by Terri Osburn
“Shouldn’t you guys be getting ready for the show?” Jesse had taken on the mothering role with the band, though she doubted they appreciated her efforts. All of them were ridiculously talented, and she hated to watch them waste the gifts they’d been given. She also knew how quickly a good situation could go south. Despite their frat boy ways, she liked the guys as a whole and wanted them to succeed.
“Yes, ma’am.” The ma’am part amused her since Paul was eight years older than she was. “We’re on it,” he said. “I’ll tell Ryan you called.”
The line went dead, and Jesse forced herself not to picture the real scenario she’d just interrupted. Eyes shut tight, she tilted her head back and exhaled.
“You okay?” Ash asked, startling her.
“I’m fine,” she lied. Something she’d been doing a lot lately. Fake it ‘til you make it had become her new motto. “Is the munchkin gone?” She’d spotted Angelica’s mom step through the gate while on her call.
“Yeah. She’s a sweet kid.”
“You wouldn’t call her sweet if you heard some of the things that come out of her mouth.” The sassy, off-the-cuff nature was what Jesse liked most about Angelica.
Ash grinned. “I got a hint of that when she greeted me at the door.”
This should be good. “What did she say?”
Hesitating, he sighed. “Mind if I sit?”
The swing wasn’t big, but there was room for two. If the two didn’t mind being cozy. Jesse scooted over, bracing herself for the forced intimacy. “I don’t mind.”
The biggest lie she’d told this evening.
Chains rattled as he settled in, his thigh firm and warm, pressing against hers. Ignoring the heat penetrating her jeans, she crossed her legs to put whatever distance possible between them.
“So what did the little firecracker say?” Jesse asked, desperate for a distraction.
“She asked if I was your boyfriend.” Ash looked up and bounced as if testing the chains. “When I said no, she said that was good because she heard your boyfriend is an asshole.”
Jesse knew where that little nugget had come from. Ryan was the only bone of contention between her and Dana. “Ryan is not an asshole,” she replied, defending him out of habit.
Ash didn’t share an opinion either way. “Is he good to you?”
“He is.” Which was the truth. When they were together, Ryan was caring and affectionate, said all the right things that made her feel special and loved. The times they were apart were an issue, but Jesse wasn’t about to discuss her misgivings with Ash. She’d already revealed one weakness this evening. She would not reveal another.
“If that ever changes, let me know, and I’ll have a word with him.”
She turned to see his face. “Are you serious right now?”
“What?” He had the nerve to look confused.
“My personal life is none of your business. Not anymore.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Ten years of nothing and now you want to play protector,” she mumbled. “I don’t need your protection.”
“Jesse, I told you—”
“You weren’t there when I needed you, and I managed just fine on my own.”
He tensed beside her. “If you’d have called, I would have been there.”
She’d wanted to call him. She’d even tried to call at one point, sneaking behind her mother’s back because she didn’t want to hear the crap about how he’d taken their favorite child. A stranger had answered the call and claimed she didn’t know anyone named Ash.
Shaking off the memory, Jesse slid off the swing. “You changed your number, remember? So don’t put that on me.”
He rose, too, towering above her. “I gave Enid my new number as soon as I got it. I didn’t expect anyone to use it, but I gave it to her anyway, so you’d have it.”
Good old Enid strikes again. Why couldn’t she have gotten nice parents? A doting couple who cared as much about kid two as kid one. Jesse knew the answer to that one. Enid had lost three babies before finally carrying Tommy to term. He was her miracle baby. Four months after he was born, she’d gotten pregnant with Jesse and had a trouble-free pregnancy all the way through.
In some twisted way, the ease with which she’d come to be had made Jesse less special in her mother’s eyes.
“She never shared that number with me.” Tired of wading through ancient history, she returned to the original subject. “Ryan is a good guy, and he’s good to me. So thanks for the delayed offer, but I don’t need your help anymore.”
Sadness etched in the lines around his mouth. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
So was she.
“I should probably go.” Ash slid his hands into his pockets. “We didn’t get to talk about the album much. Are you busy tomorrow?”
Ignoring the instinct to lie, Jesse said, “Other than working on some songs, I’m free.”
He pulled out his phone. “I’m going to text you an address. Meet me there at eight tomorrow morning.”
“Eight?” she exclaimed. Who went anywhere at eight on a Saturday morning?
“Yeah, eight.” When he lowered his phone, Jesse’s dinged. “I have some friends I want you to meet.”
If this hadn’t been work-related, she’d have said forget it and stayed in bed, but Ash’s friends were heavy hitters in the business, and those were the kinds of friends Jesse needed.
She checked the message in her phone and found an unfamiliar address. “What is this place?”
“You’ll see.” Leveling her with the grin that knocked her off-kilter, Ash leaned in close. “You’re one of the most talented people I’ve ever met, Jesse. Don’t forget that.”
An odd note to leave on, and an exaggeration considering with whom he’d worked, but Jesse accepted the compliment anyway. “Thanks.”
He strolled off and said his goodbyes to the rest of the group before giving her a wave from the sliding glass doors. Ingrid then followed him inside to show him out. Still holding her phone, Jesse dropped back onto the swing and looked up the address for her morning destination—a recreation center.
