Fairytale Remix: Blayze & Ash

by Jessica Sorensen

  I shrug. “How would I know?”

  “Um, because you were totally staring at him. Seriously, Blayze, I think a little bit of drool came out of your mouth.”

  I pretend not hear her and focus on section O, and she heads off to God knows where to do God knows what.

  I spend my time scrolling through the selections and even chat it up for a bit with the cashier guy named Zeke, who yeah, seems a little obsessed with tarot cards and smells like he rolled around in an array of spices, but he’s really sweet and has a genuine smile.

  By the time Ivy returns, I’ve made it all the way to section V and have at least ten records in my hand. I can’t afford to buy them, but at the back of the store is a listening station, and I plan on camping out there until either the store closes or the owner kicks me out.

  “Hey, when you head back, can you tell Dad that I’m here and that I might be a little late? I’ll text him, but you know how he is about checking his messages,” I say to Ivy as I flip through more records. “And tell him I’ll bring dinner with me, too. I don’t want him trying to cook again. I love the man to death, but seriously, do you know how much effort it took for him to burn the soup and sandwiches he tried to make the other day?”

  I hear someone chuckle from beside me, a chuckle that’s way too deep and masculine to belong to Ivy. I glance up and, to my horror, it’s not Ivy, but the guy I was gawking at earlier.

  “As much as I’d love to pass along the message, I’m not sure I’d be the best person for the job,” he says with a trace of an accent. “Considering I have no idea who you are, who your father is, or where you live.”

  My cheeks warm with embarrassment. “Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

  “I figured as much.” Then he just stares at me, as if waiting for something.

  “Did you need something?” I ask after the silence turns awkward.

  “Yeah, for you to move,” he says.

  I step back. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” He moves forward and begins sifting through the section of records I was just searching through.

  I stare at him for a drumbeat or two longer, wondering what his deal is, before I drift across the aisle to section E. I find two albums from one of my favorite bands and add them to my ever-growing stack.

  “I heard they’re good.” The guy with fierce gold eyes startles me as he steps up beside me.

  “Yeah, they’re pretty good.” I’m fixing my attention on section I when his hand appears in my line of vision.

  “I’m Ashford, by the way.”

  I shake his hand, even though the dude is confusing the crap out of me. One minute, he’s as chilly as leftover ash in a fire pit, and now he’s trying to act warm like a soft lull of fire.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Ashford. I’m Blayze.”

  “Blayze?” He ponders the name for a moment. “Are you new to town?”

  “Yeah, my family just moved here a few weeks ago from the States.” I bite down on my tongue. Shit. That was way too much information.

  “How do you like it here so far?” he asks, seeming pretty uninterested in where I’m from.

  “It’s not too bad. A little colder and cloudier than what I’m used to, but I’m not really a sunny beach sort of girl.”

  He eyes me over. “Yeah, you don’t really look like it.”

  “My sister is, though. She really misses our old home.”

  His brow arches. “Is your sister that blonde girl you walked in with earlier?”

  I nod, my gaze skimming the store. “Yeah, she wandered off a bit ago … looking for you, actually.”

  “Really?” He seems smug about this.

  I resist an eye roll. “Don’t get too excited. She just wants to ask where you bought your clothes.”

  “Everywhere and anywhere,” he says with a hint of arrogance. “I honestly couldn’t tell her where since I don’t shop for myself.”

  “Who does it for you, then? Your parents?” It seems odd, considering he looks at least as old as me.

  A cocky half-grin tugs at his lips. “No, my servants do.”

  “You have servants …? How old are you?”

  “Eighteen, but I’m an overachiever.” His arrogance grows. “I owned my first business when I was fifteen. By the time I was seventeen, I bought my first house. You probably know the one. It’s up on the hill at the end of town.”

  I do know the house. Ivy’s been yammering about it ever since we got here. Very castle-esque. Very fancy. Very big.

