Strictly Behind the Scenes

Chapter four

“Mike stepped out, he’ll be back soon.”

“That doesn't answer my question.”

A sigh escapes the stranger's lips, “The answer is not important.”

Elle folds her arms across her chest, “Oh I insist.”

Her foot tapped rhythmically against the floor. She could feel her face heat up, scenarios of whatever business the stranger must have with Micheal flooding her mind.

“You know what, I don't owe you anything, you're a stranger here too.” The stranger flipped her hair off her face and c****d her hips to the side, a smug look on her face.

Elle's head went into overdrive, her hands clenched tightly around her phone, bearing down on the already cracked screen.

“You, in fact, do have to explain yourself, how do you even know Micheal?”

The woman took a pause, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“How do you know him?”

Elle felt like banging her head against the wall. The woman remained unfazed, a smirk stretched on her lips, looking like she would burst out laughing any second.

“If you must know, I am his girl…. Manager, so unless you talk I'll have security show you the way out!”

The woman rolled her eyes so far back they could get stuck in their sockets.

“Well little miss nosy, I also have…..”

“You’re early,” Mike's deep voice interrupted and, without sparing Elle a glance, he walked across the room, found a couch and melted into it.

Her widened eyes followed his silhouette, her lips hung low.

“That's really all you have to say?,” her voice cracked. She didn't want it to, hell she wanted to scream at him.

But she pulled herself together, she couldn't let herself lose control, not when the smug lady was just a few feet away.

He had a bored expression as he replied, absent-mindedly scrolling through his phone, “What do you want me to say?”

Elle suppressed the urge to scoff, “What do I want you to..… In case you haven't noticed, there is a strange woman in your apartment!”

She was seething, flailing her hands around, her well-packed bun now unraveling itself as the red tint on her face deepened in color. .

Micheal's thumb paused in midair, the air in the room felt heavier as he menacingly lifted his head up, staring coldly at her.

At that moment she realized how loud her voice was and how much like a jealous girlfriend she sounded.

She cleared her throat, “Sorry,” she muttered under her breath and immediately redirected her sight to the floor.

The silence lingered, no one making any effort to break it. It felt like forever before Michael spoke.

“I will pretend that didn't happen.”

He pushed himself to his feet, sliding his phone into his pocket, “Come,” he gestured to Elle, led her to an adjacent room and closed the door behind them.

In it stood five mannequins, with fabric constructed into wearable outfits.

Elle tilted her head to the side, her index finger scratching her temple. “They look, um, nice,” it came off as a question.

“The premiere of ‘The Test’ is in four days, so I need some help choosing one,” he c****d his head in the direction of the clothes.

A warmth spread in her chest. He had called for her opinion on what to wear, it made her giggle and kick her feet in her head.

“Really?” She spun to look at him, eyes sparkling with joy.

He chuckled lightly, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorpost, “Yeah, I know you're into these kinds of things.”

“Into? Currently, spending four years in school for it.”

His hearty laugh rang through the room, his shoulders vibrating to its rhythm. Elle couldn't help but stare at him at that moment.

He looked so carefree. She couldn't remember the last time she saw his eyes crinkle and his dimples on full display.

It made her heart swell, she could feel herself falling all over again, and she was glad to have been the reason for his happiness.

“I know I am hot, you don't need to stare holes into my head?”

His lips were still tilted upward as he watched her shake her head out of the trance.

“Go on, do your thing.” She flashes a smile back at him before slowly walking towards the clothes, humming softly to herself as she rubbed her chin, feeling the fabric between her fingers at intervals.

“Well, outfit one is too casual, which is not suitable for the red carpet. Two has potential, but that flared pants is a no no. This ain't the disco era. The third…. .”

“Hey, Hey, Elle.”

He pushes himself off the wall and struts behind her, placing his hands on her shoulder. “I know I said do your thing, but can you please give me an answer? I have an interview in 3 hours.”

She rubs the back of her head. “Oh, um, sorry, you can go with number four.”

“Thank you,” he squeezed her shoulders. “You're a lifesaver.”

From behind, he placed a feathery peck on her cheeks, then walked to the door. Creaking it open, he peeked through it.

“Rave! We’re done. It's the fourth one,” his voice beamed through the room.

Soon the strange woman that had been silently standing outside struts in and begins to dismantle the mannequins, putting away the clothes.

Elle c****d her brow as the woman folded each piece with laser focus.

She spun around and walked to his side, stopping when they were a few inches apart.

“You still haven't told me who the woman is.”

“Are we still on this?”

“We never left it.”

Micheal shot her a warm glance, and with a soft exhalation he responded.

“Alright, she is my stylist.”

Elle releases an audible gasp and instantly moved backwards. Michael turned around to see her hand clasped over her mouth.

“Did I say something wrong?” his brow knit together, his smile completely gone.

Elle's heart rammed against her rib cage, she felt her breath get heavier by the second.

“Y…your stylist?” was all she could choke out, her eyes staring into space as her pupils darted round the room in a frenzy.