DoubleP 1975

"Care package? Oh, you mean the basic necessities one needs after having alcohol poisoning? That wasn't a care package, that was just me being quick to react. You were over-served at my hotel bar. And I'll have you know I fired that bartender last night."

That throws you for a loop. "Oh my god.. I.. I feel so shitty about that."

"It's no problem. I never liked Manny anyway. We've found someone much more respectable to take his place."

"Is that why you're calling me? Keeping me up to date with your personnel changes? Or do all guests of The Velvet Crown receive such luxury?" There's a bit of venom in your voice, hiding your shock that Joel had gone and done such a drastic thing, even if he had good reason for it.

"I'm calling to see if you and Miss Singh are available for brunch. I'd like to speak with you both about the.. situation regarding my brother."

You glance towards the bathroom where Claudia is fixing her hair. She mouths a question, asking who's on the phone. You mouth Joel and make a wanking motion. She stifles a giggle.

You'd been planning on going to the Met or the Whitney Museum today, but here's Joel, handing you a golden egg on a platinum platter. You feel it in your bones that he's going to make you an offer. "Sure, Joel, we'd be delighted to meet you for brunch," you say loud enough for Claudia to hear. She shakes her head, mouthing something you can't understand until you read Tommy on her lips as she points to an invisible watch on her wrist. Oh, she has plans after all. "On second thought, it's just gonna be me," you tell him, giving Claudia the middle finger in mock annoyance. Leave it to her to let you battle the beast alone.

"Excellent. I'll pick you up in an hour. I hope that's enough time to make yourself.. presentable." Click. You stare in shock at the receiver after he hangs up.

The ride to Twenty Three Grand is awkward, as Joel is the only one talking.. to his cell phone. He's looking irritated, eyes darting everywhere but to you, next to you in the backseat of the BMW that's being chauffered by someone you heard him call Dina, while his assistant, a quiet young man named Jesse, smiles at you from the passenger seat, seemingly embarrased. You imagine Joel doesn't have many visitors, or at least women he takes to brunch while he's still doing business.

Even so, the small possibility that you might be one of many that he's brought in this luxury SUV makes you uneasy, and you hate that it does.

"Tell Castillo he'll have to wait. I'm not pouring another cent into that investment this quarter," Joel's grumbling over the phone. You sneak a look at him from under your lashes. You're still not sure exactly what hair product he uses to get the ends of his hair to curl just so, that it beckons your fingers to run through them. His eyes are sharp, his lips deliciously full-looking as he speaks with authority. And from there, the handsome hook of his nose, strong and aquiline, sends your thoughts to a place you aren't sure you want to go. After hanging up his call he catches you looking. You glance away, willing yourself to be cool about it.

"I thought you'd pick me up in a limo," you say evenly, checking the shine on your new manicure. He's putting his phone away for the moment, having barked orders at the right people at the right time.

"Limos are more Tommy's thing," he grumbles. "Besides, we're not on our way to a homecoming dance."

The restaurant is exactly the kind of place you'd enjoy, and you make a mental note to bring Claudia here before you leave New York. Unfortunately, despite the elegant ambience, Joel is all business and gets down to brass tacks immediately.

"I'm making an offer of fifty thousand dollars, to be split by yourself and Miss Singh, to leave the city now. Of course my lawyer will draw up non-disclosure agreements to bar you both from speaking about any of this, and your phones and other devices will be wiped clear of any lingering message to or from my brother."

You haven't even bitten into your omelette and he's already chasing you out of town. "Fifty thousand dollars," you repeat slowly. "That's a lot of dough for a girl like me.."

"It could change your life," he agrees.

"It could.." you innocently sip your mimosa. Joel eyes you, as if silently warning you to take it easy on the drinks. Glaring at him you finish the rest in one gulp and signal the waiter for another.

"But I feel shortchanged.. belittled, really.. insulted by that lowball offer." You lean forward on your elbows, ready to play hardball with the billionaire in front of you.

He plays your game, leaning forward as well. His dark eyes are stony in their depth, as if looking right past you. "Name your price. And don't be extravagant," he adds. "Know your worth."

You scoff at that low blow. "I don't understand why you dislike me so much."

"'Dislike' is a very strong word. I'd prefer.. distrust."

"Then why do you distrust me?"

"You're kidding, right?" His would-be smile vanishes. "You've duped my idiotic little brother out of thousands of dollars in just a few months. I don't know how you managed to be so duplicitous and get away with it. He's young and stupid, I'll admit. But he's never dealt with an actual catfish before."

