by Vivian Wood
But Ashton sat down and slowly took off the sunglasses. Sean willed himself not to wince at the sight. Ashton’s eyes were bloodshot and the dark circles under his eyes looked like they’d been dug by a gravedigger. “I look like hell, I know,” Ashton said. There was a hint of his old friend in the haggard voice. “Fuck, I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know!”
Sean wanted to say more. He’d beg, he’d do nearly anything to get all of this over with. He knew Ashton, though, and he didn’t do well with being pushed.
“Okay,” Ashton said finally. He said it with his head hung low, but he said it. “Okay.”
“I can’t … look, Ashton, I can’t promise anything,” Sean said. “But I’ll try. I’ll call her, and I’ll do my best. But I’m serious, you have to get clean, too. If she’s sober, then there’s no way she’ll take you back if you’re not on the wagon, too.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ashton said. “I know.”
“And here’s the other part of the deal,” Sean said. It was a risk, to push this hard, but he had to do it. “If you drop the charges, I’ll talk to her but you have to come to a meeting, too.”
“A meeting?” Ashton raised his brow at Sean. “Like some of that ‘my name is Dickhead and I’m an alcoholic’ type of bullshit?”
“Yeah, that kind of bullshit,” Sean said. “But, you know, if you take it seriously? It helps. I know it sounds really LA enlightening and all, but it works. The meeting I go to, it has a good mix of people. Not what you’d expect.”
“Huh,” Ashton said. Sean didn’t know what that meant, but Ashton pulled out his phone. “I can call my lawyer right now,” Ashton said. “If you call her.”
Sean blew out his breath but began to scroll through his own phone. He knew there was a reason he hadn’t yet bothered to delete all the numbers from his past life. He’d been worried that Harper might one day see his phone and wonder at all the names, but know he knew it was Ashton he’d held out for. Not anybody else.
“You first,” Ashton said. “Put it on speakerphone.”
“Speaker—are you serious?” Sean asked. “Here?”
“I won’t say anything.”
Sean knew he couldn’t trust an addict, but it was the only shot he had. As the rings began, he put it on speakerphone and placed his phone on the table between them.
“Hello?” she sounded wary, as she should. He didn’t know if she’d looked him up at all since the accident. For all she knew, he could be drugged out and sleeping on the street.
“Hey, hi,” he said. “How’s … how’s it going?”
“Sean? Uh, fine. Why are you calling me?”
“Honestly? It’s about Ashton.”
She gave a deep sigh. “What did he do now? You know I have zero contact with him, I don’t know why you’re calling me.”
She was angry, and maybe rightfully so. “Look, I’ll just lay this out straight for you. I … I know he wants you back. And I heard you’re sober now, which is great. I’m in AA, too—I mean, I don’t know if that’s part of your recovery. So I know it’s discouraged to date someone who’s an alcoholic, but … I just wanted to tell you he’s cleaning himself up. He really loves you. And, well, I just wanted to say you should think about giving him a second chance.”
“Did he put you up to this?”
Ashton gave him a look. “No. I mean, he’s talked to me about you, yeah. But I’m being real. He’s a good guy, deep down. And he cares about you.”
“Ugh, Sean, I don’t know. This is weird! You and I used to be together. Kind of, you know. And he’s really fucked up. Like, really, really fucked up. More than you and I ever were. With the drugs and all, you know, that’s a whole other element.”
“I know, I understand,” he said. “But can I be honest with you? I’m with someone now. She’s not an alcoholic or a drug addict, but she has her own issues, too. We all do. But when you find someone who really gets you, that you connect with? That’s hard to find. I just, you know, I wish you’d give Ashton another chance.”
“You really think he’s a good guy?” she asked. “For real.”
“I do,” he said. And realized he meant it.
“Okay,” she said.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, if he gets clean and stays that way, who knows? If I’m being honest, I’ve never stopped caring about him.”
“Well, that’s great. Thanks. Take care of yourself, okay?”
“I’m trying.” She hung up without saying goodbye.
“Thanks,” Ashton said. Sean thought he heard a tightness in his voice. “I, uh, I’m going to call my lawyer, then.”
“Thank you,” Sean said. “So … I guess if that’s that, I’ll get going. I have a girlfriend waiting at home.”
“Lucky you,” Ashton said. “Hey, Sean?”
Sean turned around with his hand on the door. “Yeah?”
“I wish you luck in the future. I really do.”
Sean smiled. “I don’t need luck. I’ve got my girl, got a job. That’s all I need. But thank you, anyway.”
As he walked toward his car, there was a lightness in him he hadn’t felt in years.
28
Harper
“You look great,” Sean said. He came up from behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Like a serious girlboss.”
“Hah,” Harper said. “I’ll be thrilled at assistant, gofer, coffee-getter or any other menial title Sophia might feel inclined to throw my way.”
“She’d be insane not to hire you,” he said. “Especially in this outfit, goddamn.”
“Stop it!” she said with a giggle. “This is couture.”
“Whatever it is, it’s working,” he said.
