Undone, Volume 2 (26 page)

“Hey there.” I
looked around for an easy out, but saw nothing save a swirling wall
of people, packing us in from all sides. More practiced at navigating
her way through crowds, Mandy pulled us into a corner. I would have
been able to breathe better there, but for one problem. Mandy was
still by my side.

“How are you?” she
asked with the wide, pitying eyes of someone who really wished you
were squished like a bug on a windshield.

“OK,” I squeaked,
grabbing a flute of champagne from a passing tray. I downed it in
seconds flat.

“I’m so worried
about you, Anika. You’re so naïve. And you’re with such a bad
guy.”

“Thanks, Mandy.”
Maybe I could get her off topic by telling her that I loved her
songs? I knew a whole bunch of them because my roommate Jillian
played them all the time. Honestly, they’d never grown on me.

She grabbed a fistful
of fabric from the torso of my dress. It was quite an accomplishment,
given how slim-fitting and tight the dress was. But Mandy meant
business.

“He broke my heart!”
she declared, literally bringing the back of her free hand up to her
forehead and pressing it there like a silent film star. Her eyes took
on a misty, faraway look. Even though I didn’t really trust her
more than I could throw her, she captured my attention. The fist
gripping my dress saw to that.

“Do you know what
it’s like to give a man everything? Every last shred of your soul?
To give all of yourself and more? And then have him stomp on it?”

I gulped. Awkward.
Uncomfortable. I wanted to make light of it all, launch a few
sarcastic barbs at her, maybe ask ‘if you gave all of yourself, how
did you also give more?’ But a larger part of me was riveted. I
knew she was probably making stuff up, putting on a show for me for
some manipulative reason. But here’s the thing: she made her living
by putting on shows. She was damn good at it.

“I know that pain,”
she told me, and I could see it there, etched on her lovely features,
haunting her perfect, round eyes. But then her eyes narrowed and she
took on the look of a hawk. “You’ll know it, too,” she cursed
me.

I looked around again,
searching for someone, anyone I could pull in and say, “hey, look,
it’s Mandy Monroe” then pull a classic bait-and-switch. But no
one met my eye and Mandy kept holding on to me. There was some
strength in that tiny five-foot-three coalminer’s daughter frame of
hers.

“He’ll break your
heart,” she hissed. I swear, if she’d added ‘my pretty’ and
broken into a cackle she would have been a shoe-in for the Wicked
Witch of the West.

“OK, well, thanks for
the warning.”

“I thought he was the
one,” she insisted. “And here he is not a month later asking you
to marry him. That’s fucked up.”

I had to agree with her
on that one. This whole situation was fucked up.

“I’ve got to go.”
I twisted away from her. I swear she pulled a fistful of glitter off
of my dress.

“Don’t trust him!”
she called after me and damn if her words didn’t send a chill down
my spine. I knew she was being melodramatic and manipulative. I
didn’t need Ash to point that out, every ounce of instinct in me
cried out to not trust that woman. But something in what she said
resonated.

That’s when I saw Ash
over by the door. He’d just arrived at the after party, flanked by
Connor and a slew of other revelers. The room erupted into more
cheers and screams, the DJ pumped up the volume of a thumping tune
and everything seemed to pound into me, elbows, bass, feet. Even if I
tried to make my way over to Ash, I didn’t think I could have, not
trapped in the crowd like I was.

But I could see him,
tall by the door, and then over by the bar. Two people he was with
climbed up on top of it, then pulled him up with them. I couldn’t
hear what they were saying but they were yelling and I saw the
bartender pouring them shots.

Who was that Ash was
with? The guy had purple hair peeking out of a pink knitted cap and a
full sleeve of tattoos. Something about that perfect pout of his lips
looked familiar. Was that Justin Bieber?

The girl next to him on
the bar took off her top, swung it around and flung it into the
crowd. She had small, perky breasts and a long tongue she stuck out,
raising her fingers into a V around it. Wait, was that Miley Cyrus?

Was Ash up standing on
a bar doing shots with Justin Bieber and Miley Cyrus? I had to be
hallucinating. I rubbed my eyes but then a huge guy who had to be
another pro-athlete, stood directly in front of me. I couldn’t see
a thing anymore.

