Take Two

Chapter Three

Renaldo

I could smell the food before I walked into the room and my stomach grumbled. It had been hours since I last ate. Anthony had been pushing us extra hard the last couple days, trying to get through the end of filming faster than possible. At least he bought us all lunch today.

I was used to tough working conditions and long days. This time, however, I was frustrated to no end. I barely had any time to call my family and I was still struggling trying to determine the best ways to start up a good conversation with a man.

I took a deep breath at the doorway to the kitchen room. A tall man I did not recognize was helping himself to some food. His back was to me, but his shoulders were broad and the way his back musceles moved under his thin shirt left me staring for just a moment too long. All I had to do was start a conversation. Maybe it goes somewhere, maybe it will not. But it never would if I did not at least say something.

I stepped up to the table next to him, noticing he put a sandwich, some potato chips, and a small assortment of fruit onto a plate already.

"Good choices," I said, gesturing to his plate. "Blueberries are my favorite."

He looked at me with wide eyes. The oversized, thick glasses on his face were an unexpected contrast to his defined body. "Uh, sorry." He shoved the plate into my hand. "I'm not that hungry anyway. Enjoy, Mr. Morales."

I was frozen in place as I watched the man hurry out of the room. "Ay dios mío," I muttered. How did I possibly get so bad at conversations? I talk to people all day long! Why, when I tried to think a bit more into the conversation, did everything go wrong?

"Did you want that to happen?"

I jumped at the sound of someone's voice, turning to see a man I vaguely recognized sitting at the table in the corner. It took a second longer for me to realize he was the camera man who came to get me from my trailer yesterday.

"No," I said slowly. "I only meant to converse casually. Did I say something wrong?"

"I don't think so. But he's one of the writers, I think. They can be a little weird sometimes."

"Can they? I do not believe I have truly interacted with the writers before."

I knew many actors would work directly with the writers when they disliked their lines. I never had any issues. If a new copy of the script came out, I memorized that instead. Maybe it was because English was not my first language. If the words did not fit right, I would probably be the last to realize.

"You're lucky then," the man said. "Not that they're bad, of course. Just different."

"I think we all can be sometimes different, in our own ways."

He nodded his head slowly, looking down at his half-finished lunch. I wanted to ask if I could join him, but I was not sure he would want me to. We were having good conversation. It was not much, but he was not sugaring his words because he was talking to me, and he definitely was not running away.

I sighed, looking down at my own plate. Maybe the poor writer would come back for his food later. I set it off to the side and picked up a new plate before filling it with the lunch I wanted, making sure to grab extra of the blueberries.

Just as I was again contemplating asking the man if I could join him, he stood, dropping his empty plate in the garbage. He was just a little taller than me, I noticed. Tall and lean. And very attractive. The pink sunburn on his cheeks had faded into more of a golden tan color that brought out the blue in his eyes.

"I hope you enjoy your lunch, Mr. Morales," he said.

He was gone from the room before I could even ask his name.

I wondered for a second if I should follow him before realizing that would be a bad idea. We did not know each other at all. It would be wrong to follow him. Not only that, but it would be seen as a creepy thing to do.

Instead, I took my lunch back to my trailer. My attempt at conversing causally with men went wrong once again. At the rate I was going, I might never know true happiness.

I loved my children and I loved Rosalinda, but there was still a hole in my life. A hole, I knew was meant to be filled by a man. That man was out there somewhere. Hopefully I might find him one day and when I did, he would not treat me like my money made me untouchable. He would speak his mind and love me for me, just as I him.

Unless, maybe he did not exist after all.

I let out a long sigh. At least, if I had to live the rest of my life without a companion, I still had my children and Rosalinda. I would not be completely alone.

_____________

Ay dios mío - Oh my God/Oh Lord

Let me know what you guys think! Thanks :)