Loving Ashe Read online

Paige didn’t say anything for a few minutes but watched Riley suspiciously, her eyes narrowing. Riley decided it was the perfect time to show off her TV by switching it on using the remote. Not connected to an antenna, there was nothing visible on the screen except static and jagged white lines.

  “I went to the thrift store and found a few videos,” Riley said. “You remember when Mom and Dad used to do those movie nights with us?”

  “Yes,” Paige said, one eyebrow arching.

  “Well, I found some classics. Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers, Cyd Charisse, and a few John Hughes’ movies. Remember him? I even found Pride and Prejudice, the BBC version with Colin Firth coming out of the lake — all ten tapes of the series. Can you believe that?”

  “Good God,” Paige groaned as Miss Bailey jumped onto her lap. “That’s it! Clint and I are getting you a flat-screen. We can have it installed on the wall, that way it won’t use up any valuable shelf space. I don’t understand why you need all these books anyway, Ri.”

  “You know how much I love reading, Paige,” Riley frowned. “Just like mom did.”

  At the mention of their mother, Paige became quiet and for a few moments, they simply sat and sipped their wine.

  One of the reasons Riley had put in an offer on this apartment was because of the built-in shelves that occupied the full wall of the living room. It was so 70’s, but she didn’t care. A Pulitzer Prize-winning author had used the apartment as his writing office, though he never again wrote anything as good as his award-winning book. His table had been positioned right in front of the windows in the space now occupied by her four-poster bed, so that whenever he worked, he faced the door, with no view of the city to distract him. He also smoked like a chimney, so the place reeked of cigarette smoke when Riley first saw it, even though the realtor had done her best to get rid of the smell. But at least it had helped to lower the price.

  Since she couldn’t afford to tear down the walls and she refused to accept any more help from Clint and Paige, it took Riley a few months of scrubbing to get rid of the smell of tobacco. But Riley didn’t mind getting dirty. She loved to work with her hands and was proud of her handiwork. She had help, of course. Wayne was an architect and helped her with some of the minor renovations, and even the overall design of the small space.

  “So, who is he?” Paige asked again. “Don’t think you can distract me by showing off your TV set and VHS collection.”

  “Just someone I met that night. He’s not some local boy you can blog about, by the way,” Riley added, not that Paige would have blogged about Ashe anyway. If there was one thing that Paige kept off her well-known social blog, it was anything that had to do with her baby sister, not after what happened.

  “He’s the one who sent you roses?” Paige asked. “Someone you’d just met?”

  “Yes,” Riley replied. “But I haven’t heard from him since.”

  “Did you give him your number?”

  Riley shook her head.

  Paige rolled her eyes. “All right, let me rephrase the question. Did he ask you for your number?”

  “He did, and he even walked me to my door, but no, I didn’t give him my number. I can’t deal with another Gareth.”

  “After what that asshole did to you, no one can deal with another Gareth, Ri. But let’s not drag up the past, because it’s not about to happen again, all right? So if it wasn’t Gareth, who was it?” Paige persisted.

  Unlike Riley, who wasn’t much into films, Paige lived for the latest reality TV shows and movies. For the past five years, she was a self-confessed stay-at-home mother, who blogged about life in Manhattan raising triplets while managing to maintain a social life. Of course there was nothing stay-at-home about her. She lunched with women just like her, attended gallery openings and movie premieres, and one night a month, spent a few hours hanging out with her baby sister looking nothing like she’d just spent the day running after three rambunctious four year old boys. Because she didn’t.

  She had a brand that was uniquely her own, PaigeCaldwell, where followers could be like her by buying into the lifestyle she promoted. From the clothes she wore to her favorite shoes, even the skin products she used and the vacation spots she and the family went to – they were all linked from her website to her social media accounts. But if people thought it was not hard work to be Paige, they were wrong. For Paige actually worked at it, honing her image till it was as perfect as it could be. She’d been a supermodel after all, and married to one of New York’s oldest families, she had a reputation to maintain. But she kept her brand as down-to-earth as she could, if it could even be called that. She knew how to write her blog posts and captions in a way that resonated with many women living their ordinary lives, from the stresses of raising three little boys (no one had to know about the two full-time nannies) to how to bake chocolate chip cookies without burning them.

