Behind the Scenes, page 18
Rose shook her head. “Will I like it?”
“Love-hate.”
They got on a highway and then off. Traffic got heavier. Ash looked out the window. She was looking at her old life. Did she miss it?
The theater was on a side street off a boulevard lined with bistros and rainbow flags. They followed an alley to the back of the building as Mia had instructed.
“Mia said to call when we got here,” Rose said.
Ash leaned the back of her head against the brick wall. “I haven’t talked to her in years.”
“Do you have history?”
“So much,” Ash said.
“I’ll call.” Rose took out her phone.
“Rose,” Mia sang out as though they were old friends. “One sec.”
Mia swept out as though she’d been standing on the other side of the door, black hair cascading over her shoulders. She froze, staring at Ash. Ash looked at her with the same awestruck expression. Then Mia exclaimed, “Ashlyn,” and threw her arms around Ash. “You’re here.” Mia squeezed her, then held Ash at arm’s length. “It’s still you.” She pulled Ash back in, putting both hands around Ash’s waist with easy intimacy.
What had they been to each other? Ash talked about Victoria, but she must have had other partners. They’d be beautiful together. Mia was six feet tall before the spike heels. Her skin glowed a luminous light brown. Jeans and a green silk T-shirt showcased the musculature of a dancer. She made other human beings look like they’d grown up without essential nutrients, a panther among pugs.
Mia released Ash and held out her arms to Rose. “Do you hug?”
Apparently Rose did because a second later Mia had her arms around Rose with the same down-to-earth squeeze of one of Cassie’s hugs.
“I am so glad you brought her here. Thank you, Rose.” She gave Rose one more squeeze. “Thank you. So. Frickin’. Much.” She released Rose and returned her attention to Ash, kissing her on the cheek. “You managed to get more beautiful. Come. I’ll show you the theater and then we’ll talk. I want to know everything.”
Ash looked happy and abashed, like she was embarrassed to admit how much she liked the attention. Rose liked the joy on Ash’s face. She liked Mia’s doting on Ash less. Rose trailed behind them.
“Ash, you’re going to rock this,” Mia said. “Brentworth has to take you on. You want coffee? Vodka tonic? It’s three a.m. somewhere. Harry would say it’s gin or Georgia.”
It was obviously an in-joke.
“Poor Harry.” Ash laughed. “Our southern gentleman. Fine. Lead me astray.”
Mia led them down a hallway papered with playbills and lit with sconces. At the end of the hall, she pushed open a door marked STAGE EXIT—CAST AND CREW ONLY. Twilight enveloped them as they stepped into the backstage area. Mia bounded forward on her death-defying heels and opened a micro fridge by the wall. She poured Ash’s drink.
“And you, Rose?” Mia called out. “Vodka tonic?”
Vodka before noon? Obviously not.
“I can’t let Ash drink alone.”
“Me neither.” Mia gave a musical laugh.
Beautiful flutes played when Mia Estelle laughed.
Rose’s eyes adjusted to the dark. Mia had tucked her arm through Ash’s and was pouring vodka tonics with one hand.
“Did you know Brendon got his PhD in media studies?” Mia said. “And Gus asks about you all the time. And don’t think I haven’t been following you. The tulip farm commercial your studio did. That was so sweet.” Mia raised her drink to her forehead. “I faded away without you.”
Ash rattled the ice cubes in her glass, then took a nervous swig.
“You’re the one we all loved,” Mia added.
“You’re too much. Show me this theater,” Ash said.
Mia disappeared behind the stage curtains. Ash followed. Rose made her way slowly. They emerged on a dim stage.
“The Elsinore,” Mia said. “Cue houselights.”
At her command, soft chandeliers lit like dawn. Light filled the theater. It could have been 1932, some era so unimaginably elegant that even its ghost left Rose breathless.
Ash turned around slowly, mouth open, eyes shining. “It’s all Edison bulbs, isn’t it?” she asked.
Mia laughed her flute-quartet laugh.
“Ashlyn Stewart.” Mia affected a sultry drawl. “Would I give you LED and drop ceilings? Now let me tell you the history,” she went on in a deep voice. She must have been imitating someone, because they both laughed again. Mia rattled off the theater specs ending with the state-of-the-art sound system she’d had installed last year.
