Social Media

by JA Huss

  “You don’t have to, Grace.” I stroke my hand down her cheek and she closes her eyes automatically. “It’s Thanksgiving. Everyone is thankful.”

  She falls back asleep before we make it out of the driveway and when we get home, it is my pleasure to strip off all her clothes and tuck her into bed next to me.

  She stirs a little when I pull her close so she can rest her head on my chest. “You know what I’m really thankful for, Asher?”

  God, I love when she calls me Asher these days. I used to think she said it to be mean, but that’s not why. She calls me Asher because she can. No one else, anywhere, calls me Asher. To my face, at least. Only Grace knows me well enough to use that moniker.

  “Me, of course.” I play with her.

  “Yes, you,” she says in her I’m-almost-asleep voice. “And I’m thankful for second chances.”

  “Yeah.” I laugh under my breath. “I’ve certainly needed my share of those.”

  She sits up a little and she’s more awake now. “I’ve learned something very important since all this crazy stuff happened.”

  “What’s that, babe?”

  “You don’t always get it right the first time.”

  I stare at her eyes as they pool with tears and my heart feels like it might crack in half, that’s how much it hurts me to see her sadness. So many things went wrong this year for her. The kidnapping. The miscarriage. The media discovering her alias. Which one is she thinking of now?

  I scoot down under the covers with her and hold her closer. “If I had known he would take you that night, Grace—”

  “That’s not it, Vaughn. I actually think that do-over was… cathartic. In a way,” she adds hastily. “I mean, I don’t want to ever repeat it again. But it helped me confront so many things that I was hiding from all these years. No, the do-over I need is our marriage.”

  I stop breathing. What does that mean? She stays quiet, like I’m expected to say something. I think it through for a few moments and then give it my best shot. “I can’t tell you what happened, Grace.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Won’t. I explained the other night. It was perfect. It can’t be explained with words. Maybe if we had a video, but not with words.”

  “But you still want to get married again?”

  “Do you?”

  “I asked you first.”

  I huff out some air because I want to be truthful with her. But how will she take it? “I wouldn’t mind a party, like my father offered. That would be nice. And I was thinking that a new ceremony would be nice. Make it a huge affair. With hundreds of guests and a new dress. The works. But I’ve changed my mind.” I look over at her and she’s stunned. Her eyes are wide and her mouth is open. “I’m sorry, sweets. I don’t want a new ceremony. It was perfect the first time and I’m sorry you missed it.”

  Chapter One-Hundred-Three - Grace

  #ANewHope

  WHEN I wake up I’m still reeling from Vaughn’s admission last night. He does not want to marry me again. He has not even given me a ring. After all these months, I have no ring. What does this mean?

  I roll over, ready to wake his ass up so I can ask him, but the bed is empty.

  I sit up. “Vaughn?”

  “In here, babe.” He comes out of his closet buttoning up his shirtsleeves.

  “Where are you going?”

  He walks over and leans down to kiss my cheek. “Work. We have a few scenes to get done today. We’re behind schedule, so we have to make it up. But after today, I’m all yours for two days.” He grins at me like this is acceptable.

  “But it’s a holiday.”

  “Yeah, Black Friday doesn’t really count, sweets. I’ll probably be very late, so don’t wait up.”

  And then he grabs his watch and wallet off his dresser and walks out.

  Black Friday is the day of the Black Bash. And he said don’t wait up? He’s never said that to me before. I wait until I hear his Porsche roar to life in the garage and then get up and run down the hallway to check and make sure he’s gone.

  I open the door that leads to the garage and peek in.

  Yup. Gone. Just like that I’m left at home alone all day.

  I slam the door closed. Asshole. I should get my credit card and go shopping on Rodeo Drive, that’s what I should do. Spend all his money.

  I walk back to the living room and spy the door to Asher’s office cracked open with the light on. I push it open all the way and realize he was in here this morning. What time did he get up? I didn’t even hear him, I was dead-ass tired.

