Fifteen
Now
‘Oh my god, oh my god, I am so sorry,’ Molly hissed, her face flushed a violent crimson as she scrambled to find purchase on the fabric of Ashley’s trousers. ‘My heel, the dress… I’m a human wrecking ball.’
The paparazzi were in an absolute feeding frenzy. The shutter clicks sounding like a volley of automatic gunfire, everyone getting every angle on Ashley’s exposed bra and stomach.
But as Ashley looked down at Molly—who was currently trying to untangle her stilettos from her dress with all the grace of a newborn giraffe—the panic slipped away. This wasn’t Reva’s malevolent attack. It was just Molly falling over and exposing Ashley’s bra.
A bubble of air escaped Ashley’s lips. A gasp. Then, a snort.
‘Ashley?’ Molly whispered, freezing in her undignified sprawl, eyes wide with horror. ‘Are you crying?’
‘No,’ Ashley choked out, pressing a hand over her mouth. ‘No, I’m...’
She couldn’t stop it. A full, breathless laugh burst out of her.
It was absurd. It was completely, utterly ridiculous.
The Reva incident had been a malicious act of destruction.
But this? This was just slapstick. Molly looked so genuinely appalled, her expensive updo completely undone, a stray piece of glitter from a nearby display somehow stuck to her cheek.
‘You’re laughing,’ Molly accused.
‘You... you took out a photographer,’ Ashley managed to wheeze, extending a hand to help leverage Molly upward.
‘He shouldn’t have been standing there,’ Molly muttered, finally managing to get her feet under her, though she tottered dangerously until Ashley’s arm securely locked around her waist. She looked like she was trying not to grin.
The talent wranglers were already swarming them like a tactical response team. Hands grabbed at them, brushing them off, pushing them, whispering frantic instructions to just keep moving, head inside, don’t look back.
Ashley kept her grip tight on Molly’s waist, practically carrying her up the remaining steps and through the heavy glass doors of the cinema. The moment the chaotic roar of the press was cut off by the thick, carpeted quiet of the lobby, they both slumped against a velvet-lined pillar.
‘Well,’ Molly said, her voice shaking slightly as she kicked off the offending heels and picked them up in her hands. ‘That certainly got their attention.’
Ashley looked at Molly, whose hair was now a wild halo around her face. The toxic ghost of Reva, which had hovered over Ashley for months, felt suddenly thin.
‘Come on,’ Ashley said, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of her lips for the first time in what felt like centuries.
‘You want to go into the movie?’ Molly asked, surprised. ‘I thought we were just doing the carpet.’
‘Well, we’re here. Might as well see it. If you want to,’ Ashley said, trying to sound casual.
Molly shrugged. ‘Okay. But I’m not putting these fuckers back on,’ Molly said, holding the offending shoes aloft.
‘I wouldn’t dream of asking,’ Ashley said.
And they walked through the lobby and into the screen, Molly barefoot.
Five Years Ago
Ashley woke up first because Molly’s house wouldn’t allow anyone to sleep properly.
At first, she wasn’t entirely sure what had dragged her out of unconsciousness. Then somebody slammed a door hard enough to register on the Richter scale. A second later, a voice shouted something unintelligible from downstairs.
Another voice shouted back, ‘I haven’t seen them! What the bloody hell would I want with adhesive rhinestones?’
Ashley opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, orienting herself. The ceiling stared back. It was yellowing in places. There appeared to be a crack running from one corner to the other.
This wasn’t her flat. The mattress was lumpy. The room was unfamiliar. There was a woman asleep beside her.
Ah. Right. The woman. Molly.
Ashley turned her head slightly. Molly was still asleep, curled onto her side with one arm tucked beneath the pillow. Her caramel-brown locks had escaped in every possible direction during the night. She looked surprisingly peaceful, considering the volume of events around her.
Another door slammed. Molly didn’t move. It was truly remarkable.
Ashley found herself smiling. Which was silly because she’d already identified several reasons she ought to be slightly concerned about the situation.
For one thing, she’d known Molly for one night.
For another, they’d slept together. And Ashley did not leap into bed with people.
She liked to plan such things. When she bought a guitar, she spent three weeks researching it, and when she first became interested in someone, she weighed the pros and cons for months.
And yet she’d somehow met Molly Sullivan in a pub toilet, fallen spectacularly in love with her face, and ended up in bed before conducting any proper due diligence.
The problem was that every time Ashley tried to imagine making a different decision, she couldn’t. She could no more imagine not sleeping with Molly than she could imagine refusing oxygen.
A floorboard creaked loudly somewhere overhead. Ashley frowned. How was there an upstairs? Weren’t they on the top floor?
Beside her, Molly groaned softly and buried her face deeper into the pillow. Then one eye opened.
She looked at Ashley. Ashley looked at her. Molly smiled.
It was unfair how quickly that smile worked.
‘Morning,’ she mumbled.
‘Morning.’
Molly squinted at her.
‘You look like you’re solving a murder.’
Ashley rolled her eyes. ‘I’m just thinking.’
Molly’s smile widened. ‘What are you thinking about?’
Ashley hesitated. The truthful answer was: whether sleeping with you immediately was reckless or inevitable.
