by Mari Madison
My eyes roved the backstage, falling on Sarah, who was standing over by her father, checking her hair and makeup in her compact. My stomach soured a little as I looked her over. She was even more beautiful than I had imagined her to be—and I had imagined quite a bit. So delicate, too. So thin she was almost frail. With huge doll-like blue eyes and perfect blond hair. I felt like a bull in a china shop even standing in the same room as her.
But Asher doesn’t love her, I reminded myself. He loves you. He chose you.
I turned to Asher, watching him position each kid in line, handing the ones in the back row boards to hold during the press conference. He dropped down in front of them, on their own level, saying something I couldn’t quite hear. Then he raised his hand and they all let out a loud cheer. I smiled. He was so good with them—just as he’d been with Jayden on the beach. A total natural. And I could tell he was having just as much fun as they were.
Maybe someday he’d be able to do something like this full time. Leave his family and News 9 behind to work a job that really meant something to him. Of course that was going to be impossible—at least until he gained the courage to tell his father the truth. Until then, his mother would always have a hold over him. Be able to control his life.
My hands tightened into fists as I thought back to his confession. To the pain I’d seen in his eyes. I knew his mother was controlling—but I’d had no idea what a monster she truly was. Not only to have done something like that to begin with, but then to hold it over her son’s head in order to keep him in line. She may have been successful, she may have climbed the ladder further than I ever dreamed of going. But underneath her glamorous shell, she was no better than my own mother. Living a life carved from lies.
“One minute!” the show producer, Nancy, barked. She turned to Asher. “Are you ready?”
Asher straightened up and shot her a grin. “I was born ready!” he declared, and I could see the swagger in his stance, the cocky smile, the flashing emerald eyes. This was the Asher everyone expected to show up today, the one who could put on a show. And while once I couldn’t stand this sort of arrogance—this bravado—now it only served to make me smile. Because I knew what was underneath it. The true Asher he only revealed to people he trusted and loved.
On cue, Sarah took her position next to him, wobbling a little on too-high stilettos. I had to admit, the two of them looked good together, standing side by side. A golden couple with golden hair and golden futures. They looked as if they belonged together. It was hard to believe, watching them now, that for some reason Asher had chosen someone like me instead.
Nancy pointed to her assistant who worked to pull open the curtains, revealing the stage to the press. As cameras flashed, Sarah’s father stepped up to the podium to begin to address the room. The crowd erupted into excited murmurs, but he waved his hand to silence them.
“Thank you for coming!” he boomed into the microphone. “You are too kind! I know you have a lot of news to cover—and it’s immensely gratifying to see you take time out to report on my little . . . charitable venture instead.”
I scowled from the sidelines. His venture. As if he had anything to do with it, except writing a check. Asher and I had put in all the sweat equity, all the blood and tears. All so this buffoon could take the credit.
It doesn’t matter, I scolded myself. It’s all about the kids.
I watched as he turned to Asher and Sarah. “But enough about me,” he said. “Let’s introduce the real stars of the party. My beautiful daughter, Sarah . . . And a man who needs no introduction—News 9 meteorologist, Asher Anderson!”
The crowd clapped politely and Asher and Sarah took center stage.
“Thank you for coming,” Asher began.
“Tell us about the surf school!” a reporter from the audience interjected. “Whose idea was it?”
Asher gave a dutiful smile. “As you know, the Anderson family has a long tradition of giving back to the community,” he said, as we’d rehearsed. “Now it’s my turn to take on the family mantle. And what better way to do that than to combine it with something I love. Surfing!” He grinned. “Anything for an excuse to hit the waves, after all!”
The crowd laughed appreciatively. “What do you hope to accomplish by teaching at-risk kids to surf?” asked another reporter.
Asher took a look back at the kids behind him. Then he turned to the reporter. “Surfing can do so much for a kid,” he said. “It can benefit their physical and mental health. It can empower them, give them something to work toward, look forward to. Help them make healthier choices in all aspects of their lives.”
He paused and Sarah stepped in. “Studies show participating in a sport like surfing can lead to advanced educational outcomes, increased social skills, and all sorts of other benefits.” She smiled, flashing her perfect white teeth. “Something we in the Martin family have always advocated for our community.”
“Sarah, are you a fan of surfing, too?” called out a newspaper reporter in the back.
Sarah giggled. “No,” she said, shaking her head. Her perfectly flatironed hair bounced prettily from the gesture. “I’m just a fan of Asher here.”
The room erupted in conversation. I could see Asher shoot a look at Sarah, and her cheeks colored in response. She clearly hadn’t meant it to come out like that, I realized. But behind her, her father was grinning like a loon. Of course.
“Inquiring minds want to know!” cried a voice from the side. “Are you two a couple?”
Everyone laughed. Except Asher. His face darkened. Shit.
Don’t ruin this, I begged him silently. Just go with it. For the kids’ sake. It doesn’t matter what they think.
