from his hands, setting my hands in my lap. Andrew reaches for a chair and sits next to me.
"Do you mind?"
I shake my head. "No, but I bet they're going to be pissed if we're here alone for too long. I know Allister wants to get the shoot going."
"Well, he can't start anything without me."
I smile despite myself. "Fair point," I say. "But everyone else ran off following Allister, not wanting to get on his bad side."
Andrew shrugs. "I don't care about Allister. He's kind of an asshole, if you ask me."
I laugh, tight, sharp. "Honestly, I think so too, but I wouldn't have said it."
"No?" Andrew says. "I know that, actually."
"What do you know about me?"
He shrugs. "Probably more than I should admit to."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask.
Andrew shrugs again.
"What's with all that shrugging?" I say, looking at him more closely, wondering if maybe he's just like Clark Kent – if he took off those glasses, maybe he'd be Superman. Maybe he already is.
He can keep the glasses. After all, he's incredibly handsome, fit, strong, capable. He carries a handkerchief. And right now, it feels like he's holding my heart. Why, though, I can't help but wonder?
"I've been watching you,” he admits. “And I know that sounds creepy, but I mean I've been around the set and the shoots that you've been on for the last few years, so I know you're a nice person, Angel. You always treat people well and you are never rude to anybody on the crew. I appreciate that, but a lot of people in this line of work are kind of cruel, whether it's intentional or not."
I shrug. "Well, I am a little bit embarrassed about being called fat in front of everybody I work with. Not that I care about being fat or not, I just... The insinuation that I could lose my job because I'm eating one slice of gingerbread at Christmas is ridiculous. I should be able to eat. I'm going to fit into the lingerie one way or another. The gingerbread isn't going to change that. God, I mean the panties I'm putting on for the shoot are elastic."
Andrew laughs. "It's a fair point."
"And it's not like I'm not going to be able to fit into a bra that is literally pieces of lace. Have you seen the lingerie we're wearing today?" I ask him, pointing to the clothing rack behind me. And by clothing, I mean bra and panty sets, negligees and robes. "I would fit into any of that regardless of this delicious gingerbread." I stand up and reach for the tin that Allister shoved on the table. I pop another piece into my mouth. Andrew does the same.