by Marta Brown
“Okaaaay.” Ashley eyes him. “I’m going to assume you’re kidding.”
He pulls out a set of keys from his pocket and jingles them in front of our faces. “Nope.” He laughs.
Ashley shakes her head but is clearly amused by Andrew. “Only my brother.”
“Blame Chad. He bet me to go big or go home. What else could I do?” Andrew shrugs. “I’m thinking winter break we party at the B&B? You guys down?”
I laugh. Andrew is one of a kind. “Sure man, count us in.”
“Speaking of Chad, he said he’d try and come out to the island for the meet and greet. He’s a car buff too, can’t wait to check out your ride. You’re coming right?” Andrew asks me, changing the subject to one I’m not all that excited to broach.
“I’m not sure—” I say before Ashley cuts me off.
“Yes, he’s coming,” she answers. “I think he should talk to Richard. Maybe he knows someone who can look into getting Lane’s scholarship reinstated.”
Andrew’s face looks as skeptical as I feel about this idea. “You never know,” Andrew says with a shrug. “Just don’t open with the fact that Lane rearranged his son’s face when you make your introductions,” he says, half joking, half serious.
“Wait. What?” I say a little more loudly then necessary.
Ashley throws a narrowed look at Andrew over her shoulder. “Thanks for that.”
“Let me get this straight, the family friend you want me to talk to is Gregory Chase’s dad?” I ask incredulously, dropping my arms from around Ashley’s waist. I’m not mad, I’m shocked. “That’s crazy. I think it’s been well established Gregory and I do not like each other. At all.”
I thought it was a long shot before I knew it was that jerk-off’s father I’d need to convince to help me, but now, it just seems like a colossal waste of everyone’s time to even bother.
“But maybe…”
I take Ashley’s hands in mine. “Baby, you don’t really think he would let his dad help me, do you? So you and I can be together at Yale?” The question is rhetorical because the answer is obvious. “Ash, Greg wants to get you back, so he won’t let that happen. Ever.”
“That’s not true. At the beginning of the summer it might have been, but he’s with Hailey now. I saw them at the club last week.”
“I saw them too,” Andrew offers, backing up Ashley. “Then again, you never know with Greg. He always wants what he can’t have.” Exactly my point.
“But, Lane, it can’t hurt to try, and I really think he’ll help.” She stares at her feet, looking less sure by the second. “What’s the dream worth if it’s not worth the gamble, right?” Ashley says quietly, giving me my own advice.
Damn.
I put a finger under Ashley’s chin and raise it so she’s looking at me. “Baby, that’s why I love you so much, you always see the best in everyone, even me.”
I rub my thumb along her jaw. I’m certain Gregory Chase’s father will never help me, but if it’ll make Ashley happy, I’ll try. I’d do anything for my girl, and frankly I’d do anything to make Yale a reality, even if it means talking to Gregory’s dad. Chance or no chance.
…
“If it was good enough for a first date, it should be good enough for those fancy pants ivy leaguers,” Grandpa says with a wink, handing me the same tie he loaned me for Ashley and my disaster of a first date. I seriously hope this thing isn’t cursed.
I pull it over my head and tie it snug. “Thanks, Grandpa.”
“You’re welcome, my boy,” he says, and I can see how proud he is of me and it makes it hard to swallow.
I give him a smile, because what else can I do? I grab my jacket and shrug it on. Nerves make my movements jerky and stiff and I have to keep reminding myself it’s just a meet and greet. I’m accepted to Yale just like everyone else who will be there, and Ashley will be by my side.
“Alright, here I go.” I try to sound excited, but the words fall flat even to my own ears.
“Now you and….and… that pretty girl, have a wonderful first date,” Grandpa says, making me wince.
It’s been one of those ‘days’ today, when his Alzheimer’s makes him forget, even moments later, who or what he was talking about. I’m not sure he remembers I’m not actually going to Yale anymore, and while part of me is sad, the other part is relieved since I don’t want to disappoint him.
