Chapter 6 : Not What it Seems

*Asher*

As promised, Camila Monroe is wearing her gorgeous red dress as she stands outside the restaurant. The steakhouse, oddly named Big Steaks, has a neon red light surrounding each letter above the door.

“There he is,” Camila croons as she makes eye contact. “My my, Mr. Slater, you clean up nice.”

I didn’t know what to wear and didn’t have anything elegant with me. Mark, with no interest in shopping, went to the arcade next to the mall. I rushed in, and without going overboard, I decided a nice jacket would suffice. Paired with a white T-shirt and jeans I’d already brought with me, I added a new pair of dress shoes.

It’s rare that I find myself nervous in front of someone so talented. But I break into a large grin, looking forward to my date with Camila and giving myself a break from my annoying memories of Courtney.

My mouth is still dry, so Camila huffs out a quiet laugh. “Seems like someone’s a bit smitten.”

Instead of answering, I open the door to Big Steaks, and Camila nods her head before heading inside.

I’d made a reservation a few hours earlier, and thankfully, they’d had one cancellation to accommodate us. But once I’d given my name, things changed very quickly.

We’re led into our own special dining room. No one else is here, and it’s just the two of us, surrounded by empty tables and chairs, some light music playing over our heads from the speaker.

“Well, don’t you know how to make a woman feel fancy,” Camila says as the waiter pulls out her chair for her to sit.

I order us a bottle of red and Camila and I begin to chat about our lives. But as we do so, something doesn’t sit right with me. She’s got this fantastic voice, and she’s absolutely stunning. But as she talks?

She doesn’t seem like the girl I thought she was. Her commentary on small subjects, such as musicians and celebrities, comes off somewhat bitter, and twice, she’s rude to the waitstaff. The first is when they’ve taken five minutes to come back and take our orders, and the second is when, for her appetizer, her salad comes with tomatoes.

I almost expect her to throw one of them at someone. Even if that someone is me.

I keep my thoughts to myself. Maybe she’s had a rough day and needs to unwind while she gets to know me.

I try to ask her about her past. School, her family, and any friends. But everything I bring up with her somehow always comes back to me.

When I ask her about her favorite class in school, she says, “Well, obviously music, but I’m nowhere near as famous as Asher Slater is. I can just imagine going anywhere and having anyone give you anything they want.”

When I mention Nashville, she scoffs. “This dump? I can’t wait to leave it all behind. I know you must get what that’s like—leaving behind a pathetic life for stardom. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to finally be where I belong—amongst people like you and your team.”

By the time we get our meals, I’m running out of steam and patience.

How can I be so wrong about this girl? Her voice just told me a different story that now doesn’t fit. It’s almost as if she has two sides to her.

She’s not what she seemed as she stood up on that stage and blew everyone away. I let Camila talk about whatever she’s going on about, battling my thoughts on whether this date is going well or disastrous.

When she stops to take a drink of her wine, I take the chance to jump in and finally talk to her about something that, with hope, won’t come back to me and my fame.

“I know I’ve already said so, but I do want to bring up again that your voice is phenomenal. It’s what drew me to you.”

She smiles, but it’s not one of modesty. It’s a smirk like she knows what she is. “You’re not the first man to recognize my immense talents. You’re just the first to act like a gentleman. And treat me like the star I’ve been destined to become.”

A cool sweat shivers up my back. What does she even mean by that?

I cough, trying to get past her words. “Would you sing for me now? I know it’s odd since we’re in this big, empty room, but it’s just the two of us.”

That’s when she lets her mask slip, just a little. I watch her eyes flicker to the left and then right, and she clams up, not speaking or complimenting herself. Curious. What’s wrong with wanting to hear her sing once more?

“Oh, I can’t. Yeah, I have to be careful. If I don’t…warm up my voice properly, I could risk hurting my vocal cords.” She flips her hair over her shoulder. “Besides, you should hear me when I’ve got a room full of people to cheer me on.”

I let out one short laugh, wondering if she’s serious. “I’m sure your voice will be fine if you just sing a few bars.”

Her eyes flicker with something behind them. Fear? Anger? Annoyance? “You want me to hurt my voice just because you think you deserve it? I told you, my voice is a finely tuned instrument and must be treated as such. I was sure you, of all people, would understand. I wouldn’t expect you to go into a championship game after not having thrown a football all year.”

Except I’ve spent my entire life practicing and know how to communicate with my boys without a single word. What’s happening?

“Look, if you’re scared or nervous—”

“Would you fucking stop it? God, learn to take no for an answer.”

That abruptly shuts me down and raises my suspicions. What’s to lie about or even not sing for me? Even just one line isn’t going to kill her.

But something tells me that there’s more than just her excuses. I narrow my brows but wave down the waiter, wanting to get the check as soon as possible and get away from Camila to think.

This is not how I thought this would go, and now I’m agitated.

I make up an excuse that I’ve got some business to attend to, so I leave the money on the table and give a half-hearted apology to Camila. “I’ll make it up to you. It completely slipped my mind.”

But I don’t have anything to do. Frankly, I need some room to breathe and think.

****

Alone in my hotel suite, I’m on the phone with AJ not too long later. I haven’t been able to check in with him since the game, and I’m so nervous that he’s going to get upset with me. I may look up to my brother, but a loss is a loss in football. If they want to go back to the championship game again this year, they can’t be losing to the reigning champs.

“What’s up with you?” Asher asks me through the speaker. I rub my face with my hands, sighing.

“Nothing, why?” I’m quick to say back.

