Chapter 12 Before
BEFORE
“WHAT’S THE WORST PART about being famous?
” Ash asks Hope. It’s a warm summer night in all three places (they’ve each bragged about their weather, shown the others via their cameras how absolutely gorgeous it is in Santa Monica, Salt Lake City, Portland).
Since Hope recently revealed who she really is, Ash and Caro are asking her all the questions that have been on their minds in the month since they last met.
They’ve been chatting for hours. Hope was supposed to go to a party, and she decided to miss it so that she could keep talking to them.
This thrills Caro and Ash (Hope Hanover would rather be with them than at a party in LA!).
Both Ash and Caro are alone. Wade and the girls are visiting his parents so she can get some work done, because it’s wedding season, the absolute worst, and Caro’s Dan is on a bikepacking trip with his friends.
At some point, Hope said, “Wouldn’t it be great if we could keep talking until we fell asleep, like a sleepover, like we did when we were teenagers with our friends?
” and they’ve decided to do exactly that.
Ash is already fighting for her life. They’ve taken their phones to bed with them, and Ash began to droop the minute she sat down against her headboard, pillows at her back.
(Caro and Hope were intrigued to see that Ash has an extremely modern-looking bedroom, not the sort of bohemian flowery vibe they had expected.) “We didn’t think this through,” Ash says, laughing.
She’s loopy from the wine she and Hope have been drinking—a white wine from Hope’s new line that she sent to Ash and Caro.
“We’re all going to fall asleep, but then our phones will stay on all night. ”
“That’s fine,” Caro says. “What does it matter. Let our batteries die.”
“What are you drinking, anyway, Caro?” Hope asks. “It looks like antifreeze.”
Caro doesn’t drink, plus right now she’s training for a triathlon. She lifts her glass, which is full of a pale green liquid. “Lime Cucumber Gatorade,” she says. “The nectar of the gods.”
“Really?” Hope sounds skeptical.
Caro laughs. “When we meet in person, I’ll buy you some.”
“Famous,” Ash reminds them sleepily. “What’s the worst part?”
“I think it’s exactly what you think it would be,” Hope says reflectively. “Losing your privacy. People feeling like you belong to them.”
“Have you ever had a stalker?” Caro wants to know.
“I’ve had a few,” Hope says.
“Oh my word.” Ash is instantly awake. “You’ve had stalkers? As in, multiple? Hope, what can we do?”
“You’ve reported them, I assume,” Caro says.
“Of course,” Hope says. “But they do tend to crop up.” She shrugs. “It’s part of the job, but it also shouldn’t be, you know?”
“You say the word, and we will find them,” Ash says, vehement and wide-eyed. “We will fight them. We will take care of it for you.”
“I appreciate that very much, Ash,” Hope says, smiling. “Now, should we do one last toast before we lose you completely?”
“I’m fine,” Ash insists. “I’m awake.” She opens her eyes wide to prove it and the other two laugh.
“You’re sleep-drunk,” Hope says.
“I’m not drunk,” Ash insists. Her eyes are already half-closed again.
“I know,” Hope says. “I mean, you’re so tired, it’s like you’re drunk. You work so damn hard, Ash.” Love and concern and amusement mingle in her voice. “Thank you for staying up so late to hang out.”
“Anytime,” Ash says.
Caro raises her empty Gatorade glass. “What should we toast to?”
“Friendship?” Ash says, then cringes, because it sounds so basic, so cheesy. But—
“Perfect,” Hope says. “What could be better?”
“To friendship,” Caro says.
“And to Agatha Christie,” Ash says. “For bringing us together. And, actually, to wine.” She lifts her empty glass.
“And to Gatorade,” Caro says.
“Now we’re getting carried away,” Hope says.
We are, they each think. And it’s so nice.
Hope goes to open a window. Caro gets up to close one. They return. Ash sinks down into her pillows. They keep talking, voices slowing, softening, until, eventually, they fall asleep. Ash is first, Caro second. Hope is last, but not by much. She is not alone for long.