“Now, now,” Sarah scolded the reporter. “We should try to keep the questions on topic, don’t you think?” She gave him a saucy grin. “Let’s just say Asher and I are very good friends.” She wrapped a possessive arm around him and gave him a little hug. I watched as he stiffened like a board.
Uh-oh.
Time seemed to slow down as he jerked from her grasp. He turned, looking offstage, meeting my eyes with his own. I shook my head, trying to tell him, without words, that he shouldn’t argue. That I knew his heart. That the rest didn’t matter.
But Asher, it seemed, did not feel the same.
“No,” he said, turning back to the crowd, which was watching with bated breath. “No. I’m sorry. I won’t do this. I can’t do this.”
The room erupted into conversation, reporters buzzing with excitement. They’d come to cover a simple, boring charity event, and now it was turning into so much more.
“Asher,” Sarah tried, looking very concerned. She tugged on his arm, but he pulled it away.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, clearly meaning only to talk to her. But the microphone picked up his voice, echoing it across the room. “I have to set the record straight.”
I watched, helpless to stop him as he turned back to the press, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin. “Sarah and I are not a couple,” he said flatly. “We never were. And we never will be. Because I have a girlfriend. A girlfriend who I love very much.” He turned to look backstage again, beckoning with his hand. “Piper? Can you come out here for a second?”
“Asher, what are you doing?” I could hear Sarah hiss beside him. But he ignored her, beckoning for me again. Shit.
I had no choice. I took a hesitant step forward.
“There she is!” Asher announced excitedly, crossing the room and sweeping me into his arms. “My beautiful girlfriend. Piper Strong, ladies and gentlemen!”
The cameras started flashing madly. The room erupted in questions.
Asher dragged me back to the podium, then held up his hand to silence them. “Piper, ladies and gentlemen of the press, is the true brains behind this surf school. She was the one who introduced me to these kids. And she helped me build the sc
hool from the ground up. Without her, none of us would be standing here today.”
And with that, he grabbed my hand, made a silly little bow, then yanked me offstage with him, leaving Sarah standing there by herself, her face tomato-red.
“So, uh, thank you for coming?” she stammered, trying to be heard over all the chaos rampaging through the room. “All the information for the school is on our website.” And with that, she practically ran offstage.
I turned to Asher. He was grinning from ear to ear. “Oh my God,” he cried. “Was that as good for you as it was for me?”
“Asher, that was not good,” I protested. “That was so not good. You just embarrassed Sarah—and her father—in front of the entire San Diego press.”
“No. I told the truth. She embarrassed herself by pretending we were a couple.”
“You think her father’s going to see that? You think he’s going to keep funding the surf school now?”
Asher set his chin. “Yes,” he said. “Don’t you see? He has to. Otherwise he’ll look like a total asshole—only participating in the charity to get his daughter laid rather than help those poor kids on stage. Now he’ll have to keep paying until people lose interest. And by that point we will have applied for all the grants we need to keep going without his help.”
“So you tricked him.”
He shrugged. “They tricked me first.”
“And what about me? Did you ever stop to think about me?”
“Of course I thought about you. Piper, that’s the whole reason I did what I did. It wasn’t right—them disrespecting you like that.”
“No, Asher. You are the one who disrespected me. I told you, point-blank, that you should do this with Sarah. That you should not make a scene. But you didn’t respect that. You didn’t listen to me. You did it anyway ’cause you never see the big picture.”
“Piper . . .” His face twisted in anguish.
“You told me if we got together it wouldn’t affect my job. Now what’s going to happen to me?”
“Nothing. She can’t do anything. And if she tried, you could sue.”
“I don’t want to sue. I just want to do my job. The job I’ve been trying to prove to people that I deserve. But now? Now it looks like I’m only here because I’m hooking up with you. Do you think the other stations will hire me now? Do you think they’ll even look at my resume?”
His face fell. “Piper, I never meant—”
“Of course not. You never mean to do anything. But you do it all the same,” I snarled. “I should have never taken this stupid job. I should have just stayed in production assistant land until I was promoted for my skills, not my body.”
“Come on,” he begged, his expression pleading. “Don’t go back to that. You excel at your job. You deserve to have it. Who cares how you got it in the first place?”
“I care,” I whispered, rising to my feet, my whole body shaking. “I care,” I said louder. “And that’s something—Asher Anderson—you will never understand.”
thirty-three
PIPER
After leaving the surf school, I wasn’t sure where to go. I drove around for a while, not wanting to go home to an empty house and be alone with my tormented thoughts. But where else could I go? Not Asher’s place, that was for sure. And my mother was still at Safe Harbor. In the end, I decided to head to News 9. I had work to do, after all. I needed to put together a resume reel of my work. Just in case I was soon out of a job.
I didn’t have much to put on tape. I had barely been in the weather center for a month. But I had to come up with something. Asher might claim I couldn’t be fired, but he didn’t live in the real world. Sure, they wouldn’t fire me for what he did on stage—not directly, of course. Like Asher said, if they did that I could easily sue. But I wasn’t stupid. It wouldn’t be hard for them to find some other excuse. Some other reason I wasn’t right for the job—for the station. And then it would be, “See you later, Piper. Don’t let the door of opportunity hit you on the way out.”
