Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
“I simply cannot understand why you thought that was a good idea. What other actress, in the history of the Earth, who is known for her sweet family-friendly movies, would even think of going to a strip club and trashing her reputation?”
Ainsley closed her eyes as Rosie continued to berate her. Thank goodness this wasn’t a video call, and that she had the call on speaker. The shaking from earlier today had returned as soon as Diana had called and said a photo had been taken of Ainsley leaving the strip club, which had subsequently been leaked, which had led to Rosie’s call not five minutes later.
“Here you’ve spent all this time trying to fix your reputation, and then you go do something like this? How could you?”
When Rosie finally paused for breath Ainsley was inclined to agree with her.
What had she been thinking, trying to make a difference? Glenda might say God used broken people, but right now Ainsley felt a little too broken to be of any use to anyone ever.
She wasn’t even being any good for her career.
Rosie gasped. “Oh my goodness! There’s another one.”
“Another what?”
“Oh, Ainsley, I wouldn’t go on the internet if I were you.”
Too late. She’d already clicked on a message and stared at the image of herself. Except it wasn’t her. Anyone could tell her, um, chest wasn’t that big. Breath pinched in and out. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to photoshop her head on top of this person’s body.
Her breath constricted, and the trembling returned. “Who… who would do that to me?”
“Which one have you seen?”
“Which one? You mean there’s more than one? Oh no!”
Her phone buzzed with a new call. Her mom. She couldn’t answer. Oh, please God, don’t let her mom or Aunty Win have seen any of this. The shock might kill her aunt.
“I’m going to speak to lawyers and the police and we’re going to shut this down.” Rosie’s voice held fire.
But it was too late. People had seen those pictures, they thought it was her.
A phone ding notification was followed by Rosie swearing under her breath.
“What now?” Ainsley whispered.
“Mal is on the phone.”
Mal. The lead director of As The Heart Draws . Oh no. “What does he want?”
“Well, I’ll know as soon as I take his call. Hang tight.” She ended the call abruptly.
Tears sparked to her eyes at Rosie’s tense tone. It wasn’t Rosie’s face that had been attached to a stripper’s body. Who knew what other poses “Ainsley” was in?
“God, why is this happening to me?”
It felt like she was at the center of an ever-increasing storm of hurricane-like proportions. But this wasn’t some twister, with its peaceful eye at the center, although everything certainly felt like it was spinning out of control.
What was Mal saying to Rosie? Was he wondering if Ainsley was trying to take her character Abigail in a different direction? Hysteria escaped in a creaky laugh. He’d want to fire her. “Rest” her for a season, until the storm blew over. If it ever did. These images could never be deleted from the internet, and there would be memes made of her, people would always see this picture when the name Ainsley Beckett came up. Her career was over.
Her phone kept ringing, buzzing, jerking with notifications. She had no strength to answer it, no wish to see other images, no answers for all the questions. How could people even ask if that image was her? How was that even a question? Shouldn’t it have been obvious that she wasn’t that kind of person?
“Lord, what do I do?”
Rosie would know what to do. It was her job to know. But even talking to her felt too hard right now.
She crumpled to the carpeted floor and lay there, as the rain beat mercilessly against the window. She wished her mom was here. Or Aunty Win. Or anyone, really. Just to have arms to hug her. To shield her. To hold her. To make her remember that she wasn’t alone. To be Jesus with skin on.
“Lord?”
She closed her eyes, may have slept, she didn’t know. But when she pushed up from the floor it was with a crick in her neck and to see more missed calls from Rosie, Jason, Gwen. And Zac.
Zac. She shuddered. Oh, had he seen these pictures? How could he not have? He’d be sure to have teammates who’d pass it on to her and think it was funny.
Why was it always women who seemed to suffer the indignities of these things?
She pushed to her hands and knees, contemplated lying back down and sleeping for eternity. That would be one way to miss the apocalypse that was her career.
The doorbell rang. Well, nobody could get in here. It was probably another delivery, just like the bunch of flowers Zac had sent earlier with his kind note, in surprisingly legible handwriting, especially for a jock. He’d been so thoughtful, so kind.
The doorbell rang again. Would they keep pressing? She should answer it. Maybe someone had realized her need for food and had ordered her favorite—
Oh, who was she kidding? As if that would happen.
She moved to the door, hoping it wasn’t a neighbor, then peered through the peephole. Her eyes filled with tears as she flung it open.
“How did you know?”
Zac held up two white carrier bags. “Because I’m a very good fake boyfriend?”
She tugged him inside, and wrapped her arms around him. There was a crinkle of bags as he rearranged them then creased her in his arms. Big strong arms. Arms that held her. Arms that could shield her. Arms that protected. All wrapped up in care and concern that felt a lot like Jesus with skin on.
