Hello Adventure

Chapter 17

We all met on the rooftop for the first Marrakesh shoot while it was still mostly dark. The set was tense; Brooke ignored me when I asked her if she needed anything, but at least she was present and seemingly in the right headspace (as well as dressed in a killer designer caftan, all glittery and jacaranda purple).

As Samuel and Leo were setting up the equipment and staging—covering the floor with overlapping Persian rugs—I poured them both coffees from the silver pot on a tray that I asked the staff to bring up to us and offered them cups.

"Thanks, bella," Leo told me, distracted.

Samuel just sighed but he accepted the coffee. "You showed up on time," he told me instead. "Congratulations."

"Yeah, I'm a fast learner." I wasn't in the mood for his mood, so I poured myself a coffee and made my way across the roof toward Dale, leaving Brooke on her phone on the other side of the roof.

Dale had his hoodie pull up so that I could only see his mouth and scruffy chin. He rested his lower back against the ledge of the roof. I sidled up, leaning beside him and crossing my arms like he had his, all quietly self-assured.

It was chilly and I warmed my fingers on the coffee mug. The skies above the roof were still swirled with pinpricks of the last of the night's constellations. The coffee was hot and strong and bitter. I sipped it like an elixir.

"I heard you came down pretty hard on Brooke yesterday," Dale said, not bothering to turn and look at me. We both stared straight ahead, watching the scene unfolding on the roof: Leo and Cai were fidgeting with the camera and lighting; Brooke in the background looking disinterested; and all of Marrakesh sprawled beyond, still but overwhelming.

I hated how Brooke and Dale confiding in each other like this. I didn't need to be ganged-up on. I was already doing a great job of beating myself up, thank you very much.

"It was my fault, you know," Dale explained, unpeeling his hood. "I wanted to get some argan nuts from the mountains, and she asked to come. We thought we may be out of service range but figured it wasn't a big deal because you didn't need us until today. Brooke swears she left a note."

"She did leave a note, only I missed it." I murmured.

Dale reeled and made his eyes into slits, "Seriously? Looks like you owe someone an apology!"

"Sorry. I'm sorry," I stared down at my sneakers and rested the coffee cup on the ledge of the roof. I pulled the sleeves of my sweater over my hands. Dawn's wind picked up, skimming and snapping over the minarets and flat rooftops strung with clotheslines, heavy with washing, and spidery black phone cables.

"No, not to me, kid—to Brooke! Oh, and you better do better than that weak-ass mumbling!" He was shaking his head in disgust or disappointment, and the right language wouldn't come to me.

"The pastries look great," I told him instead, watching him from side-on. The bronze glow of the morning was beginning to strengthen. Dale sighed and appraised his trays of syrup-glistened pastries and while he did, I looked over him. I couldn't help but notice how attractive he looked in the first tinges of rosy daybreak. The Atlas Mountain sunshine and time with Brooke had been good for him. He looked healthy, swarthy but strong. I felt sleep-deprived and brittle and frankly, shitty. I took the cup of strong coffee back into my hands and sipped from it again.

"Have one. I always make extras," he told me with an exhalation. "You look like you need to eat something. Try the pyramid-shaped one. It's kind of a riff on traditional Moroccan almond briouats. I made it with this local orange flower water—the woman who sold it to me told me it took forty days in the dark to mature. And inside it's filled with this toasted almond-and-argon spread called amlou, which will ruin Nutella for you forever. Don't say I didn't warn you."