And in the end, I could only blame myself. I’d known from the start it was a bad idea. That I was putting everything I’d worked for at risk for some stupid relationship that had no guarantees. Well, at least for me. Asher would never get fired. He would never suffer the consequences of his actions. He could be a total idiot on TV and it was no big deal in the long run.
The worst part was, he didn’t even get it. He actually thought he was doing some noble thing, standing up for me. Which proved, once and for all, how little he understood the real world. People like me didn’t get to be noble. We didn’t get to make stands. We kept our heads down; we worked hard. We appreciated what we accomplished and we didn’t care about the fame and glory. As long as we got our paycheck at the end of the week.
But Asher wouldn’t understand that. How could he?
I slumped onto my desk, too distraught to even pull up the list of stories I wanted to compile for the tape. Looking around the empty weather center, my heart panged in my chest. The worst part was I still had feelings for Asher. I still loved him—even after he’d blown up my career. It was going to take me a long time to get past this.
But I would. I would rise again. As I had in the past and would in the future. I would refocus and start fresh and this time I wouldn’t let my personal weakness for a charming smile screw things up for me. I’d gotten into TV news to make a difference, after all. And I could still make that difference—if I stayed focused this time.
“Piper. Good. There you are.”
I looked up, my eyes widening as a lone figure slipped into the weather center. She took a step forward into the light and I almost gasped as I realized who it was.
Asher’s mother.
She was dressed as she had been for the press conference—in a smart, probably custom-fitted suit, a string of pearls around her throat. She was beautiful for her age—though rumor had it she’d had a bit of work done—and she was always so polished and poised. But there was also a hardness deep in her eyes. The fierceness of a woman who had taken life by the throat and strangled it to her will.
I sat up in my seat, trying to square my shoulders. If I was to be fired, I wanted to at least retain some dignity. No matter what, I couldn’t let her see me cry.
“We need to talk,” she said, sitting down in a nearby chair and peering at me with those piercing gray eyes.
I sighed. “Look, I didn’t tell Asher to do that. I actually told him he needed to play nice with Sarah and her father. That I didn’t need any credit.”
“I know,” she said, surprising me. “Or—at least that’s what I assumed. You strike me as a very sensible girl, Piper. My son, on the other hand . . .” She shook her head slowly. “He grew up in a very different world. Partially my fault, I’m afraid. He never had the chance to fail at anything. So he never learned how to try.”
“No,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. Even as mad at Asher as I was, I couldn’t let her just dismiss him like that. “He has been trying. He created the surf school from nothing. He’s been working day and night to make it succeed.” I gave her a beseeching look. My job might be over, after all, but I could still fight for the school—for the kids. “Please don’t pull his funding because of me. It’ll crush those poor kids. They need something like this.”
“I’m not a monster, Piper,” his mother said sternly. “No matter what my son has implied to you. I’m simply a businesswoman, trying to balance a very precarious ecosystem here at News 9. We need advertisers—especially political advertisers—to keep this station afloat. To allow us to do these kinds of good things for unfortunate people. My job is to solicit these advertisers by any means necessary. When I see an opportunity, I take it. But you know all about that, don’t you, Miss Strong?”
She arched a questioning eyebrow and I could feel my face heat. “I—” I started, but she waved me off.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” she said. “If anything you should be proud of yourself. You saw an opportunity to rise in your career and you grabbed hold of it. I would have done the same thing in your position.”
I hung my head. Her approval was almost worse than her criticism.
“My dear girl, don’t you see? We’re all on the same side here. I’m looking out for my family—and News 9. You’re looking out for your career. And . . . your mother, too, right? I understand she’s in some kind of rehabilitation program?” She gave me a pointed look and I stiffened. Oh God. She knew about my mother? Did she know Asher was funding my mother, too?
I thought back to what Asher had told me—about how money always came with strings attached. I had no idea, at the time, just how tightly they were all woven together.
Asher’s mother gave me a fond look. “You know,” she said, “I look at you and I see myself. Someone who’s driven, who wants to go the distance. But we both have to accept help once in a while to get the job done. I need help from people like Champ Martin. And you need help from people like me.” She paused, catching the look on my face. “Oh, come on. It’s not something to be ashamed of. If someone wants to help you, why shouldn’t you use that to get what you want?”
She paused and I waited. Clearly this was leading up to something and I wanted to just get it over with. “So what do you want to help me with?” I managed to spit out.
She gave me a smug smile. “Did I mention I like you?” she asked. “Straight to the point. Most people are too fond of bullshitting around first.” She nodded. “You are correct. I have a proposal for you, Piper.”
“I’m listening . . .”
“When you first interviewed here, you spoke of wanting to be an investigative producer—at least that’s what I read in your files. Is this still the case?”
“Y-yes . . .”