One True Thing (25 page)

Dusty all to myself.

“She seemed pretty serious.”

“Then hell yeah. Just tell me when and I’ll

pack a bag.”

TWO weeks later, I was in the middle of doing

laundry and packing a weekend bag when my cell

rang. I didn’t even check the caller ID before I

answered. It was nearly ten at night, and the only

person who called me that late was Dusty. I

grinned. He’d been out at a birthday dinner for one

of his coworkers. I hadn’t been looking forward to

sleeping alone, even if it was just for one night.

“Dust? Hey. So, I know you told me not to

start packing early, and it’s just Tuesday, but I was

getting excited. Do you think we’ll need anything

dressy?”

“Just bring your camera and a tux,” a low,

gravelly voice said.

I pulled the phone away from my face and

checked the number on the screen. “Dom?”

“Don’t sound so thrilled.”

I laughed to cover up my irritation. I didn’t

want to talk to him. In all honesty, I wanted nothing

to do with the porn thing anymore. “I just thought

you were my boyfriend. We’re going on a trip for

the weekend.”

“That is actually what I was calling to talk to

you about.”

“My trip with Dusty?”

Dom chuckled. “No, your trip with
me
. Out to

the mansion this weekend. There’s a big bash, and

I want it on camera.”

“By bash, do you mean orgy?”

Dom made a mock outraged sound. “I said to

wear a tux, didn’t I? It’s high class, baby. High

class.”

“Not happening, Dom.” I was
not
ditching my

boyfriend for money. Not doing it.

“Even for two grand?”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit.
Two grand would

get me my own place, where Dusty could come

and be with me all the time, no roommates, no

dumbass brother.
Shit.

“Asher?”

“Fine. When does it start?”

“Nine o’clock. Don’t be late.”

My stomach ached badly after that, as I

unpacked all the shorts and swim trunks that I’d so

excitedly folded into the bag. It was the right

choice in the long run. I knew it was. I couldn’t

afford to say no to that kind of cash if I wanted any

real future. Scary part was how badly I wanted

Dusty in my future, and if he didn’t like the porn, I

could imagine how much worse a massive

weekend-long porn orgy (’cause I didn’t believe

Dom for a minute) would sound. I had to call him.

No, I’d text.
Don’t be an asshole.
I had to call.

Fuck, I was going to hurt his feelings so bad. I hit

his contact and pressed “call” before I could

chicken out.

“Hey!” Dusty’s voice usually made me so

happy.
I can’t do this.

“Hey, hon.”
Do it now. Just get it over with.

“What’s wrong? You don’t sound so good.”

“I, um, have bad news. Well, it could be good

in the long run, but oh, Jesus.”

“What is it, Ash?”

I sighed. “I have to work this weekend. I

don’t want to, but I need the job too much to turn it

down. It’s a lot of money.”

“I understand. I mean, sometimes you just

have to, right?”

Why does he have to be so amazing about it?

“And we can use your client’s place another time,

right?”

“Yeah. She won’t care.”

His poor voice sounded so let down.

“Dust, you know I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t

have to, right? I was looking forward to being with

you all weekend so much.”

“I know. It’s just—you know what? Don’t

worry about it. I understand. Really.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. But I have to go, okay? I’ll talk to you

tomorrow hopefully.”

Shit. Why can’t I make the right choice

ever?
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

I picked up the phone the next day to cancel

on Dom at least four times, but every time I did I

thought about the money and what it could do. I’d

make it up to Dusty. I would. If he’d let me.

Chapter Eleven

Dusty

WELL, this sucks.

Saturday morning found me on my patio,

nursing a mug of coffee and picking at the remains

of a blueberry scone, all while lamenting the loss

of my weekend plans. No romantic getaway. Days

off work but no boyfriend to spend them with. And

I couldn’t even be mad about it. Disappointed,

yeah. But not mad.

What kind of partner would I be, after all, if I

resented my honey for canceling our vacation plans

to cover what sounded like a very lucrative photo

shoot? There would be other weekends, and his

work was different than mine. He had to take the

jobs as they came. I couldn’t fault him for jumping

on an opportunity when it presented itself. I’d just

have to find some way to keep myself occupied in

the meantime.

It did bug me a little that Asher had been kind

of vague about the shoot itself, though. He’d said

the pictures were for a magazine, but he wasn’t at

liberty to discuss the details. I could understand

that, I guessed. There were likely contracts

involved for those kinds of things. But what

bothered me even more was how he hadn’t been

able to give me a clear answer about when he

might be back. I mean, wouldn’t the shoot have

some kind of schedule? People had lives. How

could they plan without having the specifics?

Asher had acted like it was a common thing,

though, and really, what did I know? I’d never

been to a magazine photo shoot in my life, and

from the sound of things, part of his job would be

covering an ongoing party. Sure, in my world,

parties didn’t typically last an entire weekend.
But

you’re not in Delaware anymore, are you, Dusty?

