#you guys have gotta at least have shoppers drug mart right? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spine-buster · 4 years

Text

the storm before the calm (f. andersen) | 1

A/N: The prologue has 150+ notes...I can’t believe what a positive response it got! Thank you so much for your support, comments, DMs, likes, reblogs, and tags! It means the world! Enjoy the first chapter :)

She could be at Early Mercy.

It was all Frederik could think about as he tried to celebrate Bee McTavish’s birthday. She could be here. She could be one of these people that keep looking at us, that keep brushing up against Auston and I trying to get our attention. She could be one of their friends. She could be in the washroom. She could be coming, on her way now to Early Mercy, and she might walk through the door and I’ll see her. It could happen.

That wasn’t to say that Fred wasn’t present and in the moment; having fun with his friends and celebrating Bee and her 24th year of life by buying drink after drink at the bar; but in the back of his mind, constantly, for the last three months – almost four – was the thought that in a random location in Toronto, in a random building, in a random place, he would lock eyes with the girl he’d seen in the middle of the night at Shopper’s Drug Mart and finally find out who she is, why she was crying, and why he was so devastatingly transfixed by her.

Fred had tried to find out who she was since then, almost obsessively so. He was a man mesmerized and he needed to know. He had tried to get the name of the band that performed at the function by contacting the heads of the charity, the head of public relations, the human resources manager, the man who answered the 1-800 call desk, even the poor accounts payroll manager whose email was listed on the charity’s website, but nobody would divulge the information. He wasn’t allowed to know. They weren’t under the discretion to divulge that information publicly (even though it was a public event). He contacted the photographer who ended up uploading photos of the night onto his professional website (not one photo of her uploaded – what a load of shit), who expressed he couldn’t remember the name. He tried remembering the members of his table that he had to schmooze with who could have picked up the name – nothing. He scoured Instagram – the hashtags, the other girls that were there, the profiles, the tagged photos, the socialites he didn’t socialize with just to see if they had a picture with her or mentioned her by name. He asked Brendan Shanahan if he knew. He asked Kyle Dubas if he knew. He asked every Leaf that was there that night if they caught the name, if they spoke to any of the members, if they took a picture, if it was in the background of another picture, if they remembered any minute detail that would give him a lead.

Nothing.

His chest has been permanently tightened for almost four months now. He needed to know. He needed to find her.

“Serena’s here,” Auston’s voice interrupted Fred’s thoughts as he slammed his empty glass – his fourth of the night, at least – onto the bar beside Fred.

“Who?”

“Serena – Serena!” he emphasized. Fred’s face was still blank. “Serena DaCosta, dude,” Auston said. “Remember…we were hooking up a while back…”

“Oh. Right.”

Auston looked at his friend skeptically. “Dude, come on.”

“What?”

Fred could see the gears shifting in Auston’s head pulling him in two different directions. Fred wanted to stop him. Usually when this happened to Auston, it pulled him into conspiracy theory territory. “Bro…you…you’re not hung up on Bee, are you?”

“NO!” Fred screamed, a look of disgust on his face. “Jesus fucking Christ, Auston, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What?! You can’t blame me for thinking it!” he tried to defend himself. “Anytime she’s not in sight you look like someone ran over your dog.”

It’s because I’m looking for somebody. And I can’t do that when the birthday girl is around. “You’re a fucking lunatic. And I know that’s the alcohol talking,” Fred shook his head.

“Then why do you look like someone ran over your dog?!” Auston persisted. “The city’s hottest girls are in this damn club right now practically lining up to hook up with you and you seem to not give a fuck because of…what? Hmmm?” Auston waited for an answer dramatically, sticking out his head, raising his eyebrows, and pursing his lips slightly. “You can’t hate me for wondering.”

“Yes, I can.”

“So what’s the reason, then?”

“There’s no reason,” Fred shook his head again, taking a sip from his drink and hoping Auston would just end it.

But of course, that wasn’t the case. Auston always had to explore the other side of the gears shifting in his brain – the non-conspiracy theory side. The side that was – unfortunately – usually right. “Wait a second…” Auston narrowed his eyes. “Oh…dude.”

“What?”

“You’re not still hung up on that girl, are you?”

