by Jamie Canosa
Not the money. She didn’t need the money, not that Bart paid her enough to afford much of anything. Her mother made damn sure Ashlyn had what she needed to live a ‘presentable lifestyle’. But she needed the job. The freedom of doing something for herself.
“I offered you a position in my campaign office.”
Oh, Christ on a crutch, not this again. “I can’t work for you.”
A job in politics? She shuddered at the thought.
“Why not?”
“Mother, please? It’s late and I really do need to be up early. If you don’t mind . . .” Ashlyn reached for her clutch and paused, awaiting her mother’s approval.
With a dramatic sigh, the senator nodded. “Alright then, go. But I expect to see you in three weeks at the gala. Understood?”
“Understood.” Gathering her bag and shawl, Ashlyn fled the podium as though it had caught fire.
Chapter Three
Ashlyn
“Good morning.” Mason stood on the doorstep looking far too lively for the early—okay, maybe not so early, but it sure as hell felt early—hour.
“I need coffee.”
He grinned, shaking the white paper bag dangling from his grasp. “I brought bagels.”
“Coffee bagels?” A girl could hope.
“Cinnamon raisin.”
“You fail.” With a quailing glare he failed to notice, she stepped aside to allow him in.
“Don’t you have a coffee pot?” Mason made himself right at home, leading the way into her eat-in kitchen and dropping the bag on the counter.
“Somewhere.”
“And coffee?”
Thinking required too much brainpower. “Somewhere.”
“Ash, are you hungover?” He shook his head at her, a grin lighting up his face far too brightly for the way her head was pounding.
“Whatever would give you that idea?”
“I thought you were going out with your mom last night.”
Thus the need for vast quantities of cheap alcohol upon her arrival home. “Yeah.”
He stopped what he was doing and it dawned on her that he was rooting through her cabinets. “You drank with your mother?”
“No, stupid.”
“Keep calling me names,” he obviously found what he’d been looking for, dropping the coffee can on the counter with an obnoxious bang, “and I won’t make you anything to go with that breakfast I brought you.”
“Sweet nectar of the gods. Don’t stop.” Waving idly at the empty pot sitting on the counter, she dropped her head into her arm on the table and groaned.
His chuckle grated her eardrums, but the pain was quickly soothed by the aromatic, earthy scent of the grinds he was scooping into a filter. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and make a whole pot.”
“Two.” She wasn’t sure he could hear her grumbling into the tabletop, but when he laughed louder, she was sorry he had.
“You know . . .” He set the pot to percolate and the telltale dripping of relief to come gave Ashlyn the energy to lift her head and look at him as he pulled two mugs from the cabinet and set them on the counter. “You do have to be at work in an hour.”
Mason gathered up the milk and sugar as she fought to keep her stomach under control. Just the thought of seeing and smelling greasy food for the next four hours was enough to keep her on the edge of her chair, pointed toward the bathroom. “Argh.”
“Do you want me to call Bart and tell him you’re sick?” He set a cup of black coffee in front of her before returning to the counter to concoct his own. “You never have anything to flavor your coffee with.”
“Coffee is a flavor. They make ice cream out of it.”
Ignoring her completely valid point, he took a seat across from her and set aside his mug. Something else she couldn’t stand. He always let his coffee get lukewarm before he touched it. What a waste. “So, do you want me to call him, or not?”
“No.” The idea of crawling back under her blankets while Mason served her coffee in bed for the rest of the day sounded almost too good to pass up, but she couldn’t give in.
She didn’t need the money. God forbid she had to actually live off the paycheck she got from Bart’s every week, her mother would have kittens. No, she was expected to maintain a certain appearance, and thus a certain lifestyle. A lifestyle which mommy dearest shelled out for every month. But Bart’s was her freedom, her independence, her way of saying ‘I don’t need you’. Even if it was total bullshit.
