Chapter Twenty Three - Asher
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I slam my phone onto the bench and pace the dressing shed, furious.
The image is burned into my brain. Justin’s hand, too low. His mouth, too close. Her laughing. Him rubbing a thumb over her lips, my lips.
Every part of me screams mine. And that’s the damn problem. Look, I’ve probably overreacted but I saw red when that photo popped up on my feed. How well do I know her you know?
“She’s your agent now,” I mutter. “Not your girl.”
Except… she was. She is.
It was never exclusive right? I should’ve known a girl like that would have an A list athlete lined up and waiting for her back in Sydney, wouldn’t be long before she got bored of being out here, out in Dawson’s.
They just looked so good together she looked so comfortable so herself, no secret dating for them.
No sneaking around. Which really is our own doing anyway, Ted’s on board now.
It would just be the absolute shit storm of press.
My phone rings.
Shell.
I answer, already bracing. I know she’s about to rip me a new asshole and I probably deserve it to be fair.
She doesn’t waste time. “You need to pull your head in, Kingston.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re going to lose her. She didn’t even see the article until you texted. It was one photo, Asher. And if you’re seriously going to accuse her of sleeping her way to the top—”
“I didn’t say that!” I snap.
“You didn’t have to; you defend her honour at training with Caleb and then you act just like him to her face?! What the fuck is that about. You’re guilty because you’re the one keeping secrets, and if you don’t tell her sooner or later, I’m going to have to.”
Silence.
Then Shell adds, lowering her voice to a sombre whisper. “She cares about you. More than she’ll say. But she has something to prove. You can’t make her choose between love and legitimacy.”
I stare at the wall.
“She’s getting crucified online,” she finishes. “Fix it, like we both know you can. Or get out of the way.” Shell was right, and I knew exactly what I had to do, and who I had to call.
I picked up my phone, my thumb hovered over the name for longer than it needed to, but was this grovelling? They would absolutely think I was coming back to take up the family reigns. Would they even listen to me? I knew there was only one way to find out, so I pressed call on “Mum”
After 5 minutes of explaining my situation, and mine and Scarlett’s history and present mum was hooked.
She’d been dying for me to meet a girl and bring her home since what had happened—you know, the accident and Ben and whatever else—happened.
I hadn’t really dated anyone serious since and just spent my time jumping from woman to woman.
I’d worked up a reputation as an eligible bachelor in the rising stars scene.
Women were throwing themselves at me, they still do now.
“So, you’re running the story,” I tell my mother, voice low.
She sighs. “Asher are you sure about this, she sounds like the type of woman who likes things done her own way.”
“Scarlett Walker. Maroon Management. I know you can do a story on her event last night and its success. Feature her work. Kill the narrative, I need to do this mum.” They love when I talk media jargon, gives them hope I’ll come back I reckon.
I can see my father look up from his newspaper on the FaceTime call. “Is this about the basketball scandal we ran, everyone loves to know who that Justin whatever is sleeping with next.”
I grip the phone tightly; I know damn well this old asshat just heard me tell my mother how much I care for this woman.
“It’s bullshit,” I say, trying to remain calm and not give my father any ammo here. “And I want it buried.”
My mum leans back, intrigued. “Interesting. You never use the family name unless it’s life or death, you must really like this woman, Ash. Does that mean we get to meet her?”
I meet her eyes.
“This is both.”
She smiles. “Alright. We’ll run it tomorrow, won’t we Alfred.”
Dad looks over to mum “Fine, but a big city loving girl like that Asher she’ll want to come back to the bright lights eventually, and when she does the family business will be here waiting for you son.”
I roll my eyes at the suggestion. Football is my life. I won’t be back, ever.
“No worries dad, talk to you both tomorrow love you.”
I press the little red x and hang up the call. I let out the biggest breath, that I knew I was holding from the moment I pressed call.
I could be in some hot water here, but I can’t just let the media eat her alive and ruin all she’s done. Especially the paper my family owns.
Scarlett doesn’t know.
She doesn’t know my parents own half the media in Australia.
Not her fault I don’t go by the family name for that exact reason.
Kingsley Media always ends up having a trail of groupies bigger than the football line following it, and people give me a free pass and a ride to wherever I want to go.
Ever since I was a teenager I had to question if girls really liked me or if they liked what came with me.
My date to the year 12 formal spent the whole night dancing with someone else and when I asked her why the fuck she came with me then, she said it’s good for my rep you know you being a Kingsley and all.
That was just the tip of a very big iceberg of problems with this name.
I needed to earn my place in the Rugby League world, and legally now my name is Kingston anyway—so is it lying?
Yeah, look it absolutely is withholding the truth, but what if she looks at me differently… there’s more she doesn’t know.
She doesn’t know I’m rewriting her reputation while she’s getting shredded online.
She doesn’t know I’m doing everything I can to protect the woman I’m not supposed to love.
She doesn’t know that’s how I feel either, I love her.
But she will.
And when she finds out?
I just hope she forgives me for not letting her get to the top on her own merit. This is the type of scandal that can ruin a management business before it even starts. Heck the photo even made me question where I stand, which I still don’t know where that is after our text messages.