8. Endorsement
8
ENDORSEMENT
Mara
Scarlet waited until the door closed behind Ford before she whirled to face me. “What was all that about?”
“What was all what about?” I deadpanned, hoping to buy time while I tried to make sense of what had just happened. Had Ford and I actually kissed? Had he really asked me out? And had I actually turned him down? The hottest guy I’d spoken with in—forever?
One part of me wanted to scream in protest, like a kid who’d just had a toy torn away, while another part of me was convinced I’d done the right thing.
Besides, he’d probably take that movie deal and head back to Los Angeles where he could date gorgeous actresses and attend film openings.
A little voice in my head screamed that I’d just made another horrible decision fueled by self-doubt, but I ignored it as I rang up Scarlet’s order.
“Don’t play dumb with me,” Scarlet said. “The tension between the two of you was so thick I thought it would smother me.”
I forced a false bravado as I slid Watchmen into a bag. She was way too perceptive for my own good. “Chill. I shut down emotionally when I get nervous. Don’t judge me.”
“What’s going on? Spill it.”
I heaved a sigh. The last thing I wanted to do was explain myself when I didn’t understand why the hell I’d just done what I’d done. Unfortunately, Scarlet could be as tenacious as a Dalek—minus the whole chasing down Dr. Who and all the humans while shrieking “exterminate” bit. I might as well tell her and get it over with. “Ford asked me out, and I turned him down. End of story.”
Scarlet’s jaw dropped. “Why the hell would you turn down Ford Ross? Are you insane ? The man is gorgeous, talented, and a genuinely great guy.”
I stilled, but I couldn’t hide my grimace of dismay. Scarlet’s ‘genuinely great guy’ comment made me doubt myself all the more, but then I gave myself a mental shake. Even if he was the nicest guy on the planet, the two of us would never work. He planned to go back to Los Angles.
I handed her the shopping bag.
“Why should I waste my time with him? He lives in L.A. I live in Pittsburgh. Besides, he’s a player. I’m a one-man kind of woman. I’m not going to spend my precious free time with some guy who’s only looking for something temporary. I’m too busy as it is.” Even as I spoke, I realized I was ignoring his claim that all those “dates” had been work events. Why was I lying both to myself and to Scarlet?
“You’re wrong about him,” she insisted. Seeing my doubt and confusion, she offered, “Why not say yes? It’s obvious you’re into him. And he’s clearly into you. Why not go out with him and see where things go? I’m not suggesting you marry him, for cripes sake. I’m just saying the two of you could have some fun together. He’d be a perfect antidote to that jerk you used to see. They’re complete opposites. Besides,” she leaned in and lowered her voice, even though we were alone, “a few sessions of amazingly hot sex would do you worlds of good.”
Something unexpected zinged through my belly, but I shoved it down—way down. I gave a derisive snort as I rounded the counter to stand next to her. “You make Ford sound like he’s a pro at it, but I’m not interested in something temporary.”
“It might be temporary, or it might not. You won’t know if you don’t try. You’re in your prime. You should be knocking boots with someone hot. Someone like Ford.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not going out with some player—some temporary fuck boy—just because you think he’s hot. I want more than that.”
Zing. Apparently, my stupid libido disagreed, because it gave me another jolt at the thought of sleeping with Ford. I needed to focus harder on wrestling it into submission and locking it into a deep, cold sleep.
Scarlet stilled. “ Fuck boy ?” she repeated in a near whisper, scandalized. “Ford? I don’t think so. That’s definitely not the person I know. I can tell you have a low opinion of him, but you’re wrong. Is it because of those red-carpet photos Rose mentioned?”
I shrugged halfheartedly. He’d already explained away the photos. Why was I clinging to my own version of what they indicated? Still, Scarlet deserved some sort of explanation. “I searched for him on Here’s the Scoop . They have loads of photos of him, and he’s with a different woman in every single one. That means he’s a fuck boy, through and through.”
Scarlet gave a small shudder and then shook her head emphatically. “I hate that term, and I really don’t think it describes him. Back in high school, he was a really decent guy. I can’t believe he would change that much.”
Relief washed through me. I must still have doubted him. But—how could Scarlet be so certain he was a good person? “I thought you said you didn’t know him that well.”
Scarlet looked doubtful. “I don’t think I said that. We went to different schools, so we might not have seen each other every day, but we were still friends.” She seemed to consider something and then gave a nod as she came to a decision. “I have a story to tell you, but you’ll have to promise to keep it between us.”
