Searching Lucas

09

"The University of Florida," I said calmly, remembering the student ID I had carried around. I slid the identification onto the sleek woodcraft, the receptionist grabbed it, and she squinted her eyes. "It's for my internship,"

She looked at the ID for a while before handing it back. "A bit far away, aren't you?"

I forced a laugh. It came out natural. "Yeah, that's what Mae told me." The receptionist lifted an eyebrow at the mention of Mae. "Joaquin's assistant. We're very well acquainted with each other."

She slid the ID across the sleek mahogany with a nod. "Very well, then. Take the elevator to the Penthouse floor."

"Thanks,"

I approached the square room of elevators. One of the bellmen immediately noticed me and pushed a button. "Where to, miss?"

"Penthouse."

"Certainly, miss."

People moved around the lobby non-stop. The elevator doors were constantly opening and closing to decency and scowls. Many scowls. All the women here looked bored. A blonde girl who looked like Louise if she had a smaller waist in a svelte Versace dress looked as though she didn't want to be here next to her chaperone.

We waited for the sleek doors to open. The bellman entered first and waited for me to slip into the confined gold-padded walls and mirror roof. Once inside, he hovered a white glove-coated finger on the highest button on the panel as the doors smoothly closed on us, leaving us at the mercy of another mellow symphony instrumental of piano keys.

***

The hotel room was bustling with a crowd: filmmakers carrying equipment, some guy on the phone talking loudly, a gang of producers deciphering a script, and one camera hovering around that I wasn't sure if it was recording material.

Mae looked perky, almost too happy. I couldn't tell if she was excited to see me or if she was putting on this charisma because her job required her to do so. She reeled me into the crowd landing in an empty futon in what I assumed was the living room.

"Wait here just a moment," Mae said. She waited for me to nod, then sprinted on her white flats past a guy in a blue suit drinking from a Starbucks cup. I stared at everything, feeling like I belonged.

At first, I didn't think much of this interview as an excuse to leave the apartment and not think about Lucas. A distraction to barrage Joaquin with stupid questions had become a motive to forget about the red patch on the side of my head. The ache, the palpitations. It seemed to breathe on its own. Squirming into the meaty part of my brain, waiting to take me down.

Mae's purple suit showed off among the crowd as she waved a hand.

Who, me?

Yes, you.

After mouthing off, I got on my feet and followed her again. Mae led me down a corridor and opened a set of double doors to a vast space, which I presumed was the master bedroom. A king-size bed propped on one side, a canopy draping the sheets in creme fabric. Before I could take in the warm colors in the decor, Mae was already backing out, staring at me from behind her oval glasses.

"You have five minutes," Again, Mae waited for a reaction. I nodded with a smile as she closed the doors behind me. It was me. And Joaquin Sheppard. The first thought was: Wow, this guy looks like a celebrity.

From his stance to the royal blue suit that draped his broad shoulders, Joaquin came across as confident. He was facing the balcony, staring at the buildings or past the traffic. Joaquin tilted sideways, stubs of grey hair perfectly trimmed as though someone took the time to do each strand. Joaquin had diamond-cut blue eyes and dark grey hair, adding an indescribable youth. You'd never assume by meeting Joaquin that he plays baseball professionally, coming across as someone who is more likely belonging to a Baywatch episode as a spectator dining in a fine beach restaurant with a fiancee in a svelte, modelesque red dress to match Joaquin's exuberance.