One More Chance (A Bedford Falls Novel Book 3) Page 12

  Ashley admonished herself for falling prey to memories she’d locked away and hadn’t reflected upon in over a decade. So why now, after so long, did she find it difficult to steady her nerves and blink away the mist from her eyes? She raised her head and looked toward the stage.

  Scott stared right at her.

  Startled, frazzled, and incredibly self-conscious, Ashley felt the tears intensify, blotting out the figure on stage. If anything, at least now, she wouldn’t see what surely amounted to a smug expression on his face, one that took pleasure in the fact that he would no doubt pick up college-age girls after the show.

  With tears threatening to tip between her lashes, Ashley sped through the crowd, hoping to escape Scott’s alluring eyes by seeking refuge in the closest place with a wall to block out his image. She realized that, although she might avoid eye contact with him, Ashley couldn’t elude his voice and all the crushed expectations that went with it: marriage, a family, and a white picket fence.

  Originally, she had no intention of flying back to Bedford Falls this year, but the Christmas holidays brought about the mid-season hiatus for her television show. Unlike years past, when she’d lined up other acting roles during the holidays, Ashley no longer had that option available to her. She’d turned thirty-two last month and faced the obvious: most Hollywood producers now considered her a retiree. Even before she hit the big 3-0, she noticed the creases at the corners of her eyes, noticed how it took more time in the gym to get the same results as in years past, noticed how many fewer men glanced her way.

  Ashley had no intention of spending thousands of dollars per year on beauty products, gym trainers, and special dietary supplements. While some of those treatments might slow the aging process, none of them could reverse time. Besides, her career as a television star would soon diminish. Before going on hiatus, Magnus Kiske, the creator and show-runner of Revelations, had informed her that before the end of the season, the writers planned to kill off her character.

  For the first time in fifteen years, Ashley would soon face the unemployment line.

  Redirecting her thoughts, it didn’t surprise her that she got emotional upon seeing Scott on stage. She’d simply taken the wrong moment to reflect on past romantic and professional endeavors. So who could blame her for crying?

  Ashley imagined some kid snapping a picture of the tears streaming down her face. It would no doubt hit YouTube within moments and get viewed by thousands of people before the night ended. She wanted anonymity. She wanted normalcy. She wanted… acceptance.

  Yet, isn’t that what Scott promised at this very moment?

  She glanced back at the stage.

  The way he gyrated on stage left her breathless. Even now, from this distance, just by remembering how Scott traced his fingers across her skin and caressed parts of her body that weren’t erogenous but made it feel that way, Ashley felt a forbidden desire surge through her. While still crying. Only one conclusion made sense: she must’ve reached the early (very early) stages of menopause.

  Before reaching the kitchen, Ashley realized that she had about fifteen minutes to get used to the idea of possibly bumping into Scott tonight… before it actually happened. She’d contemplated how that incident would go down. In truth, she’d wanted to speak with him the moment she heard his voice from the kitchen… with the idea that he’d apologize for shattering her heart all those years ago and admit that he still had feelings for her.

  Because no matter how awful it might seem to outside observers, she wanted him to suffer for how much pain he’d caused her. At the same time, she’d always wanted him to find happiness. Scott never fully let her into his world, and back then, she knew that he dealt with a lot of pain. How could he not, being forced to grow up under those conditions? So if anyone deserved joy, he did. But that didn’t excuse the way he treated her. And she wanted her comeuppance.

  She now prepared herself to look in those cold eyes, the ones that had once felt so strongly about her for a short time, only to give way to indifference. She wanted to find out what she’d find there. Shock? Fright? Uncertainty? But Ashley needed only one more glance to discover what shouldn’t have surprised her.

  While on stage, Scott hadn’t noticed her at all.

  He’d reserved his smile for a woman in her early twenties with glorious black hair. The woman had a radiant smile and the humbleness of the typical girl next door. It seemed that Scott had looked in Ashley’s direction. Nothing more. But that didn’t detract from the way her breath caught in her throat. He would always mean something to her – even if their relationship didn’t reach the happy ending that she’d once hoped for. And despite the pain that brought, she wouldn’t pretend otherwise.