"You know, I'm really tired of that term. Catfish are slimy and gross." You shudder.

"It's the honest term for the web of lies you've so charmingly weaved around my brother. Or do you prefer con artist? Charlatan? Grifter?"

"I've always liked 'mountebank.'" You give him a full smile, ripping the orange slice away from its rind in your refreshed mimosa. "Sounds strong.. like someone with balls."

Joel's eyes drop to your mouth for the most brief of moments before meeting your eyes again, a new darkness settled in them. "A hundred thousand," he offers in a low voice.

You nearly choke. Tommy hasn't even sent that much money in the time you've been talking to him. But you can't slip up in front of Joel. He's a professional, and you're willing to bet he can smell bullshit from ten miles away.

"Tempting offer," you murmur. "But I'm worth more."

Your resilience is getting to him. You can tell by the way he leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. He looks constipated and you stifle a laugh at the thought. You doubt such a man even has time to attend nature's calls when he's always on the phone about some business emergency or another.

"You're fucking with me," he says quietly. Maybe it's your wild imagination that gleans a bit of respect in his gaze.

"I absolutely am not. I never would." You handle your flatware with precision as you dive into your Eggs Florentine. "I don't joke about money, Mr. Miller."

"You're so serious about financial matters. Enlighten me. What do you do with each dollar my brother sends you?"

You shrug. "I'm building a stock portfolio."

Joel mishandles his fork, nearly dropping it as it clatters off his plate, but he catches it just in time before it falls to the floor. "You? Really?"

"I didn't grow up with money like you did," you tell him, deciding once and for all to be frank with him. Maybe it'll get him to stop pestering you about catfishing Tommy. "My dad left when I was little, my mom worked multiple jobs to put me through college. I pay off every loan she's ever given me. Your money is paying off my student loans, investing in my own career path.. and fianancing my divorce." You take a moment to let your words sink into Joel's brain in as you take a bite of your eggs.

"What did you go to school for?"

"Fashion. And a minor in business."

"You graduated?"

"Of course," you bristle at the thought that he thinks so lowly of you. "Eventually."

"What's your business plan?"

"Fashion, of course. I plan to open a boutique and sell my own designs."

"You design?" He looks intrigued.

You pull out your lookbook from your Isabel Marant tote and Joel takes it from you, flipping through it and studying each one. His face is unreadable.

"Not bad," he says, handing it back to you.

"There's a lack of sustainable fashion options for women who aren't size negative eight."

"You've found your niche, I see."

"That's probably as big a compliment as I'm going to get from you, isn't it?"

A pause. "And the husband?"

You shake your head. "All love ever brought to my door was heartache. I'm going after what really makes me happy."

Joel seems to ruminate over this, his own food growing cold. You wonder if he ever even eats with the schedule he has. "I didn't grow up with money either," he quietly admits.

"Yet you have more than most people would know what to do with."

"I know. We give to charities and foundations. We're not awful people just because my father made a good investment."

At least you had a father.. but you keep that thought to yourself, the tension still thick between you, like the heaviness in the air before a storm.

"Shouldn't you be on the BRAT diet after your.. illness?" Joel asks at last.

"Wow, two insults in one, huh?" You put down your fork to glare at him. "I'm not a brat and I don't need to be on a diet."

"That's not what I meant!" Joel has a hard time trying to keep a straight face. "Haven't you ever heard of the BRAT diet? After you've had a stomach bug or a hangover it's best to keep to Bananas, Rice, Applesauce, and Toast," he counts off on his fingers.

"Oh."

He takes a long sip of his ice water, watching you with an amused expression. You hate it. Or maybe you like it. Either way he has you squirming under his gaze. "What?" you ask out of exasperation.

"Nothing," he smiles, leaning back in his chair. "Just that.. you're right. You don't need to diet. A woman like you is the perfect size for anyone."

"Joel are you.. attempting to flirt with me?"

He makes an easy recovery. "I said 'women like you' not you exactly. Don't take it to heart, babygirl."

Babygirl? What the hell? You're not a teenager in pigtails and bobby socks. But you can't deny the way it sweetly twists at the pit of your stomach to be called such an endearment.

"Now, Jesse will escort you back to the hotel. I have a meeting I'm staying for."

"Killing more birds with stones, huh?" You get up with as much grace as you can muster after finding out you were just the appetizer to Joel's busy day.

"Gotta keep money in my brother's pockets.. ipso facto in yours as well." He looks up from his work with what should be a cold sneer but is met with one of your own.

"In that case I'll let you work your magic. Tell whoever this Castillo son-of-a-gun is that I give him my regards."

