by A. L. Brooks
Carmen leaned back in her chair. “I can’t imagine what that would feel like.”
She was no longer surprised that such honest statements kept spouting from her mouth. Ash apparently had that effect on her, and it seemed stupid to resist.
“So, what gives with you? Why the frazzled-sounding Carmen on the phone last night?”
Carmen took a deep breath. “Well, basically, I’m letting my work rule my life. I know it, but I either don’t know how to stop it or don’t want to know.”
“What do you do, workwise?”
“I’m a talent agent. You know what that is?” At Ash’s brief nod, she continued. “I’ve become very successful in the last three years, after slogging quite hard to make a name for myself. Suddenly, it’s all paid off, but there are consequences.”
She told Ash all about the screw-up with Tristan, the workload, and her own bone-weary tiredness. “And on top of all that, as you know, I finished things with Gerald, which was the right thing to do, but it seems I’ve subconsciously used that as an excuse to work even harder.”
“Kind of counterproductive?”
“I’m starting to think so. But you know what it’s like when you’re your own boss. Holidays are a distant dream, as is starting at nine and finishing at five.”
Ash nodded slowly. “True. But is it just you in the agency, or do you have a team?”
“I have one assistant, Monica. I took her on about a year ago.”
“So you do have someone who can help you. If you’d let her.”
“And that’s the crux, isn’t it?” Carmen mused. “I guess I’ve become so used to being on my own and managing everything myself, I don’t know how to let go some of the control.”
“Do you trust Monica?”
“Oh, totally!”
“Well, as hard as it is, you probably do need to give her more to do.”
Hmm, maybe Ash was right. If she gave more of her smaller clients to Monica to handle, she could go looking for some bigger fish.
“But.” Ash raised one finger. “Not so that you can take on more to replace it.”
Carmen’s cheeks heated at being caught in exactly that thought. Ash was observant, apparently able to read Carmen even though they’d only spent a small amount of time together.
Carmen’s phone rang, cutting into her thoughts. A glance at the caller display showed her the name of one of her C-grade celebrities, one who insisted on speaking to her every week. She groaned, but before she could swipe her screen to answer, Ash closed a warm hand over hers on the phone.
“Leave it.” Ash’s voice was quiet yet firm. “They can leave a message, which you can deal with later. This is your me time. Keep it.”
Carmen stared into Ash’s eyes, so brown they were almost black, and any protest she’d been about to make died on her lips. Instead, a slow smile formed, and a warmth that had nothing to do with the weight of Ash’s hand on hers spread throughout her body.
Yes, this is my me time. She’s right . She eased her hand out from under Ash’s and hit the decline icon on the phone. “Thank you.”
Ash still leaned far forward in her chair, her hand now on the table in front of Carmen, as if hovering to make sure Carmen had done what she’d wanted her to. “You’re welcome.” Ash dipped her head; her fringe flopped forward, and as she sat up, she swept it casually back. Everything she did seemed imbued with a calm strength that Carmen could only envy.
Ugh, when did I let myself start feeling this way? As if everything is unmanageable?
“I should get back.” Carmen sighed and reached for her jacket.
Ash’s smile dropped. “You sure?”
“I’m afraid so. But…” Carmen hesitated. Should she? They’d shared some important things today, things that friends would share. And she’d definitely like to hear more about Ash’s travels, if nothing else.
Ash looked at her, one eyebrow raised in question.
“Well,” Carmen plunged on. “The thing is, I’ve heard about this new gin bar opening over in Shoreditch, and I wondered if you’d like to meet me there one evening.” A thought popped into her head. “Wait, do you even like gin?”
Ash smiled. “I do. And yes, I’d love to explore a new bar with you. That sounds cool.”
“Wonderful. I expect weekends will be far too busy there for a few weeks as they’re so new, but how about one weekday evening next week?”
“That sounds possible.” Ash checked her phone. “I could get away on Tuesday at seven or Wednesday at eight.”
