One More Chance (A Bedford Falls Novel Book 3)

by Sydney Bristow

  She wanted to trust him. But how could she continue believing in herself after all of the negative comments she’d overheard her fellow students make when they hadn’t known she was in the vicinity: her voice is too high; she isn’t much to look at; her acting sucks. Then again, once she got on stage, she became fearless. She just needed to handle constructive criticism while off the stage.

  “You’ll be great,” he said. “You shine so brightly.”

  No one had ever referred to her in such a unique and lovely way. His words made her light up inside. She treasured the compliment. It made her lift her head and meet his gaze with pride.

  “I didn’t just say…what I think I did, right? Because that…” He shook his head, looking relieved. “No, of course, I didn’t.” He swept a hand through his hair. “I’d only thought it.” He met her eyes. “Phew. That was a close one.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said conspiratorially. “It’s just between us.”

  Shocked, he draped a hand over his eyebrows, hiding his face. “Oh, Jesus.”

  She giggled at his embarrassment. She felt giddy.

  “Ashley!”

  She turned around, annoyed at the interruption. She spotted Savannah, another server, coming up behind her, wiping her hands on her apron.

  “Could you take my shift next Saturday night?” She glanced at Scott. “Sorry to intrude.” Then she turned back to her colleague.

  Ashley noted that Scott hadn’t even looked at Savannah. That surprised her. Every man who entered the restaurant always let his gaze linger on her colleague. It made Ashley feel appealing.

  Until she’d come to work here, she’d always thought of herself as somewhat attractive: thick, dark curls reached the middle of her back; a slender figure with decent-sized breasts; and a smile that looked cuter without showing her teeth. Her gentle overbite made her feel like a chipmunk, a nickname that followed her from grade school to middle school.

  Working alongside Savannah and, especially their manager, Meghan, made Ashley feel as special as the trinkets that accompanied the caramel corn in a box of Cracker Jacks. But seeing Scott looking into her eyes with such interest, how could she not feel special?

  Feeling color entering her cheeks because Scott still regarded her from profile, Ashley appreciated that her shift just ended. It would give her an opportunity to leave (and watch him from around a corner to find out if he looked disappointed that she’d ended their conversation).

  Ashley excused herself and walked with Savannah to the back room, where she removed her jacket and purse from a wooden wall mount. As she slipped into her coat, she said, “Sure, I’ll take your shift.” Ashley set the strap of her purple purse over her right shoulder.

  “Thanks. Oh, hey, what’s that?” She pointed at the page in Ashley’s hand.

  She looked down at it, only now realizing that she hadn’t given it back to Scott. She glanced in his direction, but he had…vanished. A thread of anxiety made her heart pound. The crumpled pages no longer littered the booth’s table. Only the untouched toast and the mug gave any indication that he’d inhabited that area only moments ago.

  And she felt a pang of regret: that she hadn’t stayed longer to chat, that she’d only learned his name and little more. Nevertheless, their meeting had a mystical quality that would make it difficult for her to forget.

  Although she desperately wanted to look at the lyrics to discover what Scott had such difficulty writing, she resisted the urge: if he’d intended for her to see it, he would have given it to her. Instead, he’d crushed it and tossed it to the floor. He regarded it as trash and threw it aside, essentially saying his words were not worthy of his efforts. Despite that argument, she couldn’t put it in the garbage. Doing so wouldn’t feel right, although if asked, she couldn’t explain why. Without further thought, she unruffled the page and scanned the contents:

  Just met this beautiful girl with an electric smile

  Found her working in a diner; man, I love her style

  Wanna hold her hand, look deep into those eyes

  And tell her to trust me forever; there’ll be no lies

  Her pulse pounded through her veins. Ashley looked at the first four lines again, assuming she’d misread the lyrics. But after re-reading with a pent-up breath in her chest, she felt a smile coming to her lips, shocked that Scott had been secretly writing about her. She read on:

  Feels like I’m standing on a ledge

  Just one look sends me over the edge

  Love at first sight doesn’t exist

  Only this time, I don’t think I can resist

  She recalled the deep concentration in his eyes while he wrote, as well as his frustration at being unable to clarify his feelings, and Ashley felt closer to him. Never before had anyone taken the time to care about her.

