"He fucked me on his dining room table very early this morning." I squeeze her forearm as I gesture to the case that's resting by her expensive heels. "We need to get there now, Maya. Let's go."
"Wait." She stalls me when she places her hand over mine. "You didn't just say he fucked you on a dining room table, did you?"
"The Bishop, Maya." I point up the block to where the hotel towers over the adjacent buildings. "Let's go take some pictures that will knock Mr. Bishop's socks off."
She heaves the bag back onto her shoulder. "Personally, I'd rather knock his pants off."
***
I fall into the worn leather chair in my studio soon after I walk through the door. My morning was even better than I envisioned it would be. Maya and I worked like a well-oiled machine together as soon as we both got over the initial shock of how exquisite the hotel suite was.
The marketing department at Bishop Hotels wanted shots of the bedroom, the sitting area and the washroom of one of the luxury suites. It was immaculate and a dream to photograph. I worked quickly, not giving it to the temptation to overthink each shot. I let my intuition guide me and with Maya's help and the help of one of the housekeeping staff sent up to steam the bed linens to remove all the wrinkles, I left with hundreds of stunning pictures.
If Mr. Bishop and his staff can't see the beauty of their hotel in their pictures, I may need to find another job.
I scan my phone for any missed messages. I have three texts from clients all booked in over the course of the next week. They each want to confirm their times and two of them are looking for guidance on what to wear. I reply back to each, taking the time to ask how their day is, along with a few encouraging words about how great I know the shoot will be.
I've learned, through a lot of hours of coddling, that most people aren't comfortable in front of a camera. When I ask someone to smile, it's rare that I'm going to actually get a smile that doesn't look fake or forced.
Getting them comfortable before they even arrive to my studio, benefits both of us. They feel as though they know me so some of those defenses that we all have, fall down. I get better pictures, they're generally happier with the results. That almost always means either repeat business from them or a referral.
Just as I press send on the last message there's a knock at the door of my studio. I glance down at the time on my phone. My one o'clock headshot session is a half hour early. I heave a sigh as I get up to walk across the room. My heels feel like they're filled with lead. I didn't sleep more than a couple of hours last night and this morning my adrenaline meter was running on high.
As much as I'd like to just go home to bed, I can't. I swing open the door before I greet my client and push my head right back into the game.
CHAPTER 32
Asher
"He's on a cruise, Asher. It took off from Athens last week." Gabriel leans back in the chair, crossing his legs at the knee. "You know Roman. He likely let the battery on his phone die. When he wants to be unreachable, he makes it happen."
I do know dad. I know that whenever a new woman crosses his path, he loses interest in everyone else, including his grandson. Caleb was pissed a few weeks ago when dad never bothered to show for his son's first birthday party.
When I got the invite to Zeek's party, I cleared my schedule. We were all there, except for my father. It shouldn't have surprised any of us. I don't remember the last birthday I celebrated where he was on the same continent as me.
"I need to speak to him," I mumble. "I want to do that in person."
He scratches his left brow. "I can step in, Asher. I'm good at offering advice."
"Dad needs to handle this one on his own." I pause, wanting to change the subject. "How's Isla feeling?"
His expression softens at the mention of his wife's name. Isla Foster is younger than me but her talent knows no bounds. Our taste in music couldn't differ more. She's a violinist, studying at Juilliard. She's almost six months pregnant with a little girl, Ella.
Both of my brothers have families now. They've come a long way from the days at the house in the Hamptons when Gabriel would drive us to town in the old truck my parents kept there. We'd stuff ourselves full of hot dogs and burgers before Gabriel would use his fake ID to buy us a case of beer.
When I was in rehab, he confessed that he felt my addictions were a product of that. The bitter taste of the beer when I was twelve-years-old didn't push me towards drugs.
He laughed when I told him that I spit most of the beer out when he and Caleb weren't looking. Those moments weren't about anything but brotherly bonding.
"She's a powerhouse." He picks at the remnants of the sandwich on the plate in front of him. "She gets more beautiful by the day, Asher. I fall in love with her more every time I see her."
"You're a lucky man." I swallow a mouthful of coffee. "That woman has more talent in her little finger than I'll ever have."
I look up at him and he's grinning. It's a normal reaction for any man who just heard a compliment about his wife. It's not typical for my brother though. Gabriel didn't smile much before Isla walked into his life. He was all business, all the time. The only other thing he focused on was me and my recovery. It's great to finally see him living the life he's always deserved.
"She says the same thing about you, Asher." He tugs on the arm of his suit jacket, straightening it. "I've caught her more than once singing your songs in the shower."
"Isla sings?" I sit back. "Is she any good?"
"I'm not the one to ask. That woman can do no wrong in my eyes."
I could say the same for Falon. I miss her already. She took off before I woke up this morning, leaving me a note. She wrote about how special it was to spend the night with me and how she'd see me tomorrow night, at my studio with her brother.
She ended the note simply.
Adoringly, Falon.
I ripped the page from the notebook, folded it and tucked it into the front pocket of my pants before I came to meet Gabriel for lunch.