“I’m sorry this has happened,” he murmured into her hair.
“Me too.” Her voice, her body, shuddered. “I can’t seem to catch a break.”
He clutched her a little closer, as if trying to impart his strength to her. “I’ve heard Josiah Abrahams, he’s the pastor who sometimes leads our Bible studies, say that the moment of greatest pressure is just before the breakthrough.”
“I don’t know how much more pressure I can take,” she whispered.
He was quiet for a moment, and she could hear his heart thud steadily. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. This man might be considered an elite athlete who created fireworks on the ice, but he was steady, sure, and strong.
“You can cope with the pressure.” His voice rumbled through her. “The Bible says that we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us.”
So it did. She closed her eyes, swiped away more tears.
“The pressures don’t change the reality that God is with you, and you’re loved by Him.”
Oh, that was true too. “How do you know all this? Especially when you’re a new Christian?”
“I’m trying to read my Bible more. And listen to it when I travel or go for a run.”
Just like the kind of guy she once said she’d wanted her to “husband” her.
Her heart flickered. Oh, he was a good man. She didn’t deserve him.
She drew back, turned away. “I must look like such a mess. I’m pretty sure I fell asleep in the carpet and now have drool on my face.”
“I wasn’t going to mention the little hairball here.” He pointed to the side of his mouth.
“What?” She glanced at the foyer’s mirror. Saw he’d been teasing. Then realized her makeup really had given her raccoon eyes. “I look terrible. I really need to have a shower.”
“Go for it. I wasn’t gonna say anything.”
She chuckled, then realized what he was doing: trying to distract her, to cheer her up, to get her focus off something awful. The fact that he’d done all of this for her made him so special. “I won’t be long.”
“It’s okay. Louie and I can get to know each other better.”
“If you want to eat, you can grab some plates and things from the kitchen. Make yourself at home.”
“Okay.” He smiled at her, with tenderness it seemed.
Her heart squeezed a little more. “Thank you for coming,” she whispered.
“I had to. I figured you could do with a friend.”
A friend . That’s who Zac was. That’s all who Zac was. Because apart from that hug before, there was nothing he did that was very different to what she might do with Cassie or even Mack. She kept reminding herself of that as she scrubbed her makeup off then had a super quick shower, did her hair and makeup and returned to find him setting up the food on the dining table, talking to a meowing Louie as he did.
“I’m sure your mommy will be out soon and can tell us where your food is.”
“In the basket above the fridge.” She stifled a smile as Zac turned around.
Then swallowed a lump as his expression softened. “You look a little more relaxed now.”
She picked at the hem of her favorite comfy top, the green sweater with sheep on it she’d picked up in England after shooting a movie in the Cotswolds. “Today has been so stressful.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
She was tempted to do so for a moment, then shook her head. She couldn’t expose her shameful weakness to him. Then he’d always have something to hold over her, just like Baden did.
“It’s okay,” he said softly. “Whatever it is, God is still in control.”
How did he keep doing that? It was like he and Glenda were on the same wavelength. Or they talked to the same God, at least.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
“I just had somebody else today tell me something very similar.”
“Must be something God wants you to hear.”
Maybe.
He waited a moment, like he wasn’t sure whether she was going to spill the beans, then finally nodded. “Okay, come on. Let’s eat.”
He held her hands, prayed, and they dug in.
He’d brought a selection of what he’d called healthier Chinese options, and she had to admit that they tasted pretty good. He also insisted on her leaving her phone aside, and watching something mindless on TV. She was tempted to ask if he’d ever watched any of her go-to comfort movies or TV shows, but figured a big, tough hockey player probably wasn’t ever going to want to watch Pride and Prejudice or Escape to the Country . Instead, when he asked for her preference, she suggested Lincoln Cash’s new detective show. It was set in New York, though filmed in Toronto, and it was fun to watch it with Zac, their socked feet on the coffee table, sharing a blanket, with Louie prancing between them, like he was a feline chaperone.
The pilot episode turned into two more, and it was getting pretty late by the time she caught him smothering a yawn.
“Thank you for this. It was just what I needed.”
He nodded to the TV. “That wasn’t bad. I don’t mind me some justice.”
His words spun her mind back to the injustice she’d faced earlier, the images, the scandal, her career. He seemed to sense her fears as he drew a little closer. “You’ll be fine.”
“But everyone will think that’s me,” she whispered.
“Only the blind ones.” A beat passed. Then his cheeks pinked. “Wait, I, um, I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”
So if he wasn’t talking about her lack of a triple E-sized chest, then, “What did you mean?”