Carmen picked up her phone, noting that there was indeed now a voicemail waiting for her. She scrolled to her calendar app. “Okay, Tuesday works!”
“You sound surprised.” Ash chuckled.
“I am. I can’t believe we didn’t have to dance around our calendars for ages to find something that fits.”
“Clearly, it was meant to be.” Ash flushed pink to her roots. “Oh God, that sounded like some cheesy line, didn’t it?”
“It’s fine. I mean, it was cheesy, but it’s fine.”
“You know I’m a lesbian, right?” Ash asked, her expression serious.
Ash’s confirmation of her sexuality wasn’t necessary, but Carmen also didn’t know why her skin tingled at the revelation. Carmen blinked at her. “Um, yes?”
“Okay. Good.” Ash ran a hand over the back of her head. “I just wanted to make sure there was no misunderstanding going on. This”—she pointed between them—“is just a budding friendship. Nothing else, okay?”
Oh God, don’t tell me she thinks I’m going to try what Felicity did? “I know. After all, I’m straight.” There, that’s clear and should allay her fears. “And you, um, you have a girlfriend, don’t you?” Where had that question come from?
Ash frowned, then sat back, shaking her head. “You mean Hayley? No, no. We were on a date, but that didn’t work out. No, I was more worried that you’d think I was, well, coming on to you. I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong impression.”
Ah . So Ash had been worried Carmen would misconstrue her intentions. How sweet. She didn’t want to acknowledge the tiny voice somewhere in the back of her mind that said she was a little disappointed. Because that was ridiculous, wasn’t it?
“Honestly, Ash, it’s fine. I didn’t think anything like that. I’m just enjoying spending time with you. And I want to hear more about your travels and how you became a tattooist.”
The creases in Ash’s forehead smoothed out. “Cool. I think a couple of gin cocktails could definitely be the means by which you get that information.”
Carmen eased back in her seat, her shoulders losing their tension. “Excellent.”
Ash grinned. “So, swing by the studio when you’re done with work on Tuesday. We’ll grab a cab from there, yes?”
“Perfect.” Carmen pulled on her jacket and shoved her phone into her handbag. “This was lovely, Ash. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
They stood in the sunshine a moment longer, smiling at each other.
Carmen didn’t want to go. She wanted to sit back down, order another coffee, and while away another couple of hours talking with this lovely person. Realising she was staring at Ash, she took a step back. “Right, well, I’ll be off, then. I’ll see you next week.”
“Take care, Carmen.” Ash’s gaze held hers for another moment before she turned and walked away.
Carmen watched her go, aware that her pulse was back to racing and wondering why because she wasn’t remotely stressed. Not now.
Chapter 11
Carmen stood with her hands on her hips, staring at the array of clothes presented to her by her open wardrobe. “This really shouldn’t be this difficult,” she muttered. “It’s just a drink. With a friend. In a bar.”
And the drink wasn’t even until tomorrow night. Yet here she stood the night before, wondering what to wear. She tried to reason with herself that this was all so difficult because she had to dress in her usual style for work as she had two c
lient meetings tomorrow. She’d either have to wear the same thing to the gin bar, which would probably leave her overdressed, or take something more casual to the office to change into for the evening. Somehow she knew that wasn’t what was causing her indecision, but she couldn’t put her finger on what exactly made it so tricky.
Her phone rang, and she smiled at the name shown on the caller display. “Hi, Tristan.”
“Hi, big sister.”
She groaned. “You always have to remind me I’m the oldest, don’t you?”
“Of course! I’m the baby of the family and always will be.”
“Whatever.” She sat on the bed. “So, to what do I owe the honour of another call from you in less than a week?”
“Can’t I just call and see how you are?”
“Yes, you can, but…”
He sighed audibly. “Okay, okay. Yes, I was worried, and yes, I am checking up on you.”
“Oh.” Now she felt awful. “I’m okay. Honestly.”
“Are you at home? I mean, it’s past eight, so—”
“I am! And no, I’m not working either.”