"Caleb says you're dating a photographer." He pushes the plate in front of him to the side. "It's Falon Shaw?"
I nod. "We met when she took some pictures of me for the label."
"You like this girl?" He cocks a dark brow. "She's good to you?"
I swallow hard. "She's amazing, Gabriel. She's driven, smart and she doesn’t give two shits that I'm Asher Foster."
"Is it serious? You haven't known her that long, have you?"
I pull on my ear lobe. He's pushing because he wants me to be happy. I get that but I can't define what's happening between Falon and me. We're dating, we're lovers, and we're definitely becoming best friends. What do you call that?
"We hang out a lot. She's going to come to Philly next week to take some pictures of me for a concert Dita pulled together."
"I saw that on your website. I have a fundraiser that night. If I didn't, I'd be there for you."
My eldest brother is everything my dad's never been to me. He's willing to travel anywhere just to be in the audience. It's who he's always been.
"I know it. It's going to be a great show and at the end of the night, I get to spend time with Falon. It's shaping up to be one of the best nights of my life."
***
"I've been looking forward to this for days, Asher." Elijah looks down at the guitar case in his hand. "I brought my guitar like you said I should."
I glance at Falon before I take the case from Elijah. I wanted to kiss her when she walked in but I could see the hesitation there. I don't know enough about her relationship with her brother to know if she's comfortable displaying affection in front of him. I didn't want to risk embarrassing her so I hugged her, lingering longer than I should have.
"I'll sign it right now."
He doesn't hesitate as he places the case on the couch before he opens it. He pulls out a wooden guitar, the strings unmatched. The handle is worn.
"This looks exactly like the first guitar I had." I take it from him and crad
le it in my hands. "I bought mine used when I was thirteen. I still have it at my apartment."
"I saw it." Falon steps closer. "It's your bedroom, isn't it? It's one of the guitars you keep on those stands."
Elijah rubs his hand over his face, shielding his eyes. Falon reacts with a wince and a quick smile directed at me.
"I'll sign the back." I flip the guitar over and pick up a black felt tipped pen resting on the recording console. I know enough about guitars and autographs to know that it's going to be more valuable if I don't personalize it with his name. I sign my name, stopping when I'm done to look down at my signature.
Asher Foster.
It never felt foreign until I heard that voicemail. Ever since then, I wonder what my biological father's surname is and whether he has any clue that I'm his son.
CHAPTER 33
Falon
"He left for Philadelphia yesterday." I look back over my shoulder. "He has to do some prep for his concert there next week. I won't see him now until I get there on Thursday afternoon."
"Do you need an assistant for that?" Maya takes a drink of the iced coffee she brought with her to my studio. She brought me one too. I'm grateful. The air conditioning is, once again, on the fritz so I've opened the windows and propped open the door again in an attempt to pull in any cool breeze that may be out there.
I shrug as I turn in my chair to look at her. I've been doing production on some of the shots I took of the Bishop Hotel three days ago.
This morning I begrudgingly attached two of the already finessed images to an email and then sent them to the woman in marketing there who arranged the trial shoot for me. She was eager to see what I've done. I want to take my time with the last set of shots so there's no regret when I upload them to the private web gallery I created for the Bishop executives.
"My aunt lives in Philadelphia so I can crash at her place. I won't get in the way of your Foster fuck fest. I promise."
It will be a fuck fest. The other night, Asher and I had a quick kiss goodbye while Eli waited outside the recording studio for me.
We spent more than two hours there. Elijah's face was lit up the entire time with a smile as he played some of his original music for Asher. They worked on a melody together after that. Asher promised Elijah that if he uses the track that he’d get song writing credit. When he talked about contracts and royalties, I was worried Eli might collapse from excitement.
After we left the studio, I explained on the subway ride back to my apartment that it wasn't written in stone yet. Eli understood, telling me that it didn't matter if the melody ever made it big. He was going to work on his own new material, which is what he did for most of the night, strumming away on his guitar in the living room while I tried to sleep.
"Asher's manager did say I could bring an assistant. They're paying me enough for that. It would be great to fly there together."
I hadn't bothered to mention the job to Remy. I got a text message late last night from my sister, Clara, telling me that Remy is considering a move west to take a job as a production assistant for a webcast. I know that she loves California so there's no way in hell I'm going to stand in her way. I've started putting out feelers for a new assistant since Maya already has a job she loves.
"We'd have a blast and besides, I'm the muscle in this operation." She flexes her arm, her bicep hidden under the sleeve of the yellow dress she's wearing. "I'll carry the lights. You'll take the pictures. I'll be the best assistant Philly's ever seen."
"You're the assistant?" A deep voice says from the open door of my studio. "You're not what I expected at all."
***
If I needed a lesson in how to flirt with a man, Maya Baker would be my go-to girl. She's putting every other woman on the planet to shame right now as she holds court with Julian Bishop in the middle of my overheated studio.
