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Twenty minutes later, I meet Gerard at his house.
“Gerard,” I say, giving him a piece of paper that I hastily scrawled a note on in the back of the limo. “Can you make sure Ashley gets this letter?”
Gerard looks at me. It’s obvious he just woke up. I’m at his front door in the hallway on the 17th floor of his condo.
“You wrote a letter?” Gerard asks me. “By hand?”
I shrug. “She won’t take my calls or texts and won’t answer emails. And she won’t see me, so you know, next best thing is to pass a note.”
“Very well, sir,” Gerard says. “I know just how
to get it delivered to Miss Ashley.”
I thank Gerard and walk to the elevator and then out the building.
Sure, it’s a shot in the dark. But somehow, I’m feeling good about this shot in the dark.
Now the ball is in her court. Let’s see how she plays.
Ashley
I won't lie when I say that I’m not surprised when the doorbell rings that Saturday morning. Would you believe me if I told you that I’ve been looking forward to but dreading this moment ever since I thought there was a chance that Arsen might show up.
I’m pretty sure he will show up. I mean most guys can’t hold out that long. And they break down and go show up, even if they say they’re not going to. That’s just the power that women have over them. Remember Peter? You remember, my ex-boyfriend who was cheating on me? Roughly 60,000 words ago? I didn’t answer his texts for a several days and what did he end up doing? Stalking me and attacking me outside the Simulated Pleasures office.
Now I don't think Arsen is going to attack me or anything. He may be a bad boy, and may be too tough and cocky and arrogant for his own good, and he may have lied to me in the most horrible way possible, but I somehow still know that underneath that tortured exterior is a good man. A solid man.
See what I mean now about looking forward to while dreading this moment at the same time?
The bell rings again and I go to the door. I’m dressed to kill, with a white short skirt that I know hugs my ass, a black silk t-shirt that accentuates my curves very nicely, beautiful pearl earrings, and white heels.
I’ve been dressing up like this every morning, on the off chance that I run into Arsen. It’s not a big deal. It’s just something I do to feel good about myself, okay?
What? Don’t look at me like that. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I’m so completely horny right now, alright. If that’s what you’re thinking, I would appreciate you taking your mind out of the gutter. I’m a good girl. Really!
I don’t even bother looking through the peep hole but just open the door. I wonder if Arsen will be on his knees.
I open the door.
He’s not on his knees.
He’s not even here.
Instead, Yasmine from Scorcher's is standing there, and I’m guessing she’s just gotten off work.
I know Scorcher's will have Last Call at 3:30 am, and then officially turn the lights on and close at 4 am. Getting the people out of the VIP Room and private booths can take as long as 4:30 am. Cleanup and tipping out of the club probably takes Yasmine till 5:30 am. If she doesn’t go home with any of the guys, she’ll probably get breakfast, which will take her to 7:30 am. And then she must have taken a cab over here.
I’m usually up and changed by 7:30 am nowadays too, so it must have worked out perfectly.
What?
If you’re wondering, yes, I’ve become an early rise ever since I walked away from Arsen and his alter-ego King Henry and quit working at Simulated Pleasures.
I think it has to do with the fact that I’m not…you know, getting fucked. At least that’s what Arsen would say if he were here. And I’d scowl at him and he would smirk at me.
Stop it!
“You’re thinking about your man?” Yasmine asks me standing at the entrance to my door. She’s wearing surprisingly modest clothes—skinny jeans and a tank top with a fur lined jacket. She’s got her Louis Vuitton bag, and her gold hoop earrings, but that’s the only level of ostentatiousness that she’s displaying today. She could be a typical New Yorker from below 14th Street with that outfit. I back up and let her into the apartment. She comes in and promptly drops her bag on the floor and stretches out on the couch.