“You always wanted to get into real estate,” Ash said.
Mia gave them a tour of the space, pointing out architectural features and the accessibility renovations she’d done. Then she led them to the front row and gestured for them to sit. “So, Rose, what’s the plan? You said you want the pitch to be special.”
The plan didn’t include Mia being a goddess, but Rose had to go with what she had. She pulled out her tablet.
“Brentworth is a true patron of the arts, and she’s a big ego.” Rose recited what she’d learned about the producer. “She wants to feel like she’s starting something epic, like she’s discovered the Holy Grail of filmmaking. We want to give her an experience, not just a pitch.”
“In my theater, fully catered, liquor, peacocks in the aisle.”
“I don’t think—” Ash said.
“Don’t rule out peacocks. I know a guy who’s trained some not to poop indoors.”
Mia kissed Ash on the cheek again. “Let me do everything you need.”
Let her not do everything Ash needed.
“By the way, I’ve got a burlesque show here tonight,” Mia said. “It’s sold out, but I’ll put you on will-call. I always save a few seats for VIPs.”
Ash and Mia tried to include Rose as they talked, but every comment was an in-joke. The warmth in Mia’s eyes told Rose that Mia had been longing to share these jokes, that she loved Ash, that behind the jokes was relief. You’re here. You’re okay.
The excitement Rose had felt pulling up to their hotel turned into a knot in her stomach. Ash and Mia could easily enjoy tender reunion sex. Ash wouldn’t have planned it, but she’d be comfortable with Mia in a way she wasn’t with Rose. It was like the closer Ash got to LA, the more her nervous energy mellowed into confidence. The way she wrapped her arm in Mia’s made it hard to remember that Rose had ever seen Ash without Mia. Ash wouldn’t mean to lead Rose on, but now, in the heat and sparkle of LA, who would pick their dutiful business consultant over this goddess who was also clearly a beloved friend?
Did Gigi know anyone who could…not kill Mia…but convince her to move to Costa Rica?
Rose swigged her vodka.
“Let’s get a tourist heart attack brunch,” Mia said. “I know a place that serves eggs Benedict on top of French toast.”
Go and watch Mia and Ash bask in their reminiscence or go back to the hotel and fret about Mia and Ash basking in reminiscence? Which was better?
“I have to spend time thinking about dehydrated cauliflower,” Rose said.
“Ouch. Are we that boring?” Mia said.
“She really does have to think about dehydrated cauliflower,” Ash said. “She’s consulting for this multibillion-dollar dehydrated food company. It’s amazing the things she knows. CEOs talk to her and they’re, like, Yes, Ms. Josten. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“Sexy.” Mia nodded approvingly. “Very boss. Ash and I will drink a Volcano Bowl for you.”
Ash thought she was amazing, but Ash and Mia were going to share a Volcano Bowl. Their straws would touch. Who wouldn’t want to move to Costa Rica? It was a beautiful country.
Chapter 36
Mia kicked off her heels and gestured for Ash to follow her up the steep, narrow staircase that led to the light and sound booth.
“I finished my MBA,” she said as they climbed. “Emphasis on real estate. I just started investing in Boise. And don’t laugh. Boise is the new Portland.”
“I’m not laughing. I’m impressed.”
They reached the top. Mia’s head barely cleared the ceiling.
“And so am I. Your own studio. Pitching to Brentworth.”
Mia sat down on a rolling chair and motioned for Ash to take another. They sat in the blue light of the sound panel. Maybe Ash could get one of the techs to show Rose around. She wanted to show Rose other things as well. Her old neighborhood. Her favorite taco place.
“So talk to me.” Mia grew serious. “I know you got hurt. I know about Victoria. But what happened? You were in the hospital. Then you were back on set for a few weeks and then you disappeared.”
Ash had called her friends, talking in stilted bursts. Mia was doing a full-length film in Cartagena. Another friend had signed a two-year contract with a studio in Bollywood. Ash was in pain. She read a lot. Victoria left. The Secret Song failed. Ash started answering calls with texts.
“I’m sorry I lost touch. I’m ashamed of that.”