The hairs of Fred’s neck stood on end. “What girl?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Auston said. “The girl you’ve been obsessed with the last three months. From the charity event. That you haven’t been able to find.”

Fred didn’t mean to hesitate – he really didn’t. But in his simple hesitation and shaking his head and stuttering out a “N – No,” Auston had him, Auston won, and Auston knew he was right.

“Brooooooo,” Auston threw his head back in disdain for Fred. “Let. It. GO!”

“Fuck off, Auston.”

“Are you honestly going to be hung up on her for the rest of the year? For the rest of your life?” Auston kept asking. “It’s already been three months, Fred. You couldn’t find her. You can’t find her. It’s a lost cause. You can’t let this dictate your life. You’ve gotta…you’ve gotta move on. If it was meant to be you would have found her already, and you haven’t.”

“Thanks, Auston,” Fred rolled his eyes.

“I’m serious, man. Think about it. You can’t get hung up on this girl when you don’t even know her name. There’s so many other things you could be spending your time on, so many other girls you can be paying attention to, that can be paying attention to you, but you can’t even see it!”

Before Auston could continue his lecture, the girl Freddie could only presume to be Serena DaCosta appeared behind Auston. Her long, wavy blonde hair and plump lips spread into a smile enticed Auston automatically. “Hey,” Auston smirked.

“Heeeeeeyyyyyyy yyyoooouuuuu,” she drawled out flirtingly, giving him an unsolicited and dramatic kiss on the cheek. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for a friend’s birthday,” Auston said.

“Anybody I know?” Serena asked. Fred could see the rest of her group of friends approaching them. He held his breath.

“No,” he said sharply. Auston knew better than to mention Bee’s name in front of girls like this, after what happened. Not that he ever did, though, because Auston was somewhat protective of Bee too and didn’t want these types of girls even knowing about her. “What are you doing here?”

Serena shrugged her shoulders. “Just had a feeling that I should be out tonight,” she said, her eyes flashing towards Fred. “Hey Freddie.” Fred nodded towards her as he took another sip of his drink. He didn’t even bother. When her friends approached them, he clocked out altogether. Serena got the hint. “Auston, you remember Jessy and Rachel and Loren?”

“Hey ladies,” Auston winked at them, not remembering them at all.

“Catch you later,” Fred said quickly into Auston’s ear, attempting to get up from his seat to go and find Bee, Morgan, and Tyler.

Fred saw Auston’s hand come up and hold him down. “Have you met Loren?”

***

“Are you guys going to take a taxi home?” Bee asked as she clung onto Morgan for dear life. After dancing the night away at Early Mercy, Fred knew Bee was ready to call it a night. Auston had tried to convince the manager to keep it open (while Serena hung on his arm, nonetheless), but to no avail. Special rules couldn’t be made for Auston Matthews. It was law. The manager was really sorry. So everybody decided to call it a night.

“Don’t worry, sweetcheeks,” Tyler fumbled around with Auston’s phone. “Our Uber’s just down the street.” He looked towards Auston, another ping coming from his phone. “That girl just texted you five times in a row.”

“Of course,” Auston rolled his eyes.

“Am I still sleeping over yours?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not cockblocking am I?”

“Far from it. If you’re over it gives a legitimate reason for her not to follow us home.”

Tyler’s eyes widened. “I’ll call the cops if I need to.”

“Freddie?” he heard his name called by Bee’s overly sweet voice. “Freddie how are you getting home?” she asked as she approached him, clinging onto the material of his shirt.

“I’m grabbing an Uber with Auston and Tyler,” he said, holding her in place so she wouldn’t fall over. He loved seeing Bee like this, if only because she was so poised and in control of herself 99% of the time. He loved seeing her let loose.

“Are you going home?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to be safe?”

Fred giggled at her tone of voice. “Yes Bee. I’ll be safe. I don’t know many people who would jump a six-foot-four, two-hundred-and-forty-pound man. In an Uber.”

“But you always look so expensive,” she said. He also loved that Bee had no filter. “You always dress so nice and wear such expensive things and look put together and I once got told by this lady that people look for people who look rich because --”

“Bee --”

“Because it means they have money and did you know that thieves will actually target people who have sleeve tattoos because it means they have a lot of money if it means they can get all that work done? So Auston has to be careful too.”