But I didn’t need to
see any more. This was insane. Whatever I’d thought I’d felt in
Paris wasn’t real. It was the city of love, or lights, or maybe
both? Whatever people called it, how could you be expected to not
fall hard for whomever you were with? Add in amazing food, the light
snowfall, and the music we made together and, I mean, please, Ash
could look like Quasimodo and I probably would have thought he was
the love of my life.

And he wasn’t
Quasimodo, he was Ash Black,
People
magazine’s sexiest man of the year two years running and my own
personal rock star fantasy. I had a freaking poster of him up in my
room from high school. Could you blame me for thinking it was real?

No, I didn’t blame
myself for my past mistakes, but I did know I needed to get the hell
out of that party. I needed to check into my own quiet hotel room,
have a nice long hot shower, then fly back to New York. I wouldn’t
mind doing another public appearance or two, something to keep the
ruse going, to make sure the library branch got its 20 years of
funding.

But private time, with
just me and Ash? That had to end. He was having the time of his life,
in his element over there dancing on top of a bar with what may or
may not be two of the craziest, wildest, most infamous celebrities of
our generation.

But I was losing my
mind. One minute I was jumping his bones, the next vomiting with
nerves. I couldn’t take this roller coaster ride anymore. I needed
out. I had to go find Ash and tell him I was leaving. Then I needed
to do just that.

Ash

That couldn’t be
Mandy over by Ana in the crowd, could it? I squinted and tried to
peer through all the craziness. It was probably just me being
paranoid. But I hadn’t smoked any weed, and I swore when I first
walked into the party I saw a girl who looked exactly like my psycho
ex talking to Ana.

But now I couldn’t
see either of them. I stepped down off the bar, even though that
provided a better vantage point. I’d have better luck finding Ana
pushing through the crowd.

“There’s the man!”
Some guy from my agent’s firm clapped me on the back. Gary, Gus, I
couldn’t remember his name. He was one of the younger guys who Joel
sent out into the fray. Joel didn’t schlep around at parties like
this anymore. He liked to tell me he was done with all that. He was a
family guy now.

“I hear you, Joel,”
I murmured, surveying the scene, searching for Ana to no avail. Here
I was, the man of the hour on New Year’s fucking Eve, not exactly
stone cold sober but nowhere near as crazy as I typically got on a
casual Tuesday night. I didn’t want to do more shots on top of the
bar with wild and crazy celebrities pulling wild and crazy stunts. I
wanted to see my woman.

Was that her? I thought
I caught a glimpse of her light brown hair, confetti caught in her
locks. She’d looked so gorgeous tonight, so sexy in that tiny dress
with cleavage a man could drown in. What a way to go. And the way
she’d jumped me and rode me like a cowgirl at a rodeo? Holy shit,
that had been a whole lot of all right. I needed more of that right
now.

But that wasn’t her
in the crowd, and other girls got all up on me, each of them wanting
a piece of the Ash Black show. I’d heard guys say it, once you were
off the market demand surged up for you even higher than before. I
didn’t need any more demand. I was already neck-deep in demand.
What I needed was Ana.

“You’re so amazing,
Ash,” a girl yelled into my ear to be heard over the music.

Not to be outdone, her
companion yelled, “I want to suck your dick!”

Had this appealed to
me, just a few weeks ago? What a sad life I’d been living. I
thought I’d been on top of the world. Now I realized I’d been
lolling around in a trough.

Shit, now I saw her for
sure, the sweetly-cloaked manipulator that was Mandy Monroe. What was
she doing here? I guessed half of L.A. was in Vegas for the night.
Mandy always followed the spotlight, then managed to look coy and
surprised as she stood there illuminated.

She made her way over
to me. People made room, standing around us in a circle. Everyone
wanted to see what would happen next. I knew some had their
camera-phones trained on us, ready to capture the crazy. It was up to
me to rein it in and not give them a show, no matter what she said or
did.

Giving me a glittering,
cold smile, Mandy reached up to give me a fake hug and air kiss on
each cheek. I let her do it, not smiling back.

“She’s sweet,”
she cooed to me, letting her nails drift slowly down the nape of my
neck before she pulled away.

“Who?” I asked,
dumb and gruff.

