Chapter 32
Ashlyn
The day after our zoo adventure, I spend my morning and early afternoon sitting at the park.
It’s not far from Beverly Hills, and a lot of celebrities frequent there.
Probably because of the running trails and proximity to coffee shops.
So I go for a walk in workout gear, a baseball cap and sunglasses to hide my face as much as possible.
Then I casually snap photos of public figures as they jog by.
I know what the headlines will say.
Jenny Devrise going for a morning run to keep her beach bod for Salty Tides season two.
Carmen Michaels and James Richards seen for the second time together, this time with dogs in tow. Are they living together as everyone suspects?
My job is creepy; I am well aware. I guess that’s why I do my best to take the least invasive photos possible. They’re interesting enough to pause the doom-scrollers. I don’t feel as guilty about these photos as I do about some of the things Deborah asks me for.
Ever since the completely out of character phone call, I’ve been in my head.
I’ve known since she handed me the new camera what strings were going to be attached.
I’ve done my best to avoid them, playing dumb by sending her photos that are hot, but not juicy and certainly not what she was asking for.
That only worked for so long, and now there’s an ultimatum involved. The phone call was proof of that.
So I have Demi meet me at the park after snapping enough photos that I can say I did work today. I need someone to talk to, and I know she knows something is up.
“How was work?” She asks as she stretches like we are going on some adrenaline-spiking run or something. “Any life ruining photos?”
“Not unless Robin Shores spilling her protein shake down her shirt would actually be life ruining,” I say as I tuck my camera away.
“I mean, for her, that sounds like a bad day. Those HGTV girls have to have it all together all the time, you know,” she smiles.
Demi is dressed similarly to me. The only difference is our motives for appearing anonymous.
I hide my appearance from the public because I am low-key taking candid photos of people.
She hides because even though it’s been a minute since she was on Billionaire Hearts, people still recognize her as the girl who walked away alone by choice.
“How’s the baby?” she asks as we start walking.
“Happy. Fussy. Messy. Curious. Adorable,” I say with a smile. “He’s been trying to hold his own bottle, which has been amazing. And he can almost sit up on his own.”
“Little stinker,” she smiles. “And Zane?”
“What about him?” I ask and Demi tosses me a look. I smile.
“He’s good. Things are really good,” I say.
“So nothing happened on the carousel?” she asks.
“What do you mean?” I ask even though I know where this is going. I might be able to hide my entire life from the public, but I can’t hide shit from Demi.
“I’m talking about how things were going amazing at the zoo and then two seconds later you looked like you were going to puke.”
“So, the phone call I got? While Zane was changing Bentley? It was my boss,” I explain.
“Prudy called you on your day off?” she asks with disgust.
“No. My boss. It was Deborah,” I say, and her expression shifts to surprise.
“What?”
“Yep,” I nod, kicking rocks along the dirt path.
“Since when does the Queen Bee lower herself enough to make a phone call?”
“Since she wanted to personally demand I get candid, shady photos of Zane without him knowing,” I say.
“What?”
I nod. “And if I don’t do it, I have to find a new job,” I tell her.
“Ashlyn, that’s basically blackmail,” she says.
“It’s basically the paparazzi business,” I say.
“God, you guys suck,” she shakes her head. “No offense.”
“None taken,” I smile sourly.
“You know what? Nevermind her. She’s like the witch handing Sleeping Beauty the poisonous apple.
You’re fucked if you do and you’re fucked if you don’t,” she says.
I love when she gets her Disney movies mixed up; it’s cute.
Snow White was the apple; Sleeping Beauty was the pricked finger.
Obviously, I know what she means. So I just agree.
“Yeah,”
“So…what are you going to do?” she asks.
“I don’t know. But I know what I’m not going to do,” I answer. “I’m not taking those photos. I’m not that kind of person. Not only that, but I could never, considering everything.”
“Everything?” she asks as her lips quirk in a smile.
“Yeah…” I say, matching her expression. “I love him, Demi.”
“I know you do,” she says.
“I know it’s crazy. He used to drive me crazy. But the more I get to know him, the less I can avoid that fact. Honestly, I don’t even want to ignore it anymore.”
“And Bentley?” she asks, although guessing by the look in her eyes, she already knows the answer to that.
“I love him too. So much,” I admit with a shaky voice.
“The idea that someone could just leave him blows my mind. The moment I saw him, my heart just kind of took over. And now, I can’t imagine losing him,” I say before pausing.
I need to swallow back the lump in my throat before going on, and Demi’s teary eyes aren’t helping.
“If this is the closest I am going to come to motherhood, it’s good enough,” I tell her. “I love him like he’s my own.”
Demi laugh-cries and pulls me into a hug. “I love this. I love all of it for you,” she says.
“Even though you don’t believe in romance or happily ever after?” I ask.
“I never said I don’t believe in it,” she says. “I just don’t want it for me. But you deserve it. The man. The family. You deserve it more than anyone, Ash. And I’m so happy for you.”
We pull apart after a long moment, both of us wiping our eyes. Then we keep walking.
“So, are you going to tell him?” she asks. “That you love him?”
I think about that with a smile. “I am. But I want to make it special.”
“Just don’t do it during sex,” she says. “Saying I love you while you’re banging someone is so tacky.”
I laugh. “No, I’d like it to be more…excuse my choice of words…romantic.”
“You’re excused. And I think you should. Make it over the top. It’s not every day that an ordinary girl gets a fairy tale ending,” she says. As silly as that sounds, everything in me wants to believe it could be true.
After I get back in my car, I sit there for a moment, smiling about the conversation we just had.
Then I take my camera out of the case and stare at it, turning it over in my hands.
It’s wild what cameras used to be to me and what they are now.
I put it back in the bag and set it aside on the passenger seat.
Then I pull out my phone and dial a number I never thought I’d dial.
Honestly, I don’t expect her to answer. I expect voicemail or for Prudy to answer or–
“Ashlyn,” Deborah’s voice comes through the phone, and for a second, I freeze. “Tell me you have good news. Or better yet, photos.”
“I do have good news,” I tell her.
“Thank goodness,”
“But I’m afraid it’s not going to be good news for you.”
“What are you talking about?” she snaps.
“I’m talking about you asking me to betray Zane’s trust,” I answer.
“And? That’s what you do. You’re a paparazzi photog–”
“No. You’re wrong,” I cut her off. “That’s what you do. But I’m not doing it. Not anymore. I never wanted to work in paparazzi. I wanted to work in celebrity journalism. But you didn’t think I could do that.”
“Of course I didn’t think you could do it. You can’t get simple photos of a man you are literally sharing a shower with,” she says.
“You see, that’s the thing, Deborah. That’s not photography.
And it’s definitely not art. It’s an infringement on people’s privacy.
You do know that’s what celebrities are, right?
People? And you might be able to sleep at night knowing that you’re ruining people’s lives, but I’m not,” I say, taking a silent breath in after letting it all out.
“Art? Whoever said anything about art?” she scoffs. “Art doesn’t make money, darling. But you wouldn’t know anything about that.”
“Maybe not. But I’m good never finding out.”
“What are you saying exactly?” she asks, and I can literally hear in her voice that her eyes are narrowed.
“I’m saying…that I quit,” I say. “That’s it, Deborah. You can have the camera back because I quit.”
“You bet your amateur ass I get the camera back. Overnight it to me. I’ll get my photos one way or another,” she hisses, and the line goes dead.
For a moment, I just sit there, breathing like I just swam twenty laps in Zane’s pool. Then I laugh a high-pitched, crazy laugh. Because I did it. I’m done. And while I have no plan for what I’m going to do next, I’ve never felt so sure of my life.