I wake the next morning, feeling refreshed with a renewed sense of purpose. After a shower I pull on slacks and a shirt with the intention of getting coffee into my body. Alayah and I had strolled the deck late last night and had a conversation about David so I’m in sore need of the caffeine rush. There’s nothing to be done about it now and, as she’d pointed out, this is my profession and the best I can do is get to work.

I woke early enough to go to the dining room, where I intend to indulge in a rich breakfast. Alayah is already there eating, and of course she’s glammed up. I sit down next to her as a perky waitress comes up with a carafe of freshly brewed coffee. I add two sugars and a dollop of cream, then flip open my menu.

“Good morning,” I smile at Alayah. The waitress with the pixie haircut and dimpled smile has moved off to give me a few moments to decide what I want to eat.

“Morning. I don’t suppose you’d be interested to know that David is sitting three tables over by the window?”

I can’t help myself. I cast a glance in his direction and, true to form, he’s basking in the morning sunlight, reading the paper. How he got a daily paper on board when we’d been out all night I have no idea, but I suppose that’s one of the perks of being a big-time producer. His white hat is resting on the seat next to him, and I glance away as he looks over his paper in my direction. I shrug.

“I thought you were the one to point out at dinner last night that it doesn’t matter what’s happened between us, as long as we remain professional?”

She grins at me and I roll my eyes. “I did, but today I get to have a little bit of fun at your expense.”

“How do you figure?”

“Because, I was support-gal when it all hit the fan yesterday. Now, today, it’s funny.”

“Hardy har har. Focus, Alayah. We have work today.”

“Aye, aye, captain!”

She salutes me with her spoon and I hand her a napkin to wipe up the mess where the drop of cream dripped on the glass tabletop. There’s no reason she needs to give the poor waitress any more work to do. Based on the neediness of the actors and models, the poor girl has her work cut out for her already. In the last two minutes, I’ve watched her run back and forth from the kitchen with three different styles of napkin for just one model alone. I’ve never worked with this particular actor before, but I’ve heard how difficult he is to work with. The next few days are going to be interesting.

When she finally comes back to me, she’s all apologies. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” she looks panicked.

“Hey, it’s okay. Take a deep breath, imagine that guy has the capability of being a decent person, and let the breath go. You’re going to encounter a lot like him, so I figure if this is your morning table, you’ve got a friend in me for the next few days, okay?”

The waitress blinks, then tosses her head back and laughs. “You’re too funny. What can I get you?”

“I try my best. How about the eggs, sunny side up, and a side of sausage?” I close the menu and hand it to her. When she comes back with my food, I have extra sausage on my plate and it makes me smile. Basic decency can go such a long way sometimes.

When I’m done eating, I make my way to the performance center, where I find my racks have already been brought up. I begin skimming through, finding something appealing for breakfast guy, and I feel myself slipping into the mode. Alayah knows what I am talking about with this. She does it too, where we both consider what colors, tone, lighting and accessories will make the models look their absolute best.

The first outfit I bring to the model is casual. It screams relaxation and the lighter tones and hues of the fabric contrast nicely with the olive tone of his skin.

“This will look like a sack on my body. Why are you dressing me in a potato sack!” he tosses his wavy hair out of his eyes and turns his nose up.

I consider him for a moment, but I see David sitting in the directors’ chair, throwing glances our way so I take the piece away. He’s being filmed sitting in a beach chair. They brought in chairs from the deck and created a faux deck side setting under the stage lights, complete with fans to capture the wind from the ocean breeze blowing across him. The premise of the segment was that another actor would walk up to the chair beside him, sit down, and it would be love at first sight.

The actor approaching the breakfast model was well known to temper himself to get along with everyone, which made my job easier, and he was already outfitted stage right, waiting for the model to get it together.

I go through three outfits, all rejected by the model, and I being to worry that David is going to interfere, so I look at Alayah. She nods. She and I have this understanding that when nothing is working, go drastic and try something so out there it just might work. I grab the white and gold speedo and the bottle of oil and approach the model. Without saying a word, I hand it to him and then the bottle of oil to one of the assistants, who follows to lube him up.