  I walk around to his desk and take a seat, then flick the mouse until the monitor comes on.

  His calendar. Hmm. Attached to a Gmail account I don’t recognize. Double hmmm.

  I knew that account with five messages from Larry was not his real email. But why is he hiding this one?

  Grace, the gracious inner-me scolds. Since when does he have to declare email accounts? I mean, I have several email accounts. That’s just what happens as you grow up. You make one, then another, then another. And pretty soon, you’ve got a collection of them.

  This one references his years as the Disney sitcom star.

  Triple hmmmm. In fact, red flags are going up all over the place. I scroll through the from column and it does not take me long to realize this email is pretty much a private one he only shares with Valencia. His co-star from back in the day and his co-star right now for IM3.

  I open up the most recent one.

  “Your wish is my command,” is all it says. There’s two attachments. One is a picture of the two of them as teenagers dressed up as genies for… something. Halloween? A special show? I have no idea.

  But the other one is a forwarded message. Subject line: Invitation Plus One Black Bash

  She got them tickets to the Black Bash. The very party he said he’d never attend just yesterday. And the ‘your wish is my command’ makes it painfully obvious that he was the one who approached her about attending.

  Dammit. Vaughn is hiding something from me and it definitely has to do with this party tonight.

  I walk out of his office and head straight for the coffee. While it brews, I stew in my own anger. It’s bubbling up around me. Why am I so angry about this? Mostly it’s because I feel left out. I feel like he’s got another life without me. Like when he goes to work, he forgets all about what’s waiting here for him at home.

  I sit at the kitchen island bar drinking cup after cup of coffee as I think about this. What should I do? Should I ignore it and let him go to the party and then confront him about it when he gets home? Should I go down to the studio and make sure everything is on the up and up with him and Valencia? Should I use his ticket that Larry sent to go to the Black Bash and figure it out for myself?

  My phone rings, startling me out of my introspection, and when I look up at the stove for the time, I realize it’s already past noon. I’ve been sitting here for hours.

  The phone rings again, so I reach for it and press accept before looking at the caller. “Hello.”

  “Grace,” Kristi says, all out of breath on the other line.

  “Kristi! Oh my God, I’m so happy to hear from you! You sound like you’re panting.”

  “Well,” she says with a smile—I can totally see that smile—“I’m all out of breath because they just brought me my beautiful baby girl and I’m so excited, I can’t stop my happy cry. And the minute I was able to think, I thought to myself, ‘I need to tell Grace. She’s the best friend I have these days and I need to tell Grace.’”

  “Awww.” God, I feel so selfish and awful. I haven’t thought about Kristi in weeks. “I should’ve been there. Do you want me to come now? I can help you out at home if you want.”

  The baby makes a little noise and Kristi actually sighs with contentment. I get a stabbing pain of jealousy straight through my heart.

  “No, no, no,” she says quickly. “You just stay home and take care of yourself, Kinsella. Or should I c
all you Asher now?”

  Well, that’s the question of the day. “Better stick with Kinsella for now.”

  “I’d love for you to visit when you’re ready, but there’s no rush.” The baby starts to cry for real now, and there’s some voices—Johnny and someone else who might be a nurse—telling Kristi she has to hang up. “I gotta go, Grace. But I wanted you to be the first person I called.”

  “Wait.” I stop her from hanging up. “What’s her name?”

  “Oh, I’m so silly! Of course. Her name is Hope. Hope Blazen.”

  “Beautiful,” I sigh.

  And then she quickly says goodbye again and ends the call.

  Hope.

  I think Hope is a very good reason for me to pull myself together and go shopping. So I clean up my mess and go get ready to hand over the credit card.

  And an hour later I’m on Rodeo Drive just as I planned, but this time, I’m not shopping out of spite. I’m shopping for Hope.

  There are a ton of shops here. And honestly, I’m sure Target would be just as good as these fancy boutiques, but they’ve got a Tiffany’s down here and I want to look around.