“I love you, Grandpa,” I say, giving him a quick hug, knowing even if he doesn’t remember how much I love him and appreciate him, I always will.
Irene loops Grandpa’s arm around hers and pats his hand. “Have fun and good luck,” she says to me with a smile.
I muster up half a smile back and a nod before shutting the front door behind me.
I’m gonna need more than luck; I’m gonna need a miracle.
When I arrive at Ashley’s house twenty minutes later I park in the very back of a long row of cars. Better for a quick escape. I adjust the sport coat I broke down and bought, take a deep breath, and raise my fist to knock on the door. Before my knuckles can make contact, the door swings open and I’m relieved to see Ashley’s smile.
“Hi,” I say, stepping inside, my eyes nervously darting around the entryway, having flashbacks of the last time I was here.
Ashley gives me a light kiss. “Don’t worry,” she says, taking my hand and smiling up at me, calming my nerves. Somewhat.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask. “Aren’t you like, banned from me?”
“I love you and nothing else matters,” Ashley says.
Her words make me feel brave. I steal a kiss before I let her lead me into the familiar living room where I spent the most uncomfortable hour of my life after meeting her parents for the first and only time.
Ashley tightens her grip on my hand before addressing her parents. “Mother, Father. You remember Lane.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Whitmore,” I say politely. “It’s nice to see you both again.”
Mrs. Whitmore gives me a curt smile while Mr. Whitmore doesn’t bother with the niceties.
“Ashley, what in the world is he doing here?” he growls, leveling me with his eyes.
Not. Good.
“Lane has been accepted to Yale like every other student here and I would appreciate you remember that,” Ashley says to her father defiantly. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’m going to introduce Lane around.”
With a polite smile, Ashley leads me away, leaving her parents standing in the middle of the room dumbfounded.
“Wow. What’s gotten into you?” I whisper in her ear as we walk out on the porch.
“You,” she says, wrapping her arms around my waist. “You’ve shown me that I can be fearless. I can strive for what I want in my life, be it dance or you.”
“Well, I’m proud of you,” I say before kissing her forehead.
“So, are you ready to meet Richard? See if there’s anything he can do to help?” she asks. Her boldness must be rubbing off on me because I’m not even close to being ready but I nod anyway. I can do this. For me and for her.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
I glance back into the living room and spy none other than Gregory Chase leering at me from the bar. He shakes hands with an older gentleman before being pulled away by a group of guys he seems familiar with. The older man, whose suit looks like it costs more than I make in two months at the club, shares Gregory’s beady eyes, straight nose and air of superiority. Mr. Richard Chase I assume.
Here goes nothing.
Chapter 24
Ashley
Lane straightens his tie, squares his shoulders and takes my hand in his. He gives me a wary look that I return with a smile, hoping it will help. “Nothing else matters,” I remind him, making it our new mantra.
He’s as ready as he’s going to be.
He releases a breath I think he’s been holding since arriving then I lead him back in the house to find Richard Chase, Gregory’s father. Lane walks confidently at my side, but I c
an tell he’s faking it as we make our way across the room. He might not believe anyone can help him get his scholarship reinstated, let alone Gregory’s father, but I can’t let him leave any possibility unexplored. He’s worked too hard.
“Mr. Chase,” I say, giving Gregory’s dad my warmest smile when we find him leaning against the bar, a martini in his hand.
“Ashley, my dear, how many times do I have to remind you to call me Richard?” He smiles setting down his drink and cupping my free hand in his.
“Of course,” I say as he releases my hand. “Richard, I’d like to introduce you to my boyfriend Lane.”
“Mr. Chase, it’s nice to meet you,” Lane says, extending his hand.
“Well, well, well,” Richard says slowly, leaving Lane’s hand hanging in the air just like my father did. “So this must be the local boy I have to thank for the plastic surgery bill to reset Gregory’s nose after your little scuffle on the beach.”
Oh no.