  “Do you live there all alone?” I ask, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

  “Of course. Well, except for my countless servants, but they’re under strict orders to not be seen or heard.”

  “You never see your servants and you live there all alone ... Doesn’t that get a little lonely in such a big house?”

  He gives me the same look Ivy does whenever she thinks I’m being naïve. “I’m not alone. I have parties all the time.” He shoots me a charming grin as he crosses his arms. “In fact, I’m having one the weekend after next. You should come.”

  I offer him a forced smile. “Thanks, but I’m not really a party type of girl.”

  “Are you sure? It’ll be a great party. I only invite those who are rich and beautiful. I promise.” He nods in the direction of the front counter. “No guys like Zeke will be there.” When I don’t remark, he adds, “I saw him bothering you earlier.”

  “He wasn’t bothering me. We were actually having a really nice conversation about the bands I need to see live.”

  He looks at me like I’m the silliest girl in the world. “Guys who look like Zeke are always bothering anyone when they speak to them. You just might be too nice to admit that.”

  W.O.W. This guy could give my sister a run for her vanity title.

  “I’m not just being nice. Zeke is a nice guy—at least, he was to me—and I’m planning on talking to him again and maybe even spending time with him.”

  “So, you’re saying that you’d rather hang out with Zeke than go to my party?” A mixture of amusement and bafflement dances in his eyes.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.” I back toward the stations. “You should ask my sister to go, though. She loves parties, and she hasn’t been to one since we moved here. Plus, she seems more like your type.” I wave bye at him, hating that I feel so flustered over our conversation. “It was nice meeting you, Ashford.” I turn around and jog up the steps to the listening station area.

  After I get settled in a booth, I close the glass door, put the headphones on, and place the record on the player. A symphony of music floods my eardrums and lulls me into a state of calm as I relax back in the comfy chair.

  I tap my feet to the rhythm and thrum my fingers against my legs as I sing along with the lyrics. The longer I listen to music, the more relaxed I get as thoughts of Ashford and his arrogance drift away. I shut my eyes, get lost, and float away to another life where I used to spend time with my mother, doing the exact same thing.

  Like me, my mother loved music. She had some talent, though. She could sing and play the guitar. The first time I ever went to a record store, I was with her.

  God, I miss her so much.

  A few stray tears escape my eyes. With no one around, I allow more to pour out.

  I’m unsure how long I would’ve remained in that booth crying if someone didn’t touch my ankle.

  Startled by the unexpected touch, my eyelids snap open. The door to the booth is open, and Ashford is sitting near my feet with a quizzical look on his face.

  His lips move to say something, but I can’t tell what he’s saying. I hesitate for a moment or two, debating whether to take off the headphones and listen to him.

  My inner kindness wins, and I slip off the headphones.

  “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t hear you. What did you say?”

  He momentarily stares at my tears before elevating his gaze to mine. “I wanted to tell you that I invited Zeke to
my party.”

  “Okay …?”

  He adds, “So, now you have to come.”

  “I already told you that I’m not really the partying type.”

  “But I invited Zeke for you.”

  “You invited Zeke to your party just so I’d come?”

  “Obviously.” He says it like I should have known that to begin with it. “So, you’ll come, right?”

  I really don’t want to go, but I don’t want to just reject his invitation.

  “I’ll come, just as long as my father says it’s okay.”

  “All right, I guess I can accept that answer,” he says, sounding the slightest bit irked.

  A tiny bit of anger simmers under my skin. “And what if I would’ve said no?”

  “Then I wouldn’t have accepted the answer,” he replies simply as he rises to his feet. “The party is on Saturday the eighth at nine. It’s the biggest house in town that will be filled with the most beautiful people, so you can’t miss it.”

  He throws me another of what I’m sure he thinks is a bedazzling, panty-dropping smirk before he saunters away.

  I return to my music until Ivy pulls me out of the booth, looking more excited than she’s been in weeks.

  “You’ll never believe what just happened?”

