a look like she recognized a setup when she saw one.
Aster looked to Ira for guidance. Seeing his nod of encouragement, she faced Trena and said, “Ira was generous enough to post my bail.” She hoped it was okay to share. But Ira looked pleased, as she figured he would be. Most people loved taking credit for their good deeds.
“Ira? Not your parents?” Trena tilted her chin in a way that caused her shock of wild curls to spring across her forehead and dangle over her amazing blue-green eyes.
Aster shrugged. She was willing to talk, but she would not bash her family, no matter how conflicted she currently felt about them.
“And how are you doing?” Trena narrowed her gaze on Aster’s split lip and the enormous purple shiner surrounding her eye.
Aster forced a half grin; it was the best she could do. She knew her pathetic appearance could work in her favor, but that didn’t mean she felt comfortable looking so defeated, beaten, and unkempt that it served to provoke pity.
“Any chance I could get an in-depth with you? I’m sure that after a week of being locked up for a crime you didn’t commit, you’ll want to get your own story out into the world.”
“So you don’t think I’m guilty?” Aster had assumed Trena was out for her blood. But the warm smile she received instead nearly pushed Aster to tears. Someone in the press believed her. Someone powerful enough that people might actually listen to.
“Aster came directly from jail,” Ira said. “I made her swing by so I could take care of a few things, and she’s been waiting patiently for me to take her home. While I’m sure she wouldn’t mind answering a few questions, anything more will have to be scheduled for a later date. This isn’t exactly a comfortable venue—or at least not yet.”
Trena shot Ira a knowing look. Clearly she recognized the game he was playing. “I’ll want an exclusive,” she said.
Ira nodded. “But of course.”
Aster regarded them closely. The way they discussed her as though she was feeble and voiceless and not actually standing right there left her feeling simultaneously annoyed and relieved to let other people handle the weightier details of her life for a change.
Just for a little while, she promised herself. Just until I get a proper sleep, a shower, a professional blowout, an eyebrow wax, and get back on my game.
“You can film in any of the clubs—Night for Night, Jewel, the Vesper—up to you. I can give you exclusive access wherever you choose.” Ira inspected his nails like he wasn’t all that invested.
Aster noted the way Trena’s face lit up upon hearing the word film. It was so predictable—so Hollywood. Aster had yet to meet an ambitious person who didn’t secretly dream of being in front of the camera, and print journalists were no different. Still, it bugged her to see how willing Trena was to use Aster’s personal tragedy to elevate her own profile. staying true to the media’s motto: If it bleeds, it leads.
After only a moment’s hesitation, Trena reached forward to shake on it. Switching her focus to Aster, she said, “Do your friends know you’re out?”
Aster’s expression was blank. Her best friend, Safi, was no longer speaking to her; most people weren’t.
“Layla and Tommy,” Trena clarified.
Aster closed her eyes and sighed. More proof of just how much her life had gone off the rails. The two people she’d once written off as being completely beneath her were now the only true friends she had left in the world.
She opened her eyes and met Trena’s gaze. “No,” she finally said. Her voice sounding more timid than she liked, she cleared her throat and tried again. “Not yet. Just got my phone back and the battery’s dead. And so far, Ira’s managed to keep the news quiet.”
Trena considered the info. “We’ll want to move fast then. The one who leaks the story controls the story.”
Aster nodded gamely, though the truth was, she was growing annoyed. She knew Ira meant well, and maybe Trena did too. But she also knew better than to believe anyone ever acted purely out of goodwill. They were both working an angle, and while Aster had no idea what those angles might be, she knew it was time she stepped up her game and started working one too.
Ira had sprung her from jail, offered her a job, and given her a place to live, and for that she was grateful. But that didn’t mean he owned her. And it certainly didn’t mean he could use her as a means toward whatever endgame he was playing.
Or maybe it did mean exactly that.
Maybe Aster was in so deep, so indebted to him, he owned her completely.
All she knew for sure was that she needed a shower and a decent bed that didn’t reek of the bodily functions of the hundred or so people who had slept there before. She needed to take control of her life, and she needed to start now. Leave them with no doubt of who was ultimately calling the shots.
While it was nice having Ira steer for a while, truth was, Aster had always made a much better driver than passenger. Spotting James on the far side of the room, Aster stood before Ira and Trena and said, “Call me tomorrow. We’ll set something up. I’m sure Ira will be happy to pass on my number. But for now, I’ve got a date with a bubble bath, a carton of Ben & Jerry’s, and some much-needed z’s.”
Mateo Luna approached the entrance of Ivy at the Shore and contemplated his choices. Technically, it wasn’t too late to bolt. In fact, it would probably be better for everyone involved. Or at least it would be better for him. Though it certainly wouldn’t be better for his family. They were depending on him. He literally held his little sister’s life in his hands.
The thought was sobering enough to convince him to move forward and go through with the plan.
While most people wouldn’t hesitate to seize the chance to become rich and famous, Mateo had no interest in fame, and he certainly didn’t aspire to live the life of a Kardashian. Still, he was desperately in need of a quick and sizable money grab, and while it remained to be seen if this particular path would provide the easiest route, if things worked out as he hoped, it would certainly be the quickest. And at the moment, speed was of the essence.
“Mateo Luna?” The hostess looked him over and waited for him to confirm. He nodded, wondering how she recognized him, when she said, “Follow me.”
She flashed a flirtatious grin over her shoulder and led him through the garden-like setting, past a patio known to be popular with celebrities, and toward a small table tucked away in the back, close to the fireplace. While the hostess was lovely, Mateo couldn’t bring himself to do much more than notice.
His life had revolved around Layla for so long that suddenly finding himself without her left him feeling adrift. He missed her smile, her kiss. He missed the way she’d slept curled up all around him, and he knew he wouldn’t be over her anytime soon.
She’d kissed another, which he’d already forgiven. Relegating it to a drunken slip, he was willing to put it behind them no matter how much it hurt. It was the lying he couldn’t accept. He’d truly believed they were different from most couples he knew. That they were honest and open—that they’d left nothing unacknowledged or unsaid. But Layla had hidden the truth, and while he still had no idea who had sent the text—what kind of person would act in such a deliberately mean-spirited way—there was no denying it was time to move on.
Problem was, Layla was a hard act to follow, and the heartbreak she’d caused left him too wounded to go looking for a replacement.
“Your server will be right over.” The hostess motioned to a vacant wicker-backed