  As though still a naive school girl, Ashley had hoped that Scott would somehow have picked up on her curiosity and noticed her among an audience of almost 500. How ridiculous. Her hopes, along with her stomach, plummeted.

  Ashley darted behind the bar in embarrassment, where over two dozen people congregated and demanded drinks from three bartenders. From there, she rushed into the back room, away from prying eyes, and far away from the one man she could never forget, yet never forgive.

  A gust of heat hit her like a slap in the face; she’d entered the kitchen. Unfortunately, she’d traded one unwelcome place for another; her gaze fell upon her mother, Loretta. Her mom toiled in the kitchen, cooking a slew of appetizers. She took tremendous pride in cooking for her family all those years ago, so it only made sense that she took this opportunity to help Kelsey now.

  Her mother twirled around as if alerted to her appearance by a bullhorn. “Where have you been?” A severe look appeared on her face. “I’ve been alone back here for almost ten minutes. Do you think I can serve five hundred people by myself?”

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  “This is an important night for your sister. She needs your help.”

  “Then wouldn’t it be better if I left the kitchen? I mean, if I blew up a Hot Pocket in the microwave—”

  “You’d do fine if you’d trust me,” her mother said, turning around to place a tray of chicken tenders into an oven.

  “And remember that time I put a hard-boiled egg in the microwave too long and it exploded?” She gave that a moment of thought. “Hmm. Come to think of it, the only time I put something in the microwave that was supposed to explode… was popcorn.”

  “How’d that work out for you?” her mom asked.

  “Um… no comment.”

  Her mother hid a smile as she removed a stack of frozen calamari from a plastic package. She spread them out on a pan. “Then consider this your first lesson in the culinary arts.” Sensing her daughter about to reject that opportunity, she said, “Do this for your sister.”

  How could Ashley deny her little sister? Kelsey had always looked up to her. At two years old, she always followed her around calling her “Assey,” instead of Ashley, before moving on to “Ash” when she turned six.

  Her mom turned around and faced her with a grin, until she spotted the grief in Ashley’s face. “Honey, what’s wrong?” She rushed toward her, a crinkle settling across her forehead. “Are you hurt? Is everything okay?”

  Ashley hated this false sense of protectiveness. If her mother truly cared, she would have been honest with her all those years ago. In between that slippery slope of honesty and insincerity, her mom had been loving and supportive but… distant. And she had countless opportunities to earn Ashley’s trust during the seventeen years she’d lived in her parents’ home. But her mom had waited too long to tell the truth.

  So now, no matter how much kindness and love her mother showed her, Ashley saw only deceit. Even worse, when she looked at her mother now, she no longer saw the smiling, concerned, and protective mother (at least to Alex and Kelsey). She saw a woman who used those affectionate feelings to hide a truth so crushing that it encouraged her oldest daughter to leave home without even saying goodbye in person.

  Ashley, in no mood for false
pretense, shifted her gaze in another direction in search of a way out of this building. Her chest felt tight. Her nerves felt unsteady.

  “This is unfair,” her mother said, voice cracking in despair. “I’m sorry if I hurt you, but it’s not fair to keep punishing me if—”

  “Punishing you?” Ashley asked. “How could you say that? You had seventeen years to be honest with me, and you think I’m punishing you? How about being truthful? Did that ever occur to you? Didn’t you think I deserved that much?” She poured herself a glass of water then dug into her purse, uncapped a bottle of Valium, popped one into her mouth, and washed it down with a few sips of water.

  Tears surfaced in her mother’s eyes. “I’m… sorry. Your father and I—”

  “After fifteen years, you want to apologize… now?”

  “The truth doesn’t change anything. We still feel the same way about you.”