The ride back is a little friendlier, with Dina chatting away, her banter with Jesse undeniable. You secretly wonder if they've got a thing going, the way they tease each other. They're either very good friends or they want to fuck each other's brains out. Jesse retaliates with quick and sharp wit, a little smirk on his face as he blushes.

Stuck in traffic, you talk about how you met Tommy through Claudia (sticking to your story of course) and both listen with rapt interest. "It's not usual that Mr. Miller has guests," Jesse mentions. "Joel, I mean."

"Do you like working for him?" You're genuinely curious to know.

"He's a man that I respect," he answers. "And he's pretty good to his employees." Dina voices her agreement, adding, "He's never brought a woman around, at least not that I've known of."

"You're his driver. Does he ever go to any weird places?"

Dina laughs. "What do you mean?"

"Like.. weird sex clubs or.."

Both Dina and Jesse laugh aloud at that. "What, Joel?? No way," Dina replies. "He practically lives at the hotel. Apart from meetings and scheduled business trips across the country, he's pretty boring. Like Jesse here."

Jesse puts down his iPad and shoots her a playful glare as they pull up to the hotel's private entrance.

Before you leave the car, Jesse calls your name. "Mr. Miller would like the pleasure of your company in his luxury suite at the Knicks game this evening. He says to dress casually."

"He couldn't ask me himself?"

Jesse shrugs apologetically. "I'm just the messenger, ma'am. He's just now texted me. What answer shall I give him?"

"Uh.. tell him I'll go if he dresses casually as well."

"That might be a bit difficult to petition.."

"Tell him it's that or a no-go from me." With a smile you leave the car, hurrying up to your suite.

<- prev

dividers by @enchanthings 👑

Main masterlist | Series masterlist | Read on AO3

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Chapter 10 - The Invitation

Landing in LAX at noon on Friday, Alma picks up her suitcase at baggage claim and drags it through the arrival door, her eyes searching through the crowd. Families picking up relatives, friends awaiting each other, some waiting for their loved ones with flowers, she hears laughs, people shouting names. And behind this crowd, the row of drivers in their suits, holding signs. She looks for her name until her eyes land on a young man, tall, with dark hair. He's not wearing a suit, but he still manages to be formal even when wearing everyday clothes. He's holding a sign with the drawing of an armadillo, and right under, in smaller prints that she can barely make out: "Ms. Almadillo".

She can't help but laugh as she walks toward the person holding the sign.

"Ms Taylor?"

"Yes, that's me."

"Let me take your luggage."

"Oh, that's fine…" Alma tries to refuse, but he gently takes it anyway and starts leading her to the parking. He turns her way to see if she is following.

"My name is James, I'm Mr Bravo's driver. He's waiting for us in the car."

Alma feels shy. She isn't used to having a driver or people taking her luggage. She isn't good with small talk and engaging conversation. But she figures that it's fine, as long as she's polite and she smiles, she won't come off as a snob.

The walk is quiet, and it feels like hours. After spending so long sitting down, she wanted to stretch her legs, but now that she's actually up, she just wants to sit down again. Or even better, lie on a bed and sleep. The 6 AM flight was rough, the food on the plane was terrible, and she barely slept because her neighbor kept invading her space.

"We're almost here, Ms." James breaks the quiet, and she hums to acknowledge she's heard him, but she's lost in her thoughts. James is so formal. She never would have imagined Dieter hiring someone like him. His agent and assistant weren't. But maybe it wasn't the same for his driver?

They walk down the parking lot, arriving in part a little further away from the rest of the car. There is only one car, a black SUV. The door opens, and Dieter emerges in shorts, a t-shirt, socks, and Crocs. God, she hates his Crocs. But Alma can't help the smile on her face or the way her feet carry her faster to his open arms.

"Welcome to LA, honey." He buries his face in her hair, "I missed you."

"It's only been 3 days." Alma's voice is muffled, she's so close to him, breathing him in, as if she's trying to be absorbed by him.

"Three very long days."

"I missed you too." They finally separate, looking at each other, smiling, happiness illuminating them both.

"We are ready to go, sir." James' voice breaks the spell.

"For god's sake, James, I told you to drop the formal act." Dieter whines, "Please, I feel like a snobbish bitch when you call me sir, or worse, my father!"

You can't help the laugh that comes out of you when you see James smile and sheepish look.

"I'm sorry, old habits die hard, si- Dieter."

"Don't embarrass me in front of my girl, I don't want her to think I'm pretentious."

"I mean, you are a little pretentious," Alma interjects.