  I give the car to the valet and that’s where I start my afternoon. I head straight to the rings. I know, I’m just punishing myself. He hasn’t mentioned a ring to me, and he just said last night we’re not getting remarried, so why bother?

  But I’m a princess and I have a dream. And maybe a wedding was not a part of that dream originally, but it is now. And weddings come with rings.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Asher. Can I help you find something specific today?”

  Jesus Christ. They know me. I just stare at her. I’m shocked. I’m not sure why, I know my face has been on the news a lot this year, but holy fucking shit. A clerk in a Tiffany’s should not recognize me when I’m in shorts and flip flops.

  “I’m sorry,” I say quietly, as I back away and slide my sunglasses down to cover my eyes. “You have the wrong person.”

  The clerk’s smile never falters. “I’m so sorry, miss. My mistake. How can I help you?”

  But I’m already out of there.

  Fuck this.

  I walk straight back to the valet and they greet me as Mrs. Asher as well. “I just need my car, thank you.”

  A few minutes later they bring it around and the inside is still cool from the air-conditioning, that’s how short my Rodeo Drive shopping trip was.

  I plug in a request for the nearest Target and start following the GPS voice and once I get there and find my way into the familiar store with the red carts, everything goes back to normal.

  Maybe I’m not cut out for this life? I mean, Vaughn is so public. Everything about us in this town is news. I don’t understand that. I’ve been hiding from the media—from everybody—for so many years, it might not be possible to change that part of me. I don’t want to be famous. I don’t want people to know me. I want to be… invisible.

  I love our home. I do feel like I belong there. But when I step outside without Vaughn, I’m overwhelmed with the attention.

  I stop pushing my cart and look behind me, at the large glass doors that open and close as people come and go.

  That city out there. It scares me.

  I turn back to the store, because that’s not scary, and make my way to the baby stuff. I’m sure they have all these basic supplies, so I skip right to the clothes. I bet she’s got a ton of clothes too. So I choose an outfit that will take some time to grow into. It’s leftover from summer, so it’s like five dollars. I smile so hard at that, since Kristi and I are so rich we could afford anything. But cute is cute. Besides, it has a matching sun hat. I’ll send an invitation to come visit us after football season is over. Then Hope can wear it to the pool.

  I grab more stuff—not all from the sale rack—and fill up my cart. It’s too much, but I don’t care. I’ll send some of it for Christmas.

  I look down the aisle and spot the Christmas stuff and my heart pounds with excitement. I do love me some Christmas. So I wheel my cart out of the baby section and head towards holidays. They still have Halloween candy on sale and I’m wondering when the last time was that I had a Snickers when I see it.

  My cart comes to a halt, and then before I know what I’m doing, I’ve got it in my hand.

  A mask. A black mask. The kind people wear to masquerade parties.

  Or Black Bashes.

  I put it in the cart on top of the baby stuff and hit the cashier.

  One way or another I’m going to figure out what’s going on there tonight.

  Chapter One-Hundred-Four - Vaughn

  #ThatCalmWasReallyTheStorm

  “HEY,” Valencia calls out as she enters my trailer.

  “Hey,” I say back absently as I stare at the article in the Hollywood tabloid. “Did you see this shit?”

  She sits down in the booth across the table from me in the area that serves as a dining room. “I saw. What are you gonna do?”

  I look up at her. She’s still the same girl I knew all those years ago. Being on set with her again has been fun. We’re like puzzle pieces that were missing and finally someone put them back together again. She’s even prettier now than she was at sixteen, if you can believe it. I guess wealth and the ability to take extended vacations between projects have that benefit. She only does one movie a year, if that. But every single one of them has been a major blockbuster. “I’ve got to take care of it. I need to stop this.”

  “Vaughn, you can’t stop her story. It is what it is. There’s records of her everywhere. These images are just one more reason to let it go. Don’t get involved. They will tear you apart.”