  At thirty-four, Paige was the epitome of the woman who had it all and everything that Riley felt she wasn’t. Eleven years younger than Paige, Riley should have been the one better versed in technology, the web and social media. Instead, she preferred to spend her nights reading her books, losing herself in imaginary worlds and one night a month, heading a book club at the Library Cafe.

  Maybe Paige was right, Riley thought, and she was really an old lady inside. While Riley tirelessly blended espresso drinks and managed the Library Cafe, Paige managed to spend her time just being fabulous. Whatever she wrote, people believed. Once, she wrote about a cup of café Medicí Riley had made for her at the Library, and the next day, people showed up ordering it. If Miss Perfect ever existed, Riley could honestly say she knew her. They were even related.

  It was that moment that Miss Perfect grabbed the remote from Riley’s hand and switched off the TV. “So who is he, Ri? Why are you keeping secrets from me, of all people?”

  Riley didn’t answer. If she told Paige about Ashe, then she’d have to tell her how they had met — in an elevator at the same hotel that Gareth was staying at.

  Suddenly Paige set down a meowing Miss Bailey and reached towards the vase of roses. Before Riley could stop her, Paige snatched the envelope that held Ashe’s note tucked between the blooms. Total fail, Ri, she thought as she resigned herself to her fate, leaning back on the couch and wondering why she hadn’t slipped Ashe’s note straight into her journal.

  Of course, Riley hadn’t hidden it. She’d reread the note each night since she’d received the roses, though by the third night she’d begun to suspect that Ashe hadn’t written the note himself. His message had probably been dictated over the phone and handwritten by someone who worked at the flower shop.

  “Ashe?” Paige prolonged the name for dramatic effect. “Am I to believe that Ashe Hunter sent you flowers? The Ashe Hunter? And not only that, but you had dinner with him at Lee’s, of all places? God, couldn’t he have taken you somewhere classier?”

  “I was in the mood for noodle soup and he wanted to tag along,” Riley said, rolling her eyes. “It wasn’t like we were on a date or anything.”

  “Oh. My. God. You do know that he’s working with Gareth, right?”

  “It was just a quick dinner, and apparently I made him laugh so hard that he sent me flowers for my trouble,” Riley said, pretending that she didn’t hear Paige say Gareth’s name.

  “Apparently you didn’t hear me,” Paige said. “He’s working with Gareth. Anyway, how on earth did you manage to meet him? He’s a hot commodity right now, you know. I would never have imagined he’d be walking around New York and he just happened to bump into you, or who knows, maybe you met him at the Library. He’s not even a New Yorker. He’s English.”

  “So? He’s just a guy,” Riley said, shrugging her shoulders. “What’s the big deal?”

  “He’s big, Ri. He’s Hollywood’s latest “It” boy. If he’s interested in you, I gotta warn you — he could be another Gareth and break your heart.”

  “What’s your point?” Riley asked, frowning. “I only met him that one n
ight, and that was it. We got caught in the rain and he offered me a ride. It wasn’t like we were alone or spent the night together or anything. His manager was even there.”

  “You’re sure that’s all that happened? You met him one night, got caught in the rain, and then he sent you flowers? Which means he knows where you live.”

  “He was just being polite with the flowers,” Riley said.

  “He’s dating Isobel Reign, you know. Has been for more than a year, or maybe two years. I think they met when they were filming this last movie, Sentience, or something. Oh, and her father happens to own Reign Studios. And they’re big, Ri. Boy, they’re big. Clint’s an investor so he knows these things.”

  “Isn’t Isobel the actress with one blue eye and another hazel?” Riley asked. It was a tidbit of gossip she’d overheard at the coffee shop a few days earlier.

  “Yes, that’s her,” Paige said, finishing off her wine and handing her empty glass to Riley, who refilled it immediately. “Being that her dad’s a mega-player in Hollywood, if you’re an actor wanting to have parts handed to you, you’d better cozy up to his little princess.”