"I will leave you here to fend for yourself."

Alma presses a kiss on Dieter's lips, effectively shushing him, and when she tries to pull away, he holds her close, deepening the kiss. When they both emerge, a little flushed and very much embarrassed on Alma's side, James is already sitting in the car, waiting for them to get in.

As they drive, Dieter goes into details about how he organized for someone to pick up her car rental, mostly so she can drive on her own to the studios, avoiding the curiosity if they arrived together. The car will arrive the next day, and filming begins on Monday. They have two and a half blissful days just to themselves.

"Do you have a driver that takes you everywhere here, too?"

"James? No. I mean, yes, but only for events, or like now, because I didn't want anyone to see me picking you up. But I drive myself around."

"Oh, so you are not that pretentious."

"Be careful, I can still ask James to drop you and your luggage right here."

"You wouldn't dare."

"No, I wouldn't." Alma can't help but think that they look like fools, stupidly happy to see each other, so sweet it's almost sickening.

The rest of the ride is quiet. Alma looks out the window as they drive by picturesque views of the sea, of hills, of houses, of the sun, and of palm trees.

After climbing up a hill, they arrive in front of Dieter's building. It looks more like a large house. But Alma notices two cars parked further away, and two patios surrounded by plants, deducing that the first floor is composed of two separate apartments. The car doesn't stop, it goes up around a small alley, and they arrive on the other side of the building, arriving directly on the second floor. There is a large space, trees that form a barrier in the back, a big garage on the left, and a front door to Dieter's home.

They get out of the car, and James hands Dieter her luggage. He leaves them, and while Dieter opens the door, Alma stares mouth wide at the impressive… apartment? House? Whatever that is.

"Are you coming in?"

"You said you lived in an apartment; this looks like a house, quite big, actually."

"It's not, the garden level is divided into two units."

"And the rest?"

"It's one unit, but it's not that big." She can sense Dieter doesn't want to linger on the subject, but she can't help teasing him.

"How big?"

He sighs, "It's a three-bedroom apartment. But it's not that big for LA, and it's still much smaller than what I had before. Do you want to come in, or should I call James back to drop you off at a Motel 6?" He goes into the house and tries to close the door behind him. Alma runs inside before he can fully, laughing.

The entrance is narrow and has two doors on either side. Dieter points to the left, "This is the guest bedroom, and this is the utility room." he then points to the stairs on the right, telling her the rest of the bedrooms are up there.

Alma is blinded by the sunshine and can't make out the rest of the place. She walks further down towards the light and is stopped in her exploration by the sight of a large room and what seems like a wall of windows, up high, bringing in so much natural light. She makes out a long balcony, not very wide, but that runs along the whole room. It's huge. The single is at the same time a living room on her left, with a very large and wide couch, a coffee table, comfortable chairs, shelves with books, DVDs, and a large white wall on the right. To the right, the room turns into an art studio, with a large easel in the middle of the space, an old rug full of paint stains under it, a sketch table, shelves with supplies: brushes, paints, papers, blank canvas, and art stacked on the floor. She hears Dieter's voice calling her from higher up, and she turns around. The back of the studio area is a large open kitchen with an island and so many spotless appliances that I want to immediately spend the rest of the day snooping around. But Dieter calls her again, and she looks up. He's halfway up the spiral stairs to the next landing. She notices half of the space is closed up, leaving half of the main room with high ceilings.

"Are you coming?"

"Dieter, this place is wonderful!"

"You like it?" He sounds almost shy, like he isn't sure she's telling the truth.

"I do! I love it! I love the light, the view. Oh my god!" she exclaims, walking up the stairs and seeing more of the view of the city, the hills, and far away the sea.

Dieter smiles at her excitement. "I got this place for the view. And the light. It's great to paint here."

They arrive in front of two doors. Dieter opens one, and Alma sees a room full of boxes, crates, art, and dust.

"It's the second bedroom, but I don't need it. I put stuff from my old place that I really don't know what to do with. I'll probably donate some, sell some. It's been sitting here for a year. I just… I haven't gone through it yet." His voice drops a little, almost lost in his head. But it picks up again when he opens the next door. "And here, my dear, is the master bedroom."

It's a large bedroom, with a long closet on one side and a door leading to a large bathroom with a shower and a large bathtub.

The bed is huge, and it looks so inviting, Alma wants to jump in it and sleep in there for the next hours.

Dieter must sense it because he asks, "Are you tired?" She hums, "Do you want to take a nap?"

"Only if you take one with me," she looks at him playfully.

