by Huss, JA
I’d ruin her drive to be herself.
I don’t want to ruin Rook. And I don’t want to ruin Ashleigh, either. I like her the way she is, I want her to be herself. Small and vulnerable, yet brave and willing. Caring and honest, yet suspicious and hopeless. I’ve laughed more times with Ashleigh than I have in years. I like that she can do this, that being herself is so damn desirable to me.
But I want to be myself, as well. I want her to find me desirable the way I am.
The moaning interrupts my internal thoughts and then Ash buckles her back against the seat and releases a long breath. “I can’t wait to get to Vegas,” she says as she rests against the headrest, her eyes closed. “I hope I can satisfy you, Ford. I really do want to please you but I have this recessive wild side that I can’t control. It just pops into existence every now and then.”
“Ashleigh.” I wait for her to open her eyes and look over at me. “You’re perfect. I like the way you are. Don’t change for me.”
She puts the seat back and curls herself up in a little ball facing me. Like she’s a little cat getting ready to nap. “But what about the spankings?”
“I’m still going to spank you, koneko.”
She blushes and lowers her eyes.
“You can’t get out of that.”
“That’s cute. Kitten. It’s one of those erotic pet names, right?”
“I don’t care for pet names, but the way you curl up in the seat—you’re tiny, Ashleigh. So small.”
“Mmmmm. Yeah, I’ve always been the little one. I’m nothing like anyone else in my family at all. My mom was very tall, so’s my dad actually. He’s half German, so he’s bulky for an Asian-looking man. And my mom had blonde hair and blue eyes. My sister takes after her. Everyone in Asia loved my mom and sister because of how pretty they were, how they both had perfect Chinese accents. But me, I was the little quiet one who sat in the corner and drew. The one who refused to talk to the important people who would come to our house for business parties. They tried to make me speak Chinese and I just didn’t want to.”
I’m captivated by her story. I want to hear so much more so I stay quiet and let her think.
“My dad might not look Chinese—he’s very tall for one. And his eyes are this weird green color. But he’s very serious about the culture. And I was always a little bit wild when it came to discipline. When we moved back to America I found so many ways to rebel. It was too easy. So when I moved to Japan I kinda liked the fact that I had to rein it in a little. Not too much, but just a little. It was good for me to give in to a new culture and think about things differently. Give the old me a rest and try something new. I’ve always felt a little out of place, ya know?” She looks over at me and I nod, because yes. Yes, I do know. I’ve always felt a little out of place as well. “Have you ever heard the story of The Boy Who Drew Cats, Ford? It’s a Japanese folk tale.”
“No, but I’d like to hear it. Tell it.”
She takes a deep breath, like she’s preparing for something. Building up her courage. I’m not sure why a folk tale would require courage, but she must need it for something. So I turn-on the mind-reading skills and pay attention.
“This story is about a boy who refuses to do anything but draw cats. His family is patient, but they insist he try to be productive, so they send him out to learn trades. But the poor boy has an obsession. He only wants to draw cats. So one night, after drawing a massive cat on a long room-sized rice paper screen, he falls asleep in a cozy closet and hears a monster come in the night. There’s a battle outside his door, but he’s too afraid to go out and look. So he waits until morning and finds a giant dead rat and the cat he drew on the rice paper screen is facing the wrong direction. He puts all the clues together and decides that his huge cat drawing came to life and killed the giant rat that’s been terrorizing the village. From that day on, all the villagers celebrated his cat-drawing skills.”
She stops to giggle. “It’s absurd, but that’s Japanese tales for you. I like them though, and this one especially. Japan always felt like home to me, from the moment I stepped off the plane it was home. And this story speaks to me. It says, Be yourself, Ashleigh. You can be appreciated for who you are, even if your only talent is a little bit strange and seems to have no value. Because everyone is valuable. That’s what the moral is. So maybe I am a koneko and I’m part of this story in a way. I’m on a quest to try and be my true self but I have no idea who I am, Ford. My identity has been taken away. Maybe a kitten is my true self? Maybe I am something small and delicate that needs to be taken care of. Not something strong and determined that finds a way to appreciate her own strange place in the world.”
“Maybe you’re both. Maybe you can be independent and delicate at the same time?”
“Single mothers don’t have the luxury of being delicate. Single mothers have to do everything alone. So even if I wanted to be a kitten, I’m not allowed.”
That’s it. I need this girl. She’s so lost. She’s looking for someone to help her and I’d like to be that person. She’s got a hold of my heart and I can’t let her go back to Tony. She’s practically begging someone to take care of her and that fuck left her. “When did you live in Japan, Ashleigh?”
She turns away and looks out the window, still curled up in the seat. “Kate and I just got back, actually. Christmas Eve.” She looks over at me. “I’ve been in Japan since I was eighteen. I ran away and I had no intention of returning to the US ever again.”
“Why did you come back? Because of Tony?” She nods but I can feel her sadness like it’s a thick fog. This conversation is reminding her of him even as I sit here falling in love. “How old are you now?”
“Twenty-three.”
“You look very young.”