Fred couldn’t help but laugh as he saw, in his peripheral vision, their Uber come up along the curb. Tyler was waving his arms like one of those flag guys on the tarmacs outside of planes. “I’ll make sure Auston is safe, Bee.”

“Thank you, you big boy.”

“Alright! Let’s blow this popsicle stand!” Tyler yelled from the car. Fred gave one last ‘Happy Birthday’ and kiss on the cheek to Bee before shoving himself into the backseat (why, oh why didn’t they order an SUV? His legs were going to cramp so bad), pulling an almost-drunk Auston in with him, and ordering Tyler to take the front seat (it should have been him taking the front seat, because, you know, leg room. Tyler was 5’9”. He could fit in the trunk.) so they could get on with it.

Because they had ordered the Uber from Auston’s phone, the driver was bringing them to Auston’s address. Fred made sure to tell him right from the get-go that he would need to make two stops. The driver complied easily.

“Did you like any of them?” Auston asked as he leaned awkwardly into the middle section of the backseat, looking at Fred with beady eyes.

“Like any of who?” Fred asked. He overheard Tyler making awkward conversation with the Uber driver from the front seat, telling him his name was Inigo Montoya a la Princess Bride.

“Loren thought you were hot.”

“Oh for fuck sakes,” Freddie sighed. “Auston--”

“Get over her,” Auston said authoritatively. “She’s not gonna appear out of thin air, Fred. She’s not just gonna appear in a Starbucks while you’re ordering coffee. Loren is a real person,” he emphasized. “With lips, and boobs – nice ones – and--”

“Auston.”

“Will you at least just think about it?” Auston asked. “I hate seeing you so pissy. You’re Frederik fucking Andersen dude. You should be having every God damn girl in this city if you wanted.”

On the one hand, Auston had a point. Fred hated to admit it, but he did. Maybe he was too hung up on this. Maybe he was over-the-top about his search, about his constant thinking about her. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be, and he was just holding onto a dream that didn’t need holding on to; a dream that needed to stay unfulfilled, undone, incomplete. Maybe he was trying to force fate – the last thing anybody should do.

Fred took a deep breath as they felt the car pull up to the curb. Out the window, Fred could see the façade of Auston’s apartment building. “I’ll think about it.”

Auston smiled mischievously before winking. “Atta boy,” he pulled himself up, opening the door to the car. “Her Instagram is at lorenxoxo. Thank you kindly, sir,” he directed to the Uber driver, saluting him dramatically. “Slip into her DMs.”

“Goodnight Auston,” Fred dismissed him. Fred watched as Tyler and Auston stumbled their way into Auston’s building, getting inside safely. The car had been quiet from a lack of music, but as he saw Tyler open the door, the opening notes of a guitar riff began to play over the stereo.

Suddenly, Fred heard the back door opposite his side of the car open, and a body slipped into the backseat beside him, closing the door once they were in. The first thing he noticed was the abundance of thick, luxurious hair, styled in old Hollywood waves, cascading down the back and side profile, obstructing the view of her face. Then, he noticed the outfit: a loose, spaghetti strap, silk v-neck top, lazily tucked into tight, seamless black pants, and strappy black heels.

“Take me to Stewart Street, please,” the woman said to the driver. Her voice was off, somehow, but Fred couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Ma’am – I – I already have a passenger. I--”

“Stewart Street, please,” she begged, and Fred could hear in her voice that she was crying.

He looked up.

***

Aleida Casillas was crying. Again. She felt like she had been crying for months, that her tear ducts were getting their own workout now for how often she used them. She cried in bed. She cried in the shower. She cried in her car. She cried in her Ubers. She cried in restaurants. She cried in restaurant bathrooms. She cried at her parents’ house. She cried at her sister’s house. She cried in her own house. She cried on her couch. She cried underneath a blanket.

She cried alone.

And right now, she needed to get into the privacy of her own home so she could cry there. But she’d have to cry in the back of an Uber to get there.

As she walked down King Street, she saw an Uber – she knew, thanks to the sticker on the back windshield – pull up and let out two drunken men who scurried into the glass condo building. She ran towards the car as fast as her heels could carry her before it could drive away. She opened the backseat door and slipped in, closing it behind her.

