by Alexis Daria
Jasmine hated it. The air-conditioning was cranked to eleven, and she was freezing in a strapless red minidress. Her feet hurt, thanks to her strappy stilettos, and because she was scared that she’d get sloppy if she let herself drink, she was knocking back glasses of seltzer instead of champagne.
Which meant, on top of everything else, she had to pee every half hour.
But she needed to grin and bear it. There were members of the press everywhere, along with some actors from other ScreenFlix shows and a few local celebrities.
And as much as Jasmine tried to avoid Ashton, everyone wanted pictures of them together. The whole show hinged on their chemistry, and they’d done too good a job convincing everyone they were in love.
Including themselves.
“Another seltzer.” Lily tottered over from the bar on sky-high heels and passed Jasmine her drink. “I swear, these vodka tonics are the only thing keeping my shoes on. How much you wanna bet I’ll be barefoot in the next hour?”
Jasmine snorted. “I’m not taking that bet.”
She saw Tanya heading toward them and shoved her drink back at Lily. “Be right back,” she said. “Gonna hit the restroom again.”
Before she could get far, a firm hand gripped her elbow. Jasmine turned, and Tanya shot her a wide grin. With her other hand, Tanya held Ashton’s wrist in a death grip. “You two are wanted for another interview.”
Jasmine bit back a groan and tried to smile. “Of course.”
Tanya positioned them in front of a backdrop covered in the Carmen in Charge logo. It also happened to be located right under an air vent, and Jasmine clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. The saving grace was that she’d left her hair loose, and it provided a slight bit of cover on her neck and back.
A perky interviewer from an entertainment news channel stepped up to them with a mic. The camera guy turned a bright light on them and gave a thumbs-up.
Jasmine flashed what she thought of as her red-carpet grin—big enough to make it obvious that she was smiling, but not so big that she couldn’t talk—and tried to ignore the blinding light and freezing air.
The interviewer asked the same questions they’d already been asked countless times that night.
What can audiences expect from Carmen in Charge?
How different is it from working on soaps/telenovelas?
How does the show resonate for you as Latinx actors?
And then, of course, What is it like filming romantic scenes together?
To the last, Jasmine would joke, “It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.” Every single time. Let them all have the same sound bite—she didn’t care.
Ashton, the big jerk, was as handsome as ever, dressed in a sleek charcoal gray suit with his hair curling freely. He answered questions with his particular brand of cool charisma, but Jasmine could tell he was dying inside.
They stood next to each other for interviews and photos, and he put his arm around her when he had to, but he held himself stiffly, his hand hovering over her skin, not touching her.
Finally, Jasmine couldn’t take the cold anymore, and her fifth—sixth?—seltzer and lime was testing the limits of her bladder. “If you’ll excuse me,” she murmured to Tanya, then made a beeline for the restroom.
She passed Lily, who was chatting with Nino and his boyfriend.
“I drank your water,” Lily called, and Jasmine waved her off.
In the gender-neutral restroom area, Jasmine caught sight of her reflection in the mirror over the sinks. Shit, she looked awful. Not her hair and makeup—those were perfect, thanks to a team of stylists—but her eyes were wide with anxiety, her jaw rigid, and she looked . . . skittish, almost. As if she were ready to leap out of her skin at any moment.
Damn it. No, she knew just what she looked like—that damned picture on her grandmother’s refrigerator! She could almost see the word “DUMPED!” hovering over her head.
Not this time, Kitty Sanchez, Jasmine thought. This time, I dumped him.
Except that didn’t make her feel any better. And it didn’t exactly feel true.
After leaving the restroom, she sent Lily a text.
Jasmine: I’m leaving. Feet hurt. Too cold in here. See you later. Drink more water!
And then she ducked out a side entrance and took a taxi back to the hotel.
The whole way, she fought back tears. This was the wrap party for a show she had starred in. She should be happy!
She was miserable.
This is why you don’t date costars, dummy, her brain shouted at her. So much for being a Leading Lady. Go back to soap operas where you belong.