His eyes stayed on hers. “I mean, it was obviously the same picture as from the White Night.”
“How could you tell?”
Zac stared at her. “I could never forget.”
Her breath hitched. Then hitched some more as he held her hand. But he possessed it gently, reverently, like she was precious to him. Which was clearly taking the fake boyfriendness to levels she could never repay. She didn’t deserve him.
Ainsley’s phone buzzed. She needed to silence all notifications. Or allow for only certain people’s messages to come through. Like Mom’s. Mack’s. Diana’s. And Zac’s.
“I wonder…”
“Wonder what?”
“Have you heard from your agent about what to do next?”
She groaned. “She’s tried to call a bunch of times, but I’d run out of energy to talk to anyone. She was talking about contacting a lawyer, contacting the police, all kinds of things, it was so overwhelming. Last I heard she was talking to Mal, who is the director of As The Heart Draws . He was not happy.”
“Hey, it wasn’t your fault,” he said.
“It was my decision to go to the strip club to begin with.”
“To be a blessing to those women,” he reminded her.
“Yes, but—”
“To be a blessing to those women.”
She nodded. And look how well that had turned out. She slumped, and he moved slightly, like in a silent invitation for her to tuck her head on his shoulder. So she did. And closed her eyes. Savored the quiet peace she found with him, until one of the roiling questions popped back into awareness and begged to be asked. “Why were you asking about Rosie before?”
“I was just thinking that here are these people trying to do you harm, so what could be better than proving you’re okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, someone somewhere spent a lot of time trying to hurt you. Their actions were mean and petty, and designed to upset you. I think it could be good to prove them wrong, to show that they didn’t hurt you as much as they thought they could.”
She blinked. “Are you serious? You mean let them get away with it?”
“I mean you ignore it. Don’t give it any oxygen to breathe.”
“But don’t you think it needs to be addressed?”
“I think you’ll see it gets addressed by plenty of others. It sounds like your agent is on the job, and the police will find those responsible. You might not have stayed on social media long enough to see the trolls getting their posts taken down, and various men and women out there standing up for you.”
“They are?”
“Mm-hmm. While you were taking a shower I got a message from Diana to say that even your As The Heart Draws fans are up in arms. You’re a popular lady. So let them fight your battles for you.”
“I don’t know. It feels like they’re getting away with it.”
“I’m sure your agent and the police won’t let that happen.”
She sighed. Maybe she did have some people around her, supporting her.
“I know this wasn’t targeting me, but I think your best response is to treat it with humor or let them see it doesn’t bother you.”
Wow. “You mean like turning the other cheek?”
“I hate to admit I don’t really know what Jesus would do in this situation. But maybe?”
Hmm. Maybe. “So you suggest just let the storm rage, but show I’m not bothered?”
“Exactly.”
“But how do we do that?”
He faced her. “Would you mind if we took a photo?”
“Of us?”
He nodded. “It could be good to show people that you’re happy. That we’re happy. Like you haven’t even noticed.”
Louie meowed again, and she stroked his head. “I mean, I suppose it is flattering to have someone imagine I look like that under…” Her cheeks grew hot. It was probably best not to finish that sentence.
“You’re beautiful just as you are.”
“Even in my slouchy at-home clothes?”
“I think you’re beautiful when you’re all dressed up, but even more when you’re relaxed like now.”
Her chest tightened. He was so kind to her. So encouraging. Wise, even.
Then what he’d said earlier sparked humor. She snickered.
“What is it?”
“What you said before about treating it with humor. I was just imagining a male equivalent to my stripper shot.”
“Mmm, I’m not really sure you should be imagining that.”
“Come on. Don’t you think it’d be funny to have your head stuck on a body wearing tiny green sparkly shorts?” she teased. “You could be pumped up to the max, and everyone could see your amazing body, with muscles on the muscles you already have.”
“I’m not sure that’s a sight I want anyone to see. Except my wife, one day.” He winked.
Her heart fluttered. She broke the connection. “Okay, so that’s a no?”
“That’s a hard no.” He paused. “Besides, I don’t own a pair of sparkly green shorts. Although after his dancing career, maybe Luc Blanchard does.”
She laughed, and he smiled, and maybe she laughed a little harder than his comment warranted, but it felt really cleansing after the stress of the day. She picked up her phone. Handed it to him. “Can you take a selfie of us?”
“I think we both know the answer to that question.”
He took a snap, and she didn’t care if she seemed fussy over getting the perfect picture. After all, with so many imperfect ones floating around the internet, this girl right now was entitled to try hard.