“You don’t have to be ashamed.” Mia put a hand on Ash’s knee. “I just want you to come back.”
For the first time it struck Ash: If she returned to her life in LA, she’d leave Rose. If she got her old life back, she got her old life back. But there was this other life, this real other life, where she was tiptoeing toward something sweet with Rose, and Rose was patiently waiting.
“I missed you.” Mia’s voice drew Ash out of her thoughts.
“I missed you, too.”
“We picked you in the divorce, you know. No one from the old set hangs out with Victoria. No one ever got you two. I mean, we got why Victoria wanted you, but why you wanted her…If it wasn’t you, we’d have said you were in it for Victoria’s money. But you aren’t like that.” Mia gave a little I’m-not-judging shrug. “Even if you were, you could have had a dozen producers lined up to make your films. You didn’t need Victoria. Every time you two showed up at a party, people were surprised, like, Oh, Ash hasn’t dumped her yet?”
Ash’s mind raced through the parties she’d thrown with Victoria, their trips, their late nights fucking in glamorous hotel rooms, their fights, and the rare nights when they stayed home. They hadn’t had anything to talk about on those nights. She could always talk to Rose. She could say, What do you think of measuring spoons? Rose would say something dry and funny, and they’d talk about measuring spoons.
Mia scooted her chair over and flung her arms around Ash in a big, guileless hug. “I like Rose for you.”
“We’re not together…exactly.”
Mia gave her a don’t-even-play look. “Why not?”
“I’m damaged goods.” Ash shrugged.
“She looks like she wants to eat you alive.” Mia pushed Ash’s chair so it spun. “And like she’d fight me for you if I got in the way. And probably win.”
Chapter 37
Rose flopped onto her hotel bed, letting the air-conditioning cool the sweat on her brow. She should work. She lay on her bed watching the sun crawl across the popcorn ceiling. Then she took a dip in the kidney-shaped pool, hoping Ash would appear in a bathing suit and towel. I was looking for you, Rose. She didn’t. Rose picked a lounger under a faded umbrella and googled Mia’s burlesque show. If Mia wasn’t comping them tickets, they’d be paying five hundred apiece. The price didn’t intimidate her; the outfits in the photo gallery did.
She went back to her room and opened her laptop.
Cauliflower.
Production chain.
Ten new clients in the portal. Chloe said they were all winners.
How could that matter when Mia’s arm was around Ash’s waist?
She opened the four-way chat. The last message was from Gigi.
Gigi: 🥨🥐🍑🍒🤩?
Gigi had discovered emojis later in life and was making up for lost time.
Rose: Whatever that was: inappropriate!
Gigi: What are you up to then?
Mia was tasting Ash’s French toast. Mia had wiped a crumb off Ash’s lip. She’d bought her a peacock. They might be having sex.
Rose: She’s with an old friend who’s gorgeous.
Her sisters’ texts flew in instantly.
Cassie: Not as gorgeous as you.
Gigi: We’ll kill her
Ty: What are they doing?
Rose: They went to brunch.
Rose: They’re licking French toast off each other 😭
Hyperbole was a foreign language to Rose. Ty text-wept over women she’d just met. Gigi threatened to kill the distributor who’d messed up her wax order. Even Cassie lamented sometimes. But Rose wrote full sentences with punctuation.
Cassie: At a restaurant?
Gigi: text a pic
Ty: get consent
Gigi: they’re in public, you don’t need it
After decades of sober, factual texts, her sisters thought she was serious.
Rose: They’re not actually on a table.
Ty: In the bathroom?
Rose: They’re not actually having sex.
Probably.
Rose: But Mia is a goddess.
A stream of gifs and emojis threatened to break her phone.
Rose: She got us two hotel rooms.
Ty: So you wouldn’t feel pressured
Ty: Ash is in love with YOU
Rose: She can pressure me.
Rose: We’re going to a burlesque show.
Gigi: 🌶🌶🌶 What are you going to wear
Gigi: Say blazer and I will disown you
Rose: Blazer
Gigi texted a link.
Gigi: Marianna Villard. There’s a store in the Michael Dallas hotel. Buy one.
Rose clicked the link.
Rose: $3000!?!
Gigi: What else do you spend your money on?