At her hotel room, Jasmine let herself in and turned on all the lights. After kicking off her shoes and shimmying out of the dress, she went to her shoulder bag, pulled out her wallet, and removed the Leading Lady Plan she’d created with her cousins. She stared at her grandmother’s name on the top of the paper for a moment, then with deliberate, decisive motions, she tore the paper into tiny pieces and left them scattered on the dining table that was haunted by memories of Ashton.
Still clad only in a strapless bra and shapewear, she dragged out her suitcases and began to pack.
Goodbye, New York City. Jasmine Lin was going back to Los Angeles.
So what if she’d never truly been happy there? Who cared if she felt betrayed after people gave quotes to the press about her breakup with McIntyre?
She didn’t care anymore. It was what she deserved. How stupid to think she could have more.
Her Leading Lady Plan had been hopeless from the get-go. She would never be all the things she aspired to be. And she had once again ruined a good thing.
If ScreenFlix offered her a second season, she would see what she could do to get out of her contract. She just couldn’t be around Ashton anymore.
When the first suitcase was full, she stopped packing long enough to call Riley. The call went to voice mail. She kept the message short and to the point.
“Hi, it’s Jasmine. I’m done here. I’ll be catching the red-eye back to LA tomorrow night. Get me back on The Glamour Squad, please. I don’t want to have anything else to do with Carmen.”
Her voice broke on the last word and she quickly ended the call. Then she ignored the calls and texts that came through in response as she booked her flight. As much as she wanted to leave right that minute, her cousins would kill her if she missed the party tomorrow.
Besides, she’d worked too damn hard on it, and she wanted to see her grandmother’s reaction.
Too bad she couldn’t manage the one thing that would have truly made Esperanza’s day. Just another thing she’d failed at. Jillian would always rank higher. And Jasmine . . . would always be alone.
Tears streamed down her face as she tossed the phone aside and resumed packing. Might as well be alone in LA, where the summers were dry and the winters were warm.
When she was done, she put her suitcases next to the door, laid out her outfit for the next day, and popped an over-the-counter sleep aid to knock herself out.
One more day. She just had to get through one more day, and then she could put all of this behind her.
ASHTON WAS HALFWAY through packing the next morning when someone knocked on his hotel room door.
For a brief, wild moment, he both hoped and feared it would be Jasmine. But after the way she disappeared from the party last night, he was sure it wouldn’t be her.
Still, he hoped.
When he opened the door, his father stood on the other side. Ignacio took one look at the open suitcases in the room beyond, and gave Ashton a bland smile.
“Going somewhere?”
Ashton rubbed the back of his head and ducked his gaze. That look and tone always got him, never mind that he was rapidly approaching forty. “Ah . . . just packing. There’s no reason to stay in New York.”
“Back to Miami?” Ignacio strolled through the chaos in the living room, eyeing the piles of unfolded clothing, multiple pairs of running
sneakers, and scattered bottles of cologne. Ashton grabbed some stuff off a chair so Ignacio could sit.
“No. I’ll go to Puerto Rico with you. I don’t have any jobs lined up, so . . .” Ashton trailed off, and his father pinned him with a hard look.
“You’re running away,” he said.
“No, I’m taking the next steps for my life and my career.”
Ignacio actually laughed at that. “Really? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like running away.”
Ashton paused with a bundle of folded gym shorts in his hands. Coño, his father was right. Ever since the Incident, Ashton had let fear control his actions. He’d been reactive instead of proactive.
Until he’d met Jasmine. She’d coaxed him out of his shell. With her, he’d made his own choices from a place of wanting something and going after it, instead of being afraid of something and avoiding it.
Someone else knocked on the door.
“Ah.” Ignacio braced his hands on his knees and stood. “They’re here.”
Ashton’s brow furrowed as his father made his way to the door. “Who’s here?”
In response, Ignacio opened the door and stepped back to admit Abuelito Gus, Abuelita Bibi, and Yadiel.