  “She’s my wife, Valencia. I can’t just let them threaten this kind of exposure and let it pass.”

  “So what’s your answer? You’ve already done what you could.” She points to the tabloid that has a sensitive picture of my wife taken off Twitter. “And they still found a way to get it.”

  “Yeah, because that Amy bitch from Buzz sold them.”

  “This tabloid says specifically that’s not where they came from. You can’t blame her. I mean, honestly, Vaughn. Your wife took those photos and sent them over Twitter. She knew what she was doing.”

  “I asked her to.”

  “So what? You used to ask me to do plenty of stupid things if I remember correctly. A lot worse than taking naked selfies.”

  “We didn’t have selfies back then.” I grin.

  “My point is, I never said yes.”

  She’s been saying this all day, but I can’t take the coward’s way out and blame Grace for what’s happening. For what’s about to happen.

  “There’s more to this story than you know, Val. A lot more.”

  “So tell me. Maybe I can help.”

  I consider it. I really do. Valencia has always been on my side and I have no doubt she’d be on my side now. But the knock comes on the door, telling us to be on set in five minutes. Five minutes just isn’t enough time. “Later, maybe. After the party.”

  “So you’re going?”

  “I said I was. I am. And you don’t have to come because it’s gonna be a mess.”

  She reaches across the table and takes my hand. “Normally I’d be up for anything, Vaughn. I’d stand by you for anything. And I still will. But not at that party.” She shakes her head. “They tore apart my best friend a few years ago and we made the mistake of going. I know what’s going to happen and I can’t watch you go through that.”

  I squeeze her hand back, thankful that she’s so loyal, that she’s one of the only people in Hollywood who really does have my back. “I get it, Val. I don’t expect you to be there. And thanks for the tickets. I lean over and kiss her on the cheek. “You’re a good friend.”

  She smiles coyly. “Well, the next scene says we’ll be more than friends soon. And I can’t wait. So let’s go.”

  Chapter One-Hundred-Five - Grace

  #SometimesGettingLostHelpsYouBeFound

  I TURN out of the Tar
get parking lot and see the sign for Beverly Boulevard. Yes! I know where that is, so I don’t need the GPS.

  I turn and lose myself in thought. I feel like there’s so much going on behind the scenes that I don’t know about, it’s starting to make me nervous. Like Vaughn leaving for work today. He just said a few days ago he was looking forward to the long weekend. Well, working on Black Friday sorta interrupts the long weekend. So what he said was either a lie then, or this is a lie now.

  What could they possibly have to do today? Maybe I should stop by the studio and see what he’s up to? I chuckle a little at my ridiculousness… but then I figure why not? I’m allowed to go onto the set. Well, maybe not. But I’m pretty sure no one will tell me no if I show up there.

  I look up at the street signs to find one that might take me over near Studio City, but none of them look familiar. In fact, I’m heading towards downtown. Which is not the direction I thought I was going.

  I stop at a red light and try to figure out where I am and how to get back to where I need to be. The GPS is on, so I hit the new destination button and I’m about to program it in when the car behind me honks.

  The light is green. I move forward and get into the right lane so I can pull over and turn around, and as soon as I make that turn, I know I’m in the wrong neighborhood. There’s a lot of people hanging out in front of apartment buildings and they are mostly young men.

  I want to just turn into the first parking lot and go back the way I came, but there’s a crowd hanging out there that does not look very friendly. I continue up the street, make another right, and hope I can just go around the block to get back on Beverly Boulevard. There are fewer people out on this street, mostly because it’s warehouses, but there are no more streets to turn onto.

  A girl who is very pregnant drags a suitcase to an empty bus stop and I wonder if she’s escaping or coming home.

  Maybe my life does suck. Maybe I did have some bad breaks. And maybe my old neighborhood in Denver wasn’t the safest in the city. But it was a far cry from the living conditions I imagine lurk behind these crumbling buildings.