Rose: Pugs.
Gigi: They will eat you when you die alone
Cassie: They won’t.
Gigi: They might. Buy a dress!!!
Rose waited for Ty to text something about capitalism and the beauty industry.
Ty: Buy the dress
At least buying the most expensive dress she’d ever handled—let alone bought—and spending another three hundred dollars on tailoring (with an extra charge because she needed it that day) kept her mind off Ash. Well…not off but at least to the side of. When the courier brought the tailored dress to her hotel room, she tried it on and studied herself in the mirror. It was almost worth what she’d paid. Mia was gorgeous for whatever Amazonian species she belonged to, but Rose was hot as hell for a human being.
Back in her hotel room, Ash turned up the AC. Her second-floor window afforded her a view of a pawnshop advertising DVDs, a salon called Skin by Serina, a prom and quinceañera rental, and, in the distance, a sun-bleached highway. She’d always liked places like this, places that could be anywhere…anywhere dry at least. Compton. New Mexico. Mexico. It made the world feel bigger. Victoria would have sacrificed a kidney before she stayed at a place like this. Rose didn’t mind.
Rose.
Ash wanted to unbutton Rose’s blazer, peel off her silk shirt, hold Rose’s breasts in her hands. Was Rose wearing a lace bra or something more practical like the bra she’d worn the night they kissed? Ash lay down on the bed. Tentatively she unbuttoned her jeans. She slipped her hand inside and touched her underwear. She thought about Rose’s arms wrapped around her and Rose’s lips on hers and Rose’s curves beneath her conservative suits. Ash rubbed a small circle over her clit.
She didn’t feel a rush of arousal, but it felt good. It felt natural. And as she kept touching herself it felt more instinctual. She wasn’t poking around with her fingers to see if she was still numb, to see if arousal turned into pain. Her body was saying, Touch here and here, a little harder. She stopped before she got close to coming in case her body tensed up in pain instead of release. But she kept her hand over her vulva for a long time, staring up at the ceiling. She’d felt pleasure. Mild, ordinary, uncomplicated pleasure, like someone who hadn’t been broken. She felt like someone who was going to a world-famous burlesque show with a beautiful woman who was probably working at the little hotel desk on the other side of the wall but maybe was lying in bed thinking about her.
Ash dozed in the warm room. When she woke, the sun had taken on an orange cast. She took out her phone and texted Rose.
Ash: Get dinner before the show?
Rose texted an immediate yes.
Rose: What are you wearing to the show?
What was she wearing? Jeans and a T-shirt? She stood up and looked in the mirror. The shaved sides of her head were growing out. She looked like a hedgehog with a mullet. She would see people she’d known. They’d look at her with pity. That’s Ash Stewart. She used to be a great director. Now she can’t even find a barber. Fuck them. Half the guys she’d known forgot to shave. Most of the actors stayed in sweats until it was time for costuming. Rose would be underdressed, too, but she’d look sexy and confident. I have way more important things to do than dress up for all you wannabe influencers. Billion-dollar companies are waiting for me to smack them into submission like a dominatrix of the Fortune 500. I don’t do that in a cocktail dress.
Ash: Don’t know. You?
Rose texted a picture of the most beautiful dress Ash had seen since she’d last walked a red carpet.
Chapter 38
Rose hurried down the walkway to the shaky stairs leading to the parking lot at the front of the hotel, carrying the ridiculously priced clutch she’d bought along with the dress. She stopped when she reached the bottom. Ash stood with her back to the hotel. When she heard Rose’s footsteps she turned. And Rose knew that no matter what happened, even if she never saw Ash after this week, Ash would always remain the brightest star. The warmth of the sun. The expanse of the ocean. The heartbreak of first love. Lust for mind and body together.
Ash held out her hands in a this-is-all-I-got gesture.
“Oh,” Rose breathed.
The suit fit Ash perfectly. She looked taller. The sleeves rolled up to show her tattoos and a large, gold watch, like a gangster in an old movie. And she’d tightened up the sides of her hair. She wore lipstick and dark eyeshadow. And when Ash spread her arms, Rose saw the edge of a black bra. No shirt. The deep V of the jacket showed just a hint, but if Ash unbuttoned her jacket, she’d be topless.
