Calvin Klein’s Hotter Brother

Isaac

“That’s the thing about this city; you’ll never know who and what you’ll meet around the corner.”

“And cut.” The director yelled from his seat behind the camera.

“Finally! I wondered if we’d ever be done.” My co-star, Franco said as he stood up from the poker table.

“Hopefully it’ll be the last time I have to say those words again.” I shrugged off my jacket and handed it to one of the costume crew members.

“How many scenes do you have left?” Franco asked.

“Tomorrow is my last day of shooting.”

“Shit, man. And how do you feel?”

We made our way across the stage and walked up to one of the buffet tables.

“I don’t know. Relieved because I can finally get a good night’s rest again, but somber because these past few months have been the best I’ve had in a long time. I’ve worked with many directors, cast and crew members before, but this . . . this whole experience has been amazing.”

“Isaac, are you gonna get all emotional on me?”

“Shut up, man.” I gave him a little shove. “I mean it. I’ve been challenged on so many different levels and I even got to work with your sorry ass again.”

Franco and I met straight out of high school, bartending at night while auditioning and filming during the day. We got along great and got a place together. It was nice to have someone who shared the same dream and went through the same daily struggles. We’ve stayed friends throughout the years even as Franco got married and eventually moved away. This was the second production we’ve worked on together and there was never a dull moment.

“I love you too, man.” Franco leaned over and playfully kissed my cheek.

“Dude, people are going to start talking if you don’t cut it out.” Thinking about the two of us together only made me silently laugh in my head.

“People are already talking; it has gotten me several followers on Instagram.”

“You barely know how to text, how do you manage social media?”

“Three words my friend. Social. Media. Manager.” Franco made a bubble with his hands and threw them in the air with the last three words as if they were broadcasted on a billboard.

“How is it I’m only learning about this now?”

“You never asked.”

“Touché. So who is this Social Media Manager of yours?”

“Belinda Campbell.”

“Nope, doesn’t ring a bell.”

“She is amazing. Very professional, friendly and smart. If I wasn’t very much in love with my wife, I would have asked her out.” Franco popped a grape in his mouth.

“How did you hear of her?”

“Funny story. She and my wife have been friends since high school and when I complained to my wife about how much I suck at social media, she suggested I reach out to her.”

“Huh. If she’s as good as you say she is, maybe I should hire her myself.”

“You won’t regret it. In fact, she’s coming here in twenty minutes to talk strategy. Maybe I can introduce the two of you.”

“Great. Let me jump in the shower and I’ll meet you at your trailer?”

“Cool beans.”

I grabbed a croissant from the buffet table and pivoted in the direction of my own trailer.

* * * * *

Belinda

I was on the phone leaning against the trailer as I saw Franco striding towards me. At 5'9" with short curly brown hair and a small mole above his upper lip, he’d give Calvin Klein models a run for their money. Too bad he was already married to my friend, though they did make a cute couple. They were couple goals I yearned for.

“Hi there,” I said ending my call.

“Hello, lovely lady. Thanks for meeting me here.”

“No problem. I was in the neighbourhood and you promised free food, so . . .”

“Yeah, yeah pizza is on the way.” Grinning he opened his trailer door and gestured for me to go first.

“Your man one day will have to work very hard to make you love him as much as you do food.”

“So you’re thinking I should date a chef?” I raised my eyebrows. Franco was like the big brother I never had. No topic was off limit and we enjoyed teasing each other.

“Not a bad idea. Then I don’t have to cook dinner anymore.”

“Please, you can’t even boil an egg.”

“No need to sell state secrets here.” He lifted his hands in defense.

The trailer door flew open and in walked Calvin Klein’s hotter brother. Olive skin, brown eyes, and a pair of full lips. It took me a moment to realize who it was.

“Ah, Isaac this is Belinda, my Social Media Manager. Belinda this is my friend Isaac. I told him about the amazing work you’ve done with my accounts and he’s interested in getting some help himself.”

“Nice to meet you.” Isaac stopped in front of me and stretched out his hand which I took.

“Is it okay if he joins us? Get a feel of how you work?” Franco asked.

“Sure. Have you looked at the email I sent you?” I addressed Franco as we made ourselves comfortable on the couch.

“This is so hard.” He looked down at his phone, reading the email.

“That’s what she said. Boom!” I zapped my hands across my chest.

“Are you sure you didn’t miss your calling?”

“Mmmm, we will never know, will we?”

“Funny and beautiful. Franco has been holding out on me.” Isaac said observing our interaction.

“You don’t recognize me, do you?” My focus turned to Isaac.

“Usually I’m the one to ask those questions.” He tried to make a joke, but when my expression didn’t change he cleared his throat, looked between Franco and me before he said, “No, I don’t think so. Should I?”

“Clearly not,” I said my brows furrowed together.

“I’m sorry, am I missing something?” His eyes scrunched together in confusion.

“I only find it ironic how you compliment me on my personality and looks when you ghosted me eight months ago.”

Both men were silent as the information sunk in.

“I’m sure you’re mista –“

“Thirty-three, Scorpio, actor, enjoys paintball and has a Rottweiler named Chuck Norris.”

“That information is all over the internet.” He tried to defend.

“You have a teddy bear named Berry on your bedside table and you belong to the Romance Writers of America association.”

Silence.

“Uhm . . .” His eyebrows nearly reached his hairline from the shocked expression on his face.

“Romance Writers of America?” Franco burst out laughing.

“I don’t . . . I didn’t . . .”

“Whatever. Let’s just get back to business.” I tucked my hair behind my ear in frustration.

“No, if I ghosted you, I am sorry. Clearly, I was into you enough to tell you those things and I would like to make it up to you.”

“What are you saying?”

“Will you go out with you?”