When he comes out from behind the dressing screen with his body slicked and his junk padded, very obviously, because David whispers something to an assistant, who runs up to him and indicates he should tuck in the padding, the model struts his stuff across the stage and sits down in the chair, picking up the magazine and pretending to read.

We only have to stop the shoot three times to add more oil and up the fans’ power so his hair flows nicely. I roll my eyes at Alayah, who continues to apply the makeup, even though he’s already had enough. She appeases him by adding touch ups occasionally, and that seems to satisfy him that everyone is paying attention to him.

Content with the outfit, or lack thereof, I’m freed up to focus on the next shoot, which is a formal dining experience. I focus on the formal wear rack, but it brings me closer to David’s director chair. I’m keenly aware of him watching me as I pick suits and ties, pairing them with shoes and passing them to the actors who’ll play out the romantic scene.

I’m just to the right of David. His friend Jake is to his left and has to keep tapping his arm to get his attention back on commanding lighting, the camera man, and the fan operators. I try as hard as I can not to interrupt the flow of the filming, and only have to pass him once when the model’s oil needs to be redone.

Alayah and I are able to style him as a man who doesn’t have a care in the world and is openly comfortable being gay and confident with his body. His counterpart, the actor who was clearly confident with himself in reality, is depicted as a man approaching the model while coming out of his comfort zone. I can’t help but see the comparison between David and myself. I never thought I’d come across as cocky. Confident yes, because I’m comfortable with myself, but a part of me wishes David would see that the best way to become comfortable with himself is to push his comfort zones and admit what he’s most likely been denying in himself for a very long time.

I have the opportunity to watch David when he stops filming to direct the actor and model and change up the script a little. The actor is attentive, and the model shrugs it off, but it’s interesting watching David in his element. He’s capable of directing in such a way as to capture the natural interactions between two people, even when the scene is being acted out. He creates a fluidity of their movements, behaviors, and words giving the effect that this is simply two people who met in the real world and struck up a conversation.

I find it interesting he can create something so natural looking, yet he himself is so awkward when it comes to social engagements. Being gay is not an easy thing to admit, and I know virtually nothing about him besides his name and the name of his production company. Perhaps his home life was sheltered or closed off to the open-minded views of acceptance. That might explain his complete disregard for that aspect of himself. I chastise myself for not seeing it before. His innocence had been such a turn on I’d forgotten to consider that pushing too hard and too fast might be more harmful to him accepting himself. I wish I’d the opportunity to apologize, but with Alayah giving me the death look, I know this is not the time or place.

I focus my attention on the romantic dinner scene couple. The dining hall on the cruise ship is opulent, and the banquet hall last night was nothing short of extravagant. But the dining hall offers private booths to create the ambiance needed for romance, and since romance is of the utmost importance, we opt for the dining hall.

I can’t help but think about what it would be like to sit and chat with David at one of those tables. I wonder what it would be like to get to know him. What makes him tick? Why does he wear a white hat? What other little quirks does he have that would either make him endearing, or drive me crazy? Sometimes being driven crazy isn’t necessarily a bad thing, because it means a person is literally crazy for the other person. I want to know where he comes from and what it took for him to get here. I want to know him, then I want to show him that his gift for capturing the beauty of interaction between people is one he himself can experience, if he doesn’t suppress it.

By the time I return to my cabin, I’ve worked myself into such a state I’m pacing my room, trying to figure out exactly the right thing to say if I go knock on his door and confront him, demand my do-over. I’m still hurt by his rejection earlier, and I figure the best way to move past that burn is by communicating with him. I’ll settle for nothing less than an acknowledgement of the fact that he’d treated me so poorly. I ponder the right thing to say to steer the conversation in a more positive direction. Maybe I can express my interest in him and my willingness to be patient as he explores this side of himself.

I’m just reaching for my doorknob when my door bursts open. I stumble backward in surprise, falling on the bed. It takes me a moment as I scramble off the bed, thinking I’m being attacked, before I make out the face of my intruder.

“Aaron! What are you doing here?” I demand.

“What’s the matter, brother? Not happy to see me?” Aaron’s face, identical to mine, grins at me as he picks up a bottle of wine that I’d opened earlier and pulls the cork out using his teeth. My twin is the very last person I need to be dealing with on this cruise.