“Of course.” The promise was an easy one. I’d never repeat something a friend told me in confidence. Doing so was a surefire way to destroy trust along with that relationship.
“You probably heard that my parents died when their private plane crashed while my dad was running for Congress.”
Rose had told me about the incident, but I’d never asked Scarlet about it since it’s not the kind of thing you bring up in conversation. “I have. I’m so sorry,” I said, feeling awkward.
Scarlet nodded, barely registering my words. “You also know my uncle is a senator. After the crash, my aunt moved in with me while I finished my senior year of high school here in Sewickley. My uncle stayed in DC. It was a tough time for me—well, it was tough for all of us, but I wasn’t handling my parents’ deaths well. Auntie Em did her best to be supportive, but I was spinning out of control.”
Scarlet crossed her arms tightly and her unfocused gaze turned inward on what had to be painful memories. “I acted out a lot. Mostly, I got drunk. I don’t know what would’ve happened to me if I’d moved to DC. I probably would’ve wrapped my car around a tree. As it was, I’m pretty lucky that didn’t happen. I have my conversation with Ford to thank for turning me around.”
I frowned as my image of a competent and pulled-together Scarlet Smith underwent a dramatic transformation. Now I pictured the lost and lonely teen, and my heart broke for her. “I think I can still see bits of that willful, heartbroken child in you, but these days you only unleash her in certain situations. You’re meticulous about every detail in your life—always in control. Always image conscious.”
“Now I am. I focus on being mindful. But back then, I partied every single weekend—weeknights, too, if I could get away with it. If I couldn’t find a party at a friend’s house in town, I’d meet up at Pitt with some older classmates I’d known in high school, and we’d find something to do in the city or on campus. I might have only been seventeen, but it was easy to get drunk whenever I wanted to, and I wanted to all the time.”
I pictured Scarlet—wild—desperate—brokenhearted and out of control. “Your aunt didn’t stop you?”
“She tried, but what could she do? The poor woman was beside herself and had no idea how to get through to me. I was grieving and lost, and I refused to talk to anyone about it.”
I knew exactly how that felt, because losing Chance had had a similar effect on me. I’d been cast adrift. He’d been my defender—my anchor—and without him, I was lost. Scarlet and I had more in common than I’d realized. Grief had caused both of us to fall apart and lose our way.
Scarlet distractedly plucked a package of Magic the Gathering packs from my display stand, stared at it in consternation, and then shoved it haphazardly back onto the rack. “The Saturday after Thanksgiving, my friends and I went to a house party at a place some Pitt students were renting.
“I saw Ford there, but we just nodded and went our separate ways.” She shivered. “It was a nasty night. Cold and blustery. I remember drinking something hot that was laced with alcohol and cinnamon. It warmed me up, but really did a number on me. Later that night, the police showed up, trying to break up the party. I was drunk, but not completely wasted. Since I was only seventeen and my uncle was a senator, I knew I needed to get out of there or the story could end up all over the news.”
My chest tightened as I imagined how frightened she must have been. A mistake like hers could have happened to anyone in her situation, but her uncle’s status would have made the fallout a million times worse.
“I lost track of my friends as everyone tried to get out of the house,” Scarlet recalled with worry in her eyes. “I wasn’t sure how I’d get home. I’d just found my coat where I’d left it in the kitchen when Ford came into the room behind me. He said he’d seen me zoom past him and came looking for me to make sure I was okay.” She hesitated.
“What happened?” I asked, hanging on every word.
“When we heard heavy footsteps approaching, we hustled out the kitchen door and down the back steps. I think we barely avoided getting caught. We escaped down a snowy alley and headed down the street to his car.
“I still remember how lovely the police lights looked as they flashed across the snow—and how frightened I was to see the footprints we’d left coming out the door. They’d merged with all the other footprints on the slushy sidewalk though. As we drove away, I spotted the friends I’d come with climbing into their car, so I knew they’d gotten out as well. I sent them a text so they’d know I was safe.
“Ford and I were exhilarated by our near miss. Wired. We were laughing like crazy. We headed to an all-night diner and stayed there for a couple of hours, discussing all sorts of things—school, friends, holiday plans—eventually we got to the subject of what we wanted out of life. Our dreams. Our fears.”
She finally turned to face me again, but when she looked into my eyes, I could tell a part of her was still caught up in that night.