  I’ve gotta to know if she feels the same

  Just makes me wish I knew her name

  Barely talked to her; wanna know how she feels

  Don’t even know her, and I’m head over heels

  Ashley put a hand to her mouth, shocked that Scott had felt the same emotional insecurity that had overcome her while they had chatted.

  Then a streak of fright passed over her. She got a bad feeling that Scott had ruined her for every other guy she might meet in the future. After all, how could any man make a better first impression than the one Scott just made?

  CHAPTER TWO

  The next evening, Ashley and her fellow thespians received a standing ovation and thunderous applause from the audience in the Bedford Falls High School gymnasium for their performance. After the spectators filtered out of the building, her parents met her backstage, alongside all of the other parents and their children. Ashley stepped up to them, anxiety gnawing at her as she braced herself for her parents’ reactions.

  In her late fifties with wavy black, silver-flecked hair, Loretta Lawford went in for a hug and offered a reserved smile. “All around us, parents were raving about your acting.” She held tight to her daughter. “All we heard was: ‘she should be in Hollywood,’ or ‘I’ll bet she becomes a model.’”

  Ashley didn’t miss what her mother left unsaid: any aspects of her performance that she had enjoyed. Her mother never revealed what she thought, preferring instead to touch on what others said or felt. However, when it came to Ashley’s younger siblings, her mom had no difficulty speaking her mind. During Kelsey’s soccer games, her mom knew everything about the game and smothered her youngest daughter with praise. Same thing with Alexander. While attending his baseball games, she whistled and cheered him on and never failed to give him plenty of feedback afterwards.

  But her oldest daughter? Never!

  Ashley didn’t necessarily seek positive reinforcement. She would have even accepted constructive criticism to improve her skills, which she regarded as raw and too self-conscious. Still, her mom hadn’t uttered one piece of negative feedback, perhaps fearing it would damage her daughter’s self-esteem.

  That point of view made sense, and if her mother held her tongue for that reason, Ashley appreciated the compassionate gesture, since she would admit to having wavering self-confidence. Nevertheless, she needed to harden her defenses if she hoped to gain a foothold in the entertainment industry.

  Her mother stepped out of their embrace and turned to her husband, Glenn, a retired cop two years older than she was. With analytical, steel-colored eyes, and an imposing physique that filled the doorway when young men appeared at his home to take out his seventeen-year-old daughter, he spread an arm around Ashley’s right shoulder and curled her into a hug.

  “That was some great acting,” he said. “Merl Streep better watch his back.”

  “You mean, Meryl?” Loretta asked.

  He shrugged massive shoulders, puzzled. “I didn’t know Merle had a sister. But okay, Ashley is better than both of them combined.”

  “Really, Dad?” Ashley asked. “Meryl Streep and another person conjoined? The things that go through your mind!”

/>   Her mother suppressed laughter while her father released Ashley. “Where’s Alexander and Kelsey?” she asked, referring to her younger siblings.

  Her mother said, “Alexander is sleeping over at a friend’s house. And your father and I allowed Kelsey to stay home alone for a few hours as a trial run. I hope she doesn’t burn it down on accident.”

  Ashley chuckled. “Knowing Kelsey, she’s probably organizing the cabinets in the kitchen and taking inventory of your cooking supplies.” She shook her head, amused by her sister’s maturity.

  “But you still love her,” said her mother.

  “I might if she stops suffocating me. Wherever I go, she’s right there, always at my side.”

  “She idolizes you. Give her some credit for having good taste.” Her mom caught sight of a female neighbor and raised an index finger, signaling that she’d stop by to visit her in a minute. Before doing so, she drew her daughter into a quick embrace and pecked her cheek. “That was a wonderful play. We’ll talk more when we get home.”