“Take me to Stewart Street, please,” Aleida said to the driver. She could hear the cracks in her own voice and hoped to God the driver didn’t make some sort of comment about it. She didn’t think she’d be able to handle it. She really didn’t think she could sob any harder at the back of an Uber more so than she had been doing the last few months. Uber drivers in Toronto probably had her on their radar.

“Ma’am – I – I already have a passenger. I--”

“Stewart Street, please,” she begged, looking down at her feet, her feet in their strappy heels, so she could wipe away her tears before the driver could know she was crying. She wasn’t really listening to him. She didn’t really care about what he was saying, truthfully, the other passenger be damned. Turn it into an UberPool – whatever needed to happen for her to get home. She’d even pay for the other passenger’s fare. They could live all the way out in Scarborough. Mississauga. Aurora. Newmarket. She didn’t care.

“Holy shit.”

She looked up.

***

Fred was going to pass out.

Her.

It was her.

He was pretty sure that his mouth was gaping open; that he looked like a complete idiot at the other end of the backseat, but his mind couldn’t process what his eyes were seeing fast enough. The rich, dark brown hair. The perfectly tanned and contoured skin as smooth and flawless as glass. The dominant eyebrows that framed her face. The perfectly cut cheekbones blushed and highlighted. The lips, full and bow-shaped, painted with a neutral pink instead of the daring red he’d seen so many moons ago.

Her eyes with their striking hazel irises, were staring directly into his soul. Again.

She was here.

In the car.

Crying again.

“Fred,” his name escaped her lips quietly, the tears immediately stopping. She was just as shocked as he was, apparently. Because, really, what were the chances? To be going home at the same time, to get into the same time…

“It’s you,” he said, not knowing what he was saying. His brain was still trying to process everything, and it was doing a shit job.

“It’s me.”

“Ma’am, you’re going to have to leave the vehic--”

“No no, it’s fine,” Fred said quickly, making eye contact with the driver in the rearview mirror, waving him off. “Take her to Stewart Street.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” Fred said without even looking at him. Soon, he felt the gear shift into drive and the driver pull away from the curb.

The girl had begun to wipe the tears away from her face delicately, trying to mask her condition. As if Fred didn’t catch it. He watched her for a few moments as she stared straight ahead as to not make eye contact with him, not knowing what to say at all. What could he say? That he’d been obsessed with her? That he’d badgered his teammates and strangers about her? But before he could overthink it, his mind decided to say the one thing that was true. “I’ve been trying to find you.”

She didn’t bother to look at him, still trying to collect her tears, her emotions. “You have? Why?”

He had to be honest. “Your eyes,” he admitted. It was at that point that she looked at him again, the hazel irises stabbing him. “Your eyes are so sad.”

They were both hyperaware of the verb he used. Are. Because they definitely were sad then, and they were sad now. For a moment, however quick it was, there was an acknowledgement on her face; it soon turned to anger – brows furrowed and lips pursed, looking away again. “That’s none of your business.”

Fred acquiesced. He knew that. Maybe that was too forward of him. “What’s your name, then? I – I need to know your name.”

She shot him a glance. Against her better judgement, she answered him. “Aleida.”

“Aleida what?”

“Aleida.”

“How did you know who I was…am,” he corrected himself.

Aleida gave him another look. “Everybody knows who you are, Fred. Goalie extraordinaire of the Maple Leafs. Girls in this city would line up outside your bedroom if only you’d let them.”

It was Fred’s turn to give her a look. That wasn’t true at all. Well, not to him. He could still go around some places in the city without getting recognized – especially when he was alone. He mostly just kept to himself. When he was with Auston it was a different story, since Auston’s reputation preceded him. “Why don’t I know who you are?”

“Maybe you just weren’t looking hard enough,” she said.

That was a joke. If she only knew what he had been up to. If only she knew. “Why aren’t you answering my questions?”

“Why do keep asking them?”

“Because I want to know who you are,” Fred hit back, more firmly this time. Didn’t she get that? Didn’t she get the reason why the first words out of his mouth were ‘Holy shit’ was because of exactly that?

“Ma’am, we’re here. Stewart Street,” the driver said from the front seat. “Wasn’t a log drive.” He put the car in park and unlocked the doors, the sound dramatically filling the air.

She took once last look at Fred as she opened the door. “My name is Aleida. That’s all you will need to know more.”