  “Does Ashe know this, do you think?”

  Paige shrugged. “He’d be stupid if he didn’t. I mean, being with Isobel is a ticket to fame as it is because whatever she wants, she gets — especially men. And she wants her men to be successful, so whatever she wants, Daddy dearest gets for her. Anyway, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s exactly what Ashe is doing. Abraham Reign can definitely boost his career as long as he keeps Isobel happy.”

  “How do you know all this? Is this all through Clint?”

  “Remember my friend, Betty? The one who had the boob job that left one normal and the other one that scarred up and turned all hard, like a torpedo? Well, her PR company’s biggest account right now is Reign Studios, so if there’s a movie to promote, she’s there. Of course, you know better than to tell anyone what I just told you, right?” Paige said, cocking her head towards Riley.

  “My lips are sealed,” Riley said, making a face.

  “Speaking of Ashe, did you know he’s quite famous for something other than his acting?”

  “Like I said, I just bumped into him. I made him laugh and he sent me flowers,” Riley replied. “Why? What else is he famous for? I mean, he is good-looking.”

  “Good-looking, my ass! He’s hot, Ri!” Paige laughed. “Well, if you ever do get him in your bed, you’ll have to tell me all about it. Because I hear that his package is nothing to laugh about. You might even be the one to send him flowers.”

  “Oh, shut up,” Riley said, covering her ears in mock protest. “I’m not interested. I’m not, I’m not, I’m not.”

  “Oh, you will be when you see it on HD. He went full frontal in his first movie, Besties, or something like that. It wasn’t a big hit but it’s a cult classic now because his dick makes such an impressive appearance — more than once.” Paige laughed, and then grew serious again.

  “Anyway, thanks for letting me know that it wasn’t Gareth you were with. You had Clint and I really nervous there for a while,” Paige continued. “He really did a number on you, Riley, dumping you like he did, and after what happened to you, I’ve never forgiven him. None of us have. What he did was low and despicable and it’s a pity that karma hasn’t caught up with him.”

  “Well, it wasn’t Gareth,” Riley said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “And no way would I ever want to see him again, not even if he called me and went down on his knees begging to see me again for old times’ sake.”

  She brushed invisible lint from her jeans as she spoke, unable to look Paige in the eye, and wondered if she could ever pass as an actress.

  “Liar,” Paige said, chuckling. “You so would.”

  Oh, well. Guess not.

  6

  A Ménage à Cinq For Two

  Three days later, it started with the billboards — or at least that’s when Riley finally noticed them. She’d avoided any movie ads ever since Gareth left her, his face seeming to mock her every time.

  But with Ashe, Riley couldn’t look away.

  And as if the ones that popped up all over the subways and city streets weren’t enough, there was Ashe’s dark blue eyes staring back at her from Times Square and looking every bit like the hero he was supposed to be in a fitting blue-and-silver spacesuit. Isobel stood behind him, and behind her, with the signature smirk Riley knew so well, was Gareth.

  Riley found herself staring at the Clear Channel Spectacolor display as the trio of actors’ faces transitioned into a fight sequence between Ashe and Gareth in an airlock. And then there was Isobel, yelling at one of the characters to move out of the way, before the scene changed again, and this time it was Ashe, his gaze seeming to be directed at her, only to be replaced by Gareth’s face, and this time, it felt as if his green eyes stared right through her.

  Just when Riley thought she’d earned a big win by being able to walk away from Gareth’s booty call two weeks ago, there he was all over the place again, reminding her of the years they’d spent together, the happy times and the sad times. And then there was the empty apartment he’d left behind after the guys he’d sent were done moving their things out, leaving her with nothing but the mattress they’d shared.

  Was it some sort of message? He was, after all, so much into symbolism, she thought, remembering their many deep conversations, because at least talk didn’t cost money — not when all they had some days was ramen noodle soup in the cupboard and whatever she brought home from the diner. Was it supposed to mean that the mattress was the only place they’d actually connected until such time as he found her lacking and moved on? Was that the only place he thought her good enough for? In bed?