  Ashley felt let down. Her mother seemed impressed by the play, but once again, she didn’t even mention her daughter’s role in it. Couldn’t she see that Ashley just wanted to make her proud? She supposed that repeating the compliments other parents had uttered signified some level of maternal pride. Even so, if her mom couldn’t say how she felt, Ashley would have gladly accepted even something as distant as a pat on the back. Was that too much to ask? Then again, at least her mother didn’t patronize her and pretend that she cared.

  Ashley glanced around, hoping to catch sight of Scott. During the play, she’d checked either side of the stage, but hadn’t seen him anywhere. Her inability to spot him probably left her irritated, which probably explained why she’d been too tough on her mother.

  “Hey, Ashley.”

  Spinning around, she saw the most popular kid in school, a muscular football player named Troy, whom she’d gone out with three times over the past month. He headed toward her with a smirk dripping with arrogance.

  On their second date, despite enjoying the time they spent together (and finding him incredibly good-looking and kind of charming), she surprisingly didn’t feel any chemistry when they kissed before parting. Figuring that nerves might have played a role on both of their parts, Ashley agreed to a third date last weekend, but try though she might, she couldn’t summon a tingle of excitement when they kissed goodnight.

  Then he’d groped her breasts. The devilish gleam in his eyes lent the impression that he expected she wouldn’t find this unwelcome. But when she jerked back against the passenger seat of his Ford Mustang in panic, his eyes lit up with wicked delight. Unable to find her voice, she slapped Troy across the face, which drew laughter and the words, “Yeah, you’re a bad girl. You just don’t know it yet.”

  Ashley had jumped out of his car and rushed into her home. This past week, each time they passed each other in the halls, he winked at her then leered at her breasts and licked his lips like a wolf sizing up his prey.

  Now, Troy pushed a hand through his razor-clipped black hair, but when he spotted Ashley’s parents, his smarmy grin turned respectful and reserved. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Lawford. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  Her father narrowed his eyes at the young man in disapproval before turning to Ashley. “I thought you two weren’t dating anymore?”

  “We’re not,” Ashley said.

  Troy ignored her father and turned to Ashley. “The cast and crew are meeting over at Cold Stone for ice cream. You coming?”

  Recalling the moment he thrust himself upon her, and the knotted nerves that attacked her insides at that moment, Ashley didn’t have enough poise at that high-pressure moment to give it any real consideration, so she just said, “I don’t think so.”

  Her father placed his attention from Ashley to Troy. “You kissed my daughter last weekend, didn’t you?”

  “Huh?” he asked, stepping back, startled. He turned to Ashley. “What did you tell him?”

  “Dad!” Ashley said, feeling heat creep into her cheeks. She hated that her father enjoyed humiliating her every chance that he got. “Don’t do this… please!”

  “If you have kissed her,” her father said to Troy, undeterred, “you’ll need to step up to the plate, young man. You’ll need to marry her.”

  “What?” Troy asked. His eyes grew wide in shock. “What are you talking about?”

  Her dad stepped forward and dropped a heavy palm on Troy’s shoulder, making him shrink downwards a few inches from the pressure. “I can’t have you ruin my daughter’s honor. So I guess congratulations are in order. You’ll be getting married.” He tightened his grip on Troy’s shoulder. “How old are you, son? Eighteen, I hope?”

  “No.” Troy winced as he stared at her father’s hand. “Seventeen.”

  Her father shook his head, disappointed. “That’s a shame. But there are states down south that will let you two tie the knot. Of course, you’ll need to get an engagement ring. Do you have a job?”

  “Dad!” Ashley shouted.

  Everyone backstage stopped talking and turned to look at her. Feeling the mounting pressure of having drawn so much attention made her lightheaded. She turned scarlet.

  Troy squiggled out of her father’s grasp with so much force that he almost slipped to the floor before correcting his balance. He ran off in the opposite direction.