“I know,” she tells the window instead of me. “Because I’m small. But I feel so old. Like life has passed me over. He said we’d grow old together but then he left me. And I feel like in the time since then, I got old without him. I feel like my life is over.”
There’s a pull-out up ahead on the side of the road. A spot for travelers to stop and take in the view. It’s an odd view, that’s for sure. Most of Utah is odd with the strange rock formations and the colors. But I’m not stopping for the view, so I just pull the fuck over.
“What’re we doing?” she asks, sitting up and flipping her seat back into its normal upright position.
I put the truck in neutral and pull the e-brake. “Ashleigh—” And suddenly I can’t say it. I want to. I want to tell her so many things. How I feel about her. How much I like Kate. How she makes me laugh. How desperate I am to stop her falling into a sad depression. Because I see it coming. If she’s not clinically depressed right now, she’s on the verge. She’s teetering on the edge.
I want to say so many things, but her word-slap in Wal-Mart comes back to me. She sees me as a distraction until she gets to LA to talk to her ex. To possibly beg him to reconsider and take her back. And I can’t take another slap like that. So I protect these new feelings and hide them away. I pull up the I’m in charge routine instead. “Ashleigh, I’m making a rule. You agreed to do what I asked—for one day. You agreed to this. So my rule is, no more talking about Tony.”
Her eyes squint down into slits immediately, but she holds her tongue.
“I don’t care if it makes you angry, I’ve heard enough. I won’t put up with it. You’re mine today. I won you. And I say fuck Tony. OK? My rules. No more Tony.”
She stares at me, her face hardened.
“Agreed?”
“Agreed,” she replies. But she turns her back to me and stares out at the window.
She stays silent for the entire two-hour ride to Richfield.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
We hit up another diner because it’s not even nine AM yet, so that’s pretty much all that’s open. Ashleigh is feeding Kate in the backseat before we head in. “So what should we do in Vegas tonight? You like to gamble?”
“No, not really,�
�� she replies absently.
I check a website for what’s playing in Vegas right now. “Shows?”
“You said sushi.”
“We can do sushi. But that’s like an hour of time. What else?”
“I’m not sure I want to leave Kate with a sitter, she—”
“Ashleigh.”
“No, listen. I have to feed her every few hours so I can’t be gone long anyway. It’s stupid to get a sitter when I have to pop in every four hours.”
“Give her a bottle.” I get an angry sneer at that comment. It almost shuts me down, that’s how snide it is. “What?”
“She breastfeeds. I’m not giving her a bottle so I can have sex with you tonight.”
“So you’re mad about my Tony rule.”
“What’s that got to do with breastfeeding?”
“You were dying to have sex with me a couple hours ago. And now you’re mad because I told you to stop moping.”
“No, you told me to stop thinking about Tony. Like I can just turn it off and forget. I think it’s incredibly insensitive for you to make that rule. He’s all I think about. Ever.”
“It’s insensitive to me that you’re distracted.”
“We’re not even dating, Ford. We’re—we’re—”
“We’re what?”
She just shakes her head.
“We’re what, Ashleigh?”
“We’re temporary. I like you—you’re handsome and rich and actually a nice catch for someone else. But not for me. OK?”
“It’s just fun.”
“Yeah, it’s just fun. I appreciate all the help you’ve given me, but I’m a mess, Ford. I have no room right now for most of life. Existing is difficult. I need to make things slow and simple and you are the definition of complicated. You have rules and expectations, and you play these mind games with me. You don’t know anything about me or my life. Or Tony. You don’t know anything about him, so when you make a rule that says I’m not allowed to think about him, I don’t like it.”
“I know he’s not here and I am.”
She clutches the baby to her chest and starts to cry.
Fuck.
“Ashleigh, come on.” I sigh. “Ashleigh. I’m sorry, OK? I can see that you love him, I’m sorry.”
I reach back and touch her knee and she swats my hand away. “You’re mean. Just don’t touch me.”
I get out of the truck and get inside the backseat with her. We’re pretty squished since the carrier is buckled in on the passenger side and Ashleigh’s in the middle with the baby. She’s crying hard now and Kate is getting upset along with her. I reach down and grab the baby. “Here, I’ll take her for you.” I’m actually stunned that she hands the baby over to me. If I was her, I’d probably tell me to fuck off.
Kate makes some distressed sounds but I hold her up at almost arm’s length and smile at her. She just stares at me, blinking her big brown eyes and kicking her dangling feet.
“Hi, Kate.”
Ashleigh laughs through her sniffles.
“What?” I ask, looking over at her.
“You look ridiculous, Ford. Holding her out like you want to hand her off. You’re supposed to hold babies close.”
“I’ve never held a baby before.”
She wipes the tears away and laughs again. “Obviously.”
I bring Kate into my chest and she’s so soft it’s easy to want to hold her tight. She squirms a little in my arms and I pat her on the back the way Ashleigh does when she’s trying to calm her. She relaxes her heavy head on my shoulder and that’s it.
It’s over.
I’m done.
I’m a Kate lover. “I’d like a Kate,” I whisper down to her. Ashleigh snickers, and that makes me feel better. At least she’s not crying over Tony or mad at me for being an asshole. “Did Tony ever hold her?” I figure why fight it. Can’t beat ’em, join ’em, right?