Must be a place where songwriters met up to write. Or a rehearsal space. Having a sizable room to set up and actually work out the songs before hitting the studio was a better idea than sitting around some boring conference room.
Convinced she’d solved the mystery, Jesse rejoined the party and forced herself not to think about cleaning ladies named Britney and what she and her friends were likely cleaning. She also told herself not to think about Ash and the look in his eyes when she’d said she didn’t need him anymore. The first task turned out to be easier than the second.
Six
“Why do you have hair sticking out of your nose?”
Ash twitched and struggled not to laugh. Sarah’s tone was too serious not to answer with a straight face. “That happens when you get to be an old man like me. I’ll do my best to trim them back before next week.”
“You can’t help being old, I guess, but I hope that doesn’t happen to me. I don’t want hairs in my nose.”
He refrained from pointing out that she already had hairs in her nose and instead finished tying the six-year-old’s shoe before sending her back to the swings where she would hopefully not ask Ms. Frieda about the hair coming out of her ears. Not that anything ever offended Ms. Frieda, but Ash didn’t trust what the woman might say in response. The elderly volunteer had once told him that she’d have tickled his pickle if only she were forty years younger. Thankfully, no children had been around to overhear.
When Ash wasn’t in a writing session or the recording studio, he most enjoyed his time at Sunshine Academy, which wasn’t an academy in the traditional sense, but a recreation center in one of the more downtrodden neighborhoods in the city. As a child who never knew his father, Ash related to the kids who were navigating the world much as he had—predominantly alone and with little guidance.
Kathleen Shepherd had done her best, but suppor
ting herself and her son had required holding down multiple jobs at a time that led to long working hours. By the age of nine, Ash had learned to cook, clean, and take care of himself with little adult supervision. Lucky for him, they’d moved to Eton that year, and he’d found the Rheingold family, who’d welcomed him with open arms.
Until the accident.
Checking his watch, Ash wondered if Jesse was going to show. She was already ten minutes late when he spotted a burgundy Jeep, much like the one he’d parked behind the night before, pull into the center parking lot. When Jesse stepped from the vehicle, anger ignited like a flash-fire.
“What are you doing driving a Jeep?” he asked as she approached. “And you’re late.”
Sunlight turned her swaying ponytail a fiery red while dark shades covered her eyes. Ignoring his question, she said, “Why are these kids out here so early?”
“Because their parents have to work and they need someplace to go.” Still annoyed, he repeated the first question. “The Jeep. What the hell, Jesse?”
She slid the glasses onto the top of her head. “What? You used to own one.”
“And I won’t own one again.”
Confusion clouded her blue eyes until the memory returned. “You cannot be serious. That was a random accident that would have happened no matter what vehicle we were in. Let it go, Ash.” It wasn’t that easy. “You said you have some friends for me to meet?”
Dropping the Jeep issue—for now—Ash said, “Follow me.”
They were headed for the back of the rec center when Millie Hopewell stepped into the morning light with a child Ash didn’t recognize.
“There you are,” said the center director, cheeks pinker than usual.
Millie had been running the center for sixteen years and had never missed a Saturday as long as Ash had been volunteering. Loose strands of her shoulder-length, salt-and-pepper hair flew out in all directions as if she’d styled it by rubbing a balloon on her head, and her neutral-toned, oversized clothes contained as many wrinkles as tattered threads. Despite her appearance, Millie was the most calm, organized person Ash had ever met, and she lived for the children she served.
Always happy to lend a hand, Ash said, “How can I help?”
“We have a new attendee, and I thought maybe you could help her meet the other children.” Noticing the woman beside him, she added, “I see you also brought us a new face today.”
“I did. Millie Hopewell, meet Jesse Gold.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jess said, shaking the older woman’s hand.
“Nice to meet you, too.” Beside Millie stood a pixie of a child. Small, with fiery hair, discerning blue eyes, and freckles scattered across her button nose, she bore a striking resemblance to a younger version of Jesse.
Lowering her voice, Millie whispered, “I’m hoping you can work your magic for this one.”
“I’d be happy to.” Ash had a knack for pairing up the newcomers with another child already in the program. Dropping to one knee in order to greet the little girl, he said, “What’s your name?”
“Grimelda,” the redhead replied.
Ash glanced up to Millie, who shook her head. “Her name is Jane, but she prefers Grimelda.”
“Grimelda is a witch’s name,” the little one informed him. “I like witches.”
Interesting kid. “Okay, then, Grimelda it is. Are you ready to make some friends?”
Pink lips puckered as she shook her head in the negative.
“Smart kid,” Jesse muttered. Ash shot her a not-helping look, and she dropped the sunglasses back to her own freckle-covered nose.
Pointing to an empty bench on the side of the playground, he said, “How about we go sit over there and talk? I bet you have some good stories to tell.”
Every kid had a story. They just rarely found an adult willing to listen.
The bright-red ponytail swayed as she nodded in agreement, and Ash led her to the bench, ignoring Jesse’s impatient sigh.