"I'm not very sleepy, but that can be arranged." He smirks.

"Maybe we split? I sleep a bit, and then we spend time doing other stuff in bed?"

"I like this program of yours."

Dieter is humming in his kitchen while preparing a snack for himself and Alma. He has the radio on, and a light jazzy music is playing. The nap was nice, very nice. He smiles, remembering how he woke Alma up with kisses and light touches that soon weren't light anymore. He didn't manage to sleep, but he read a bit and listened to her soft snores, although she always denies that she does snore.

It's now mid-afternoon, Alma is in the shower, washing the airport out of her hair as she claims.

He can hear the music she has on, loud pop music she likes to sing off tune, barely knowing the lyrics. It makes him smile, and he's ready to go up the stairs and ask her if she wants coffee when his front door opens, making him jump.

"Dieter, I swear to god, if I find you half dead on your couch, I'm going to kill you." A furious woman storms into his place. Tall, dark-haired, the same eyes, the same soft curls, but a look of fury on her face.

"Jesus, Selina! You scared the shit out of me. And what the fuck are you doing here? I gave you this key for emergencies only!"

"This is an emergency! You've been back for 3 days, I barely hear from you, and you haven't answered your phone all day!" Her tone is still full of wrath, but Dieter can sense the anger leaving her slowly.

"What the… " He sighs deeply and decides to be calm about this. After all, he can't totally blame her for her reaction.

"Selina, I didn't have my phone with me most of today. And yes, I didn't contact you much, but I just got back. I was tired, and I wanted to spend most of my time at home, cleaning up and taking care of business."

"I…shit, I'm sorry, Dieter, I got scared."- I…" Her tone is drastically different. No more anger, just some slight shame for her reaction, and an apology written on her face.

"No, it's OK. I'm sorry. I should have called you instead of just texting. I didn't think you would…" He sighs again. "I didn't think about what you might think."

"No, it's OK. I guess, I'm still working on the trust thing."

Dieter winces, but he understands. "I know, I get it." He goes to her to hug her as he asks, "What were you calling for?"

"Oh yes! Are you free for dinner tonight? Jamie's in town until tomorrow, and I also invited my neighbor, you remember Mrs Robinson?"

"I don't think–" Dieter barely has time to start finding an excuse, Selina isn't listening anymore, she turns her head up, listening to the shower and the music. All the doors are open, so there is nothing to muffle the noise from the bathroom.

"Do you have someone here?" Selina's face turns from apologetic to a playful smirk, the kind a sibling has when they have something they can use to piss you off.

"Ooooh, that's why you were MIA, you were here in bed with someone!"

Before Dieter can say something, they both hear the shower turning off, and Alma's voice singing loudly (and badly) over Titanium.

"Who is it, Deedee?" Dieter hates it when she calls him like that. She can barely contain her mirth, and he's already regretting every life choice that brought him right here, being subjected to the worst teasing by his younger sister, and at the same time, is so happy to be back in this exact type of dynamic like they used to. He can't help the smile that spreads wide on his face and the blush that creeps on his face.

"No, no, let me guess! Joan, the actress? No, she's too classy for you."

"Hey!" Dieter tries to argue, but Selina waves in his face like he is not important; he hates it when she does that.

"Can't be the director, she has a husband… Oh no! Please don't tell me you are not doing that–"

"No Selina. And also, fuck you." The tone in which Dieter answers her makes her stop. She looks ashamed and a little contrite.

"I'm sorry, Dieter. I'm sorry for assuming that. For assuming the worst."

"It's OK. Come, tell me hello properly, and I'll explain everything." He hugs her. She squeezes him tight, and he understands that she is sorry, that she means it. Their relationship is still on the mend, but they are getting there.

As Selina breaks the hug, she playfully slaps his arm.

"So who is it?"

"Hum, Alma Taylor?"

"Shut the fuck up! The writer! The one you've been obsessed with?"

"I haven't been obsessed with her, it was the book, I didn't know her, and… I don't even know why I'm explaining anything," He sighs in frustration.

"You like her." Dieter feels like they are both teens again, when Selina would tease him every time he got a new boyfriend or girlfriend.

"Of course I do."

"No, I mean you like her like her. You're smiling, you look happy, healthy, you were humming." She's serious again, the teenager is now the adult, always a little worried about her big brother.

"I do. Really like her." They both smile and stay there for a bit, basking in the feeling of being happy to be reunited again.

"I'll go and warn her you are here."

"Wait. Do you think she'll want to come tonight, if I invite both of you?"

"I'm sure she will."