  “A super hot guy named Ashford asked you to go to his party,” I say as I return the records to the correct sections.

  “Who the hell’s Ashford?”

  “That guy with the nice clothes, the main reason you dragged me into the store.”

  It registers who I’m talking about, and she quickly waves me off. “He’s so old news, Blayze. I met someone much better than him.”

  “Really?” It’s really hard to buy, considering Ashford seems like Ivy’s type.

  “Yes, really. I met his father who’s, like, ten times richer than him.”

  “What? His father?”

  “Yes, his father.” She rolls her eyes. “Aldman was outside of the store when I wandered out, pulling up in a limo, actually, looking for his son … that Ashford guy you were gawking at earlier in the street. He rolled down his window and told me I was hot. One thing led to another, and well, he asked me to fly to Paris with him this weekend.”

  “Dad’s never going to let you go.”

  She places her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes at me. “I’m almost nineteen years old. Dad can’t tell me what to do.”

  “He just wants you to be safe, Ivy. So do I.”

  “I’ll be safe with Aldman. He’s a grown man, for God’s sake.”

  “How old is he, like, forty?”

  “I don’t care how old he is. The only number that’s important to me is how much he has in his bank account.” She flips her hair off her shoulder, reels around, and marches for the door.

  I know where she’s going—back home to tell our dad she’s going. In the end, she’ll get her way and use this Aldman guy for his money. I just wish she could see things for how they really are for once or see how wrong she is.

  Until she does, she’ll never be happy.

  Chapter 3

  Like I predicted, Ivy spends the weekend in Paris with Aldman. When Monday rolls around, she returns home with bags full of clothes and shoes, gushing about what a wonderful time she had and all the stuff Aldman bought for her.

  Tuesday morning, I leave the house and go for a walk, needing some fresh, Ivy-gushing free air. No surprise, my legs take me directly to the record store, excited to see if they got anything new in over the weekend.

  “We usually only get new stuff in once a month, but if you give me your number, I can text you when we do,” Zeke tells me when I ask him.

  I ask him for his number and text him mine. “Thanks. I really appreciate this.”

  “No problem.” He fiddles with his eyebrow piercing while chewing on his lip ring, appearing as though he wants to say more.

  Zeke is a unique-looking person with hair as blue as the ocean and tattoos inking his arms, hands, and neck. Metal piercings cover his face along with a massive, thick scar that traces his jawline. Some people in the store seem afraid of him, but I think he’s beautiful to look at, like a painting full of various colors and intricate details and shapes that somehow fit together perfectly.

  “Hey, you wanna see something really cool?” he finally says to me.

  “Sure.”

  He looks as giddy as me listening to a new record as he steps out from behind the counter and motions for me to follow him to one of the booths.

  “Is it okay that you’re back here?” I ask, casting a worried glance at the few people wandering in the store.

  “Yeah, people tend to spend hours browsing before they buy.” He takes my hand in his.

  “I totally get that.” I stare down at our interlaced fingers, wondering what he’s doing.

  “I’m going to read you your fortune,” he explains, like he read my mind.

  “You know how to do that?”

  “I’m the best in town. Well, besides my mom.”

  I grin. “All right, let’s hear what you’ve got.”

  “Let me see.” He muses something over as he studies the lines on my hand. “You’ll live a long, healthy, rich life.”

  “Really?” I sound mildly disappointed.

  “Yeah, but rich doesn’t necessarily mean wealthy. It could mean that you live a life rich with happiness and love, where you marry the love of your life and have a happily ever after.”

  “Aw, it sounds like I’m going to live a sappy, romantic movie.”

  “You could, but … It’s not going to be easy. You’ll have to make sacrifices, ones that’ll change you, but if you can see the bigger picture, it’ll be worth it. If you make the sacrifice, then you’ll blaze through the world like a wildfire and do great things.”

  My heart stops in my chest and shock laces my tone. “My dad says the same thing. He told me that’s why I was named Blayze.”

