2

Lennox

Fun fact! I am scared—if not terrified—of talking to strangers. Yet here I am. Standing inside the hotel room of the man that I just met. Actually, no. I have watched some of his series that he plays on, numerous interviews that he part in and even some of the fan made videos that happen to pass by on my newsfeed. Technically, I have known him. So…I guess it doesn’t count. 

“What’s with that face?” He emerged from a door. Now that he is no longer smiling I could clearly take notice of his cat eye that he’s well known for. The same eyes that Daow loves about him.

“N-Nothing.” Shit! Why am I even not good with lying? The pounding on my chest even grew stronger. I wonder if he could hear it. Like how he heard my stomach growl on our way to the hotel. God! Why do I keep on messing up?

His lips formed a smirk. “If you think that I brought you here to do something…” he paused for a while. As if searching for the word that he’ll use. “Bad, then you can find your way out. You’re not my hostage or anything.” He said, nonchalant. “I just thought you’re up to another set of drinks. I even ordered some food for us to share.”

“Of course, of course.” I said as I settled on the only table in the middle of the room after I heard the magic word. Food. He put one of the beer bottles in front of me, one on his and the remaining three are between us. “Wow. I haven’t been inside a presidential suite.” My eyes wandered at the vast room that seemed as large as the staff lounge at the Walsh. Instead of a long table filled with coffee pots, plastic cups, different sizes of plates and utensils, the room is surrounded with fancy looking furniture that is hard to explain the whole detail but obviously screaming money.

“I thought your employer was a wealthy man?” His furrowed brow was the only thing that I could see when he took a long gulp on his bottle.

I did mention about the young employer earlier but made sure not to speak his name or any other information for safety measures. “He is.” I said. “But his house is already wide enough to even find another place just to sleep. He sometimes goes to hotels. Also five star ones. And that only happens when there’s occasions or meetings that need his presence. ”

“Reasonable.”

“In fact, I haven’t seen him sleep at another house.” I squeezed my brain for any memories that Sandro didn’t sleep in his room and I couldn’t remember anything. Despite the number of times that he went out to have a blast at a bar or even on someone’s place, it never passes his mind to stay at someone’s place to spend the night. He always calls Nick and me to drive him home at whatever time that he’s fed up with the party. 

For hours that I had a conversation with John. There’s one thing that made me realize. He’s not much of a talker. Although he would respond to my queries about his career and life, I could still feel that there's something lacking in it. As if his answers were filtered a lot. It may be the truth but the lack of details made it sound like a lie.

Like when I asked him about his real relationship with his co-star Daow, he would smile as if my question was funny and say, “Daow and I treated each other like phi-nong.” There’s a hint of Thai accent in his tone as he says that they are like brothers to each other.

I have heard him answer this to the interviewer that has the same question as mine. I can’t help it. I have to ask him as someone who knew someone that was a big fan of his. Not me. It’s Nick.

I may have watched his series but that’s because the story was good and Nick is forcing me to watch it with her. But I am not as crazy as Nick that would print out his pictures—from selfies to full body photoshoots and hang it on the wall. That’s insane!

He wasn’t lying when he said that he ordered some food. It seems by some he meant a lot. Each food cart that came in has to be pushed by two hotel staff. My eyes were busy following their hands, putting each plate on the table. Each looks and smells amazing. Making my stomach growl even more when the staff had left. 

“Wow.” The only word that came out of my mouth.

“Dig in.” He said. Pointing with his palm up to the food.

Two in the morning, as expected we only reduce one third of the total amount of the food. I wanted to atleast give justice to the other dishes but just one slight move I could feel my stomach was going to burst.

“Such a waste.” I muttered. My finger brushes the sauce of the brisket that slightly overflows on the porcelain plate and puts it in my mouth. The heavenly flavor is still as good as earlier.

John chuckled.

I glared at him, slightly annoyed. “There’s no reason for you to be laughing about this. I am serious. This is such a waste. There’s a lot of people who suffer from hunger and here we are wasting food.”

He didn’t say anything. His attention was on the glass of red wine. Disregarding my whole existence.

I didn’t say a word either. Mainly for the reason that I am full and satisfied…and sleep is slowly taking over my whole body.

“Three cats.” Ashton stated out of nowhere. I looked at him. Baffled. “I used to have three pet cats. That’s what others didn’t know.” His lips pulled into a smile but his eyes were still on the red liquid.

“Used to?” I could feel my brow arched.

“They were murdered.”

I straightened on my seats at the breathtaking revelation that he had made. “Mur…dered? By who? Your neighbors?”

He shook his head. “No. By a hamster.”

“That’s crazy! How is that even possible?!”

He shrugged his shoulders and finished the remaining drink on his glass. “Wine?” John didn’t wait for my response. His hand went straight to the untouched flower like glass and poured until the liquid filled the glass up to its rim. 

I chugged half of it as soon as I held it in my hand. “Are we having our last supper?” I joked. Inside of me I am immensely happy that I am having a feast…with a star. What a rare experience. However my happiness faded away when I noticed that he didn’t catch it. “It’s a Christian joke. You know, Jes—aren’t you a Christian?” As far as I could remember, Nick had told me that he is a catholic just like us…or is it Daow?

“Does it matter?”

Maybe it’s the red juice kicking but John seemed to be gloomy when our gaze met. As if he’s telling me something but…I am not a mind reader. All I could sense is he’s speaking with me through his eyes.