And then she was gone.

***

Frederik found himself riding the elevator up to the 31st floor of the St. Regis Hotel. The elevator attendant marveled at his size, trying to hide the fact that he was staring. The other women in the elevator – four of them – stared too, trying not to giggle to each other. But Fred could see their eyes. He could see their eyes dart towards him and then to one another, smirks appearing on their faces, stifled little giggles escaping them as the elevator rushed up.

When the elevator pinged, and the doors opened, Fred found himself at Louix Louis, the luxurious, gilded bar that had Torontonians salivating at the mouth. It was the most luxurious of the luxurious. Lavish. Opulent. You name it. It was everything people loved about indulgence. Everything people loved about exclusivity; about standing in line and not getting in; about calling for reservations and being denied; about watching people, seeing people, wanting to be seen, waiting to be seen.

“Hey Fred,” the hostess winked immediately as he approached her podium. “Auston’s been waiting.”

“Thanks,” he responded shyly as she grabbed a menu from beneath her.

“Follow me, sweetie.”

Fred shook his head and chuckled to himself as she turned her back to him, leading him down the bar and to one of the booths in the back where he could already see Auston waiting. And of course, like the sky is blue, Auston was wearing a beanie. He was the only person in Toronto who would wear a beanie in Louix Louis.

“’Bout time,” Auston smiled as Fred shuffled into the opposite side of the booth.

“Shut up.”

“Serena, Jessy, Rachel, and Loren are on their way,” Auston winked.

“You didn’t,” Fred deadpanned, thinking this was just going to be a quiet night. He should have known better. He should have known better to accept an invitation by Auston to go to Louix Louis.

“Oh, I did,” Auston smiled. “She’s into you, bro.”

“Who?”

“Loren.”

“Who’s Loren?”

“Oh, fuck off, Fred.”

Fred rolled his eyes. He couldn’t care less. He decided to one up Auston; to tell him what he wanted to tell him ever since he agreed to go out with him tonight. “I found her, by the way.”

“Found who?” Auston sipped at his drink.

“The girl. Aleida.”

Auston almost spit out his drink. “What?!”

Fred nodded his head. “She got into the Uber the night of Bee’s birthday once you and Tyler left.”

“You’re fucking telling me--”

“Aaaaaaustttooooooonnn!” a perky, overzealous voice cut their conversation way too short. From the opposite end of the bar, where Fred was let in, he saw the same group of girls from Bee’s birthday make their way towards them. Their designer purses hung on chains against their shoulders as their long hair, perfectly blow-dried at some salon in Yorkville, moved with their scurried movements. At Louix Louis, you wanted to be seen in the same booth as Auston Matthews.

“Hey heeeeey,” Auston smiled, scooting over to make room while the four girls entered all on his side. The girl Fred could only assume was Loren eyed him like a hawk, the waitress approaching the table not long after to get everybody’s drink orders.

Auston exchanged formalities with the ladies as Fred stayed silent, but he could tell that Auston was pressed about the news Fred had just revealed. For all Auston seemed like he didn’t care about things and was generally aloof, he could be a snoopy bitch. A really snoopy bitch. And Fred could tell Auston wanted to talk about it so bad.

Fred thought he would wait.

But he didn’t.

“Hey girls, can you help me with something?” he preempted quickly. “Actually, it’s more so helping Fred.”

Fred’s eyes widened. “N – No--”

“What do you girls know about a girl named Al-ay-da?” he stressed her name – improperly – eyeing Fred quickly.

“Oh my God.”

“Oh my GAWD.”

“Aleida Casillas?!”

“Oh my God, are you joking?” Serena piped up over the other three. “There is no way Aleida Casillas didn’t bite Fred’s head off if she met him. That girl is a fucking cannibal.”

“What? Listen, all I wanna know is the details,” Auston held his hands up innocently.

“What is there to say about Aleida Casillas,” Jessy quipped, and Fred felt like she was going to break out into the Regina George monologue from Mean Girls. “You know who her mom is, right?” she directed at Auston, but looked between him and Fred.

“No, I obviously don’t.”

“It’s Dr. Casillas – she’s, like, the best plastic surgeon in the city. The country.”