  Zeke looks up at me with a huge smile on my face. “See? I told you I was one of the best in town.”

  I smile, but on the inside, I’m creeped out. I’ve never really believed in palm reading, tarot cards, psychics, witches, and stuff kissed with magic, but the fact that he said the exact same words my father said to me on the night we had to move sends a chill up my spine.

  “Creepy cool, right?” Zeke asks.

  “Definitely creepy cool, Zeke.”

  “Good, I’ll take that as another satisfied customer.” He frowns when he notices Ashford standing in one of the aisles, sorting through records. “I really wish he didn’t come in here every day.”

  “He comes in here every day? Really?”

  “Yep. For the last two years, pretty much since his mom died. She actually died here. Had a heart attack near section S.”

  I feel a pang of sympathy for Ashford. Even if he’s a little arrogant, I know firsthand how difficult it is to lose your mom.

  Zeke sighs, turning his attention back to me. “I hate hating people, but the guy’s a total jerk. Although, he did invite me to one of his infamous parties. I don’t get why, though. He’s never invited me before.”

  “I think that might’ve had something to do with me,” I say. “Sorry, but I told him I didn’t like parties, and for some reason, he thought I’d go to his if he invited you … I don’t get why he wants me to go so badly. He doesn’t even know me.”

  “Probably because you’re gorgeous,” he says with a shrug.

  My cheeks warm at the compliment. “But still, he doesn’t even know me.”

  “That doesn’t matter to guys like Ashford. All he sees are looks, which is why he’s never invited me to a party before. Or half the town, for that matter.”

  “Zeke, you’re not ugly. In fact, I think you’re really beautiful.”

  He stares at me with astonishment then shakes his head. “You’re a little odd, Blayze, but in the best way possible.” His gaze darts to the register. “Shit, I’ve got to go take care of this dude.”
/>
  He leaves me in the booth alone with the door wide open.

  The noise from the store drifts inside, and I pick up a record sitting beside the player, turn it over, and read the list of songs on the back.

  My gaze travels to the booth across from mine when Ashford steps inside it and shuts the door. He doesn’t seem to notice me watching him as he loads the record player with a record, slips on the headphones, and sits back with his legs stretched out across the booth.

  His lips move and his fingers tap to the rhythm as pain and sadness radiate from his eyes. I can’t help thinking of what Zeke told me about his mom and how he comes here every day.

  I suddenly find myself leaving my booth and knocking on his.

  His gaze lifts from the record sleeve he’s holding, and a haughty smile spreads across his face. Then he leans forward and pulls open the door.

  “I was wondering when you were going to stop admiring the view from afar.”

  “I actually wasn’t admiring from afar. I just noticed you looked kind of sad and wanted to see if you were okay.”

  His grin falters for a fleeting second, but he promptly collects himself. “Of course I’m okay. I have the perfect life.”

  “That might be true, but sometimes, people just say that because they don’t want anyone knowing what’s really going on. Like my dad. He’s always telling me he’s okay, but with everything going on, I know that can’t be true. And he looks worn out and forgets half the stuff he’s supposed to do …” I trail off, realizing I’m rambling.

  Ashford seems mildly amused as he reclines back and tucks his hands behind his head. “You know, last week, you seemed so offish toward me that I actually started to question myself. At first, I wondered if maybe you were blind and couldn’t see how gorgeous of a guy you were talking to, but then I thought maybe I had lost my charm. I’m not going to lie; I lost a little bit of sleep over the idea. But now I get it.”

  My brows dip. “Get what?”

  “That I make you nervous.”

  I shoot him a dirty look. “You so do not.”

  His stupid smirk takes over his entire face. “Just admit it. I make you nervous because you’ve probably never had a guy as hot as me hit on you. I’m not saying you’re ugly or anything—you’re beautiful—but you’ve got that slightly shy, quirky, oblivious-to-your-looks way about you that probably scares a lot of guys off. Lucky for you, I don’t scare easily.”