One True Thing (40 page)

to, and he would hate himself for it after.

I did my work in a daze. Cutting, drying,

styling, making small talk with my clients, but as

much as I normally loved it, my heart just hadn’t

been in it lately.

I considered talking to Michelle about it all.

Flirted idly with the idea of confessing everything

to Lane, since he was removed enough from the

situation to have an objective point of view. I even

came three seconds away from baring it all to Rue

in what I was sure would have probably been a

messy, tear-filled spectacle that made us both feel

awkward to remember later.

In the end, I didn’t tell anyone. Rue knew

most of what was going on, but beyond launching

into a rant about how many different ways Archer

was an asshole when I finally told him what

Archer had done, he hadn’t been able to offer much

in terms of advice. Well, he had given some

—“Tell Asher to report his dumb ass to the

cops!”—but that wasn’t something Asher wanted

to do, at least not yet.

Rue didn’t get that. In his head, Archer had

lost any claims to the title of brother. I agreed with

him to a point, but Rue had been an only child. He

hadn’t grown up with any kind of closeness to a

sibling, and with the way his parents had been, he

didn’t hold much for the idea of blood ties. I could

definitely see his side, given what my own family

had done to me, but neither one of us was in

Asher’s position. Only he knew about his history

with Archer. Only
he
could decide when to stop

covering for Archer. Aside from the fact that I

didn’t want him to be hurt anymore, I wasn’t sure

how much right I had to interfere.

The thing I was even less sure of? If Asher

went against my wishes, if he decided to go

forward and film those scenes, could I bring

myself to stay with him?

That was the big million-dollar question. I

loved Asher. I did. Soul mate, destined, forever

kind of love. Despite that, I couldn’t come up with

any other answer save for one.

I don’t know.

Asher

I WAS pretty damn sure that I’d never been so tired

in my life. Never. Not when I had mono in tenth

grade, or when I’d pulled a twenty-two credit

quarter in college. It sucked. It sucked so much I

couldn’t even formulate the words to describe it.

I’d been piling on job after job after job, hounding

my brother, scraping together donations from my

parents and even Dusty. I’d been going around in

circles with the credit company, the collections

agency, my brother, myself. I just couldn’t see a

clear way out of any of it. Other than the one that

was pretty much unthinkable.

Dusty had been so adamant in his
hell no
. Just

the look on his face alone was enough to tell me

that if I did it, if I told Dom yes and got myself out

of this mess, it would probably be the end of Dusty

and me. He was understanding, but there’s only so

much you can understand, and I guess that letting

some other guy stick his dick in me was too far for

him, even with the amount of money being offered.

But the money… I needed it so badly. My finger

hovered over the call button for the millionth time

in a few days. Fuck. Dusty would have to

understand. I pressed the button and made the call.

“Hello?”

“Dom, I’ll do it.”
Fuck.

“Seriously?” I’d never heard such blatant

disbelief.

“Yes, seriously. I need the cash too much to

turn it down. This isn’t going to be a regular thing,

though.”

Dom cleared his throat. “Yeah. I know.

Damn. Well, I’ll see you next Saturday at the

studio. Hair and makeup starts at nine.”

I nodded.

“Asher?”

“Oh, yeah. I said yes. I’ll see you next

weekend.”

Now all that I had left to do was confess to

the man I loved more than anything, that I’d gone

against his wishes to save my own ass. And then

get through the scene without puking after he most

likely dumped me.

I sat there and stewed while I was

photographing one of my new clients. I let my belly

get all knotty while I was working with her shots,

adding

color

and

airbrushing

out

any

imperfections. By the time I heard Dusty’s key in

the lock, I’d decided I was the biggest dumbass in

the world and I could never in a million years go

through with it, not just because of Dusty, but

because of myself as well.

“Dusty?” My voice sounded croaky even to

me. I hated myself, hated the hurt look I knew

would be on his face. Hated my life at the moment.

“Hey.” He came into the bedroom and draped

his coat across the footboard of our bed. I was

lying on my back, in the only position where I

didn’t feel like I was going to throw up at any

second. “You don’t look so good,” he said.

He was so patient, had been so good to me

throughout this whole big mess. I hated to do what

I was about to do. I wouldn’t lie, though.
Oh, shit.

“I made the biggest mistake.”

Dusty slumped over. “You told Dom yes,

didn’t you?”

I rolled over onto my stomach and shouted

into my hands. I
hated
having to say it. “Yes. I

can’t go through with it, though. I can’t do it. Not to

us, not to myself. I was just so desperate earlier. I

keep adding the numbers and trying to make it

happen, but I can’t even get close. What am I

supposed to do?”

Dusty was quiet for such a long time, if the

bed hadn’t stayed still, I would’ve thought he was

gone.
He’s gonna break up with me. I won’t do

the fucking movie, I won’t have the money, and

he’s gonna break up with me anyway.
I gagged, so

close to vomiting it nearly happened right there on

the bed.