The truthful answer sounded insane.
‘Your house is loud,’ she said instead.
Molly laughed. ‘That’s what you were thinking about?’
‘Actually...’ Ashley glanced around again. ‘I was just wondering how many people live here.’
‘Five.’
‘Five?’
‘I didn’t include me. Six.’
Ashley turned back towards her. ‘That’s a lot.’
‘There may be a seventh.’
‘May?’
Molly shrugged. ‘Our landlords are shady as fuck. They could have snuck another in without us knowing.’
‘If there is, they live upstairs.’
‘There is no upstairs.’
‘As far as you know.’
‘Okay, now you’re spooking me,’ Molly said.
Another crash echoed from downstairs. Neither of them reacted. Ashley realised that she was already becoming accustomed to the environment. Stockholm syndrome apparently developed quickly.
Molly’s phone started ringing from somewhere beneath a pile of clothes. Molly immediately groaned. The ringing continued.
Ashley waited. Molly made no move whatsoever.
‘Are you answering that?’ Ashley asked.
‘I’ll call ‘em back.’
The phone continued ringing. Ashley stared at her. Molly stared at the ceiling.
Eventually Ashley climbed over her, located the phone that had somehow managed to get itself inside a sock, and answered it herself. ‘Hello?’
Molly sat bolt upright. ‘Would you stop doing that! What if it’s a debt collector?’
Ashley slapped a hand over the receiver. ‘Could it be?’
‘No. But you didn’t know that,’ Molly shrugged.
‘Molly?’ Karen asked down the phone.
‘No, it’s Ashley again.’
‘Oh. Date went well, then.’
‘You could say that,’ Ashley said, unable not to smile. ‘Would you like Molly?’
‘Please.’
‘One second,’ Ashley said, passing the phone over.
Molly accepted it like she’d been handed a venomous snake.
‘Hi Karen.’ There was a pause. ‘Seriously?’
Molly listened and kept listening. Eventually, she ended the call. For several seconds, she just sat there.
Ashley waited until she couldn’t wait any longer. ‘Well?’
Molly blinked. ‘There’s a chemistry read.’
‘For the sitcom?’
‘Yeah.’
Ashley grinned immediately.
Molly looked alarmed by that reaction. ‘Don’t do that.’
‘Do what?’
‘Get excited.’
‘Why?’
‘Because then if I don’t get it, I’ll have disappointed two people instead of one.’
Ashley stared at her. ‘You’re going to get it.’
Molly narrowed her eyes. ‘That sounded like an order.’
‘Correct.’
Molly laughed. Ashley loved making her laugh. Though she didn’t consider herself funny, Molly was, and it surprised Ashley that she could elicit a laugh from her so easily.
‘Karen did say they’ve practically decided already,’ Molly admitted.
‘See?’
‘She also said not to cock it up.’ Molly shook her head, smiling. Her smile became abruptly shy. ‘It’s in an hour. Would you come with me?’
That surprised Ashley. ‘What?’
‘I need your bossy hotness.’
Ashley was delighted, and fortunately, not working till two. ‘Sure.’
A little while later, after coffee had been located and several members of the household had wandered through the kitchen in varying states of consciousness and undress, Ashley checked her socials. Though she didn’t like to be on them, she had to have some sort of presence as a performer.
The internet at the house was stretched to the limit, and loading Twitter took so long she clearly gave up. Eventually, her page appeared, her inbox showing notifications. She clicked through the usual collection of nonsense.
Then she stopped. ‘Oh.’
Molly looked up from rehearsing audition pages. ‘Good oh or bad oh?’
‘Potentially good oh?’ Ashley said without any real optimism.
Ashley opened the message. Read it. Reread it, then smiled. ‘A guy was at the gig last night.’
Molly frowned. ‘What guy?’
‘Apparently, some sort of talent scout.’
The phrase felt absurd even saying it aloud. Nobody talent-scouted Ashley. Talent scouts discovered people in films.
Yet here was the message.
A local band was putting together a small regional tour. Nothing glamorous, tiny venues, tiny money, tiny audiences. But they needed support. And somebody had recommended her, and the guy had caught the last twenty minutes of Ashley’s gig last night. It was left implied that he liked it.
Molly’s face lit up immediately. ‘Ashley.’
‘You know, I’ve heard of this scam. I say I’m interested and a fee pops up. To pay for transport or hotels. You’ll see,’ Ashley said.
Molly abandoned the script pages and moved around the table to read over Ashley’s shoulder. Their shoulders touched. Ashley became aware of this immediately. Which was ridiculous. They had literally slept together.
Yet there was still tension in a small touch.
‘I guess we’ll see,’ Molly said as she squeezed Ashley’s shoulder. ‘Hard not to think…’
Ashley smiled. ‘What?’
‘Maybe we bring each other good luck?’
Ashley snorted. ‘Oh my god.’
‘I’m not about to do your horoscope. I’m just saying.’
Ashley laughed. But she kind of believed her.
And sitting there in Molly’s terrible kitchen, with the house falling apart around them and their futures still mostly theoretical, Ashley found herself thinking that things were beginning. Life was beginning.