“Because I know you, Ash. I hear the nerves in your voice. You can’t hide that shit from me.”

Damn.

“Is this about the game the other night?” I stay silent, hoping I don’t have to speak it into existence. “Ash, look. Rest assured, I’m so proud of you and how well you guys played. If I’m going to lose to anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, still feeling a boatload of nerves coming off of me in waves. “Are you positive?”

My brother laughs. “Yes, dumbass! Now, change the call to video. The girls want to say hi to their favorite uncle.”

I don’t think twice, as it’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen AJ’s kids and his wife.

The first thing I see is his oldest daughter, Payton. I laugh, the six-year-old waving her hands at me.

“Paytown!” I say, using her favorite nickname.

She giggles back at me, her little hazel eyes growing wide with delight. “Uncle Ash!”

“Where is your sister? Are you down here with Dad all by yourself?”

“Uncle Ashy, Uncle Ashy!” the four-year-old rushes into the camera, platinum blonde hair covering her sister’s matching eyes. “I miss you!”

“Hey, hey, little Renee!” I sing-song. “What are you two doing, you little rascals?”

“Tea party!” Renee cheers, hands in the air.

“It’s supposed to be bedtime,” AJ’s mock-serious voice says from behind the phone.

Payton shakes her head. “No, Daddy, it’s our tea party time! Mommy said so!”

“Oh really, and where is she?” AJ questions.

I see Renee put her small hand in her mouth and shrug her shoulders.

“Hey girls, do anything fun while your uncle’s been busy?”

“Yeah, I watched your game! You beat Daddy again!” His eldest says.

I laugh at Payton. “Well, tell him not to make it so easy for me!”

The little girl pumps her small arms up to show off her tiny biceps. “No way! Keep kicking Daddy’s butt!”

AJ’s face and voice immediately interfere. “Okay, that’s it. Let me talk to your uncle now. Say bye, Uncle Asher.”

“Bye, Uncle Ash!” The girls chorus, running off, squealing and laughing.

“Okay, I gotta get them to bed before they kidnap me for tea time, too. I also have no idea where Brooke is, so that’ll be a fun find.” He looks around his side of the camera, his own platinum blonde sticking to his face.

I laugh, but as I do, I can’t help but think about Camila, the horrid date, and how AJ has this incredible family while I’m alone.

“Hey, AJ?”

“Yeah?” I see the concern lace his face once more.

“I’m so happy for you.”

He laughs. “Where’s that coming from?”

“The kids,” I state truthfully. “The kids and Brooke? You got this beautiful family that you get to return home to, and everything is just…” I trail off, unsure of the words I am looking for.

“Ash,” his tone is thoughtful but well-meaning as I make eye contact with him. “You’re going to have this one day. I’m serious. Look, you know that you’re young and that there’s so much time left for you! You know what you have to do. Just stay away from other influencers or those crazy WAGS.”

“The hell is a WAGS?”

“Did no one teach you anything in your nearly thirty years? The wives and girlfriends in sports, Ash. Just take it slowly. Your career or love life isn’t going anywhere.” His smile calms me, making me break the tiny wall I’d been holding up since the call started.

I finally came out with it, telling my brother about my horrid date. I’ve never had such a failed date with someone before, but Camila made it look easy, and I lament to AJ. “She just wasn’t what I thought she was.”

AJ sighs, but his smile gives him away. “You know that just means this Camila chick probably isn’t the one for you. Come on. You know that eventually, this will all be a distant memory. Focus on the good right now, bro. Someone’s out there for you.”

Surprisingly, a face pops into my head when AJ says this.

The waitress from the tavern.

A few minutes after we end our call, Mark knocks on my door, reminding me I’m dropping him off at the private jet hangar. He’s still not done his mini vacation and doesn’t feel like waiting around for me. I was supposed to be his ride. The two of us were going to be having a blast. But I need more time here. I need to figure out what the hell to do with Camila.

As I drive back to the hotel, in a gloomy mood, I get lost in thoughts of football plays and the sounds of traffic. It’s not until a sweet voice and melody float into my open windows that I snap back to my surroundings.

That voice. I know that voice.

I pull over immediately, get out of the car, and look around. I half expect to see Camila, but instead, the waitress from the tavern stands on the sidewalk. She looks different outside of her apron and hair bun. She’s packing up her stuff with another guy, and I raise an eyebrow in bewilderment.

Staring at the girl for a moment, she makes eye contact with me and looks shocked and a little fearful. As I approach the two, her look becomes warier. Ophelia. That’s her name.

“Was that…you? Singing, I mean.” I stammer through the sentence, but I’m just so perplexed.

The girl stares at me.

The guy standing with her turns around, holding a case for an acoustic guitar.

“Was that your voice I heard?” I ask with a little more conviction.

Ophelia seems to snap out of whatever trance she is in because she shakes her head. “Sorry, sorry. No, uh, that wasn’t me.”

The guy turns his head at Ophelia, seemingly scrutinizing her.

“That’s so weird because I heard the singing coming from over here,” I say, pointing from my car back to the corner we’re standing at. “And it just sounded familiar.”

She bites her lip before shaking her head again. “Sorry, no, it wasn’t me. I’m not a singer.”

I can tell something’s amiss because the guy looks like he’s going to say something. But Ophelia must notice his confusion because she turns her head, and her eyes grow wide.

“Look, we gotta head out. It's nice to see you again, but we’ve, uhm, got plans.”

Ophelia pushes the guy away from the two of us. Who looks back at Ophelia and then at me.

Why do I feel a pit in the bottom of my stomach?

A pit of…jealousy?