Chapter 7 – Asher
Seven
PRESENT DAY
ASHER
On Friday night, I stepped into the lobby of the Ritz Carlton, searching for Kelsey.
Since she was never late, I pulled out my phone.
Before I could call, a flurry of messages crossed my screen from a newly formed group chat.
The Brooks Wedding
Hey everyone! We’re so glad you’ve agreed to be in our wedding!
We’ve scheduled early tux and dress fittings for next week, so stay tuned for times.
We’re leaning toward early April for the official date(s), and…
We’re thinking TWO FULL WEEKS in Punta Cana instead of just one! (Yes, we’re still covering everything.)
I started to respond, but Kelsey was suddenly standing in front of me, her eyes wide as saucers.
“I didn’t know you were capable of being late,” I said. “Why does it look like you just saw a ghost?”
“It was a ghoul.” She lowered her voice, handing me a folder. “Our latest referral is giving me dangerous vibes, and I can’t stand to be around him for another second.”
“So, why didn’t you just tell me to cancel tonight’s meeting with him?”
“Because I think it’d be best if you had the final call on helping Mr. Cutler. I’ll go with whatever you decide.”
“I trust your judgment ninety-nine percent of the time, Kelsey.”
“Exactly,” she said, stepping back. “He falls into the ‘point one percent,’ so find me outside whenever you’re done.”
Intrigued, I flipped open the folder.
From her research notes, Miles Cutler was our typical client.
Late thirties, long-term relationship with a few red flags he wished he’d noticed sooner, too scared to commit, but didn’t know how to end things.
“Kelsey, I don’t see anything problematic or—” I looked up and realized she was long gone.
Okay, then… I tucked the folder under my arm and walked into the attached bar.
Miles was sitting in the corner, sipping from a tiny silver shot glass.
With a straw.
Chalking it up to him being nervous, I strolled over and extended my hand.
“Mr. Cutler?” I asked. “I’m Asher Brooks.”
“Nice to meet you.” He shook my hand. “Very nice to finally meet you.”
I took a seat and gestured toward his drink. “You know you’re supposed to just knock shots back in one go, right?”
“I like to sip and savor a very small amount of alcohol,” he said. “It makes me feel like I’m not cheating on my Alcoholics Anonymous Group.”
“Right… Remind me, who referred you to me again?”
“Benny Henderson,” he said. “You helped him call off the wedding three months ahead of time.”
“Noted. How far away is your wedding?”
“Thirty days.”
“Good.” I nodded. “I prefer to handle things long before the rehearsal dinner whenever I can. On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the highest, how sure are you that you’re not interested in getting married?”
“Well, that’s the thing.” He leaned closer. “I do want to get married, but not to my fiancée.”
I arched a brow.
“I mean, I love her—like truly love her, but I’m not in love with her.” He paused. “The woman I really belong with is her sister.”
“Come again?”
“We started hanging out a bit more last year, and then one night, while we were going on a grocery run for taco-nacho night, we got caught in the rain with the ingredients, and then it just happened right there in the backseat.”
“The tortilla chips made you cheat?”
“We get along so well and connect on a much deeper level.” He ignored my comment. “It’s almost like she was meant for me, like I wish I had met her before her sister, you know?”
I said nothing.
“She turns eighteen at the end of the year, and I just want to make sure I can give her everything she wants and needs the moment she hits that milestone.”
“You slept with a seventeen-year-old?” I lost the will to be cordial. “Is that what you just said?”
“Seventeen is perfectly legal in our state, Mr. Brooks, don’t worry.”
You’re thirty-eight going on thirty-nine…
“I know my fiancée won’t understand this, and I doubt our friends and family will either, so I was hoping you could concoct something that won’t make me look like a bad guy,” he said.
“And then, like six months or so after everything has calmed down, me and her sister can go public and all will be well.”
“You honestly think six months is all it will take?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “One month for every year we were together.”
I gave him a blank stare.
“You think it should be eight months, then?” he asked. “Don’t tell me you think it should be longer than that.”
I am truly fucking speechless.
“Mr. Brooks?” He waved a hand in front of my face. “Are you okay?”
“No…” I pulled out my wallet and set a couple of bills on the table. “Not at all. This should cover your shot and whatever else you decide to order tonight.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
“Well, don’t you want my ten-thousand-dollar deposit now?” he asked. “When exactly will I hear from you again?”
“Never.” I stood to my feet. “Helping you goes against one of my rules. I’m sorry.”
“What rules?” He scoffed. “Benny wasn’t exactly a saint.”
“Have a good night, Mr. Cutler.” I turned away, but he grabbed my elbow.
“I have the money,” he said. “I can pay all of it upfront if you need me to.”
“I don’t need your money.” I jerked my arm away, glaring at him. “But allow me to give you some advice for free…”
“Go home and tell your fiancée you can’t commit to being sober for more than a month and you can’t commit to her for a lifetime,” I said.
“Then call her sister—a fucking minor—and say the same thing, because if you can’t stay faithful to someone you proposed to, you can’t possibly propose to someone you owe nothing to. ”
“Oh, really?” He sucked in a breath. “So, now you’re Mr. Morality?”
I walked away without responding.
I couldn’t bear to waste another second being anywhere near him.
The moment I made it outside, I let out the breath I’d been holding.
The valet handed me my keys, and I slid behind the wheel.
Kelsey was sitting inside waiting for me, staring straight ahead.
“So?” she asked, not moving. “Are we proceeding with this client?”
“No.” I cranked the engine. “But before we burn his file, I need you to do something for me.”
“I’m listening.”
“Call the police department and report him for sexual relations with a minor.”
She immediately tapped her phone’s screen. “Should I find a way to tell his fiancée that the wedding is off?”
“Your call to the police will handle that,” I said.
She nodded and handled it as I drove down the street.
When she hung up, the car felt a lot lighter, and then she looked over at me.
“This is the side of you that I wish Miss Elizabeth could see.” She smiled. “Don’t you?”
“I’ve never cared what Miss Elizabeth thinks.” I rolled my eyes. “Why are you even bringing her up?”
“Just figured I’d do it before you did it first.”
“I hardly ever talk about her, Kelsey.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I’m serious. She doesn’t exist in my life until I run into her at a wedding, and you know that.”
“Uh huh, yeah.” She deadpanned. “Exactly.”
“Say you believe me or I’m dropping you off at the next corner.”
She crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat.
The words I demanded never left her lips, and I didn’t see the point in calling her bluff.
I turned on the radio for the rest of the ride, and as much as it pained me to admit it, a part of me did wish that Katie could see that I didn’t take on every client who was willing to pay.
I have to draw the line somewhere…