“Love-hate.”
They got on a highway and then off. Traffic got heavier. Ash looked out the window. She was looking at her old life. Did she miss it?
The theater was on a side street off a boulevard lined with bistros and rainbow flags. They followed an alley to the back of the building as Mia had instructed.
“Mia said to call when we got here,” Rose said.
Ash leaned the back of her head against the brick wall. “I haven’t talked to her in years.”
“Do you have history?”
“So much,” Ash said.
“I’ll call.” Rose took out her phone.
“Rose,” Mia sang out as though they were old friends. “One sec.”
Mia swept out as though she’d been standing on the other side of the door, black hair cascading over her shoulders. She froze, staring at Ash. Ash looked at her with the same awestruck expression. Then Mia exclaimed, “Ashlyn,” and threw her arms around Ash. “You’re here.” Mia squeezed her, then held Ash at arm’s length. “It’s still you.” She pulled Ash back in, putting both hands around Ash’s waist with easy intimacy.
What had they been to each other? Ash talked about Victoria, but she must have had other partners. They’d be beautiful together. Mia was six feet tall before the spike heels. Her skin glowed a luminous light brown. Jeans and a green silk T-shirt showcased the musculature of a dancer. She made other human beings look like they’d grown up without essential nutrients, a panther among pugs.
Mia released Ash and held out her arms to Rose. “Do you hug?”
Apparently Rose did because a second later Mia had her arms around Rose with the same down-to-earth squeeze of one of Cassie’s hugs.
“I am so glad you brought her here. Thank you, Rose.” She gave Rose one more squeeze. “Thank you. So. Frickin’. Much.” She released Rose and returned her attention to Ash, kissing her on the cheek. “You managed to get more beautiful. Come. I’ll show you the theater and then we’ll talk. I want to know everything.”
Ash looked happy and abashed, like she was embarrassed to admit how much she liked the attention. Rose liked the joy on Ash’s face. She liked Mia’s doting on Ash less. Rose trailed behind them.
“Ash, you’re going to rock this,” Mia said. “Brentworth has to take you on. You want coffee? Vodka tonic? It’s three a.m. somewhere. Harry would say it’s gin or Georgia.”
It was obviously an in-joke.
“Poor Harry.” Ash laughed. “Our southern gentleman. Fine. Lead me astray.”
Mia led them down a hallway papered with playbills and lit with sconces. At the end of the hall, she pushed open a door marked STAGE EXIT—CAST AND CREW ONLY. Twilight enveloped them as they stepped into the backstage area. Mia bounded forward on her death-defying heels and opened a micro fridge by the wall. She poured Ash’s drink.
“And you, Rose?” Mia called out. “Vodka tonic?”
Vodka before noon? Obviously not.
“I can’t let Ash drink alone.”
“Me neither.” Mia gave a musical laugh.
Beautiful flutes played when Mia Estelle laughed.
Rose’s eyes adjusted to the dark. Mia had tucked her arm through Ash’s and was pouring vodka tonics with one hand.
“Did you know Brendon got his PhD in media studies?” Mia said. “And Gus asks about you all the time. And don’t think I haven’t been following you. The tulip farm commercial your studio did. That was so sweet.” Mia raised her drink to her forehead. “I faded away without you.”
Ash rattled the ice cubes in her glass, then took a nervous swig.
“You’re the one we all loved,” Mia added.
“You’re too much. Show me this theater,” Ash said.
Mia disappeared behind the stage curtains. Ash followed. Rose made her way slowly. They emerged on a dim stage.
“The Elsinore,” Mia said. “Cue houselights.”
At her command, soft chandeliers lit like dawn. Light filled the theater. It could have been 1932, some era so unimaginably elegant that even its ghost left Rose breathless.
Ash turned around slowly, mouth open, eyes shining. “It’s all Edison bulbs, isn’t it?” she asked.
Mia laughed her flute-quartet laugh.
“Ashlyn Stewart.” Mia affected a sultry drawl. “Would I give you LED and drop ceilings? Now let me tell you the history,” she went on in a deep voice. She must have been imitating someone, because they both laughed again. Mia rattled off the theater specs ending with the state-of-the-art sound system she’d had installed last year.