“Very good. Do you even know what to do with yourself?”
“You’re hilarious.” She glanced again at the open wardrobe. “Actually, maybe you can help. I’m trying to pick out an outfit for tomorrow.” She swung her legs round and stood. “I’ve got two client meetings tomorrow, so I need to be dressy for that, but then in the evening I’m meeting someone in a trendy new gin bar in Shoreditch.”
“Hmm, that definitely sound like two different outfits.”
“I know, but that’s the trouble—I can’t for the life of me decide what to wear in the evening.”
“What’s the name of this bar?”
“Sloe Down.”
“As in s-l-o-w?”
She smiled. “No, s-l-o-e.”
“Oh. Oh! I see. Clever.” Tapping drifted through the phone. “Okay, very trendy judging from the opening night photos on Google. Hmm.”
She waited. Tristan had always had a good eye for what suited her—he’d often been the person she took shopping in her late teens. Although he didn’t know everything her wardrobe contained, he’d have a general idea that would be so much better than anything she’d come up with so far.
“Okay,” he said finally. “I’m thinking some capri pants, but smart ones, if you have any, and some kind of off-the-shoulder top in a big, bold colour. You have amazing shoulders; you should show them off more often.”
“Stop, you’re making me blush.” She stepped nearer the wardrobe. “Okay, I do have a dark blue pair of capris, and I usually wear them with a matching wedge-heeled sandal thingy.”
“Sounds good so far.”
She flicked through her tops. “Right, and as for the top, there is this, I suppose. Let me send you a picture.” She flipped to the camera’s phone, held up the top, a bright orange silky number with a wide neck that draped over her shoulders, in one hand and snapped the photo with the other.
A few seconds after she’d sent it, a long hum of approval came from her brother. “Definitely. That’ll knock his socks off.”
“It’s not a he,” Carmen said absently as she hung the top on a door handle and went in search of the sandals in the bottom of the wardrobe.
“Oh, sorry, I assumed when you said you were meeting someone, it was a date.”
“No!” Carmen leaped up. Her head cracked on the shelf above the shoe rack, and she yelped. “Shit!”
“What did you do?” Tristan sounded alarmed.
Clutching her head, Carmen stumbled back to the bed. “Ouch. That’s sore.” She groaned. “I just forgot where my head was in relation to the shelf in the wardrobe.”
“Poor you.” Genuine sympathy imbued his tone.
“Thanks.”
“So who are you meeting tomorrow, and why did you react so violently when I said I thought it was a date?”
Trust Tristan to have read exactly what had happened.
“I did nothing of the sort!” Did it sound as feeble to his ears as it did to her own? “I’m just meeting a friend. A new friend. Her name’s Ash. She’s a tattooist. And a lesbian.”
Oh for the love of God, would her mouth please stop running away with itself?
There was a pause. “She’s a…she’s a tattooist?”
Although wondering why her brother had let her off easy, Carmen grabbed at her chance with both hands. “Yes! Remember Felicity decided to get one done to celebrate her divorce? Oh, and did I tell you she told me Michael cheated on her?”
“No! Oh God, poor Felicity.”
“I know!”
And they were off, chatting about Felicity, the tattoo, and her cheating spouse. Everything else, especially Carmen’s need to blurt out that she was going for a drink with a lesbian called Ash tomorrow evening, was all forgotten—or at least Carmen hoped so.
When they said their goodbyes, Carmen threw the phone onto the bed and began sorting out the rest of her clothes for the morning.
She’d just finished when her phone pinged with a text message.
And I obviously haven’t forgotten about the lesbian you’re seeing tomorrow night, but you’ll tell me in your own good time, I know xxx
She groaned and flopped back down on the bed. What was her subconscious playing at? Why had her brain felt the need to inform her brother about Ash’s sexual orientation? It wasn’t remotely important to what tomorrow evening was about. Or even to what this new friendship meant. Not at all.
