by Liz Fenton
That had all been Ashley, building their following through creative content. She’d thought to hire someone to record them using the BloBrush to create different styles on them as regular women, not models. Each video received thousands of views on Facebook and Instagram and was shared even more. Their YouTube channel took it a step further—they did everything from giving tutorials to interviewing the women they were styling about their busy lives. Ashley had found a way to connect to their consumers on a natural level.
“Thanks so much,” Ashley said. “We try to have fun with it.” She gave Natalie a look in the mirror.
“We’ll let you guys get back to your night,” Diane said.
“So nice to meet you!” Carrie said.
“You too,” Ashley said, watching the women through the bathroom’s swinging door as they hovered over the cell phone looking at the selfies.
“Why do you always get so quiet when fans come up? You’re not a shy person,” Ashley asked Natalie once they were gone.
“It’s just so weird—fans. We aren’t celebrities. We invented a brush!”
“It’s part of it, though,” Ashley said.
“I know.”
“You should engage more.”
Natalie took a deep breath. She knew where this was going—it wasn’t the first time Ashley had lectured her on how to engage with fans.
“I’m not trying to annoy you, but those people are our bread and butter,” Ashley said. “I get that you don’t mean to, but you come across kind of standoffish.”
Natalie waited a beat before responding. She was so tired of arguing. “You did a great job. They didn’t notice me.”
“Exactly.”
“Ash, this is one of the reasons I want to—” Natalie stopped. They shouldn’t have this conversation now. In the bathroom. When they’d been drinking.
“Just say it—it’s why you want to sell,” Ashley said.
“Not the only reason. But yes, one of them.” Natalie trailed off, thinking again about the financial hell she and Ben were in. That they’d have to move—yank the girls out of their school. Sell everything they had. What would become of them?
“It shouldn’t be about money,” Ashley said. “We’ve worked so hard to get this company where it is and you want to say goodbye, just like that?”
“It’s not just like that,” Nat said.
“Where’s the girl who was so passionate about her cordless hot brush design that she pulled an all-nighter searching for other patents that might compete?” Ashley stared at her in the mirror, waiting for an answer.
She’s older. She has two daughters who need her. And she needs the money so her life doesn’t fall apart.
“Why are you giving up?” Ashley tried again when Natalie didn’t respond.
“I’m not!” Natalie said, louder than she intended. A woman washing her hands in the adjacent sink looked over, curious.
“Then what? Don’t you remember Shark Tank? That feeling we had afterward? That rush of being able to turn it down because we had something so special everyone wanted a piece of it?”
“You turned it down. You didn’t even consult me.”
“So you were taking digs at me the other night on the beach when it came up. I can’t believe it still bothers you. If you had such a problem with how I handled it, why didn’t you do anything to stop it? Why did you walk off that set never having opened your mouth to disagree?”
“You don’t get the position you put me in—on television! What was I supposed to do? Make it look like we weren’t a unified front while Mr. Wonderful scowled at us? That would have been worse. What should have happened is we should have discussed it before you told them all we didn’t want a deal.”
“You never complained when the checks started rolling in. When all the big-box stores came calling.”
“We should have decided together.”
“You don’t get anywhere without taking a risk,” Ashley said.
Natalie felt her irritation spike again. “But it should be risks that we decide on. Together. We are a team, or have you forgotten that?”
Ashley jerked her head back. “Come on, Nat. Don’t you remember what a fantastic experience it was? We killed it!”
“You killed it,” Natalie mumbled. “I was just your sidekick. Or have you conveniently forgotten?”
“I really thought I was doing what was best for us.” Ashley grabbed her forearm lightly. “Sometimes you have to step in and do what’s right, even if it seems unfair at the time.”
“Are you talking about Shark Tank, or Revlon’s offer?” Natalie asked.
Ashley paused, thinking. “Both, I suppose. In each of those instances, I felt as if I needed to step in. To follow my gut.”
“But why does your gut get to override our partnership? It did then, and you’re doing it again now.”
Ashley hesitated before responding. “I don’t know. I just knew that day that we didn’t need the Sharks. Just in the same way I know we don’t need Revlon.”
“But what if you’re wrong?” Natalie asked, shaking her head at the logic.
“What if I’m not?” Ashley said gently. “Come on. Let me buy you another drink. I think we could both use it.”
Natalie knew another cocktail wasn’t going to solve their impasse or yield the answers she was becoming increasingly desperate for. Yet she still allowed Ashley to tug her gently out the door and toward the bar, watching her swagger toward it as if she owned it. That was the thing with Ashley. She’d let her instincts dictate her entire life, from changing her major two years into college to breaking up on a whim with the guy she’d dated before Jason, leaving him baffled. But those were choices that only affected Ashley.
There was no way Natalie was going to let Ashley’s gut decide the rest of her life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
THE DAY AFTER
NATALIE
Natalie stepped out of the cab and stared at the sign—the words “La Cantina” were carved into a piece of large wood hanging overhead. Her gaze fell on the mural covered in purposeful graffiti sitting in front of the bar, shining under the glow of the streetlamp. She ran her hand along another sign—this one read “Tapas, Musica & Mas.” She blew out a long breath, thinking they’d all gotten mas than they’d bargained for last night. That was for sure.