“You always wanted to get into real estate,” Ash said.
Mia gave them a tour of the space, pointing out architectural features and the accessibility renovations she’d done. Then she led them to the front row and gestured for them to sit. “So, Rose, what’s the plan? You said you want the pitch to be special.”
The plan didn’t include Mia being a goddess, but Rose had to go with what she had. She pulled out her tablet.
“Brentworth is a true patron of the arts, and she’s a big ego.” Rose recited what she’d learned about the producer. “She wants to feel like she’s starting something epic, like she’s discovered the Holy Grail of filmmaking. We want to give her an experience, not just a pitch.”
“In my theater, fully catered, liquor, peacocks in the aisle.”
“I don’t think—” Ash said.
“Don’t rule out peacocks. I know a guy who’s trained some not to poop indoors.”
Mia kissed Ash on the cheek again. “Let me do everything you need.”
Let her not do everything Ash needed.
“By the way, I’ve got a burlesque show here tonight,” Mia said. “It’s sold out, but I’ll put you on will-call. I always save a few seats for VIPs.”
Ash and Mia tried to include Rose as they talked, but every comment was an in-joke. The warmth in Mia’s eyes told Rose that Mia had been longing to share these jokes, that she loved Ash, that behind the jokes was relief. You’re here. You’re okay.
The excitement Rose had felt pulling up to their hotel turned into a knot in her stomach. Ash and Mia could easily enjoy tender reunion sex. Ash wouldn’t have planned it, but she’d be comfortable with Mia in a way she wasn’t with Rose. It was like the closer Ash got to LA, the more her nervous energy mellowed into confidence. The way she wrapped her arm in Mia’s made it hard to remember that Rose had ever seen Ash without Mia. Ash wouldn’t mean to lead Rose on, but now, in the heat and sparkle of LA, who would pick their dutiful business consultant over this goddess who was also clearly a beloved friend?
Did Gigi know anyone who could…not kill Mia…but convince her to move to Costa Rica?
Rose swigged her vodka.
“Let’s get a tourist heart attack brunch,” Mia said. “I know a place that serves eggs Benedict on top of French toast.”
Go and watch Mia and Ash bask in their reminiscence or go back to the hotel and fret about Mia and Ash basking in reminiscence? Which was better?
“I have to spend time thinking about dehydrated cauliflower,” Rose said.
“Ouch. Are we that boring?” Mia said.
“She really does have to think about dehydrated cauliflower,” Ash said. “She’s consulting for this multibillion-dollar dehydrated food company. It’s amazing the things she knows. CEOs talk to her and they’re, like, Yes, Ms. Josten. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“Sexy.” Mia nodded approvingly. “Very boss. Ash and I will drink a Volcano Bowl for you.”
Ash thought she was amazing, but Ash and Mia were going to share a Volcano Bowl. Their straws would touch. Who wouldn’t want to move to Costa Rica? It was a beautiful country.
Chapter 36
Mia kicked off her heels and gestured for Ash to follow her up the steep, narrow staircase that led to the light and sound booth.
“I finished my MBA,” she said as they climbed. “Emphasis on real estate. I just started investing in Boise. And don’t laugh. Boise is the new Portland.”
“I’m not laughing. I’m impressed.”
They reached the top. Mia’s head barely cleared the ceiling.
“And so am I. Your own studio. Pitching to Brentworth.”
Mia sat down on a rolling chair and motioned for Ash to take another. They sat in the blue light of the sound panel. Maybe Ash could get one of the techs to show Rose around. She wanted to show Rose other things as well. Her old neighborhood. Her favorite taco place.
“So talk to me.” Mia grew serious. “I know you got hurt. I know about Victoria. But what happened? You were in the hospital. Then you were back on set for a few weeks and then you disappeared.”
Ash had called her friends, talking in stilted bursts. Mia was doing a full-length film in Cartagena. Another friend had signed a two-year contract with a studio in Bollywood. Ash was in pain. She read a lot. Victoria left. The Secret Song failed. Ash started answering calls with texts.
“I’m sorry I lost touch. I’m ashamed of that.”
“You don’t have to be ashamed.” Mia put a hand on Ash’s knee. “I just want you to come back.”