  Her father’s eyebrows drew close together. “It looked like you weren’t interested in him. I was just doing you a favor.”

  “Great! Now Troy’s going to tell everyone that you’re a freak!”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Of course, you don’t…because I’m going to be the one defending you.” She lowered her head and rushed out of the backstage area, imagining that everyone regarded her as a child throwing a temper tantrum.

  Too humiliated to join the cast and crew at the ice cream shop, she considered going home, but even though she lived only a block away from school, she didn’t want to do that. With her twelve-year old sister at home, Ashley didn’t want to ruin her sister’s first bit of independence by stealing that moment of freedom from her.

  So she retreated to her locker and sat with her back against it while reading a dystopian novel. Once again, she wondered why Scott hadn’t shown up. Had he found her performance appalling? That would explain things – if he didn’t want to lie to her by stating that he enjoyed the play.

  When she felt certain that her fellow students and their parents had vacated the gym, she went back to spend a few minutes on stage alone. Having taken part in eight plays here over the past four years, she needed to relive the past in order to move forward into the future. And although her parents were most likely waiting for her at home, Ashley didn’t want to go back yet and hear how she had embarrassed them.

  She often found it exhausting as the center of attention on stage, so she took the method acting route and got so into character that all vestiges of her own life disappeared. It allowed her to not worry about what anyone thought of her performance. If she didn’t take such extreme measures on stage, she would wind up babbling incoherently or hyperventilating or fidgeting ceaselessly as a wave of heat overtook her and made sweat break out all over her body–most likely all at the same time.

  Her drama teacher, traditionally the last person to leave at the conclusion of every production, had already taken off. And the janitor, who had turned off 95% of the lights, leaving a dim glow throughout the room, had stepped out to dispose of garbage bags. After spending some time on stage looking at all the empty folding chairs, and reflecting on her growth as an actress who received better roles with each successive production, Ashley hopped off and walked perpendicular to the right side of the stage, passing rows of seats.

  The PA system crackled, and a hum elicited from the speakers.

  Ashley jumped at the clatter, feeling vulnerable in the dark.

  At the other end of the gym, footsteps tapped against the hardwood floor.<
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  Stopping at the last row of chairs, scanning the room to locate the visitor, she couldn’t decide whether to remain silent or dart out of the gym.

  The hum grew louder. The footsteps approached her.

  She glanced to her right and saw a young man her age wearing a faded black shirt, tattered jeans, and well-worn black boots. A silver chain acted as a strap for the shiny, black electric guitar in his hands.

  At this distance, she couldn’t identify him. He’d lowered his head, and his thick blond hair shielded his face from prying eyes. Nonetheless, Ashley remained transfixed by his image. He stepped under one of the overhead lights, while his fingers slid across the fretboard.

  He relaxed his stance, now leaning back, still standing under the light, giving the impression that above all, he wanted a spot under the limelight on stage, performing for the masses. A long, bluesy note erupted from the guitar, and one glance at his face gave the impression that he felt the same pain as the sound issuing from his guitar.

  If she could describe the tone itself, Ashley had to admit that it was reminiscent of a person weeping.

  Fascinated by the power and emotion he called upon simply by moving his fingers across six strings, she sat upright, mesmerized. She’d seen plenty of twenty-something guitarists in videos on MTV, but this was far different. Here stood a young man her age. And judging by his skill-set, he appeared just as competent, if not more so, than most of the famous guitar virtuosos in the music industry. How much time had it taken to hone those skills?

  For the briefest moment, she wondered if it was Scott. But he’d said that he sang the songs he wrote. He didn’t mention that he played guitar.

  Another guitar note soared, but this one had a harder edge, one that promised recklessness and danger. The music sounded spontaneous but also tight and controlled.

  The despair reverberating through the speakers touched her so profoundly that within moments, she felt her eyes tearing up. The feelings this guitarist drudged up epitomized the confusion and sorrow that suffused her as she contemplated why her parents, for reasons she never understood, treated her differently than they treated her brother and sister.