“So where should we start?” I ask.
“I guess I’ll unpack the boxes. It’s just clothes.”
“You can pick out something for your photo shoot.”
“RainBrand is going to dress me up in their stuff.”
“Yeah, but you got to roll up looking good anyway.”
“Very true. I want to make a good impression so they hire me for future work.”
I pause from tidying the counter to make sure I didn’t depress the shit out of him. “Seriously, if you need me to kill the optimism and just let you feel your feelings, let me know. I will take my optimism out back and dig a hole.”
“I like your optimism. It’s way better than pretending it’s not happening. Please don’t stop,” he says with a quick smile before ripping open a duct-taped box with ease.
“Optimism lives to see another day.”
I go into his tiny bathroom, putting the toilet paper roll on its holder, and flush the bloody tissues. I check myself out in the mirror and if I thought I looked like shit in that selfie Dalma and I took of us before we met Valentino, I’d like to go back in time and let Past Orion know what a beautiful bastard he is. My lips are extra chapped, and my curls have gone rogue. Just everything about my face screams death.
And yet.
I can’t get depressed, not when it’s my job to keep Valentino feeling optimistic.
Back on track. I wash my face and deal with my lips and return outside.
Valentino is kneeling in his clothes while he removes his shirt, revealing his strong pecs and chiseled six-pack that I’ve never seen on anyone in real life. Seriously, this is wild. I feel like I’d break my fist if I punched his chest.
“Thumbs up on all that,” I say, gesturing at his physique.
“Ha. Thanks,” Valentino says as he puts on a white undershirt that’s less snug on him. “I really wish looking like this didn’t feel so mandatory to break into this industry. Who knows how many hours I put into exercising all so I could become a buff corpse.”
“A lot of shaving too.”
Valentino chuckles. “Yeah. A buff, hairless corpse.” He’s folding his shirts and stacking them against the wall. “Looking back on it, I’m not thrilled how many people were running my life. They didn’t even care about me. They just wanted to clone me.”
“Well, no one is going to boss you around anymore.”
“Speaking of . . . I hope I didn’t mess with anything between you and Dalma.”
“Nah, you’re good. Dalma is just super logical, but I didn’t want her nudging you on when you should die on your End Day. This isn’t about us. It’s all you.”
Valentino sighs as he unboxes a couple jackets and sweaters. “I appreciate that, but just so you don’t feel weird, I don’t see her as the enemy. I actually understand where she’s coming from. I would’ve behaved the same way if you had the magical organ that could save Scarlett’s life.”
If the tables were turned, I like to think I’d do exactly what Valentino is doing for me. Maybe if Scarlett does need some saving one day I can be her hero. If she ever needs a heart and I got Valentino’s, then it’s all hers, no questions asked.
As I’m opening the box for the air mattress, I’m really taking in what a fresh start this move was for Valentino. He didn’t even have a proper bed to sleep on. It’s not like when I moved out of my childhood apartment and into Casa Young. I had options between the pullout couch in the brownstone’s living room, the sleeping bags from Dayana and Floyd’s overnight camping trips, and obviously the guest room bed that became mine. Meanwhile, Valentino has the world’s loudest air mattress. I almost unplug it from the wall because I don’t want to disturb his neighbors at this hour, but I don’t give a shit, because Valentino deserves a bed on his End Day—even if it’s just an inflatable one.