Harper pulled delicately at the hem of the fitted dress. It had been a gift from a designer after she’d headlined his spring runway show. At the time, she’d been excited to get it, but had also considered it just another perk of the business. If I’d only known this would be the last couture I’d walk in.
“You want me to drive you?” he asked.
“No, I’m okay. No offense, but I don’t want her to see me being dropped off like it’s my first day of school.”
“None taken. But I think the dress is missing something.”
“What?” She scanned herself in the mirror, but didn’t see anything missing.
“Maybe a little accessorizing?” he asked. Sean held up the rose gold collar he’d gifted her what seemed like a lifetime ago.
“Sean,” she said with a blush. “How’d you find that?”
“You didn’t exactly hide it,” he said. She lifted up her hair to let him attach the thin clasps together.
“It’s perfect,” she said. Harper ran her hand across the wisp of a collar. Anyone else would think it was a feminine choker. She liked this, a secret in plain sight.
Sean kissed her neck and caught her gaze in the mirror. “Go get ‘em,” he said.
Harper’s heart fluttered as she entered the hotel bar drenched in natural light. She scanned the room in search of the face she’d memorized from Sophia’s professional headshot. However, she would have picked her out from a crowd even without the photo. There was no way to overlook a former model. The older woman screamed sophistication as she smiled up at the waiter who brought her a club soda.
“Harper,” Sophia said as Harper approached the table. “You look even lovelier in person.”
“Thank you for meeting me, Mrs.—”
“Please, call me Sophia,” she said. “Sit. I was thinking a white wine, but I wanted to wait and see if you’d like to join me.”
“Uh, sure,” Harper said.
“Two glasses of your driest white, and the olives,” Sophia said. “So,” she said as she leaned toward Harper. “I know this isn’t the West Coast way of doing things, but I’m a New York girl. Thus the black suit. Tell me about yourself.”
“Well, I started with a jeans campaign when I was—”
“No. Tell me about yoursel
f,” Sophia said again. The waiter presented two chilled glasses of wine and swiftly moved away.
“I’ve been in outpatient recovery for about a month now,” Harper said. “Anorexia and bulimia. There were a few days I missed because … well, because I had a miscarriage and was hospitalized.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sophia said.
You’re so stupid. Way to let a potential boss know you’re totally unstable. “Thank you,” she said. “I hope this doesn’t come off as crass but, given the circumstances, my partner and I have decided it’s a bit of a blessing in disguise. We’re young, there’s a big future ahead of us.”
“And how is the therapy going? For the eating disorder?” Sophia sipped her wine but didn’t break her gaze with Harper.
“It’s going,” Harper said. “Like many in the ED community, I consider it possible to manage an eating disorder for life, but not necessarily recover. A bit like alcoholism, I suppose. Of course, ED is a mental disorder, not necessarily an addiction unless you’re talking about some cases of binge eating disorder or night eating syndrome. Still, there are definitely elements of similarity.”
“You talk like a professional,” Sophia said. “About your eating disorder, I mean.”
Harper blushed slightly. “I’d hardly consider myself a professional,” she said. “But it seems once a person is solidly on a path to management, they really immerse themselves in the research and best practices.” She shrugged. “It’s just a byproduct of incredible self-retrospection, I suppose.”
Sophia nodded. “I agree. And I’m glad you’re getting help.”
But, Harper thought. Here comes the big, fat but. Why’d I have to go into all of this? I totally blew it.
“In fact,” Sophia said, “I want you to be the help. For young models who need it most. I know we talked previously a little about potential job opportunities for you within my company, but I have something else in mind.”
“Something else?”
“What do you think about being an eating disorder educator for young models? It’s a new idea I’ve been thinking about for awhile, and I believe you’re perfect for it. For now, it would be part-time, though I can certainly see the potential for it growing into a full-time position. You’d be able to work in just about any city, so long as you don’t mind traveling some. It’s especially great that you’re in Los Angeles, one of the biggest modeling hubs in the world. I envision you outreaching to up-and-coming models, particularly young women and girls who are thrust into this often vicious industry without any kind of support or foundation.”
“I … I’m flattered,” she said. “But, you know, I don’t have any formal training in eating disorders. I’m far from a psychologist or any kind of specialist.”
“But you have something even better,” Sophia said. “Personal experience. And young girls, they don’t want some dried-up, boring psychologist telling them what they should be thinking and feeling about themselves. They need someone they can relate to, and someone who’s been in their shoes. Empathy is one of the most challenging skills to learn, but you’ve already got it in spades. I can see that.”
“I wasn’t expecting this,” Harper said. The cold wine shot straight from her tongue to her belly. It infused her with just the right amount of liquid courage she needed. “I’d love to do it,” she said. “In a few months.”
“A few months?” Sophia cocked her head.
“Yes, if that’s at all possible. Perhaps October? I just … I think I need to explore my own path to management a little more first. And, you know, as long as my boyfriend thinks it’s a good idea. He’s been a key part of my getting better.”
“I see,” Sophia said. “Harper, I have to tell you, that was either a really stupid move or a gutsy one. Few people in your position would try to leverage for a later start date. But I like you. I know we just met, but I have a good feeling about you. You practice self-care, and that’s exactly what these girls you’d be mentoring need to learn. I can give you until October, but I’d need you to do some prep work before then. Developing strategies, helping to create your team, those sorts of tasks. Are you up for it?”