  “You don’t get it, do you?” Ashley said. “I’m your daughter. And you either didn’t love me enough or didn’t care how I might feel about the truth. That’s why you waited so long. That’s why you lied to me.”

  Teardrops slipped down her mother’s face. “You still don’t understand, do you?”

  “Wasn’t I a good daughter? Didn’t I let Alexander into my life and pal around with Kelsey? Didn’t I babysit them? Didn’t I take them to movies? And help them with their homework? And drive them to sleepovers? And care for them when they were sick? Didn’t I do that? Wasn’t I a good daughter?

  “I’ve always trusted you. You were my first child. It doesn’t get any more special than that. You changed my life. You made me a mother. I adored you. So did your father.”

  “But not enough to tell me the truth.” Exhausted by the hatred burning through her, Ashley lowered her head. Without giving her mother a chance to respond, she turned around and walked out of the kitchen.

  Of course, Scott was still on stage, this time increasing the intensity of his performance to sing Type O Negative’s song, “Love You To Death.”

  Just hearing those words and, more important, the heartfelt aching in his soul, made her stop in her tracks. She swiveled toward the stage, lifted her head, and stared into Scott’s magnetic eyes. They locked her in place.

  This time, she didn’t find their connection odd but expected. She tried to read his expression, but the wide gap between them made that impossible. What was he thinking? Did he feel remorse for his past transgressions? Did his heartbeat quicken upon noticing her?

  Scott hit a power chord on his guitar. The guitar screamed throughout the entire building, and he kicked into one of his signature riffs, one that relayed spontaneity conveying all of the intensity inside him. The immediacy of that change from heavy and gothic into a melodic song was like nothing she had ever heard before.

  It entranced her. She slowed her pace and tried to walk away. But the unadulterated emotion in his voice and the reckless excitement that gripped him while he ripped through his solo dispensed all of the anger rushing through her and made it impossible to move. She had to watch him. She needed to see what he’d do next.

  Scott screamed into the microphone as if traumatized by a horrific memory, one that tore down the walls of control and understanding. His solo showed he’d become as skilled—although not as ingenious—as his little brother, Gabe, the former lead guitarist of Scrap Mettle and one of the most accomplished lead guitarists on the planet. Then Scott grabbed the microphone again.

  Seeing what you’ve become

  Can’t you see we’re not done?

  Loving you, touching you, I just can’t stop

  And I wanna give you all I’ve got

  In that instant, Ashley soon recognized the song as an extension of his soul. She had never seen any musician become one with an instrument to such a degree that he’d tapped into a reservoir of emotions that felt as fresh now as they had been fifteen years ago.

  Dark-hearted woman, stealing my love

  All we wanted, what we were hoped to become

  Putting me to the test, you fit me like a glove

  But there’s no getting over, no, not until we’re one

  The way he sung those words, with such immediacy and authority, Ashley recognized this as one of Scott’s newer songs. She felt the longing, recalled the way she’d indeed fit into his arms like they were born to be together. But what could she say? What could she do? He’d stomped on her heart and smashed the love she’d given him. He’d broken everything they’d had.

  “He looks great tonight,” said a female voice to her right.

  It broke the trance that held Ashley captive. “He sure does.” But realizing that she’d just spoken aloud, she shut her mouth and turned to find a beautiful woman her own age with a smile on her face as she moved to the music. The woman looked very familiar, but Ashley couldn’t quite place her face with a name.

  “This your first time?” asked the woman. “Seeing a rock star up close?”

  Ashley laughed. “A rock star? Really? I wouldn’t go that far.”

  The woman smiled. “Sure, his albums took a while to go platinum, but the way he moves, his charisma on stage, the way he makes his guitar talk… I mean, come on – that voice – he’s a total rock star!”

  Ashley couldn’t disagree. Scott was right up there with Bono, Springsteen, and Jagger. She would never publicly admit it, but for whatever reason, her head seemed to move of its own accord. It felt loose but heavy. Looking down, she noticed that her body had unknowingly begun shimmying side to side, without telling her brain what it was up to. For reasons she couldn’t understand, her entire body felt more free-spirited than it had in a while.