She fixated on the shell of the Volkswagen Bug that sat in front of La Cantina. It was streaked with paint, as if someone had dipped a brush in rainbow colors and splattered it across the car. “Let’s go inside,” she said.
They walked in and she watched Jason take in the tattered barstools, his gaze resting on the bar. “Marco was here with you guys, right? Was he hitting on you guys? On Ashley?”
Natalie inhaled the faint smell of stale alcohol and took in the bar’s interior—it looked so different when it was empty. She could feel Jason’s eyes on her but didn’t dare look at him. He’d known her a long time. He’d see what she wasn’t saying. “We all hung out with him.”
“And?”
She stared at the dance floor, sticky substances shining under the light of day. “And we drank and danced and then I don’t remember.” She finally looked at him, but his eyes were so intense, she turned her head, not wanting to see what was inside of them.
“You know what I’m asking.” Jason rubbed his chin.
“I told you—”
“Listen, Nat. I need you to hear me right now. It’s time to put girl code aside. Ashley is missing and if you know anything else—even something you think might hurt me—you need to say it. It could help us find her. You skirted my question earlier, but I’m not going to let you do it again. I’m not an idiot.”
No, that’s just what you call your wife.
Natalie hesitated, Ashley’s accusations against Jason flashing through her mind. It was the logical reason Ashley had turned to another man for emotional comfort and maybe even more. She couldn’t tell Jason that, but she had to tell him something. He clearly was not go
ing to back off. “Okay, but stay calm,” Natalie finally said, and eased into the same barstool she had the night before. Jason sat next to her where Lauren had been.
“Okay,” he said, unconvincingly. She saw him wringing his hands under the bar.
She tried to read his face. Could he tell that Ashley had confided in her about his flares of anger? She measured her next words carefully. “Like I said, we hung out with him most of the week. He would just show up wherever we went.” She paused. “Ashley didn’t seem to mind.”
“And,” Jason said, his jaw clenched.
“And I didn’t lie about them sleeping together. As far as I know, they did not. There was a connection between them—although, to be fair, Ash swore it was only friendship.”
“Right,” Jason said, staring at the liquor bottles behind the bar. Natalie followed his gaze, hers resting on the mezcal, sending her back to their first day in Tulum, all of them sitting stiffly around the table in the bar, reminiscing. “Did she spend any time alone with him at any point during the trip?” Jason asked.
Natalie knew he was right—that any information could help at this point, but it still didn’t make it any easier to say the next words. “Yes, they went to the beach for a few hours. And they grabbed carne asada in town after.” She quickly added, “It was all in the same day.”
Jason put his elbows on the bar and pressed his hands into his cheeks. “Dammit, Ashley,” he said under his breath.
Natalie waited for him to yell at her for withholding information from him again. But he didn’t. He said something so quietly she had to strain to hear him. “I’m wondering if she left with him—willingly. If she left me? If that’s what those emojis meant.” He didn’t look up.
Natalie chewed her lip, wondering what to say. Whether he was right. “I don’t know. I don’t get why, after she had fought me so hard—and you—about selling, she would just take off. Leave us all.” But still, it was something she’d mulled over many times today. The one thing that kept her from accepting it as the answer was Ashley’s girls. She simply could not comprehend that she would abandon her daughters.
“But what do you really think?” He looked at her, his eyes watery.
She sighed. “I think it’s something we should consider.”
Natalie debated whether to tell him she knew about their problems. But she realized there was a part of her that wanted him to know she knew. “She told me things between you weren’t good.”
He looked up at the starry sky before answering, his eyes somber. “So then you know we were fighting a lot. The offer seemed to be the last straw. I wanted her to sell. Move on. We were breaking under the pressure.”
Natalie thought about her own marriage. How they were breaking too.
“I said some things the night before she left. Things I didn’t mean. That I didn’t miss her when she worked a lot. That I didn’t care. It might make sense why she took off. I texted her while she was here to say we should talk, but she blew me off. I had wanted to apologize. I should have tried harder.”
“But here’s the thing I can’t wrap my head around. How could she leave your girls . . .” Natalie knew she had to accept this as a possibility, but when she tried to put herself in Ashley’s shoes and thought of never seeing her own daughters again, her heart ached.
“Maybe she would leave them if she felt like a bad mother.” He rubbed his jaw, but didn’t say more. And Natalie wasn’t about to ask. How often had he told her she was a bad mom? Made her feel like she wasn’t good enough to them?
Ashley had told her once, after she’d had a few glasses of wine, that she worried she wasn’t affectionate enough with her daughters. That she questioned whether they loved her the same way Natalie’s girls loved her.
“She was a great mom.” Natalie reiterated now what she’d told Ashley then. She thought of Hannah’s last birthday party. She’d had their backyard transformed into a carnival, bringing in animals and acrobats, a bumper-car ride, and even a food truck. She’d made sure every detail was perfect. Ashley showed her love through gifts and organizing big events—that was her way. But if Jason had triggered her own doubts as a mother, combined with his abuse, she could see how turned around Ashley might feel. How lost. How she might feel like they were all better off without her. Jason seemed to be waiting for her to say more. “I don’t know, Jason. She seemed in a mindset to come back home and talk to you—figure things out.”