He didn't even glance in my direction when he walked in. He headed straight for her, reaching out his hand to not only shake hers, but to help her to her feet from the chair she was tucked into. She rose like a Queen even though he's one of the most intimidating men I've ever met. He was charmed instantly and as I watch the two of them talk, I realize that he's captivated by her.
"I'm not actually Falon's assistant." She leans back to pull her purse into her hands. "I work in real estate."
"Real estate?" he asks quietly. "In what capacity?"
The slight hesitation in Maya's arm as she reaches forward to hand him her business card may go unnoticed by him, but I spot it right away. "I'm an agent's assistant right now."
He nods before he looks down at the card. "You handle rentals, I see."
Maya's told me that her current position is only a stepping stone to where she wants to be within the next year. She wants to be a full-fledged broker, wheeling and dealing with Manhattan's real estate elite. Her dream is to sell an apartment on Park Avenue before she's thirty. I believe she'll do it. I know she will. She's like a hurricane, completely unstoppable.
"I do, for now." She studies him.
"I'll keep this in the event I'm in the market for a rental." He tucks the card into the pocket of his suit jacket.
Maya watches the movement carefully. "I assume you're here to see, Falon. You're giving her the job, aren't you, Julian?"
I cringe inwardly at the way she says his name. There are promises of lust attached to the lilt in her voice.
An easy smile floats over his lips before he turns to look at me. "I saw the pictures you sent to our team this morning, Falon. I was walking past your building on my way to a meeting so I thought I'd stop in to speak to you in person. As Maya said, the job is yours."
I want to jump up and down and maybe attempt a cartwheel but since I'm wearing a skirt, I instead handle the news with all the composure I can pull together. "I'm looking forward to working with your team, Mr. Bishop. I can't wait to get started."
"They'll be in touch soon to work out the logistics. You'll do our brand proud, Falon."
I shake his hand before he turns back to Maya. "Real estate in New York is cutthroat, but I sense you'll rise to the top, Maya."
She doesn't respond. Instead she nods her head before he turns and walks out of my studio.
"What the hell was that?" I reach for her forearm. "Did you feel that tension between the two of you?"
"Did you see the size of his hands?" She tilts her head slightly. "Too bad the man is spoken for."
"Spoken for?"
She sighs as she falls back into the chair she was sitting in before Julian arrived. "I Googled him after we were at the hotel. He's dating a lawyer. She's smart, hot and she works for him. That right there was my moment in time with Julian Bishop."
"You have Jason," I offer, as if the handsome surgeon she's dating is a consolation prize.
"I don't." She taps her knee. "We're done. We ended it last night."
I never would have known that by the way she walked in here brimming with happiness and confidence. "Why? What happened?"
She adjusts the front of her dress. "We had one thing in common, Fal. Sex. We realized it two nights ago when we went out for dinner. I was checking messages on my phone the entire night, he did the same. We barely said two words to one another."
I say it even though I'm not sure I need to. "I'm sorry, Maya."
"I'm good." She stands again. "I've got a great job, my wardrobe is killer and I'm going to Philadelphia next week with my best friend."
"We both have it good right now, don't we?" I whisper the words as I pull her into a tight hug. "The future is going to be even better."
CHAPTER 34
Asher
"That's the last of the interviews for today," Dita says as she wraps her arm around my shoulder. "You were phenomenal."
I was adequate. I've grown accustomed to the shallow on-air discussions I have with entertainment reporters before a concert. It's a piece of the promotional puzzle that Dita puts way too much faith in. She still doesn't understand that my fan base isn't si
tting in front of television sets. They're online and if she put more thought into it, she'd realize that a video clip of me posted to my website, answering questions my fans ask on social media would be a better investment of both my time and hers.
I indulge her though. I need to in order to keep the waters from being choppy. She's set in her ways and whether or not I always agree with them isn't relevant at this point. She's pushed my career into high gear, which is something my former manager never accomplished.
"Have you seen Falon?" I glance over Dita's shoulder down the empty corridor. We're backstage, readying for the show. It starts in less than two hours. Falon's flight landed more than an hour ago. I texted her but I haven't gotten a reply yet.
She turns her head to look in the same direction I am. "We sent a car to the airport to get her and her assistant. I'll shoot the driver a text to see what the delay is."
My stomach tenses. I've spoken to Falon on the phone at least three times a day since I left New York last week. It's been hell being away from her but I needed to get my head back in the game.
I was going to surprise her by showing up at her studio a few days ago. That changed when I called her and she told me that her schedule was overbooked. She's been doing one shoot after another since I left. As much as I hate the time apart, I know it's giving her the space she needs to get her work done and I've been able to finish one of the songs I've been working on.
"They're stuck near the terminal. There was an accident, the road is blocked." Dita's head is bowed towards her phone. "He'll do what he can to get them here before the show."
I exhale in a rush, tugging my hands through my hair. "Fuck."
"Don't let this derail you, Asher." She pushes on my shoulder. "Go to your dressing room. Sit by yourself if you need to. Call one of your brothers or try Falon again. Get it together. I need you at your best when you hit the stage."
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