For the first time it struck Ash: If she returned to her life in LA, she’d leave Rose. If she got her old life back, she got her old life back. But there was this other life, this real other life, where she was tiptoeing toward something sweet with Rose, and Rose was patiently waiting.
“I missed you.” Mia’s voice drew Ash out of her thoughts.
“I missed you, too.”
“We picked you in the divorce, you know. No one from the old set hangs out with Victoria. No one ever got you two. I mean, we got why Victoria wanted you, but why you wanted her…If it wasn’t you, we’d have said you were in it for Victoria’s money. But you aren’t like that.” Mia gave a little I’m-not-judging shrug. “Even if you were, you could have had a dozen producers lined up to make your films. You didn’t need Victoria. Every time you two showed up at a party, people were surprised, like, Oh, Ash hasn’t dumped her yet?”
Ash’s mind raced through the parties she’d thrown with Victoria, their trips, their late nights fucking in glamorous hotel rooms, their fights, and the rare nights when they stayed home. They hadn’t had anything to talk about on those nights. She could always talk to Rose. She could say, What do you think of measuring spoons? Rose would say something dry and funny, and they’d talk about measuring spoons.
Mia scooted her chair over and flung her arms around Ash in a big, guileless hug. “I like Rose for you.”
“We’re not together…exactly.”
Mia gave her a don’t-even-play look. “Why not?”
“I’m damaged goods.” Ash shrugged.
“She looks like she wants to eat you alive.” Mia pushed Ash’s chair so it spun. “And like she’d fight me for you if I got in the way. And probably win.”
Chapter 37
Rose flopped onto her hotel bed, letting the air-conditioning cool the sweat on her brow. She should work. She lay on her bed watching the sun crawl across the popcorn ceiling. Then she took a dip in the kidney-shaped pool, hoping Ash would appear in a bathing suit and towel. I was looking for you, Rose. She didn’t. Rose picked a lounger under a faded umbrella and googled Mia’s burlesque show. If Mia wasn’t comping them tickets, they’d be paying five hundred apiece. The price didn’t intimidate her; the outfits in the photo gallery did.
She went back to her room and opened her laptop.
Cauliflower.
Production chain.
Ten new clients in the portal. Chloe said they were all winners.
How could that matter when Mia’s arm was around Ash’s waist?
She opened the four-way chat. The last message was from Gigi.
Gigi: 🥨🥐🍑🍒🤩?
Gigi had discovered emojis later in life and was making up for lost time.
Rose: Whatever that was: inappropriate!
Gigi: What are you up to then?
Mia was tasting Ash’s French toast. Mia had wiped a crumb off Ash’s lip. She’d bought her a peacock. They might be having sex.
Rose: She’s with an old friend who’s gorgeous.
Her sisters’ texts flew in instantly.
Cassie: Not as gorgeous as you.
Gigi: We’ll kill her
Ty: What are they doing?
Rose: They went to brunch.
Rose: They’re licking French toast off each other 😭
Hyperbole was a foreign language to Rose. Ty text-wept over women she’d just met. Gigi threatened to kill the distributor who’d messed up her wax order. Even Cassie lamented sometimes. But Rose wrote full sentences with punctuation.
Cassie: At a restaurant?
Gigi: text a pic
Ty: get consent
Gigi: they’re in public, you don’t need it
After decades of sober, factual texts, her sisters thought she was serious.
Rose: They’re not actually on a table.
Ty: In the bathroom?
Rose: They’re not actually having sex.
Probably.
Rose: But Mia is a goddess.
A stream of gifs and emojis threatened to break her phone.
Rose: She got us two hotel rooms.
Ty: So you wouldn’t feel pressured
Ty: Ash is in love with YOU
Rose: She can pressure me.
Rose: We’re going to a burlesque show.
Gigi: 🌶🌶🌶 What are you going to wear
Gigi: Say blazer and I will disown you
Rose: Blazer
Gigi texted a link.
Gigi: Marianna Villard. There’s a store in the Michael Dallas hotel. Buy one.
Rose clicked the link.
Rose: $3000!?!
Gigi: What else do you spend your money on?
Rose: Pugs.