The drive to Selina's house takes about 30 minutes. Alma's silent during most of it. She didn't expect to spend the evening at Dieter's elusive sister, the one he hasn't talked about much. She knows the basics: they were estranged for almost a decade, she doesn't know exactly why, but she can guess it, and they reconnected during his last rehab. Since then, they've been navigating their relationship on a thread. But when Dieter talks about her, it's always with pride and love. She turns her head, watching him concentrate on the road as he cruises in the LA traffic. He's so pretty, she feels the urge to kiss him, hug him, climb on his lap. But she can't, she resorts to the only thing she can: tease him.

"So, you do drive."

"I'm not that much of a diva."

"You got me fooled."

Dieter shoots daggers with his eyes, but then his eyes turn soft.

"I'm sorry you got dragged here tonight. I do want you to spend time with Selina, but I was hoping it would be planned a little better."

"It's fine, I'm happy to get to know her, she's fun."

"She's a menace to me and society. But yeah, she's great." He maneuvers the car in a driveway that leads to a pretty white house, surrounded by a lush garden. As they walk to the door, Alma can hear kids laughing and screaming, voices that seem to come from the other side of the house. Before knowing, Dieter turns to her.

"Are you ready?"

"A little nervous, but yes."

"Don't worry, everyone is going to love you." He gives her a soft kiss and opens the door.

Dinner was good. Excellent even. They ate outside, with Selina's kids running around, loud discussion, laughs, arguments, mostly between Dieter, his sister, and Jamie, an old friend they met when they both moved to LA.

Mrs Robinson, scratch that, Elvira, as she insisted on being called ("Mrs Robinson makes me feel like I'm snatching away young me, which isn't to my displeasure, but I'm way older than Anne Bancroft in The Graduate.") is a wonderful lady, funny and clever, and had so much to talk about. Alma immediately loved her. Selina's husband, Lewis, is reserved, but a sweetheart and very good cook, and Mike and Gabriel are fun young boys, aged 6 and 8, but she barely got to interact with them. They spent little time at the table, and when they were done eating, they begged to be able to leave the table.

The hours fly by, and soon it's time to leave. Alma is relieved. Between the flight, the lack of sleep, and some tension during dinner, she just wants to crawl into bed and snuggle in Dieter's arms. The tension wasn't bad, just little moments when conversation stalled, little nothings, yet she noticed Dieter tensing up. Things that were said that he didn't want to talk about, or maybe just didn't want to be brought up in front of her. During the drive back, and as they get ready for bed, she can't help but relieve them.

Like that moment when Jamie started talking about their shared time together, speaking of mutual friends.

"Oh, Dieter! I saw Ben and his husband last week. Are you still in touch with him?"

"No." Dieter's answer is quick, and his eyes drop to his plate.

"He looks good. When was the last time you talked?"

There is a silence, one that was unfortunately loud, because Lewis and Elvira's conversation had lulled. Alma had been listening to Jamie, and she saw Dieter tense, not looking up from his plate, his hand gripping his glass. Selina's eyes dart to her brother, to Alma, then to Jamie, who suddenly realizes that he talked about something he wasn't supposed to. Trying to change the subject, he starts saying, "Oh, Selina, that reminds me! You remember that place you had in Boyle Heights? I just saw it was for sale. The price is insane. I remember when it cost close to nothing. Too bad you couldn't buy it then, you'd be rich now." He laughs, and Selina joins in, but her laugh is tight. Jamie feels the tension, and Dieter gets up, mentioning looking for the bathroom. Everyone at the table is silent for a minute, taking in the tension.

Thankfully, Elvira launches into a story about how LA has changed over the years. She has always lived in the city, and she has so many interesting stories. When Dieter is back, it's as if the moment never happened. He is back to his bubbly self. And Alma relaxes. She understands, it's not like she doesn't have her own subjects she wants to avoid.

Another moment happened in the kitchen as Alma helped clean up the table. At one point, she and Selina are alone, and Alma can sense that Selina wants to bring up something.

"I know you noticed some stuff outside. And I don't know how much Dieter has told you about Benjamin…" She stops, second-guessing herself.

"He hasn't said anything. But that's OK, I understand that he has his past. He's very honest about it." After a pause, she adds. "We are taking things slowly."

"OK, that's good. I just… It's his story to tell, but I do want to share a part of mine. If that's OK?" Selina looks almost afraid.

"Of course."

She takes a deep breath and starts.