  Riley hated the times such questions popped up, often when she least expected it. She really hadn’t gotten over him yet, she thought, even after three long years. Either that or there was simply too much of him everywhere she looked, and her self-esteem was still tied to that damn mattress even though she’d long since replaced it with a new one when she moved into her own apartment. New place, new future, new mattress. Even if no one else had shared that damn mattress with her since then — unless one counted the cat.

  The next day, Tessa, one of the baristas at the Library Cafe, told her the plot of Ashe’s latest movie, Sentience. It was about a trio of space explorers in the distant future who end up having to battle one another when an unknown virus takes over their minds and sets them at odds.

  “And they’re robots, by the way — or androids, or whatever,” Tessa said before yelling out a name that sounded like ‘Tipperary,’ then handing a medium-sized cup of coffee to a woman with purple hair.

  “So this virus infects them — ” Riley began before Tessa nodded and continued.

  “And they become human-like, with human emotions,” Tessa said, wiping down the counter before making another cup of espresso, this time a caramel latte with soy milk. “So, just like regular people, they could have a lot of good in them yet also have some bad traits.”

  “Is Gareth Roman the bad guy?” Riley asked. She was filling in for Bill, another barista who had called in sick that day, and she had her own list of drinks to make. These included a caffè Medici, which was a double-shot espresso poured over chocolate syrup and orange peel. It was one of Riley’s signature coffee beverages, one that Paige had blogged about the previous year and still had customers coming into the Library to order.

  “Oh, no!” Tessa laughed. “He’s the good guy here. It’s the other guy, that drop-dead gorgeous one, who turns out to be the bad guy! Ashe something — Ashe Hunter, that’s it. Anyway, I’m not sure, but Sydney saw the advanced screening and that’s what she said. They’ve switched it, so that the good guy becomes the bad guy. It’s the twist, though they’re not supposed to tell people and spoil it.”

  “I think you just did,” Riley chuckled.

  “Sorry, I got carried away.”

  “No problem,” Riley sai
d. “What about Isobel, the girl? What’s her role?”

  Tessa shrugged. “Not sure, but she might be the one to save the world or something, you know, while the guys fight each other to the death. That would be good, right? Let the girl save the day while the men battle it out. Anyway, Sydney said it’s really more suspense than anything — you know, like the first Alien movie? Anyone expecting special effects and extended fight scenes are gonna be disappointed.”

  “But I mean, it’s all in the title,” Tessa continued and Riley began to laugh. “I mean, Sentience. Sentient beings, beings who feel, who sense things. I mean, doh!”

  They laughed, not caring what anyone else thought. Tessa Pollin was a new transplant to New York, having moved eight months earlier from San Francisco. She was young, bright and talkative. She and her boyfriend, Carl, were both students at the Film Institute, and both worked part-time at the Library Cafe.

  Tessa loved talking about movies and pop culture, and without her, Riley would never have known about the goings-on all over entertainment and social media. She knew who was dating whom, and which movie was coming out that week. She also knew what the latest chatter was about on social media, from Instagram to Snapchat. Sometimes Riley felt like Tessa’s mother, so behind with what was hip when she should be on top of it. At twenty-three, she was only three years older than Tessa, and though she at least had a smart phone and sometimes did browse the internet, she mostly spent her free time reading her books. To further cement her reputation as the resident book nerd, once a month Riley hosted a book club at the cafe where (mostly older) people would fill the corner of the shop to discuss books.

  “Are you going on a date tonight?” Tessa asked. “I saw on the schedule that you’re off tonight. Got a date?”

  Tessa gave her a mischievous look as Riley frowned. “What makes you think that I’m going on a date?”

  “Because you’ve got this special glow about you, that’s why,” Tessa giggled, spreading her fingers in front of her face. “It’s been there for the last two weeks. You’ve met some guy, huh? I just know it. Oh, look! You’re blushing — you did meet someone! C’mon, who is it? Spill!”