Once the three were settled, Grimelda opened with an unexpected question. “Are you two married?”
“No,” Jesse replied a little too quickly, considering they’d once discussed walking down the aisle together.
“You don’t have to make it sound like being married to me would be so bad.”
Jesse eyed him over the little girl’s head. “You’re too pretty. I’d be insecure all the time.”
“You are very pretty,” Grimelda agreed. At least when she said it, the description sounded like a compliment.
“As Ms. Jesse says, no, we aren’t married.”
“Have you ever been married?”
“Once,” he replied. “But not anymore.”
“Did you cheat?” Grimelda asked.
“Good question.” Jesse stretched an arm over the back of the bench.
Why had he invited her here again? “No, I did not cheat.”
“Did she?” Before Ash could answer, the child added, “Or he. I know that boys can marry each other, too.”
A worldly statement for a child her age.
“I like this one,” Jesse said, removing the glasses once more.
“Thank you,” Grimelda replied. Looking back to Ash, she said, “So?”
“My wife didn’t cheat either,” he answered. “We just decided to be friends instead.”
“Are you still friends?”
“Yes, we are.”
“Really?” Jesse asked, appearing genuinely interested.
“Yes. Really.” To Grimelda, he said, “Are you sure you don’t want to make a new friend today?”
Another quick shake of her head. “Kids are mean.”
“Amen to that.”
“Jesse,” Ash warned.
“Come on. They are mean.”
They could be, but there were plenty at Sunshine Academy who weren’t. Running down the list of kids Grimelda’s age, which looked to be about five, Ash remembered that one of the girls had dressed as a witch for Halloween and had given herself a unique nickname much as the redhead had.
“Will you let me introduce you to one little girl? I think you’ll like her.”
The bottom lip puckered again, but she didn’t refuse outright. “Why do you think I’ll like her?”
“Meet her and you’ll see.”
With a sigh well beyond her years, Grimelda agreed, and Ash felt as if he’d won a small victory. Locating the brunette near the giant blocks, he took his neighbor’s hand and said, “Let’s go.”
As they stepped away from the bench, Grimelda slipped her other hand into Jesse’s, who looked as if she’d been handed a live grenade and didn’t know what to do with it. Ash couldn’t help but smile at the picture they must have presented considering how much their small charge looked like the slightly taller version on her right.
Thirty feet later, they stood before a tower of teetering blocks. “Can I interrupt you for a minute?” Ash asked.
Shoving a curtain of black hair from her face, the small girl gave them her full attention. “Sure, Mr. Ash. Do you like my tower? There’s a princess trapped at the top, and I’m going to rescue her.”
“How are you going to do that?” Grimelda asked.
“Knock it down, of course.” As Ash had hoped she would, the brunette added, “Do you want to help?”
The pucker returned. “I’d rather cast a spell to make it fall away instead.”
A tiny finger tapped a dimpled chin. “That could work, too. I’m Belle Pepper. What’s your name?”
“I’m Grimelda O’Riordan.”
Belle took her new friend’s hand and pulled her closer to the tower. “Okay, Grimelda, let’s save Princess Flufferbutt together.”
Mission accomplished, Ash backed away as Jesse whispered, “How did you know that would work?”
“You just find something they have in common. Belle was a witch for Halloween, and she has a great imagination. That seemed like the right fit.”
They stood back and watched Grimelda wave a twig in th
e air seconds before Belle knocked the tower over.
“Wow,” Jesse mumbled, “you’re a kid whisperer.”
Ash laughed and took her hand. “Come on. It’s time to show you why you’re here.”
Jesse was still processing Ash’s magical friend-finder abilities when he whisked her into the large brick building and down a narrow hall that instantly took her back to grade school. Rudimentary drawings decorated the walls, and a large bulletin board read, If you can dream it, you can do it, with a glittery rainbow arching bold and bright above the motivational saying. As they progressed farther into the building, she picked up the sound of tuning instruments.
So he had brought her here to meet musicians.
Jesse followed Ash into a large classroom to find half a dozen children of various ages and sizes, each with a guitar in hand.
“Good morning, everybody,” Ash said, tugging her along behind him. “I brought a special guest with me today.”
“Holy crap,” said a young girl with striking blonde hair. “You’re Jesse Gold.”
Removing her leather jacket, Jesse said, “You know me?”
A smile split the young girl’s face, revealing two rows of metal braces. “Are you kidding? The Honkytonk Daisies are my favorite. I’ve listened to your album, like, a million times.”
Jesse looked to Ash who grinned back in that sexy-smug way. “Virginia is one of my guitar students.”
“After seeing you in concert, I begged my mom for a guitar.” The teen extended her Yamaha acoustic toward Jesse. “Would you sign this?”
“Of course.” She looked around for something to use, and Ash produced a Sharpie from a cup on the small desk in the corner. After scrawling her autograph across the polished surface, Jesse stepped back and replaced the cap on the marker. “There you go.”
As far as surreal moments went, this one was definitely at the top of the list. No one had ever recognized her in public before—a fact Jesse attributed to how different her stage persona looked from her everyday appearance—and she’d certainly never been asked to sign someone’s guitar.