29. ASH
29
ASH
T he last time I let someone in, they took advantage of me. She took advantage of me — Sasha. My fight with Eve, every harsh word and hurt feeling, replay in my mind during the long, monotonous drive to the secluded spot my father had booked. In the front seat, Hardy's head lolled against the window as he slept off his intoxicated stupor; behind him, Sasha's gaze burned into the back of my head, her presence a reminder of how deep I’m in this.
We check into the hotel; the opulent lobby, with its soaring ceilings and crystal chandeliers, hinted at the extravagance my father had planned for this work week with Sasha. We arrive at our luxurious penthouse suite to find a bouquet of red flowers, handmade chocolates, and a bottle of fine wine chilling for us.
“Congratulations on your wedding.” A silence hung in the air as Hardy scans the card, his eyes shifting from me to Sasha. A subtle tension in the room. “He’s laying on it thick.”
Annoyed, Sasha rolls her eyes at Hardy before turning to the hall boy, noticing how he adjusted his collar nervously. “The pink and black bags go in the master.” Sasha takes charge of orchestrating our time here. Hardy being here wasn’t part of her plan.
“Black bags stay in the hall.” I press a crisp bill into the hall boy's hand, conveying my authority.
“Hope you brought enough to share.” Hardy gestures to his dirty clothes.
“Take what you want.” I gesture to my bag. Eve’s voice occupies my mind. The sadness in it when I left her in the bedroom. Despite all my efforts, she still doesn't understand that everything I do is for her benefit. Keeping Sasha away from her is in her best interest. Sasha didn’t play fair.
“We should go down to eat. I made a supper reservation.” Sasha's sharp and clear voice dictates orders from the main bedroom.
“I’m hungry...” Hardy straightens up from examining my luggage, rubbing his belly.
“It’s for two,” Sasha yells.
“So only Ash and me?” Hardy chuckles to me. “What a sweetheart you are.”
With a frustrated sigh, I shake my head, the stress of unanswered texts driving me nuts. I check my phone for the hundredth time. The lack of messages from Eve made the day feel strange.
“Nothing?” Hardy casually undresses in the hallway, his clothes dropping to the floor. No cares if Sasha walks out of the bedroom.
“Nope.” She needs to contact me. Tell me how ridiculous she was. Forbidding me.
“Look, Eve’s a handful, but a worthy handful. Suck up your pride and give the girl a call. You’re here with Sasha. How’s she supposed to act?” Hardy asks, already halfway through the bottle of my celebratory wine.
He’s right. It’s a lot to ask of her. If it was reversed, she sure as hell wouldn’t be with her ex. I had this under control. I grab my phone again and press the phone symbol next to her name. It goes to voicemail.
“She got you going to voicemail?” Hardy asks, “Text her.”
“No,” I say out loud to myself. She didn’t... I send the text, and the bubble turns light gray. Unavailable now shows next to her name. She fucking blocked me...
Hardy chuckles so much that he has to hold his side. “I like that girl.”
“Well, she’s free now.” Like blocking my phone number would stop me. I grab the phone from the corner and call her number. It rings. She picks up and hangs up. “Fuck.” The receiver hit the cradle with a sharp crack, the sound a physical manifestation of my anger.
Eve was pushing me more than she should. I shared a lot of me with her; she should be content with that. I don’t open up to many people.
“Give her the night,” Hardy suggests, taking his next round of drinks.
“Yeah, and then she’ll be mad I didn’t contact her at all today. I can’t fucking win.” I pour myself a glass of wine before Hardy drinks it all.
“Ready?” Sasha leaves the bedroom, looking like she stepped out of a magazine. Her hair curled, her lips painted a deep maroon, and a gold skin-tight dress.
“I’m not hungry,” I say, ensuring my eyes don’t linger on her long. She’d read too much into any look lasting longer than it should.
“I’m not eating by myself.” She practically stomps her foot like a toddler. Leaning on her left leg, she lifts the hem of her dress, a playful glint in her eyes, and teases, “Unless you’re hungry for dessert.”