Working was the only way she maintained any control over her own life. Without that . . . she shuddered to think. Besides, Mason had to be at the Pizza Palace for his own shift right after her, which was why he was giving her a lift in the first place. That and because Harrison, her two-thousand-something-or-other Ford POC was taking a mid-winter vaca in the land of nuts and bolts, otherwise known as Morkie’s Automotive.
“You sure? You’re looking a little—”
“Shut up, Mason. I’m sure.”
“Alright, then why don’t you go hop in the shower and I’ll pour you another cup of caffeine?”
“Okay.” Trudging into the bathroom, she dug through the medicine cabinet in search of some aspirin, eyeing the toilet and willing her stomach to behave.
The hot water felt good on her clammy skin. It soothed away some of her stress and with it the rager in her head eased. Soap and shampoo washed away some of that lingering ‘ick’ and she emerged feeling almost brand new. Minus the snake slithering around the pit of her stomach every time she thought about the night before. That was old and familiar.
Taking a deep breath, she released it slowly, reaching for her toothbrush. Work. She needed to get to work. Against all rational thinking, that’s what would make her feel better.
***
“Are you okay?” Em’s voice held a strange resemblance to nails on a chalkboard.
Lifting her head an inch from where she’d been resting it on the serving station, Ash peered at her friend. She’d gotten as far as donning her apron before she needed a mental time-out. “Do I look okay?”
“She looks . . .” Jay leaned over the bar to plant a kiss on Em’s cheek. “. . . hungover.”
“Give the man a cookie.” Ash offered up a token groan at their PDA.
The two of them were constantly touching, finding any excuse to brush against one another or share a brief kiss. But honestly, they deserved it, and so much more. Em and Jay had been through hell and back, and they still hadn’t found the ‘happily ever after’ they’d earned. Struggling to make ends meet, while dealing with the overwhelming stress of the upcoming trial of Jay’s twisted, abusive father. At least Em’s uncle had taken some sort of plea agreement. She didn’t talk about it much, but her relief was clear that she wouldn’t have to testify about the perverse things he’d done to her as a child. Ashlyn loved them both to death, but she genuinely wished they’d win the lotto or something and move to their own private island where nothing bad could ever touch either of them again.
“Long night?” Em’s sympathy went a long way toward soothing Ash’s frayed nerves.
“You could say that.” Ash tied back her hair and dug through a drawer crammed with pens, paper clips, and . . . nail clippers? Ew. Finally uncovering an order pad, she tucked it in the front pocket of her apron and took a deep breath. The smells coming from the kitchen window made her regret it almost immediately.
“You wanna go to shoe shopping after work. I think it’s about time to put these babies out of their misery.” Em waved her foot and the sole to her frayed sneaker flapped like a flag on a windy day.
“Sure.” Feeling her spirits beginning to lift, Ash accepted the bottle of water Jay handed her from behind the bar.
Four hours felt more like four-hundred, but before Ashlyn could get fired or possibly jailed—because, really, how stupid could some customers be?—she found herself wandering the aisles of a discount shoe store beside her best friend.
“So . . .” Em scanned the shelves
for anything suitable in her size. “There was a reason besides dilapidated footwear and nasty hangovers that I wanted to go shopping with you today.”
That peaked Ashlyn’s interest and she set aside the pair of knee-high boots she’d been considering. “Oh, yeah? You wanting to go shopping? This must be good.”
“Well . . .” Em laughed and it felt really good just to see a smile on her friend’s face. “It wasn’t so much the shopping I wanted as it was getting you alone.”
Ash scanned the crowded store and grinned. “We’re not exactly alone, Em.”
“True, but the house is kind of a mess and I didn’t really want to tell you at Bart’s, and I can’t wait another minute, so this is going to have to do.” Em’s smile morphed into a full on glow, the girl was shining like the freaking sun. Ashlyn considered grabbing a pair of shades from a nearby kiosk.