“Richard, let me explain,” I start, unsure how to tactfully tell him his son is a pig and Lane rearranged his face in my defense.
“No, sir, let me explain,” Lane says, squeezing my hand, saving me. Again. “Gregory and I had a… disagreement, and we should have settled it better. I really am sorry,” he says and I purse my lips in anger; Lane isn’t the one who should have to apologize for that night.
“Well, at least you can recognize when you’re in the wrong,” Richard says, taking a long sip of his drink, eyeing Lane the entire time, his tone neither understanding nor forgiving.
I’m beginning to see how right Lane was to think this plan was impractical. Two minutes in and it’s hard to imagine Richard helping, but I refuse to give up without trying.
“Richard,” I say, breaking the long silenced tension. “I wanted to introduce you to Lane since he’ll be attending Yale in the fall.”
“Really?” he replies, with an arrogant laugh.
The disbelieving smirk on his face makes my blood start to boil. How could I believe he would be any different than my parents or Gregory for that matter?
“Yes, he is,” I say without a hint of doubt, even though this is where the truth is unraveling. “Well, he was planning on attending in the fall, but there’s been a misunderstanding with his scholarship,” I say, not divulging the details.
“Misunderstanding?” Mr. Chase questions, arching his brows high. “What do you mean by misunderstanding?” Although, from his tone, it feels like he already knows why.
Lane shoves his hand in his pocket then clears his throat. “Sir, I lost the scholarship due to an arrest.” His voice cracks on the last word, but he remains steadfast and honest. “It was a lapse in judgment and does not reflect my character accurately. I promise.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” Richard says under his breath, but Lane and I both hear him clearly.
“You see, sir, your son and I wagered a… friendly bet on whose car was faster and I ended up getting arrested for the race. I hope you can see it was just a stupid mistake your son and I both made.”
“The only thing I see is you were stupid enough to get caught,” he chuckles, but there’s more satisfaction than humor in it, and his condescension is ripe.
“Uhhh, yes, sir, I guess you could say that, sir,” Lane replies, his jaw set tight.
“So?” Richard furrows his brows in question. “You’ll have to excuse my bluntness, but why is any of this my concern?”
I can feel Lane’s frustration in his grip. He looks like he would rather get arrested again then ask this man for help when it’s obvious he’s getting pleasure from Lane’s misfortune.
“Well, sir,” Lane begins, but I cut in. This was my idea. I’m the one with the relationship with the Chase family, and maybe if I ask he’ll be more inclined to help. I hope. For Lane’s sake.
“Richard, I was hoping with your position on the admissions board, you may know someone who could clear up this matter and have Lane’s scholarship reinstated,” I say, putting it out there so we can all move on from this charade. “Like you said, Lane just made the unfortunate mistake of getting caught, even though Gregory was also involved. It’s seems unfair Lane be penalized when he wasn’t the only one at fault. Don’t you agree?” I say, trying to appeal to his sense of reason, or possibly a sense of shame his son is facing zero consequences while someone else suffers for the same offense. “Please, Mr. Chase, can you help?”
Richard sets his drink casually on the bar, reaches into his inside jacket pocket and pulls out a thick cigar. “Ashley, dear, I know how fond Gregory is of you and it would give me great pleasure to help you,” he says with a genuine smile as he cuts off the tip of his cigar.
My heart skips a beat. He’s going to help.
I glance at Lane and he looks as elated as I feel. He’s going to help. He’s going to help. The improbable words keep bouncing around my mind. Unable to contain my excitement, I let go of Lane’s hand and fling my arms around Richard’s neck.
“Thank you. Thank you so much,” I say, feeling light as air. When I finally let go of him my smile is so big my face hurts. I can only imagine how Lane must be feeling.
Richard pulls out an engraved gold lighter, flicks it open and strikes the flame. He takes a few deep puffs on his cigar before blowing out a cloud of smoke, a smile on his face.
“Thank you, my dear, for the enthusiastic gratitude,” he says, straightening his dress coat then taking another drag of his cigar. “Nevertheless, I cannot help your boyfriend in this matter.”