“Girls who go to her say she does the best work,” Loren contributed. Fred so desperately wanted to ask if she had gotten anything done for her to say something like that, but he of course decided against it. “It all looks so natural.”

“And her dad – he’s like, the best cardiologist in the country,” Serena added. “I’m not exaggerating. My cousin in med school once watched him perform a quadruple bypass and a ten hour ventricular restoration. He’s even done heart surgery on a former Prime Minister or whatever. He’s been honoured for his work all over the world. It’s insane.”

“Not to mention the family is loaded. She’s got everything anybody could ever want. I mean, Aleida thinks she owns the city,” Jessy said.

“Well…she kinda does,” Rachel said something besides oh my God. “She’s got all the money in the world, she knows everybody worth knowing, but like, she’s friends with them too, and people want her to wear their clothes or whatever, or come to their bars, or attend their charity events. I mean, it’s mainly because of who her parents are, but still. She sings, sometimes, I think, but I think mostly she just shows up places--”

“--she’s a model--”

“—she’s a model, and she’s pretty, and people are, like, scared of her, because I heard one time she, like, ruined the career of some up-and-coming influencer – or was it a designer? – but she ruined his career cause that person, like, didn’t dress one of her friends for an event or something and she went ballistic.”

“She’s a cannibal, like I said,” Serena said assertively. “She’s a huge bitch. Why would you want to know anything about her?”

Fred was shocked, to say the least. The person he’d met – if you could even call it that – in the Shopper’s Drug Mart that night, and the person he’d seen in the backseat of the Uber could not have been the same person. There was no way. There was no way that crying girl was a ‘cannibal’. There was no way. The family stuff could be true, sure – who was he to question that – but the other stuff? Ruining a career? Impossible. It wasn’t that Fred thought they were lying. But maybe…maybe they had the wrong girl. How many girls could be named Aleida? Maybe they were…embellishing.

“Yeah. Why would you want to know anything about her?” Loren asked, eyeing Fred like a hawk again.

Fred tried not to make it seem like he was physically uncomfortable every time she looked at him, but he was getting physically uncomfortable. “She just performed at an event we went to,” Fred explained briefly.

“I wouldn’t even think of like, doing anything,” Serena took charge again. “She’ll rip your head off.”

Well Fred knew where she stood.

“Enough about Aleida,” Auston held his hands up again, looking past everybody at the waitress that was bringing their drinks to the table. “What are we up to tonight?” he smirked.

Fred clocked out. He didn’t care about anything that was being done or said around him – he didn’t care what those girls were saying at all. He didn’t care. He didn’t care. He didn’t care.

Casillas.

Her last name was Casillas.

He got up abruptly, asking a passing waiter where the washrooms were. Auston was too entranced by the girls to care, so Fred had no qualms leaving. As he made his way towards the washrooms, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He typed out her name into the Google search bar . ‘Aleda Casiyas’

‘Do you mean Aleida Casillas?’

Well fine then.

There she was on his phone screen. It wasn’t like she had a Wikipedia page or anything, but perhaps even more important, especially in this city, was that she had her own tag on the Toronto Life website. The Narcity tag was there too, but that wasn’t as important. He clicked on the Toronto Life link.

Aleida Casillas, wearing vintage Jean Paul Gaultier, at Soho House, Toronto.

What Aleida Casillas wore to the premier of Guillermo Del Toro’s new film.

Aleida Casillas is the face for emerging Toronto fashion designer Guinevere Jones.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” he heard an all-too-familiar voice behind him. “Loren’s barely turned 18.”

Fred spun around dramatically.

There she was behind him.

He almost couldn’t believe his eyes. Almost. But if she could sneak into the backseat of his Uber, she could appear at Louix Louis. She could appear anywhere. And of course, she looked flawless. Makeup flawless, hair flawless, all of it. If she really was a model, he could see why. “What are you doing here?” Fred asked.

“Who isn’t at Louix Louis on a Friday night?” she countered.

Fred’s head whipped back and forth between the direction of the booth and Aleida standing in front of him. He was willing to ditch this entire scene. “Are you ready to talk?”

“About what?”

“Why you were crying in a Shopper’s Drug Mart at two in the morning four months ago,” Fred deadpanned. “And why you were crying before you stole an Uber?”