Natalie noticed the relief on his face. She wasn’t about to clarify her statement. That she was pretty sure Ashley would have gone home and left him the proper way—by telling him to his face.
“Okay, so if she didn’t leave . . .” Jason pondered. “Maybe he took her. I know the police are exploring that theory.”
“He really didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would do that. I told them he seemed harmless.”
“You guys knew him for, what? Four days? How could you really know?”
Natalie balked at his accusation. “I guess we really can’t know,” she said, but deep down she was sensing that memory—the one that was either taken from her or that she was hiding from herself—was going to reveal a lot more than Marco’s character. It was going to reveal her own.
“Can I help you guys?” a stocky man with a long, jagged scar just below his chin asked. Natalie felt a rush. It was the bartender who’d served them.
“We were here last night.”
“Oh, okay. Did you lose something?”
Yes, my best friend.
“Actually, yes, my wife,” Jason said.
The bartender cocked his head. “Sorry, what do you mean?”
“I was here with three other people.” Natalie described Lauren and Ashley and Marco and explained that Ashley was missing and that Natalie herself was concerned she may have been drugged. She asked him whether he remembered any of them.
“Mojitos, right? For you and your friend?”
Natalie nodded. “Lauren.”
“I might forget a face, but I never forget a drink,” he said. “You think someone put something in your mojito? It wasn’t me!” He held up his hands.
“Oh, no, that’s not what I’m saying. I left it up here when I went to dance, and I’m thinking that’s when it might have happened.”
“I always watch the drinks when someone leaves them to hit the dance floor. I can’t be one hundred percent sure, but I didn’t see anyone acting weird or anything. Usually I can spot those types.”
Natalie would completely give up on her theory of being drugged if she had an alternative explanation as to why she couldn’t remember. Even though the bartender didn’t see anything, it didn’t mean it hadn’t happened.
“What about my friend Ashley?” Natalie pulled up a picture of her on her phone and showed him. “Do you remember her? Or the man who was with her, Marco? I don’t have a picture of him . . .”
“I recognize her.” He thought for a moment. “She sat up here with a guy who fits the description you gave me. They were drinking mojitos too.”
“Anything else?” Natalie asked and looked nervously toward Jason, wondering whether the bartender would reveal how close Marco and Ashley had become.
“Yeah, I do. They were talking about her life—he kept asking her questions. Was she happy, that sort of thing.” He paused, giving Jason a once-over. “You said you’re the husband?” he asked, and Jason nodded. “They talked about you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, I can’t remember exactly, but he wanted to know if she was happy in her marriage. I only remember because I don’t usually hear that kind of deep conversation here.”
Natalie imagined Ashley leaning into Marco, whispering that she was miserable. Marco taking the opportunity to tell her she should leave. Maybe even with him.
“What did she say?” Jason asked, his back stiffening.
“Oh, I don’t know, man. I got busy. It’s hard to recall,” the bartender said, staring down at the glass he was drying.
“
You can tell me. It’s okay—I can handle it,” Jason said.
Natalie glanced at him; he was clenching his jaw as if preparing himself for a blow. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer either. Could she handle it if she’d been abandoned by her best friend and business partner?
“I really don’t want to get involved. I might be wrong about what I heard.” The bartender lined glasses up in front of him.
“Please.” Jason tried again. “We’re trying to find my wife—anything might help.”
“Okay, but you have to leave me out of it with the police. I have a record. I can’t lose this job.”
“We will. Just tell us what you remember,” Jason said.
He sighed. “All right, man. She said something like she had thought about leaving everything behind.”
Jason’s face fell, just as Natalie’s stomach dropped. So it was possible Ashley had left. That the Revlon deal was done. She had lost her best friend and her only chance at saving her finances. A mix of emotions swirled inside her, anger, sadness, hopelessness, and then numbness. Almost as if she’d stepped outside herself, not able to process it all.
“But like I said, I might have heard it wrong. It was loud, and I was busy.” The bartender tried to soften his statement. But Natalie believed he had heard exactly that.
“Do you remember anything else? Were she and Marco going to leave together?” Natalie asked.
“I didn’t hear that. Hey, I’m really sorry, but I need to get the bar restocked. No barbacks here like you have in America.”
They walked slowly out of La Cantina, turning right toward the main road, Natalie’s heart racing as she waved her arm at a cab, trying to process what they’d just heard. That Ashley might have abandoned them. But what did that mean, exactly? She wondered again if Ashley could have harmed herself. If leaving everything behind meant she didn’t want another life—she wanted to end hers. She didn’t know what to say to Jason. She couldn’t imagine what he must be feeling. Once they climbed into the cab, she turned to him. His face had lost its color. “Thinking about leaving and actually doing it are two totally different things.” She forced the words out. Because those were the words that needed to be true. Because Ashley needed to come back.