His words take a moment to process. What? Didn’t he just say he would help me? Had I misunderstood?
“I’m sorry?” I ask, my heart pounding loudly in my ears.” But you said…”
“No, no, I’m sorry I was not clearer. I said it would give me great pleasure to help you, my dear. However, I will not help out this…” he waves his hand in Lane’s direction, “delinquent.”
I stare at Gregory’s father in disbelief as he smiles over Lane and me, not looking the least bit sorry.
I see red.
“This is all Gregory’s fault!” I say too loudly to remain respectable, but I could care less at this point.
“Ashley,” Lane says discreetly, glancing around the room. “Baby, let’s just go.”
“No. It’s not fair,” I say on the verge of tears.
How could Richard be so cruel? He knew what he said and how he said it. He was just playing with us like a cat with a mouse. He flicks the ash of his cigar, relaxed and carefree as if our exchange never happened. Like he didn’t just crush all of our hopes.
“Did someone say my name?”
I whip my head around and find Gregory standing behind Lane and me, a smug look on his face. He heard everything.
“Not now, Gregory,” I say, his easy smile annoying me instantly.
“What?” He shrugs. “I heard my name,” he says innocently, but Gregory Chase is never innocent. Ever.
I let go of Lane and plant my hands on my hips. “Fine. I was just explaining to your father here that it’s entirely your fault Lane lost his scholarship.”
Gregory saunters to his father’s side wearing a smirk that matches the one his father is wearing as well. “And how do you figure?”
“Come on, Ash, it’s not worth it,” Lane says quietly at my side, tugging my arm. I don’t budge. He might not want to make a scene, but I don’t care so much.
“You know exactly what I mean,” I say, taking a step forward. “If it weren’t for you and your stupid attempt to get back together, you wouldn’t have been such a jerk to Lane and then had him fired. He wouldn’t have needed the money and agreed to race you if that hadn’t happened. You could have just as likely been the one caught by the police that night, but it was Lane, and now he’s suffering while you get away with everything.”
“Wait, let me see if I understand you correct. You think that it’s my fault that your boyfriend there,” Greg gestures to Lane, “did his job so poorly that he was
fired.” He scoffs. “Let me remind you he was the one who picked up a dirty fork from the floor and cleaned it with his spit before setting it back on our table.”
I feel Lane flinch at my side. “You know as well as I do, you provoked him,” I say frustrated that he’s spinning the truth.
Gregory, not deterred by my accusation continues, “And I can hardly be held responsible for his reckless driving and subsequent arrest.” He looks from me to Lane. “Maybe if he hadn’t nearly gotten into a head on crash with another vehicle during the race the authorities may never have been called.”
“But…” I falter, at a loss for words at this new information. Lane told me Gregory blocked him in at the bluffs then took off right before the cops showed up, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about a possible wreck; he’d only said the race was dirty and I never asked for any more details. Although, it doesn’t surprise me Gregory wouldn’t play fair.
“And lastly, I have no bearing on Yale’s standards of conduct. If they determined Lane’s not fit to receive their scholarship, how can that be my fault either? I’m sorry, Ashley, but he’s the only one to blame here.” Gregory finishes with an indifferent glance in Lane’s direction.
I can feel the anger rolling off Lane in waves as my mind starts to swirl that Gregory might be right, and the very thought pushes me over the edge.
“You know what, Gregory? You and your dad and my parents and everyone else in this whole ridiculous room can think whatever you want about Lane, but the one thing it doesn’t change is the fact that you’re all a bunch of self-righteous, conceited assholes.
I turn to storm off and freeze when I see everyone in the room staring, having heard the entire confrontation. The room is dead silent besides the clinking of ice cubes against crystal glasses and a soft murmur of whispers coming in off the deck.
My eyes roam the familiar and unfamiliar faces until they stop at my father, whose expression is washed purple with anger.
“Get. To. Your. Room. Now.”