It would probably be better for herself, and Ash, if she actually believed that.
When the door to the studio opened at a little after eleven on Tuesday, Ash looked up from her copy of Lonely Planet magazine. Her mouth dropped open as she took in who stood in her doorway, a large, tatty backpack held in front of him.
“No way.” She grinned and tossed the magazine to one side.
“Yep, way.” Damian grinned back just as widely, his always unruly, dark blonde hair even wilder than usual. He dumped the bag on the floor, opened his arms wide, and she practically ran into his hug.
“When did you get back?” she asked into his chest as he squeezed her and rocked her from side to side.
He released her and held her at arm’s length. “This morning. You look fantastic!”
“Shut up.”
He laughed. “You do! Don’t argue with me; you know you’ll lose.”
Ash took a step back and looked him up and down. “You look like you haven’t slept in about two weeks.” She leaned back in and sniffed. “Or showered. Jesus, mate, where have you been?”
“Puh, I’m not that bad.” He laughed, his incredibly white teeth—she never knew how he managed that given he spent half his life living out of a backpack—shining under the bright lights of the studio. “I did actually shower at Heathrow when I landed, so you can stop pretending I stink. Although you might be right about the not sleeping thing.” He gestured to the couches. “Can I?”
“Yeah, of course!”
Damian shoved his bag into a corner near the front desk, then they flopped down next to each other on one of the couches.
He let out a long breath and slouched back into the leather. “Jeez, I’m done in. That was some trip.”
“I lost track of you on Facebook after Mozambique. I mean, I knew you were safe because you kept sending me those random text messages, but I never quite figured out where you were.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah, there’s a reason for that. Got myself in a little bit of trouble in Zimbabwe and had to kinda go underground for a while until I could get across the border into Botswana.” At Ash’s sharp intake of breath, he raised a calming hand. “It’s all good. I got in legit, and no one’s any the wiser about Zimbabwe. It was all a stupid misunderstanding anyway.” He rubbed a hand over his stubbly face. “If I’d known the policeman wanted that big a bribe, I’d have just paid it.”
“Oh God, I don’t want to know.” Ash buried her hea
d in her hands.
Typical Damian, skirting the edges of legality everywhere he went.
When she looked back up his blue eyes were, for once, serious. “Ash, I promise, I was safe. Don’t worry.”
Ash stared at him for a moment, but the truth was clearly written on his face. “Okay.” She huffed out a breath. “You want a coffee?”
“I’d love one.”
They chatted for about an hour, working their way through a couple of cups of coffee. Ash didn’t have any appointments until two, and she was grateful for the sudden appearance of her friend. Not only to fill her time but also to take her mind off what she was doing that evening.
“So, wanna meet for some tea tonight?” Damian stretched his lanky body.
It had taken some time to get used to the Aussies insisting on calling the evening meal tea .
“Ah, sorry, I can’t. I already have plans.”
“Ooooh, hot date?”
“Shut up. No, just drinks with a friend.”
“A friend ?” He made air quotes around the word. “So, it isn’t someone I know, then. Cos you’d have just told me their name, wouldn’t you?”
God, he was like a dog with a bone when he thought he’d got a new bit of gossip to sniff out.
“She’s a new friend. She’s cool, works as a talent agent.”
“Uh-huh.” Even the way he made that sound told Ash he knew he wasn’t getting the whole story.
“She’s just a friend,” Ash repeated, her tone firm.
“What’s her name?”
“Carmen.”
“Fancy.”
“Whatever.”
Damian laughed loudly again. “All right, Ms Secretive, I’ll let you off right now. But tomorrow for food and I can grill you some more?”
Ash rolled her eyes. “Sure, sounds wonderful.” She grinned when he waggled his eyebrows. “All right, all right. I finish tomorrow at eight thirty if I don’t get a walk-in.”
He stood and stretched. “Great. I’ll come pick you up then.” He ruffled her hair, a habit she knew he knew she hated. “Gotta get home and get some zeds.”