Ashton bit back a sigh and resisted the urge to scrub his hands over his face. Or hide in the bathroom. He knew an intervention when he saw one.
He met his father’s grin with a grimace. “This is an ambush,” he said in English.
Ignacio shrugged and shut the door. “You had it coming. Now, siéntate.”
Ashton hurried to clear space so his family could sit comfortably. Yadiel immediately tried to climb over the back of the couch, but stopped at his great-grandmother’s stern glance.
“¿Quieres volver al hospital?” she asked, eyeing the sling he still wore on his left arm.
“No, Abuelita Bibi.” Yadiel pouted, but he sat his butt on the sofa.
Once Ashton sat too, his father got right to the point. “I’m going back to Puerto Rico.”
Ashton nodded. “Okay. We’ll all go back together.”
But Ignacio was shaking his head. “No. You’re staying here. And so is Yadiel.”
Ashton’s brow creased, but he opened his arms when Yadiel bolted to him and climbed in his lap. “I don’t understand.”
“You’re not done here,” Ignacio said. “And I want to put more time into the restaurant, get it back to what it used to be before Maria.”
“I am done. There won’t be a season two of Carmen.”
Ignacio shrugged. “So what? There will be something else. You’ll either be here or in Los Angeles. You’re not going back to Miami or telenovelas.”
Ashton resisted the urge to roll his eyes, tamping down the petulance his father still sometimes managed to bring out in him. “You can’t know that.”
Abuelita Bibi spoke up then, without looking up from her knitting. “I know that.”
Abuelito Gus nodded, a firm believer in his wife’s “feelings.” Ashton, who’d been down this road before, didn’t bother to argue.
“So why is Yadiel staying here?” Ashton asked, and a grimy little hand pressed to the side of his face.
“Because I want to,” Yadiel replied, like Duh, most obvious answer in the world.
“Yadi, you have school—” Ashton started, but his son interrupted him with a shrug that was so much like Ignacio’s, Ashton fought a grimace.
“School is overrated,” the boy said. “I want to be homeschooled. You know, you can do it all online now, and in fewer hours of the day. It sounds like a way better deal.”
Clearly this argument had been rehearsed. “Won’t you miss your friends?”
“Well, yeah, but I can still go visit them, right? And make new ones.”
Ashton swallowed hard. How had he ended up with such a well-adjusted kid? He looked to his father, who likely deserved all the credit.
“This isn’t a normal life for a child,” Ashton warned. “Are you sure?”
“Daaaaad,” Yadiel said, which was how Ashton knew he was being outmaneuvered. Yadi had picked up the drawn out “Dad” habit from some Nickelodeon show, and he used it whenever he wanted to imply Ashton was being an idiot. “I’m not a baby anymore.”
“Everyone already knows about him,” Ignacio pointed out. “Your career is about to take off, and you won’t have time to fly to Puerto Rico every weekend. You can get tutors and a nanny. And if I can spend more time at the restaurant, we won’t need help.”
He meant financial help. Ashton knew it pricked his father’s pride to accept money.
But his family was bigger than just his father and son. Ashton turned to his grandparents. “And you?” he asked them. “What do you two want?”
They exchanged a glance, then Abuelita Bibi announced, “We’ll be staying with you.”
“Part of the time,” Abuelito Gus amended. “We’ve spent our whole lives in Puerto Rico, and we like traveling. But we also want to be around Yadi while we can.”
Ashton’s heart constricted. They meant while they were alive.
“What do you say, Papi?” Yadiel pulled on Ashton’s neck with his good arm. “Can I live with you?”
And as Ashton looked down into his little boy’s dark, shining eyes, he was hit with the realization that Yadiel wasn’t a little boy anymore. He was almost nine. Ashton had missed a lot during those years, and he didn’t want to miss any more.
Jasmine had been right. He couldn’t have it both ways. If he wanted the fame, he had to come to terms with being more visible. If he wanted to keep his private life completely private, then he couldn’t be a celebrity. The two just didn’t mesh.