"Our father was an asshole. An absent father who didn't like the idea of having an eldest son who didn't conform to the norm. The norm being that bullshit masculinity. Dee has always been a lovely boy, fun, full of mischief, with his own sense of style. And our father hated it. Dieter got hit and bullied in school, and our father did nothing. Instead, he told him it was all Dieter's fault, that he should stand up for himself. Eventually, he left, which was for the best. Dieter was 15, I was 13. But whatever he told Dieter, it worked, it took a toll on his self-esteem. On the outside, Dieter still stayed the same, but on the inside, the damage was done, and what was mischief started being more. Parties, alcohol, drugs. It wasn't bad, but it was more than the usual teenager. After our father left, Mom… well, she wasn't horrible. She was just someone who probably never should have had kids. And she relied on other stuff to cope. Mostly gin. She died when I was almost 18, and Dieter was a little over 20. He took care of me. He had always wanted to move here, wanted to be an actor. He waited until I was old enough to leave. When I finished high school, he took me with him. And it was really great. Until it wasn't."

Selina takes a small break, looking at Alma, gauging her reaction. What she sees must be enough because she continues.

"For some time, we had each other, and then our found family. Greg, that came with us, and Jamie eventually. And Ben. Dieter started getting roles and some money. And… And the rest is his to tell. But yeah, we had a big argument. Drugs. I found him passed out. It wasn't the first time, but this time we had to go to the ER. And that's when I told him… I gave him an ultimatum, and it didn't end well. I left, and we didn't speak for almost a decade."

She has tears in her eyes, and Alma goes to her, taking her hand to give her support.

"I know how it sounds. I left him when he needed me. After everything he did. But I couldn't stay and see another person I loved giving his life away for drugs. I… Anyway. That's part of my side. All of it is complicated. And Jamie didn't mean anything bad; he just talked about the wrong things. But I love my brother and… He's doing so good. It takes time to grow back to what we were before. But gosh, I missed him, and seeing him with you makes me happy."

Drying up her tears, she adds, "Anyway, sorry," and before Alma can say anything, she gives her a quick hug and leaves.

"You've been quiet. Is everything OK?" Dieter has been trying to read a book in bed, but he's been staring at the words, lost in his thoughts, when Alma interrupts him.

"Yeah, sorry. It's just a lot." He's going to be honest, he decided.

"The dinner?"

"Yes, my sister, Jamie. Having you there. Wanting everything to be perfect."

"I had a great time." He didn't think she had a bad time, but hearing this is a relief, and he can't help but ask

"You did?"

"Of course, your sister is wonderful, her kids are cute, I'm in love with Elvira, Lewis seems like a great guy, I hope I'll get to know him more, Jamie made me laugh so much. And the food was perfect." She's genuine, trying to reassure him and give him space to talk if he wants to. He kisses her before asking.

"Even with the whole tension during dinner?"

"Dieter, we're old–"

"Speak for yourself, I'm in my prime." Alma laughs.

"I was going to say, we are old enough to have had lives before. You've been very honest with everything you've gone through. It's OK if I don't know every little detail. And it's still pretty early in our relationship."

"Can you be even more perfect?"

"Don't be such a flirt. I'm a grieving widow who went through a rough depression, relied on medication, and did extensive therapy. I'm just the best version of myself."

"And so modest."

"That too."

There is a pause before Dieter starts talking again, "I wanted to tell you about Benjamin. That night after Freja's, but you told me about Hugh, and I didn't…" He doesn't finish.

"You didn't want to pull the cover to yourself and sound selfish by talking about yourself?"

"Something like that."

"Your sister… she talked a bit about Benjamin. She didn't say anything much, she just… I guess she wanted me to know about how you two fell off. She told me a bit about your parents. Not much more than what you've already mentioned. I think she wanted to make sure I understood where you came from. And maybe why she stopped talking to you."

Dieter is silent. Alma doesn't speak, letting him process.

"She was right, leaving me. I was horrible. I still have a hard time thinking back about those years. Because I was such a mess, and also the worst kind of human being. I can't just blame the drugs and the fame. It was me, it got to my head. And I was a jerk, I abandoned my friends, I barely took care of my sister, she was nothing but an inconvenience for me. Everyone from my past. I cheated on…" He stops, voice thick.

"It's OK, Dieter, you don't have to tell me."

"I want to… It's just, I'm afraid that…"

"That I'll hate you after?" He nods, "I'm not going to judge you for what you did before. Don't worry. That Dieter is not the same anymore. Also, you'd be surprised by how much I know about what you did." She almost winces.

"I thought you didn't care for gossip."