Gigi: They will eat you when you die alone
Cassie: They won’t.
Gigi: They might. Buy a dress!!!
Rose waited for Ty to text something about capitalism and the beauty industry.
Ty: Buy the dress
At least buying the most expensive dress she’d ever handled—let alone bought—and spending another three hundred dollars on tailoring (with an extra charge because she needed it that day) kept her mind off Ash. Well…not off but at least to the side of. When the courier brought the tailored dress to her hotel room, she tried it on and studied herself in the mirror. It was almost worth what she’d paid. Mia was gorgeous for whatever Amazonian species she belonged to, but Rose was hot as hell for a human being.
Back in her hotel room, Ash turned up the AC. Her second-floor window afforded her a view of a pawnshop advertising DVDs, a salon called Skin by Serina, a prom and quinceañera rental, and, in the distance, a sun-bleached highway. She’d always liked places like this, places that could be anywhere…anywhere dry at least. Compton. New Mexico. Mexico. It made the world feel bigger. Victoria would have sacrificed a kidney before she stayed at a place like this. Rose didn’t mind.
Rose.
Ash wanted to unbutton Rose’s blazer, peel off her silk shirt, hold Rose’s breasts in her hands. Was Rose wearing a lace bra or something more practical like the bra she’d worn the night they kissed? Ash lay down on the bed. Tentatively she unbuttoned her jeans. She slipped her hand inside and touched her underwear. She thought about Rose’s arms wrapped around her and Rose’s lips on hers and Rose’s curves beneath her conservative suits. Ash rubbed a small circle over her clit.
She didn’t feel a rush of arousal, but it felt good. It felt natural. And as she kept touching herself it felt more instinctual. She wasn’t poking around with her fingers to see if she was still numb, to see if arousal turned into pain. Her body was saying, Touch here and here, a little harder. She stopped before she got close to coming in case her body tensed up in pain instead of release. But she kept her hand over her vulva for a long time, staring up at the ceiling. She’d felt pleasure. Mild, ordinary, uncomplicated pleasure, like someone who hadn’t been broken. She felt like someone who was going to a world-famous burlesque show with a beautiful woman who was probably working at the little hotel desk on the other side of the wall but maybe was lying in bed thinking about her.
Ash dozed in the warm room. When she woke, the sun had taken on an orange cast. She took out her phone and texted Rose.
Ash: Get dinner before the show?
Rose texted an immediate yes.
Rose: What are you wearing to the show?
What was she wearing? Jeans and a T-shirt? She stood up and looked in the mirror. The shaved sides of her head were growing out. She looked like a hedgehog with a mullet. She would see people she’d known. They’d look at her with pity. That’s Ash Stewart. She used to be a great director. Now she can’t even find a barber. Fuck them. Half the guys she’d known forgot to shave. Most of the actors stayed in sweats until it was time for costuming. Rose would be underdressed, too, but she’d look sexy and confident. I have way more important things to do than dress up for all you wannabe influencers. Billion-dollar companies are waiting for me to smack them into submission like a dominatrix of the Fortune 500. I don’t do that in a cocktail dress.
Ash: Don’t know. You?
Rose texted a picture of the most beautiful dress Ash had seen since she’d last walked a red carpet.
Chapter 38
Rose hurried down the walkway to the shaky stairs leading to the parking lot at the front of the hotel, carrying the ridiculously priced clutch she’d bought along with the dress. She stopped when she reached the bottom. Ash stood with her back to the hotel. When she heard Rose’s footsteps she turned. And Rose knew that no matter what happened, even if she never saw Ash after this week, Ash would always remain the brightest star. The warmth of the sun. The expanse of the ocean. The heartbreak of first love. Lust for mind and body together.
Ash held out her hands in a this-is-all-I-got gesture.
“Oh,” Rose breathed.
The suit fit Ash perfectly. She looked taller. The sleeves rolled up to show her tattoos and a large, gold watch, like a gangster in an old movie. And she’d tightened up the sides of her hair. She wore lipstick and dark eyeshadow. And when Ash spread her arms, Rose saw the edge of a black bra. No shirt. The deep V of the jacket showed just a hint, but if Ash unbuttoned her jacket, she’d be topless.