“I could go for some lemon pie.” Hardy cracks open another bottle of wine. “I should eat to equal out the ratio. Dad has good taste in wine.”
Sasha intercepts the bottle, the clink of glass against glass echoing in the in the room before she takes it from Hardy’s surprised hand. “I’ve booked another room for you.”
“I think I’ll stay here. I mean, how many bedrooms are there?” Hardy leans back on the legs of his chair, staring Sasha down. A wide, almost cruel smile stretched across his face at Sasha's expense, his eyes giving away his amusement.
“Let's order in.” I stop the playground fight. “Work these calls and get it nailed out so we can all go home.”
I didn’t have time for Sasha’s endless games, delays, and schemes. I concentrate on getting the needed numbers so I don’t have to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life and get home to Eve.
I look at my phone again - unavailable still by her name. I jammed the phone back into my pocket, feeling the rough edges of its case scrape against my thigh. Where was she? I’d seen her plenty mad since she came to work with me, but this time is different. She’s giving up too easily on me.
“I want to go out, Ash. We should enjoy ourselves before the work has to start.” She uses a familiar pout that always worked to get her way.
“Where is the list of people we need to please?” I put my phone on the table, ready to get this started. I didn't require Sasha's intervention. I could manage without her. I had my contacts, and I’d figure out the rest.
“It’s on my computer. Let’s go to supper and talk about the list there.” Sasha reaches for my hand, but I refuse her. No part of me wanted any part of her body to touch mine.
“You trying to poison him? You’re really pushing this supper thing.” Hardy leans on the table, giving me a serious look.
“Why can’t we have an enjoyable night without murder attempts?” A long, weary sigh escapes Sasha's lips as she retreats to the bedroom.
“We can do this without her. Between us, we know more people than she does.” I lower my voice so she doesn’t hear.
“Maybe, but who said I was helping? I’m already missing jobs to chaperone you two.” Hardy retrieves the bottle of wine Sasha had taken from him. “This is your time to shine, not mine.”
He’s right. It is my chance to prove to our father that I’m capable of closing a lucrative deal and bring in a chunk of money for the family. I have to force Eve out of my mind to concentrate on making deals, and then I can do damage control when I get back.
“Here.” Sasha returns from the bedroom in sweats, an armful of paper, and her computer. The stack of paper hits the table with a thump, scattering a few sheets across the surface.
“There’s this many people we owe money to?” I run my hand through my hair. Could we even do this in a week?
“Yup. How do you want to split this? We can group by family.” She sorts the papers in piles, stopping when she observes Hardy and me watching.
“I need food.” Hardy picks up the hotel's menu and flips through it.
“Me next.” Sasha reaches her hand out and snatches the menu from Hardy’s hands. “Pizza?”
“I want meat. I need meat.” Hardy tries to take the menu back, but Sasha holds it just out of his reach.
“They have your favorite, Ash. Bbq.” Sasha says, ignoring Hardy’s attempts at trying to grab the menu from her.
“Stop! None of us want to be here, but if we don’t clean this up, we might get cleaned up. Order the fucking pizza and meat. We order all our food, and no one leaves this room until we make deals with all these people.” I put my hand on the stack of papers.
“I’ll eat the fucking pizza, but don’t order one of those small ones.” With a grunt, Hardy pushes himself up from the chair and reaches across the table to grab a stack of papers from the top.
Rising, I walk to the window, the lapping of waves filling my ears as I watch the water. This place is romantic. Maybe I’d bring Eve here to see the sunset over the ocean. Take her down to the beach and swim with her. I wonder if she can swim? It's odd how I felt like I knew everything about her, yet simultaneously knew almost nothing after such a short time. I crave knowing all the silly little things about her.
My fingers fumble for my phone, the screen illuminating the empty space where a message from Eve should be, her status stubbornly still showing "unavailable." I texted the only other person who has access to my condo.
Grace.
Ash: Can you stop by the apartment and check on Eve? We left things mad, and I’m worried about her.
Grace: Already here. Eve is, too. She’s not happy, and I don’t blame her. Really? Sasha? I can’t even. She’s packing up her shit.
There’s no way I’m losing Eve because of Sasha.