“Your librarian.”
She smiled, smug.

“Where is she?” I
looked around. Ana had to be nearby.

“Gone if she knows
what’s good for her. I warned her about you.”

Deep breaths, I
reminded myself. No hot-headed Ash Black explosions. Not just because
of the flack I’d get, but because Ana wouldn’t want me to fall
for it. I remembered how she’d talked to me in the hotel room, told
me having a tantrum wouldn’t fix things. She was right.

“You don’t play
fair, Ash,” she pouted.

“Oh, and you do?”
Her eyes lit up with a gleam at my response, ready to tuck into a
big, public scene with me. “Have a good night, Mandy.” Dismissing
her, I delved back into the crowd to search for Ana.

“Don’t you turn
your back on me!” I heard her screech as I turned my back on her.

I didn’t get far.
“Ash, we should talk,” a guy breathed into my ear. “Seriously,
man.” Oh Jesus, that’s all I needed, a drunk movie star hanging
off my arm.

“Yeah, give me a
call.” I tried to brush the guy off.

“Seriously, there’s
this thing. And I want you to be in it.”

“Mmm-hmm.” He could
be talking about anything. A self-styled renaissance man, this star
was famous for trying it all—painting, music, writing, acting. If
you asked me, he should stick to acting.

“Once in a lifetime
chance, bro.” He grasped my arm, dead serious. Was he on something?
His pupils looked dilated. “Carpe dodum!”

“Carpe diem,” I
muttered. Renaissance man, my ass.

There Ana was. Was she
dancing? Did that guy have an arm around her waist? It looked like
she had her hand up on his shoulder, but was it her? I tried to head
over, but another mega-celebrity stepped into my path. This party was
like a giant pinball machine of uber-egos and I kept pinging around
between them.

“Marriage, dude!”
He grabbed me by the shoulders to communicate the import of his
words. He was the lead singer of a band like mine, only fifteen years
older. They were on a comeback tour. I wanted someone to stick a fork
in me before I ever put myself through that kind of torture. In this
crowd, average age around 25, the guy was a freaking dinosaur.

“Yup.” I nodded,
trying to see past him to Ana. It seemed every woman in Vegas was
wearing a shimmering gold dress. No one looked as good as her,
though.

“Dude, marriage!”
He gave my shoulders a shake.

“Marriage,” I
echoed. This guy needed to sit down in front of a classic stoner
movie like
Friday
or
Half Baked
with a box
of Oreos and a giant bong. His eyes all glazed, his hair tufted out,
what was he doing in the middle of this party?

“I mean…” He
drifted off, maybe forgetting what he’d been about to say.

“Marriage,” I
finished for him. “Listen, let me set you up someplace where you
can chill out.”

“Yeah, man. Yeah.”
I led him over to one of the side rooms, got a place for him on a
couch, made sure the TV was on something nice. Then I turned back to
try to find Ana.

There she was, over in
a corner with a couple of groupie-looking girls.

“Ana!” I pulled on
her shoulder, only to have someone very much not Ana turn around and
put her arms around my neck. She pulled me down to a kiss and I was
so surprised I almost let her, and of course it was then when I
actually saw Ana. Standing over with Johnny, our drummer. And of
course she looked over exactly when the girl had her arms wrapped
around my neck, her lips up and seeking mine.

Sometimes it helped to
be over six feet tall with some muscle to you. I got over to Ana in
no time flat.

“I’ve been looking
all over for you,” I said, sounding guilty and out of breath.

“I could see that,”
she responded wryly. Wry didn’t suit her. Sweet, excited,
occasionally stern, those she did well. Wry hung on her like a
borrowed coat, ill-fitting and awkward. I hated to think I’d put it
on her.

“How’re you doing?
You enjoying the party?” I didn’t know why I felt so nervous. I
didn’t do nervous. I was Ash Black. People got nervous around me.
But suddenly I felt really worried about Ana. She didn’t look like
she was enjoying the party.

“I think I’m going
to head out.”

“No!” I protested.

“What’s that now?”
Johnny leaned over to Ana. “Did you say you’re heading out? No,
you can’t do that.”

“Yeah, I think I’m
going to fly back to New York tomorrow. Or today, I guess, later on
today, so—”