This is California, land of celebrities and excess.

Hell, for all I knew, there were probably people

who partied all week long, nonstop, 24/7. Archer

came pretty damn close.

I tried to brush it all away. I didn’t want to be

that guy—the clingy, jealous, paranoid boyfriend.

Yeah, in the weeks since Asher and I had gotten

together, he still hadn’t put in any appearances at

The Banana Leaf, but like Rue had said, that didn’t

necessarily mean anything. Most nights he was

with me, and he called and texted me every day.

What more could I ask for? He was as attentive as

his job permitted, and so,
so
good to me. A better

boyfriend didn’t exist (well, aside from Erik for

Rue, and he wasn’t better necessarily, just

different).

I finished off my coffee and nodded to myself.

No moping. Asher would be back sometime the

next day, or at the latest on Monday morning. I

could get by without him until then.

With Rue at work and Erik watching Alice, I

called Michelle to see if she might want to do

something. She had a couple of morning classes,

but would be free after two. We made plans to

meet at Hermosa Beach around three. For

swimming this time, I stressed, even though all my

scrapes and bruises from the rollerblading incident

were already healed. Michelle agreed with a

laugh, and when we hung up, I felt better.

Asher had to work, but that was okay. I could

still have fun, spend some time with a friend.

Things were looking up.

THE good feeling lasted for most of the day, right

until the moment I stepped into my bedroom after a

quick shower to rinse off the salt, sweat, and sand

from the beach, and saw my cell phone flashing on

my dresser. At first I practically dove for it—I

hadn’t heard from Asher all day—but when I saw

Archer’s number instead, my stomach plummeted

down to my toes. There was no reason for Archer

to be calling me. No reason. Unless….

Oh, God. Something’s happened. Oh, no.

Oh, God, what if—

I cut that thought off before it could go any

further.
Man, Dusty, get a grip. Save the panic for

when it’s necessary.

Sucking in a deep breath, I tapped on the

screen to answer the call. “H-hello?”

“Dusty?” Archer demanded. His voice

sounded a bit slurred. “You there?”

“Yeah. What’s going on, Arch? Is everything

okay? Is Asher…?”

Archer snorted. “He’s fine. More than fine,

I’m sure. He’s in a mansion full of porn stars.

What’s… what’s not to love about that?”

My brow furrowed. “Are you drunk?” I

asked. Then what he’d said finally sank in. “Wait a

second. Mansion full of porn stars? What are you

talking about? Asher is working.”

Archer spluttered out a laugh. “Yeah.

‘Working.’”

The sarcasm in his tone was hard to miss, and

I could practically hear the air quotes around that

last word. “Archer—”

“You know,” he interrupted, “you were pretty

quick to move onto my brother. What the hell

makes him so special?”

“
I
was quick?” I gave a short, disbelieving

laugh. “If I remember right, you were the one in the

bathroom getting a blowjob from some other guy

while we were still on a date.”

“You
would
bring that up. Well… how do

you know Asher doesn’t have his dick down

someone else’s throat right now? I hear those

parties get kind of wild. Orgies and shit.”

Both my grip on the phone and my stomach

tightened. “Why are you saying this?”

“Do you know what my brother does?”

Archer asked slyly. “Has he ever told you?”

“Of course. He’s a photographer.”

“But what
kind
of photographer? Bet he

didn’t tell you that.”

“I….” I swallowed and licked my lips

nervously. Asher had never gotten into the

particulars about the pictures he took. I’d always

assumed he did the usual type of stuff—weddings,

portraits, fashion mags, catalog stuff, that sort of

thing—but I realized then that he never really did

talk about it. He always just said he had a “shoot,”

and it had never occurred to me to question him.

“He didn’t,” Archer said. He sounded

positively gleeful. “My brother takes pictures for

porn magazines… and video companies. He deals

with the models all the time. He has them at our

place, naked, and he keeps the door to his studio

closed. Wonder what he’s doing in there, huh?

What does he use that bed for, exactly? Wonder

how they repay him for—”

I jerked the phone away from my ear and hit

the “end” button, breathing roughly. The early

dinner I’d shared with Michelle roiled in my belly.

It wasn’t true. Couldn’t be. Archer was just trying

to mess with me. That was it. Asher would have

told me if he worked in porn.
Right?

A few seconds later, my phone buzzed. There

was a text from Archer. I opened it, fingers

trembling, my chest full of trepidation. I expected a

picture of Asher with someone else or something

equally horrible. Instead, there was an address,

and beneath that another message: “Go. See for

yourself.”

I meant to delete the text. Ignore it. Archer

had called for one reason alone—to upset me.

But… I didn’t think he was lying, or at least

not totally. There were things about Asher’s job

that made me suspicious. And if what Archer had

said
was
true, well, Ash’s weird behavior during

that first night at his apartment suddenly made