“Yes,” Harper said. “I believe I am. But can I give you a firm answer on Friday? I need to think it over a bit more.”
“You drive a hard bargain,” Sophia said with a smile. “I like that.”
Harper drove home full of excited energy.
“Hey!” Sean said. “How’d it go? Did your collar bring you luck?”
“It did,” she purred as she nuzzled up to him. “Sophia wants me to be an ED educator for young models. Totally different than what she’d originally planned, but I’m excited for it. You know? I can maybe, this is clichéd, but make a difference. Keep at least one girl from going down the path I did.”
“That’s awesome, sweetheart,” he said as he pulled her against his chest. “Congratulations.”
“So you think it’s a good idea?”
“Of course I do! And, hey, I’m not trying to upstage your good news, but I have some of my own.”
“What’s that?”
“I officially accepted Connor’s job offer.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. Although, I’m going to keep working a few days a month at a tattoo shop, too.”
“You’re going back to Mission Hells?”
“Not exactly,” he said. “Joon-ki told me about this shop that caters exclusively to sober people. They offer pro bono work to cover up tattoos with drug- or alcohol-related ink and gang tattoos, too. I figured that could be my creative outlet, and maybe snap up some good karma points, too.”
“That’s amazing,” she said. “I’m so proud of you. Hey, do you think I could draw a tattoo?”
“On me?”
“No! I mean, in general,” she said.
“Sure. Anyone could,” he said.
“So … I’ve been kind of doodling? You know, in group sessions—”
“Show me,” he said.
“Don’t laugh!” Harper dug the notebook out of her bag and handed it to him.
“A heart?” he asked.
“Kind of. It’s the official symbol of supporting eating disorder management. The fluid lines, they’re part heart and part a healthy body image.”
“I love it,” he said. “Do you want me to help refine it a little bit?”
“I think it needs all the help it can get.”
“Not really,” he said as he leaned down to kiss her. “It just needs a little help. How about we give it some more depth? Maybe add some color?”
She rested her head on his shoulder as he brought her little heart to life.
29
Sean
“And over here, we have the atrium.” Sean followed the broker to a glassed-in area in the middle of the space. Sunlight poured through the ceiling. The broker flicked her fingers across a control panel and a sheath of tinted curtain started to slide across the skylights. “You can control all the skylights and windows in the space with an app, too, of course,” she said. “The one previous client used the atrium for corporate yoga classes every morning.”
“What do you think?” Sean asked. He looked over at Harper.
She scanned the sleek, midcentury modern office space. “I think it’s perfect,” she said. “The furniture, too.”
“I helped the previous client secure the furniture,” the broker said. “And I can promise you the furnished rate is an absolute steal. Almost all of the furniture is from local carpenters and designers. It’s the highest quality and, given the style, has incredible evergreen potential.”
Sean wrapped his arm around Harper. “Is it alright if we just hang out here for awhile?” he asked the broker.
“Of course! I’ll text you the code to lock up when you’re finished. But I should tell you, and this isn’t a sales tactic, if you want it I highly recommend you sign today. You’re the last person viewing it until tomorrow, but I don’t see it lasting on the market for long.�
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“Thanks,” Sean said. “I’ll let you know either way this afternoon.”
He waited until they heard the click of the broker’s heels fade into quiet before he squeezed Harper and pulled her against his chest. “Tell me what you really think,” he whispered.
“What I really think? I think … I can see us both working here.”
“Did Connor offer you a job I don’t know about?”
“No,” she said. Harper nudged his chest with her chin. “I mean, Sophia said I can work from anywhere, and an office space would be a tax write-off anyway. So I was thinking … maybe I could lease one of the offices here.”
“You wouldn’t get sick of me?” he asked. “Seeing me every day at home and work both?”
Harper laughed. “I think if I was going to get sick of you, it would have happened when you were sporting that hot ankle bracelet and we were basically housebound together.”
“You might be right about that,” he said. “But don’t think I didn’t know when you made up excuses to stay out of the house more than was necessary.”
“You caught me,” she said. “But then again, the circumstances were a little bit different back then.”
“Not completely. One thing about our relationship has always been the same.”
“What’s that?” she asked as she looked up at him.
“No matter what was going on between us, or if I had an ankle bracelet or not, the sex was always fucking incredible.”
Harper blushed slightly. “What can I say? Ankle bracelets do it for me.”
“So, you’re absolutely sure about this place? Buying commercial space is a much bigger deal than leasing it.”
“I’m sure,” she said.
“Okay, that’s all I needed to hear. We’ll put in an offer now. But don’t be talking about leasing a space from me. You know it’s yours. Ours. Everything is, from this point on.”
They walked side by side through the atrium and into the sprawling open reception space. The marble tiled floors featured just the slightest of gray veins. Harper ran her hand across the long welcome desk with the thick living edge wooden top. “Aren’t we supposed to shake hands or something?” she asked. She looked up at him coyly.