“See?” He pointed to the picture she finally chose. The two of them, smiling at the camera, Louie between them, like a cozy picture of domesticity. “This says you are relaxed at home, with nothing to worry about. Like you’re not even trying to glam up to prove someone wrong.”
It did. And she could see his point. Posting a picture like that would take the wind out of the sails of her nemesis.
“Do you think your agent would be okay with you posting that?”
“She’s always saying she wants more pics of us together, so this would be perfect.”
“Okay then.” He paused, then glanced at her. “Do you have a picture from the White Night?”
“Of course.” She scrolled to the photos from that night when they’d first met. Found her favorite, a still from the Glam Guru shoot. The one that had been butchered by the evil photoshopper. “I loved this photo.” In this moment when she’d felt confident and free.
“You look so poised and strong.” He tapped it. “I think your Glam guy will be suing for copyright infringements from photo-fail dude.”
“Good.”
“Maybe what you could do is to post that picture as well, like a side-by-side, of the glam photo they used your head for, then post this one of us. That way those who saw the photoshopped one will see it’s obviously cut from this picture, and you could say something like—”
“As much as I love glamming up I love snuggling up even more.”
“That’d work.”
“And it would even be true.”
“You like snuggling up?” His voice was low.
“I like this. With you. Being relaxed like this. As much as I like the outcome of those events, it’s not exactly relaxing, is it?”
“It’s still work, even if most people think it’s play.”
“Exactly! Like, I’m super happy to support good causes, but I hate starving myself just so I can look good in a photo.”
“You don’t need to starve yourself, Ainsley. I meant it before. You’re beautiful as you are.”
Her heart skipped several beats, and she had to lower her head, to pretend to focus on her phone. “What was the wording we said before?” she asked, as she prepared her post.
“As much as I love glamming up I love snuggling up even more.” His voice held a rasp.
She tagged him and posted it, then he retrieved his phone and shared it to his followers.
“You’re really media savvy, aren’t you?”
“I’ve had to learn to be.” The light in his face faded. “There are people out there who don’t want to see others succeed.”
For sure.
“But we’re not going to let them win, are we?”
She lifted her chin and squeezed his hand. “They’ve got no chance against us.”
* * *
It was funny how two little letters could form such a powerful word. Us.
Tonight had felt like an us . When he’d showed up with food and Michael had let him in, expressing concern for Ainsley, he hadn’t been sure this was the right thing to do. Until he had seen her and been sure. Seen her relief. Seen her fears fade. He might be the fake boyfriend, but he really hoped moments like this could help her see that they could be real.
Everything had felt real. Real pain. Real ache. Then real peace. Real laughter. Maybe it was his prayers, or those of Chris and Diana, or multitudes of her fans. She seemed so much better than when he arrived, and he’d like to think he was responsible for some of that. He suspected it was more God working in her heart.
Her beautiful heart. Soft with compassion for others. Sensitive to hurts. A beautiful heart that was reflected in her face, and life and legacy. If only she could believe it.
Seeing her relaxed in this way made him feel like she might end up believing it one day. That God could somehow use this moment of awfulness for His purposes. That her post could be a way of letting grace get in the middle of this heart-wrenching situation. Too often he’d seen this kind of thing turn into a combative dark tunnel of trolls, where anger and fear motivated commentary and slashed with words that cut.
Ainsley’s post by way of contrast felt like soothing balm. Thank God for inspiring that thought.
He watched as her eyelids got heavy. He’d stay all night if he could—on the sofa—just to make sure she didn’t suffer from any bad dreams. But from the way her blinks became longer, sleep probably wasn’t too far away. Which meant he needed to go. Especially as he had to catch a plane tomorrow.
“When can I next come and watch you play?”
“Well, you could come to Seattle and watch me tomorrow night if you wanted.”
She smiled. Then looked thoughtful. “Maybe I could.”
His heart trickled with excitement. “Really?”
“We finish shooting at five, so I could see about catching a flight. What time does the game start?”
“Eight.”
She nodded. “And did I hear a rumor that you might be playing at the All-Star game?”
“It’s in Minnesota, in the first week of February. Why?”
Her look held shyness. “Would you like me to come?”
“Are you kidding?” Get the chance to show off his skills in front of her? Maybe impress her a little bit more? “I’d love for you to come.”
“You don’t think it would be awkward? I don’t want it to turn into a circus or anything.”
“Sorry babe, but this is one gig when I’ll likely be the bigger star of the show.”
“The starriest of the All-Stars, huh?”
“You know it.” He rolled his eyes.
Her lips tweaked up. “I suspect we’ll have wrapped up shooting, so I should be free by then.”
He internally fist-pumped.
“And it’d be great for everyone to see we’re still together, after all.”
His heart fell.