"It's hard not to escape your past exploits, and when Freja told me you wanted the role, I kind of did a deep dive and… well, yeah, I read a lot of stuff. Your Wikipedia page is pretty up to date and very well referenced."

"Fuck." He rubs his face with his hand."And you still wanted to date me after all of this?"

"You had me when you made me a spreadsheet of movie recommendations."

"Who knew being a nerd would eventually pay?"

"I bet you want to go high-five your teenage self."

"He doesn't need it, the little bastard was smoking a joint with boys and girls instead of going to school and trying to look cooler than he was. But yeah, if I had known I would land a gorgeous girl in my forties by just being myself, I probably would never have believed it."

"Stop flirting with me."

"I'm sorry, you actually had me at the drinks after the reading, probably even at the reading. I couldn't help but be enthralled by your enthusiasm."

"Can I tell you a secret?" She leans toward Dieter, settling comfortably on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around her, and they lie back. "I came home that night thinking 'fuck, I think I have a crush.'"

Dieter smiles and starts kissing Alma again, kisses that get a little heated, before he stops. She gives him an interrogative look, behind the lust in her eyes.

"Sorry, I got carried away. I do want to tell you at least a bit about Benjamin. And if I don't do it now, I'll feel guilty."

"OK."

"Ben was part of the gang. Jamie brought him, and I had an instant crush. He was an aspiring actor, and we were all struggling, but we were all happy together. We started dating on and off for a year or two before we got serious. I was around 27 when we settled down. And we stayed together for 5 years. He was it. The person I wanted to grow old with. And then… I got that one role, my breakthrough. Now you have to understand that I didn't change from a nice guy to a shitty one in one day. I was already a little engrossed with myself, and I already partied a lot. Ben too. And he loved the fame and attention. Until it took me away from him, until I started hanging out more with my new friends. And he was jealous of the people I met, of the fact that his career wasn't getting better. I'm not saying it was all his fault, too. It's just that we grew a little apart, and it brought out the worst of us, I guess. And mostly the worst out of me. He was… I loved him so much. But he was my past. He wasn't shiny and new, and he was serious. He wanted us to get a place together and talk about our future. And I wanted to travel. I had all those pretty people around me, and… I slept around. He found out. And he left. It broke my heart. But I broke his first." Dieter stops, and Alma waits, never leaving his side as he tries to finish what he started.

"I tried to change, get him back. But he met someone else. Someone better. And I grew bitter. And yeah, I decided it was his fault. And… Well. You know the rest."

Alma was silent. But she nestled even closer, holding him tight.

"I don't hate you because of what happened before. And I'm not afraid it will happen with me."

He squeezed her, relishing in her warmth, cherishing the silence and the feeling of being accepted. But he needed her to know one more thing.

"Did Selina tell you she found our mother? "

"No."

"Our mother had fallen down the stairs, drunk. She had been unconscious for hours when Selina found her. She died a few hours later at the hospital. Selina hated it when I took drugs or drank too much. A few times, she saw me passed out from excess, but I was never really in danger. But it was still horrible. She kept telling me she was scared, and we had fights. One day, I almost OD, so she had to call the hospital. That's when we stopped talking to each other. She told me she would leave if I didn't stop. I had just lost Ben, and I was angry with the world and with her. I told her to fuck off, and she did. We didn't speak for a decade. I lost ties with everyone." He swallows, the tears are threatening to spill, but he needs to go on.

"When I married Anika, I tried to stop for a bit, but it didn't work, and I started the same cycle. And… I had another OD, so soon after the one in England. Anika was terrified, she didn't have anything to help me this time. She called an ambulance and found my sister's contact in my phone. She said Selina answered immediately, didn't hesitate, and came right away. She was at my bed when I woke up. They both were. I cried when I saw my sister, when I saw her face. Anika, bless her, I would be dead without her. Twice. And without her, Selina and I would still not be talking to each other. I treated her so badly. But we parted on good terms. I went into rehab, she told me she wanted a divorce, and I quickly understood it was for the best. I gave her the house. She had moved to this country for me, but didn't have a job yet. So I gave her the house, some money, even though she didn't want any of it. She sold it eventually, and she's met someone. A really nice guy. I keep in touch every once in a while. And Selina was my rock during rehab. She fired my horrible agent, and well, she was tough, but thank god she was here."

The tears are now spilling freely down his face. But he's said it. All the worst parts of him are finally out. He feels light, relieved, yet a little scared of what Alma will think of him. But the way she holds him, kisses him, tells him she's proud of him for all the work he has done, for telling her, it calms his worries. He soon falls asleep in Alma's arm, exhausted from his talk, but at peace.