Em dug into the front pocket of her jeans and pulled out something too small for Ashlyn to make out at first. That is, until she slid it onto her finger. Her ring finger. The one on her left hand.
“Oh my God!” The full force of her excitement and joy manifested itself in a volume control issue and Ashlyn screeched, “Oh my God, Em! Is that what I think it is?”
Em’s lips were pressed so tightly together it looked like she was attempting not to explode through the sheer force of will alone. It didn’t last long. The pure happiness radiating from every last pore stretched into the most incredible smile Ash had ever witnessed. “Jay asked me to marry him.”
“Okay, that’s it. Drop the shoes. We’re celebrating right now with slushies and pretzel bites while you spill every last detail.” Grabbing Em’s hand, she practically dragged her out into the concourse.
Small seating areas were spread around with couches and chairs and the occasional flat screen. Most of them were occupied by men whose wives/daughters/girlfriends were busy shopping, but eventually they found a vacant space with two armchairs and a small round table.
Popping a cinnamon sugar pretzel bite in her mouth, Ash perched on the edge of her chair. “Start talking or I swear I’ll torture it out of you.”
Em laughed and a slight blush crept into her cheeks. Ashlyn knew she didn’t like talking about herself, but this was different. This was something she should be proud to share.
“C’mon, Em. Where were you?”
“He took me out to dinner.” Em settled back in her chair, slowly twisting the straw in her drink. “Not at the Pizza Palace. He took me to Vincent’s.”
“Wow.” The Italian place in town was known for its romantic atmosphere. And its expensive price tag.
“I know. It must have taken him months to save up for something like that. Not to mention the ring.”
“Let me see!” Not giving Em a chance to respond, Ash snagged her hand and drew it toward her face.
The stone was tiny, but the setting made it stand out and sparkle almost as brightly as Em’s eyes when she looked at it. An unexpected ache lodged in Ashlyn’s chest and without warning tears pooled in her eyes. “Oh, Em. It’s perfect.”
Em sniffled. “Don’t you start crying or I’ll start crying again and one public meltdown is enough for me this week.”
“You cried when he gave it to you?”
“Are you kidding me? Like a baby.”
“Did he get down on one knee? Or have it delivered in your dessert?” Ash needed details.
“No. You know Jay, he’s not really big on grand public displays. And neither am I. Too much attention. He waited until we were alone after dinner. We went for a walk in the park down by the river and he . . . he told me that he loved me. He said . . .” Em’s gaze turned inward. Whatever was said between them was between them, but if the soft smile warming her best friend’s face was any indication, whatever Jay said had been absolutely perfect. Em sniffled again and refocused. “He slid the ring on my finger and asked me to be his wife.”
“And I’m guessing you said yes.”
“I was crying so hard I don’t know if he even heard my answer.”
“Em . . . I know everyone says they’re happy for you at times like this, but . . .” Ashlyn had to swallow back a fresh wave of tears. When had she become such a girly girl? “It is so much more than that. There aren’t words to . . . I don’t know how to . . .” She burst out laughing and Em joined in. “I really am happy for you. Both of you. There’s nothing I want more than to see you guys happy and now I know you will be. Forever.”
Ashlyn pressed her palms to her cheeks in an attempt to cool some of the heat burning there from the weird looks they were starting to get, before surrendering to creating a scene and throwing her arms around Em.
“Congratulations!”
“Thank you.” They clung to each other a few moments longer before Em retreated. “There’s something else I wanted to tell you. Ask you, actually. Would you . . .? You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Ash. I can’t imagine my wedding day without you in it. Would you . . . be my maid of honor?”
Oh, jeez.
“You really need to stop talking if you don’t want the waterworks to start flowing. Of course I will. I’d be honored.” Both girls took a few quiet minutes to develop a decent brain freeze care of blue raspberry slushies. When not only did Ashlyn’s head but chest also feel like a solid block of ice, she set aside her drink. “What about Jay? Does he have any friends to stand with him?”