“Ash?”

“Is it over?” I whispered. Yeah, maybe it was

dramatic, but I felt like every part of my life was

crashing in all around me. Why not Dusty too?

“Is what over?” He sounded genuinely

perplexed.

“Us.” I could barely squeeze out the word.

My body was all congested with half-shed tears

and panic.

In seconds, Dusty’s weight had settled on top

of mine. “No, baby. We are so not over.”

“Really?”

He kissed the back of my neck. “I’m not

happy about it, and you are
not
going to actually

film the scene, but we all have desperate moments.

I’m not going to fly off the handle. We’ll just have

to fix it.”

“But how?” I was so ready for someone to

swoop in and save the day. Just offer me a solution

that didn’t involve me potentially ruining my

future, and I’d take it in a heartbeat.

He was quiet for a long time again. I started

to get nervous. Finally, Dusty spoke. “Okay, I have

a suggestion, but I don’t know if you’re going to

like it.”

“What is it?”

“Is it just your looks Dom likes?”

I opened my eyes and looked up at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, is it your actual looks he likes, or is

it you? Like your personality and mannerisms?”

I shrugged. “I think he just likes the way I

look. It’s porn, not the Oscars. Why?”

“’Cause I think I have an answer.”

DUSTY’S idea was crazy, impossible, the best

solution that anyone involved could’ve ever come

up with. Archer was probably going to hate me for

it, but he had to pay. I couldn’t be responsible for

him the rest of our lives. I went alone this time,

driving over with my little stack of papers on the

passenger seat and my stomach lodged way the

hell up in my throat.

“What now?” Archer asked when he came

stumbling to the door. I couldn’t help but notice

that, ever since I’d moved out, I never saw him in

anything close to work clothes. I wondered if he’d

gone even once.

I held up the papers. “I have a solution.”

Archer sighed. “Is this going to involve

handcuffs?”

“No.” I shook my head. Then, despite myself,

I almost laughed. The laugh was more nerves than

anything else. “At least not the law enforcement

type.”

“Just spit it out, Ash. I don’t have all day.”

I shouldered my way into the apartment. The

place was a mess—clothes all over the place,

reeking of alcohol and smoke. He’d be lucky if he

wasn’t kicked out.

“Here’s the deal. You fucked up, hardcore.

I’ve been scrambling around trying to cover your

ass, like I’ve been doing since we hit puberty.

Arch, I’m tired of it. This time, you get to pay up.”

“Or?”

“Or I will call the cops. And I
will
prove to

whatever judge we get in front of that I didn’t

apply for that card or run up all of those charges.”

Archer’s face went a little white at that one,

like maybe he’d not really believed I’d ever turn

him in. “So what is it you want me to do instead?”

I tossed the contract on the coffee table. Dusty

and I had spent hours the night before, writing,

rewriting, making sure I was covered in any way

possible. Archer picked up the packet insolently

and began to read.

“What the hell?” he muttered after a few

minutes. “You want me to be in a porn movie?”

I nodded. “Yes. Dom, the director, has a

series set up featuring you and a number of other

actors. You’ll do the scenes and give me the

money. Then we’ll be even, and that contract gets

shredded. If not, well, you know what it says.”

“Yes, I fucking know what it says. You think

I’m going to sign a document stating that I’m guilty

of identity theft?”

“Yes, and have it notarized. That’s my

insurance.” I kept my voice rational. Cold. “But it

also says that as soon as the scenes are shot and I

have my money it’s going to be shredded. That’s

my half. We’ll be good as far as I’m concerned.”

“I’m not fucking signing this.”

I shrugged. “Fine. I’ll do it the hard way.

We’ll call the cops, you might go to jail, you’ll

have a record, and, well, I don’t even know what

else, honestly. I figured this would be the easy way

out for both of us.”

“Porn? You think porn is the easy way out?”

“Beats being some inmate’s bitch, doesn’t

it?” Okay, that was a little too far, but he was

acting like
I
was betraying him, like it was me who

was cruel.

“Fuck. I hate you.” Archer threw the papers

down on the coffee table. I rolled my eyes.

“Go get a shower. We have some business to

attend to.”

It wasn’t until Archer was in the bathroom,

probably throwing a massive fit as quietly as he

could, that I broke down. I’d acted cold, but I

hated doing it. I hated ruining what little

relationship I had left with my brother. I sat on the

couch, which was covered with potato chip

crumbs and scraps of magazines, and cried

silently, knotting my hair between my fingers and

trying not to make a sound. It hurt like hell,

knowing I was flushing me and Archer down the

drain. He was my brother. The only one I had. But

I had to make a choice; he hadn’t left me any other

option. Save Archer or save myself. I’d chosen

myself, for once. It felt both strangely elating and

more horrible than anything I’d ever experienced

in my life.