  “I wonder what it’d be like to kiss him,” the woman said, almost to herself.

  “Pretty amazing,” Ashley said, before she realized what she’d let slip. She’d always kept a tight lid on her personal relationships. Not only that, she’d actually put a little too much emphasis on her answer, giving the idea that she’d responded from first-hand experience. What had gotten into her? As if to emphasize her uneasiness, she tilted to the side as though suffering from public intoxication and almost tripped over her right foot.

  The woman grabbed her and held her upright. “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know,” Ashley said, confused. She hadn’t had one ounce of alcohol. And without intending to, she’d begun disclosing too much personal information to a stranger. She breathed heavy like she’d just returned from a long-distance run.

  “Don’t worry. Sometimes alcohol sneaks up on you.”

  “But I haven’t had any.” Watching the woman’s expression switch from empathy to disbelief, Ashley didn’t want to lose the opportunity to make a new female friend. “I’m just clumsy, I guess.”

  The woman did a poor job of hiding her skepticism. “Do you come here often?”

  “It’s my first time.” She surveyed the upper floor. “It’s really nice though. And I hear they have great food.” It couldn’t hurt to spread some good rumors about her sister’s restaurant.

  “I found out that the ‘Mettle God’ was playing here tonight, so how could I resist?”

  “The ‘Mettle God’?”

  “Now don’t get confused. Rob Halford from Judas Priest is the ‘Metal God.’” She shook her head, annoyed that she couldn’t quite voice what she wanted to say. “But that man up on stage?” She revealed a naughty smile. “I could work wonders on him. Wonders he’s never seen!” She unleashed a hyena-sounding laugh.

  Despite being freaked out by the woman’s laughter, Ashley said, “Oh, do tell.” Her voice felt slow, unhinged, and out of pitch.

  The woman opened her smiling lips, but she thought better of answering.

  Something about that grin told Ashley that the woman refrained from responding because she had indulged in… what exactly? Her words gave the impression that she’d met Scott before (and spent some intimate time with him), but that didn’t make sense considering her inquiry about kissing him. Ashley didn’t
know what to make of this woman.

  But something about her made Ashley once more reflect on whether or not she’d met her at one point or another in her life. At the same time, she hadn’t felt this unguarded since before she left for LA. And she didn’t know what to attribute that to.

  “Did you know he’s from this area?” asked the woman. Without waiting for a reply, she nodded. “Yep, graduated from Bedford Falls High.” She turned to Ashley and sized her up. “You look younger than him, so even if you went to school together, you probably never had a class with him.”

  The implied compliment loosened Ashley up a little more than she realized. “Actually, we graduated the same year.”

  “No,” the woman said, looking closer. “That’s impossible. You look at least five years too young for that.”

  “Compliment accepted. But yes, he’s a much better kisser than you could imagine.”

  “What?” Shocked, the woman grabbed hold of Ashley’s arm and pulled her backwards, through dozens of people until they reached the back of the floor, where they could speak privately. “You and Scott Mettle? Were you a couple in high school? Did you go to prom?”

  Having lived in LA, where so many residents were familiar with seeing those in the entertainment industry on a daily basis, Ashley hadn’t seen this kind of fanatical response before, and it had caught her off guard. Regardless, she seemed unable to contain the truth. “Yes. Yes. And no.”

  “Oh my God. You’re the luckiest person ever!”

  Ashley laughed at the woman’s sophomoric response. “I have to disagree. We’re not together, so I can’t be too lucky, now, can I?”

  “Right,” the woman said, lowering her enthusiasm a bit. “Now that I think of it, you look familiar. Have we met before? My name is Gayle Hart.”

  “We may have. But I don’t recognize your name.”

  She snapped her fingers, and her eyes grew bright. “You’re an actress, aren’t you? I’ve seen you on TV.”