It sounded like a rude question—does he have any friends?—but the guy barely had time to keep up with his own life, working every shift he could, spending countless hours talking with the prosecutors in his dad’s trial. Ashlyn couldn’t remember ever seeing him spend time with anyone outside of Em.
“Well . . .” Em set her super-sized, dome-lidded plastic cup aside, too. “Not exactly. He invited Sam and Greg.” Ashlyn knew the men by name only, but she couldn’t wait to meet them in person. And plant a big fat kiss on their cheeks. Sam handed out day-old baked goods to street kids and he’d helped Em out when she’d been hit by a car. And Greg was his lawyer friend who singlehandedly saved Jay from prison and Em from the vile clutches of her evil uncle. It may have sounded overly dramatic. It wasn’t. “But they’re both a bit older than us. He thought it might be weird to ask one of them to be his best man. So I kinda, sorta, maybe talked him into asking . . . Mason.”
“What?” Ashlyn grinned so hard it made her cheeks physically ache. “How did you pull that off?”
Mason and Jay weren’t exactly . . . much of anything outside of occasional rivals. Mason had even dated Em a time or two last year. Much to Jay’s livid detest. It hadn’t ended pretty with a brawl in the parking lot of Bart’s. They’d made up enough through Mason’s willingness to help put his father away for good to stand to be around each other, but his best man? She couldn’t wait to hear Mason’s reaction.
“When’s he going to ask him?”
“I’m not sure. It took hours of nagging to get him to do it in person. He wanted to text him. Can you believe that? Not even a phone call.”
“What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall for that conversation.”
Chapter Four
Mason
Mason frowned at the phone buzzing in his hand. Customers were lining up to place their orders and screaming children were demanding prizes from the display case, but Jay’s name was flashing on his screen. They didn’t exactly share a social relationship, so he knew it had to be important.
“Hey, Kev, can you cover the register for a second? I really gotta take this.” The fourteen-year-old punk they’d hired last week rolled his eyes as he hoisted himself off the counter.
So sorry to disrupt your lazy streak. Fighting back his irritation—it had been another long, loud day and his head was not thanking him for it—Mason pressed his phone to one ear and covered the other. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Jay.” He sounded . . . weird.
“What’s up? Is everything okay? Is Em okay?”
“She’s fine.” If he didn’t kn
ow better, he’d swear his concern for Em pissed Jay off. Mason grinned. “Are you at work?”
“Yeah, why?”
“You wanna . . . I don’t know . . . meet up for a slice or something after your shift?”
Jay wanted to make plans? With him? Why did that not sound good? “Is this about the case? I talked to the lawyer last week, she—”
“No, it’s not about the case. I just . . . I need to ask you something and evidently it needs to be done in person.” His aggravation was loud and clear, which only served to peak Mason’s curiosity more.
“Sure. I’m off at seven, but let’s go anywhere but here.”
“How about the diner? I’ll meet you there at seven?”
“Sounds good.”
Mason tucked his phone away and glanced at the clock. Three more hours to go. Kevin was shouting for him from the register and a short curly haired girl had climbed up onto the display case. Again. And now he had to meet Jay after work. This day was never going to end.
***
Jay was already seated when Mason arrived. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Mason slid into the booth across from him and snagged a menu.
After smelling greasy pizza all day long, he wasn’t particularly hungry, but he was here to talk to Jay of all people. It seemed having something to occupy himself with might be a good call. They perused their limited options in silence until a waitress came and took their orders.
“So . . .” With all other distractions exhausted, Mason sat back and laid his arm across the back of the booth, attempting to look more comfortable than he really felt. “What’s up?”
“Thanks for meeting me. I was happy to do this over the phone, but Em insisted it needed to be done in person.”
“Oookay.” The phone would have worked just fine for him, whatever this was about.
Jay lifted his water glass, stared into it and then placed it back on the table. “Look, I asked Em to marry me.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. And she said yes.”