Aleida’s face dropped. Whatever confidence she had in her power and persuasion over Fred left her and was replaced with something else – that something else, Fred didn’t know yet. But it wasn’t confidence, and it wasn’t self-assurance, and it sure wasn’t was the cheekiness she’d displayed in any and all interaction she’d had with him (however brief) up until this point. “You don’t want to get into it,” she said, her voice soft. And for the first time, emotional.

“I do.”

She looked at him. “Fred.”

“Can we get out of here?”

Aleida took a deep breath. She tugged on the hem of his shirt as she started walking away.

He followed her.

She made an abrupt stop at the booth. When Auston saw her, he didn’t think anything of it, but when he saw Fred behind her, his eyes went wide. All the girls stopped talking and looked like a ghost had just appeared in front of them.

“Ohmigod Aleida, hi,” Serena said first.

Aleida smiled at her, but it wasn’t politely. She focused her attention back to Auston. “I’m taking Fred.” She didn’t give him an option.

“Th-that’s cool,” he couldn’t say anything else to her.

Aleida looked back at the girls, specifically Serena. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

Serena’s jaw almost dropped from embarrassment. It was clear to Fred that despite calling her a cannibal a mere ten minutes ago, Serena would butter herself up if it meant Aleida would eat her. “It’s…it’s me! Serena Da Costa.”

Aleida’s eyes flashed. “Oh! Right! From my mom’s clinic!” she exclaimed, her surprise feigned and her polite tone just as fake. She pointed at Serena. “You came in with…” she went through the girls with her pointed finger, stopping on Loren. “You! How was your eighteenth birthday in June? Looks like your parents allowed you to get the boobs you wanted.”

Loren looked absolutely mortified. “I--”

“And your new lips,” Aleida focused on Serena again. “Isn’t my mom just so great?”

Now Serena looked absolutely mortified. But it was Auston who looked ready to crawl into a hole and die since she mentioned the eighteenth birthday party. “Uh--”

“Anyways, see you guys later. I’m sure one of you will want a nose job soon,” she winked at the group before walking off.

***

“So why were you crying?”

Fred was on Aleida’s couch now, after having followed her home by foot, walking for half an hour. Half an hour along King Street West, illuminated lights and flashing storefronts lighting the way. Eager clubbers spilling onto the streets tried to do their part to distract Fred or block him from following, but he was like a man possessed. His eyes were like a hawk’s on her. There was no way he was losing her again in a crowd full of people on King Street.

They passed the Shopper’s Drug Mart.

It was when they happened upon a row of expansive, luxurious, modern townhomes, coincidentally just a few blocks from his building that Fred began to realize that maybe the things those girls were saying were right, or at least partly true. But the other thing he realized made him want to scream. He had searched for her for months and she was practically just a few steps away from him? He understood the universe worked in mysterious ways, but this was just plain cruel. That she had been so close to him, physically, and he had no idea. It tore him up.

They’d gone inside. She took off her heels. She’d opened a bottle of wine and poured it into two glasses before standing at opposites ends of her expansive kitchen island, staring at each other, waiting for the other to speak. It was Fred who obviously broke first. It was Fred who couldn’t wait any longer; who wanted to get to the bottom of why her eyes were – are – so sad that night, and in the Uber, and tonight. Because behind her façade, he could see her sadness. Behind the snarky comments she made towards those girls with Auston, Aleida Casillas was profoundly sad.

She took a deep breath. “My uh…my old piano instructor – from when I was a kid – she passed away earlier that day,” Aleida revealed, her voice low.

“Were you close?”

“I think I loved her more than I loved my parents when I was a kid.”

Fred was shocked to hear such a statement come out of her mouth. Considering that he just learned who her parents were, it was…different for him to hear such a thing. “Why?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “She listened,” she said simply. “No-one ever listens. No-one ever…no-one ever listens. To me. But she did. She listened. More than anyone. And she saw me."

“She saw you?”

“She saw me for who I was and not what she wanted me to be,” Aleida continued. “She was the best.”

There was a moment of silence between them. Fred was unsure of what to say. He knew he wanted her to open up to him, but he wasn’t expecting…this. Truthfully, he was expecting something completely different. A breakup with a boyfriend, or at least a fight. A disagreement with a friend. A lost job opportunity or a firing. But not a death of a childhood piano teacher. “I just couldn’t get over your eyes – the sadness in your eyes. And it’s still there.”