“Ford already had his life planned out. He wanted to direct films.” She laughed. “Movies were his favorite thing to talk about—probably still are. He loved to dissect each one he saw, analyzing plot points and camera angles and film techniques and lighting choices.” Scarlet painted a vivid image of a young, enthusiastic Ford Ross that completely entranced me. “I’m sure a lot of that had to do with his father’s influence.
“But he also mentioned things about the movie industry that turned him off. That’s the part I wanted you to know about. He hated the way certain directors forced people to do things—like have sex—in order to advance their careers.”
“The casting couch,” I said with a grimace.
“Exactly. Ford was big on loyalty, even back then. He didn’t see people as being disposable, or replaceable. I can’t imagine he’s changed so much that he’s now the kind of guy who uses women and then tosses them aside. It isn’t part of his moral code. Don’t assume he’s untrustworthy simply because you have trust issues.”
Ouch. Is that the way she saw me? That I had trust issues? I pinned my flaky behavior on problems with my own self-confidence. Trust though… that was an interesting take.
Scarlet picked up her purchase and tucked it into her large purse.
What she’d said tracked with what Ford had told me earlier. At the time, I’d pretended to myself that he’d been lying—but even as I’d tried to fool myself, part of me had known he’d been telling the truth. A part I’d willfully ignored. Was I so messed up by my relationship with Doug that I couldn’t trust anyone? How could I be that screwed up?
Scarlet slid her purse onto her shoulder. “There are moments in life that shape our futures. That night, Ford and I talked about my goals too. He helped me realize I wasn’t only sabotaging myself, but also hurting my aunt and uncle, who were doing everything they could to help me. I could have destroyed my uncle’s career that night. Plus, my parents would have been devastated if they’d known their deaths had made me throw away the opportunities they’d given me in life. I decided that night I needed to become a better version of myself.”
“Because talking with Ford…”
“…changed me,” she finished for me. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t have the wrong idea about the man. I think you might not trust your own instincts after Doug betrayed you, so let me make this clear. Ford is a stand-up guy, not the sort who uses people and discards them. Don’t believe the things you read in Here’s the Scoop . That thing is nothing but a scandal rag.”
My guilt for mischaracterizing him soured my stomach. “I get it,” I said. “And I believe you when you say that he’s not a player. He’s a good person.”
Every part of me screamed “take a chance,” and I pressed my lips together to hold back my words. But they still came out. “The man still has one fatal flaw. He isn’t planning on sticking around.”
As Scarlet looked into my eyes, her hopeful expression faded. With a sigh, she turned to the door, but then hesitated and turned back to look at me. “One last thing for you to think about, and then I’ll drop it.” Her clear blue eyes seemed to bore into me. “You’ll never know what the two of you might have together if you don’t even bother to take a chance.”
Long after she left, those words lingered, bouncing around in my head.“You’ll never know what the two of you might have together if you don’t even bother to take a chance.”
I sighed, leaning against the counter, my eyes drifting over the rows of comics. The store looked the same as always—familiar, comforting. But that sense of comfort felt more like a heavy blanket, one I’d been hiding under for too long.
Chance’s legacy.
Was that what I was really holding on to? Or was it something else? Maybe I was just afraid of what would happen if I let myself want more. If I admitted that this store—his dream—wasn’t enough for me.
I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they clung like stubborn cobwebs.
This was about Ford, wasn’t it? He’d walked into my life, flashing that cocky smile, and suddenly everything felt… off. Out of place. Like I was supposed to want more than what I had. But maybe it wasn’t just him. Maybe it was something I’d been feeling long before he showed up.
Zephyr nudged my ankle, and I glanced down at him, smiling despite myself. He didn’t care about my existential crisis—he just wanted a treat.
I crouched down and scratched behind his ears. “You don’t think I’m making a mistake, do you, buddy?”
He yawned in response.
As I stood up, a knot of guilt tightened in my chest. Maybe I was making a mistake by turning Ford down, but letting someone new into my life felt like a risk I wasn’t ready to take. Not when I still wasn’t sure what I really wanted. Or if I even deserved it.
I grabbed my keys and headed for the door, flipping the sign to “Closed.” But as I locked up and stepped outside, a nagging thought tugged at the edges of my mind.
Was I really just afraid of getting involved with Ford? Or was I afraid of what that would mean for everything else I’d built my life around?