Chapter 20 #2
“Listen to me.” Ashley steps toward me, invading my personal space until her face is mere inches from mine.
Her breath smells like cinnamon, and her skin is radiating heat, which is strange considering how cold she claimed to be.
“I saw you peeping last night. Watching me. And…him.” She is unable to say Carl’s name.
Perhaps she feels some guilt about what she did after all. “Did you tell anyone?”
“No,” I insist, forcing myself to make eye contact so she’ll believe me. “I didn’t tell anyone. I figured it wasn’t my business.”
“That’s right, it’s not. And it’s…complicated.”
I can’t help but scoff. “It’s not that complicated. He’s got a girlfriend. You don’t care. The end.”
She glowers at me, but there’s a flicker of something that looks a lot like pain behind her glare.
“I don’t owe you an explanation, but if you must know, we dated this summer before he dated Fee.
He was with me first. And then when I got bored with his inability to converse about anything other than sex, Fiona decided to try him on for size.
I told her I was cool with it, and I was.
I can’t help it that he’s still totally in love with me. ”
I don’t really care about this. It’s very likely that someone on Empress intentionally trapped us here during a hurricane, and there’s a dead girl’s phone in my room. But I can’t help quipping, “That’s pretty incestuous. Aren’t you all supposed to be a family?”
“That’s why I don’t want to hurt her,” Ashley hisses. “So, keep your mouth shut.” She pauses, adjusts her tone. Or perhaps drops the tone she’s been using this whole time. “Please? Leave it be.”
I cross my own arms, mirroring Ashley. “Stop fucking her man if you don’t want to hurt her.”
She looks down at my arms, uncrosses her own.
“I owe him,” she whispers. “He…he got me this job. He’s the one who recommended Rachel and me.
We were desperate to find something that would allow us to actually make livable money from influencing.
Not just pocket change and free products. Empress saved our family.”
I let my hands drop to my sides too. I remember Rachel saying something similar, mentioning their mother. Tentatively, unsure of Ashley’s reaction, I ask, “It’s your mom, right?”
Ashley looks askance at me, then sighs. “Yeah. She doesn’t have health insurance and she has fibroids.
The surgery alone costs…” She trails off, a queasy expression on her face.
“Too much. So much. Mom’s in deep medical debt, but with the money Rachel and I make from Empress, we’re close to paying it off completely.
This is a job we need to keep. Fibroids can come back, even after surgery, so we need a nest egg, just in case. ”
“That’s awful, I’m sorry,” I say, melting a little toward her.
Ashley’s much more standoffish than her twin, but it’s like she wants to be.
I recall the conversation I overheard between the twins.
Rachel told Ashley to stop acting like she was ruder than she really was.
Maybe this abrasiveness is an act. It’s clear Ashley is dealing with a lot.
I can’t blame her for being stressed about her mother’s debt.
“My mother died. She was sick,” I offer. “Cancer.”
Ashley grimaces. “That’s right. You mentioned that at the meeting.
I’m sorry too. But you understand, then.
Rachel and I will do whatever it takes to help our mom.
And a job like this means you have to keep people happy.
So if Carl wants to hook up from time to time when Fiona is being a nag, how can I say no? ”
“Hang on,” I interject. “Are you saying this isn’t consensual?”
“No, God, of course it is,” Ashley lashes out, frustrated. “I’m saying… It’s complicated. I need time to figure it out. That’s why I’m asking you to not say anything.”
“Okay,” I reply. “I promise. I’ll pretend I never saw it.”
I don’t agree with Ashley’s affair, but I can admit that I’m new here, and her situation might be more complex than I realized.
Besides, I need to continue to play nice.
Ashley is right: A job like this does mean you have to keep people happy.
I need to make it through this storm. After all, one of these people could be responsible for Elena’s disappearance.
Ashley meets my eye, and for a second, there’s a hint of shininess in her gaze, pools of unshed tears. Then she steps away from me, turns her head, and says, “Good. Then get out. I have to change.” Her usual forced brusque tone is back.
“You know, your sister is a lot nicer than you are,” I mutter.
“Well, gotta tell us apart somehow, right?” Ashley shoots back. “The plastic surgery isn’t enough on its own.”
I pause with my hand on the doorknob. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing.” Ashley’s eyes flicker away, and she bites her lip, looking annoyed. With me, or with herself?
“Did you get plastic surgery to look different from Rachel?” I ask, unable to help the surprise pitching my voice. “Is that why you act like this too? To separate yourself?”
“Never mind,” Ashley snaps, shaking her head. “Just forget I said anything.”
“Ashley—”
“Leave, Charlie. Please.”
I unlock her door, letting it slam shut behind me as I bound out into the hallway.
No wonder Ashley is bristly—she’s trying to set herself apart from her sister.
Rachel is so sweet and nonconfrontational; Ashley must feel like she has to be the opposite.
As someone close in age to a sister who is very different from me, I can understand that.
On top of that, Ashley has pinpointed the reason I’ve grown sour on this job, despite what I told Viv earlier.
To be good at this, to get along on Empress, you have to know how to play the game.
You have to be aware of the power dynamics, know the key players, and do whatever it takes to keep them happy.
I can’t do that. Not anymore. I did that with Sage, and with other female friends before her, over and over.
They were all headstrong women, not dissimilar to Viv: bossy, manipulative, sweet when they wanted something and vicious when they didn’t get it.
It’s my weakness, I can admit it—being drawn to these types of people.
It’s like I feel their power and crave it as my own, hoping that getting close to them will rub it off on me.
But it never does. I end up getting burned instead.
They steal my partners or my stories or decide they are tired of me.
Not this time.
Fuck the money. Something seriously dark is going on here, and I don’t want to stick around to figure it out.
As soon as this storm passes, I’m getting the hell off Empress and never looking back.
I’ll find a different job. I’ll have to anyway—picking up the pieces of the video Viv posted is going to be a whole task and without internet to show me which way public opinion is trending, I’m not sure how it will go.
A familiar sound cuts through my trance, jerking my attention back to the present:
Drip. Drip. Drip.
A cold breeze hits the back of my neck, prickling my hair. A salty scent invades my nose, and I shudder. But when I turn, searching for the dripping, the hallway is empty, and the sound suddenly cuts off, as if it was never there to begin with.