“Listen. I don’t know what those girls told you about me tonight. And I didn’t mean to make you scared that night when I called you Fred and knew who you were. I just…you made it obvious that you didn’t see me in there. Nobody did. And that was a stark reminder to me of her being gone. Anyway…there…there’s a lot going on right now, and nobody cares.”

He could tell she knew she was rambling; that she stopped herself from revealing too much. He persisted. “Nobody cares?”

“Nobody fucking cares,” she stressed before taking a long sip of wine.

“Well, can you tell me a bit about yourself?” he asked. Her eyes flashed at him, her brows furrowing. “So I can get to know you? So I can care?”

“I’m sure those girls told you enough about me,” she commented. “Whatever people say I am, I am. Isn’t that how all this works?”

“No, and you know that,” he said. “You apparently know all this information about me and about those girls with Auston, but why don’t I know anything about you? Just be honest.”

“Well what’d those girls say about me?”

He paused before taking a deep breath. “Cannibal.”

“Cannibal?”

“Serena said you were a cannibal. Your parents – doctors. Your family – loaded. All the money in the world. That you’re a model. A bitch. That you ruined someone’s career because they wouldn’t dress your friend for an event,” he listed off.

Aleida’s eyes narrowed at the last bit. Her tone was as assertive as the click of her heels on the sidewalk on the way here. “That designer attempted to sexually assault one of my best friends, so you’re damn right I ruined his career. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

So she was misunderstood. Or at least her life was. Fred still didn’t know. “But what’s the truth?”

“Isn’t there a bit of truth in everything?” she asked rhetorically.

“You tell me.”

Aleida couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “Everything they told you about me is true. Doctor parents. Loaded. All the money in the world. A bitch. A cannibal.”

“Yet you cry about your piano teacher dying,” he commented. Her eyes shot daggers at him at his comment. For a second, he was sure he was going to die right then and there. “You’re hiding behind this tough exterior and I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude but I think you care more than anyone.”

“Don’t you ever use that against me ever again,” she snapped back at him. “I do fucking care, okay? Everybody fucking cares, and if they say they don’t they’re liars. That’s why Serena was practically salivating at the mouth when she saw me and couldn’t handle it when I pretended not to know who she was. She’ll call me a cannibal but if I’m the shark she’s that fish that attaches itself and sucks the bacteria off my body.” Her tone was so scathing, Fred had never heard anything like it. She paused. “You want to know the truth? Here’s your truth. I’m Cuban-Canadian. My dad is one of the best cardiologists in the entire world and my mother is the best plastic surgeon in the country. I’ve got an older sister named Alejandra who’s a plastic surgeon too. I grew up in Rosedale. I went to private school. I received the best education. I have millions and millions of dollars at my disposal whenever I want it and get to spend it however I want it. People ask me to model their clothes, to go to their events, to say nice things about them. They want me to sing and play piano and give this air that their event is high-end and exclusive and luxurious just because I’m there – because my presence apparently means something to a lot of people in the city. And every single one of those people – my dad, mom, sister, her husband, everybody who wants something from me – they look at me, all the time, but they don’t see me. And for once in my life…for once in my life, I just want to be seen.”

Fred listened. It was all he could do as she went into her speech. There were no words of comfort that could be said to her, no grand gestures that could be done to make her feel better. He barely knew her – really. He barely knew her. He only felt a connection to her; to her and her sad eyes, to her tears, to the image of her cathartic crying at two in the morning in a drugstore neither of them had any business of being in at that hour.

So instead, he stared at her. He nodded his head in understanding. Because he did understand, to some extent – how people in their lives look but they never really see. It was something that bound them together. In the vast city of Toronto, from the bright lights of King Street West to the luxurious décor of Louix Louis, to the couch they found themselves sitting on sipping on an expensive wine, it connected them.

He took a deep breath. “So you play piano then? And you sing?” he asked. Aleida nodded her head. He couldn’t read her emotion as she took another sip of wine. “Can I hear or see you play sometime?”

“No.”

Fred nodded. It would take a while for her to open up more. To show him more of herself, to let her guard and her attitude down. For her to allow him to see her.

But he’d be there for it.

284 notes · View notes