He’d blamed her unfairly. She’d handled her rising fame far better than he had, with clear eyes and a thick skin.
And he couldn’t continue to live in fear because of one terrible incident. He deserved better too. He deserved to feel free and happy . . . the way he felt when he was with Jasmine.
He owed her a whole lot more than an apology. And he finally knew how to make it up to her.
With a jolt, he checked his watch. Good, it was still early. Maybe there was still time to salvage . . . something. If he was about to change everything about his life, he might as well go all in.
“Yes, you can live with me,” he said. Yadiel cheered and pumped a fist into the air, narrowly missing Ashton’s nose. He shifted Yadiel off his lap so he could stand up. “One more thing. The woman I’m in love with asked me to attend her abuela’s eightieth birthday party today.”
Ignacio raised an eyebrow. “Well, you’d better get there then.”
“Stop sitting around blabbing,” Abuelito Gus teased.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Abuelita Bibi tossed her knitting aside and leaped to her feet as fast as the arthritis in her knees allowed. She began to rummage in the clothing Ashton had strewn about the room. “What are you going to wear? Where’s that nice blue suit?”
Yadiel stood on the chair Ashton had just vacated. “Is it the pretty lady who likes superheroes? Can I come too?”
Ashton caught him before he jumped off. “Of course, mijo. From now on, where I go, you go.”
Yadiel cheered.
“We’ll all go,” Ashton added, hoping Jasmine would recognize the magnitude of the gesture. He was willingly revealing his family to the world.
And also maybe using them as a shield so she couldn’t chew him out. She wouldn’t do that in front of a kid and three old people, right?
“¡Caramba!” Abuelita Bibi straightened and looked down at her purple sweat suit. “I can’t go to a party dressed like this! And Yadiel needs to look nice. We have to go back to the apartment to change.”
Ashton took charge then, sending them out the door and promising to meet them in an hour.
When the door shut behind them and quiet returned, he had a moment of clarity.
This was the last time it would be just him. After this, he’d have Yadiel with him full time, and sometimes his grandpar
ents too.
He looked around at the empty, messy room, and felt like the luckiest guy in the world to have a kid who wanted to be around him.
And like the biggest idiot for letting his own misconceptions and fears ruin something good with the sweetest woman he’d ever met.
He grabbed his clothes and headed for the shower. Hopefully it wasn’t too late to fix things.
Chapter 38
Ava and Michelle were waiting outside the venue when Jasmine rolled up in an SUV. When the driver began to unload all her suitcases, her cousins immediately gave her the eye.
They at least had the decency to wait for the car to drive away before starting in on her.
Michelle spoke first. “All right, spill it. What’s up with the bags?”
Ava checked her watch. “And we don’t have time for you to give us the runaround so just tell us a straight answer the first time, ’kay?”
Jasmine blinked, feeling mildly taken aback. She was used to this level of directness from Michelle, but not Ava. They wanted an answer? Fine. She was owning her choices. Raising her chin, she said, “I’m going back to Los Angeles and rejoining The Glamour Squad.” Okay, so that wasn’t a done deal yet, but she was about 87 percent sure they’d take her back.
Ava’s eyes widened but Michelle’s narrowed.
“Shut. Up.” Michelle’s tone was flat with disbelief and a tinge of anger. “You’re moving back to LA? Just like that?” Her dark eyes flicked to the small mountain of suitcases. “Today? What, are you gonna leave directly from the party?”
That was exactly what Jasmine was planning to do, but she didn’t want to say so. Luckily, Ava jumped in.
“What about your Leading Lady Plan?” Ava sounded personally hurt by Jasmine’s decision to give up.
“I ripped it up.” Jasmine gave a nonchalant shrug. “Clearly wasn’t working out that well for me.”
Michelle rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You loved working on Carmen. And you hate LA. You’re just too much of an actress to admit it. You’re going to trash all the progress you’ve made because things didn’t work out with a man? Really?”