somewhere || George Russell

thirty-one

December 8, 2019
New York City, New York

"Laurel, you need a publicist," Emilio entered to her penthouse. Laurel was walking to her kitchenette and got startled by her brother.

"It's annoying that people can get into my penthouse by just getting that master key-card," she said and continued her way to the kitchenette, followed by Emilio. "I'm not surprised that someone robbed my office."

"I'm not kidding," he said seriously. "You need a publicist."

"I don't," she said, slightly annoyed as she opened the refrigerator to take out a Jamaica flavored gelatin. She walked to a drawer and took out a spoon. "Do you want a gelatin?"

Emilio sighed and opened the refrigerator himself to take one of those. Laurel gave him a spoon, and both opened it at the same time, threw the lid to the trash can and walked outside again.

"Haven't you seen your phone?" he asked after eating a little bit of his gelatin.

"You texted me?" she raised an eyebrow. "It died yesterday but I forgot to plug it in."

"Now I see why you still think you don't need a publicist," he put his small cup and the spoon in the table and took out his cellphone.

"I think I don't need one because I am not a celebrity."

He handed his cellphone to her. "You should reconsider that."

She frowned and looked at the screen. Her eyes widened when she saw her name Googled and the news that were out. She almost choked on a piece of gelatin.

"Oh my god," she mumbled and opened one of the links that included a link to a YouTube video.

"It's much too late to find you think you've change your mind, you better change it back or we will both be sorry..." Laurel and Richard sang while they were looking at each other's eyes and smiling, "don't you want me, baby? Don't you want me, oh?"

"Pretty intense, huh?" Emilio teased and pointed at her with his spoon.

"It's not funny," Laurel yelled. "Now everybody thinks we are together, like a couple. People are so susceptible," she said and snorted, reading the news.

People on the internet were going crazy assuming that the two stars of West Side Story are deeply in love with each other, and of course, dating. Nothing more romantic than that, two people that fall in love because they spend their days together.

"Well, in that video you are together," Emilio continued joking and Laurel started losing her patience.

"You know what I mean, donkey," she snorted. "Richard is my best friend."

"Nobody knows that. Neither did I," he muttered and continued eating his gelatin. "I thought I was your best friend."

"Focus, Emilio," she put the cellphone on the table. "I need a publicist."

"Oh my God," he smiled. "I have been longing for this moment when you finally accept you are wrong, and I am right."

"Seriously?" Laurel gave him an unfriendly look.

"Fine," he stopped and finished chewing the piece of gelatin in his mouth. "As your lawyer..."

"You are not my lawyer," she hissed and shook her head.

"Well, you should hire me," he cheekily smiled. "Because I recommend you to not say a word until you both talk to the show's publicist."

"Yeah, right," she ironically said. "And let everybody think that we are actually together and then his girlfriend is going to come murder me, because Richard says she is extremely jealous."

"You are overreacting. That girl is not going to come all the way from Indiana or wherever the hell Richard and she are from just to murder you," he rolled his eyes.

"First, Richard is from Miami as us," Laurel said. Emilio's eyes widened, knowing that it means that the girlfriend is probably from the same city as them. "And second, Richard met his girlfriend in college. He studied at NYU."

Emilio choke with the last piece of gelatin he was eating. "Mother of god, either way you are so screwed," he chuckled. "At least if you show up dead, she's going to be the main suspect. What's her name?"

"That is not helping," Laurel muttered and pursed her lips.

Emilio shrugged and took Laurel's gelatin because she seemed to have no intention in continue eating it. She lost her appetite. "I know about someone else who might want to murder you after this," he teased. Laurel looked at him, raising an eyebrow. She wants to know what other stupid thing is her brother going to say. "Your boyfriend."

Laurel sighed. "In England the press is not as sensational as it is here."

"Oh, it is," Emilio nodded. "Let me give you some examples: One Direction, the Royal Family..."

"Are you with me or against me?" Laurel interrupted him, squinting her eyes. "In England people don't give a crap about Broadway, they have West End," she wrongly assumed and started biting her nail.

"I'm just saying that George is probably googling you right now in case you show up dead because you haven't answered his texts because your phone died, and he woke up while you were asleep due to time zone," he said quickly and continued eating Laurel's gelatin.

"Get out," Laurel muttered, looking at him, when she realized he is stress-eating.

Emilio's defense mechanism to stress is to eat and say the things that stress him to stress others. So, it probably looks like he has no intention of helping his sister, but he's actually losing it in the inside.

"What?" he said, with his mouth full of gelatin.

"You are stress-eating, and as stupid as it sounds, your stress is contagious and you are stressing me out," she pointed at him with her finger. Emilio looked at his siter with his eyes wide opened. "So, get out, calm down and find me a publicist."

"Okay," he took a deep breath and stood up, taking the gelatin and the spoon in his hands.

"Leave my spoon here!" she yelled. Emilio chuckled and put the spoon on the table. "You have made me lose countless spoons and forks because you always take them with you."