“No,” Ash says softly. “He never did.”
“I’d make a horrible father, I think.”
“Why?” she asks, scrunching up her face.
It’s probably a bad idea to admit my care-giving limitations when I’m trying to get her to reevaluate her feelings about my partner potential. But fuck it. I’m already losing, what’s it matter? “My father was so good at it. He did everything right. He was patient, he was encouraging, he was firm when I needed discipline, but never angry or abusive. He never hit me, not even a swat. And”—I stop to laugh here—“as I’m sure Mrs. Pearson made you well aware, I was not an easy kid to raise. I did all sorts of really bad stuff. Electrocuting Jason was the least of my crimes. But my dad, he protected me no matter what because I just didn’t have much capacity for empathy back then. When I got older I finally realized that I was hurting people, that just because I could make golf balls into mini-explosives didn’t mean I should make golf balls into mini-explosives.”
I look over at her and she’s smiling. Very big, in fact. I look down at Kate and she’s sleeping. I slump down in the seat a little so she can be more horizontal. “Anyway, my dad played innocent whenever the suspicion fell on me”—I look down at Ash again—“as it often did. But he covered for me and I never got caught. I was too smart and too well-protected. He always told me, ‘Ford, I am always on your side. No matter what you do, no matter how much I disagree with it, I’m always on your side.’ But whenever I got home from whatever meeting my dad was called to about my atrocious behavior, he always handed out the most clever punishments. Except he never called them punishments.”
“Like what?” Ash interrupts. “How did he punish you?”
“One time I had to cook the meals for a month and I wasn’t allowed to use the same recipe twice. It had to be the perfect balance of protein, carbs, and vegetables. I had to shop for all the ingredients, learn the recipe, and serve it at dinner. I’m a fantastic cook when I want to be. All because of some practical joke I played on a nun in school.”
“You did not go to Catholic school.”
I smile. “I did. They were the only private school that would take me. And while our neighborhood was nice and close to lots of city amenities, it was not a place you sent your kids to public school if you could help it. So I went to Saint Margaret’s. That’s where I met Spencer Shrike.”
She busts out laughing at that. “He went to Catholic school too?”
I nod. “He did. So did Ronin, but that was much later. I didn’t meet Ronin until high school, he was already modeling for major clothing designers by then.”
She tilts her head and smiles. “Damn, I wish I’d gone to that school. I could rock a tartan skirt and some knee socks. I went to a private school too, but it was all girls.” She makes a face at that.
“What color was your uniform?”
“Burgundy with gold accents.”
I take a moment to picture her like this. “I’m gonna need the name of that school so I can hack into their records and get a picture of you.”
She chuckles. “So it sounds like you had the perfect father. You’d probably make a great one because you had such a good example.”
“Yeah, but I’m not my father. He was a lot like me, but I’m not a lot like him.”
Her eyes squint together and she pauses her smile, like she’s thinking really hard about that statement. “I’m not following.”
I shrug. “He and I shared a lot of characteristics. Looks, speech, a love for foreign languages. He played all the same sports that I excelled in. He was super smart, but not in a freaky way like I am. He was the perfect me, if that makes sense. He had all the good things but none of the bad. I’m like Bizarro Rutherford Aston III. The mirror-image of him. I look like him. But I’m lacking in all his altruistic qualities. I’m not generous. I’m not understanding. I’m not a Giver.” I look over at her and her attention is rapt. “I’m a Taker, Ashleigh.”
She leans her head against my shoulder, right next to Kate’s face. “You haven’t taken anything from me, Ford.”
“Yeah, but I
want to. You have no idea how bad I want to take things from you.”
She sits up and looks me in the eyes. “Like what?”
“Your body, for one. Just because I haven’t had sex with you doesn’t mean I don’t want to. And—” I almost stop myself, but fuck it. I’m on a roll, might as well just keep going. “I’d like to take Tony from you too. I’d like to make you forget all about Tony.”
She sighs and rests her head back against my shoulder, wrapping her hands around my upper arm like she’s holding on for dear life. It takes me several seconds to realize how much of her body is pressed against mine. I’ve never let another woman touch me like this. Ever.
“But I realize it’s not going to happen. It’s OK, I get it. You love Tony. I was wrong to make that rule and I take it back.”
She thinks about this for a little while, then lets out a loud sigh. A resigned sigh that speaks volumes. That sigh says, I give up. “I’d like to go for a quiet walk on our date tonight. And hold hands.”
I should be worried that she’s giving up. If I was a good person, one who cared about what’s best for her, I’d be worried about this. I’d tell her to forget about me, be with Tony. He must love her. There has to be some misunderstanding. Give it another try.
But I’m not a good person. So I lead her away from Tony and towards me. “You’d like me to take you on a quiet hand-holding walk in the biggest party city on Earth?”
“Yeah. Something slow. Where we can just be still, and look around, and think. Where we can watch life, and not participate in it.”
“I’m not sure Vegas is the right place for a slow and quiet walk, but I’ll give it my best shot.”
“You’re an overachiever, Ford. I’m one hundred percent confident you’ll pull it off flawlessly.”