One True Thing (26 page)

more sense. I’d assumed he was just nervous about

his work, insecure about showing me his pictures,

but maybe that wasn’t it at all. Maybe he’d actually

been embarrassed about the whole thing.

That didn’t explain why he hadn’t told me

some other time, though. Like, oh, maybe before

we’d slept together.

I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at the

address on my phone. My breathing was erratic,

but I heard it from far away, under the ringing in

my ears.

Why did he hide it? Why would he hide that

from me?

That was the question, wasn’t it? Why would

he… unless the rest of what Archer had said was

true too? What if Asher
was
sleeping with

someone else? Dozens of someones?

All those weeks. Could I have been that

blind? I wanted to trust Asher. I really did. I

wanted to call him and ask him to explain.
But if

he hasn’t told you the truth before this, why

would he now?

It was that last thought that cinched my

decision. Before I even understood what I was

doing, I’d dressed in whatever jeans and shirt

were close by, programmed the address into my

phone’s GPS, and I was behind the wheel of my

old Chevy station wagon, heading south to

Newport Beach. According to the directions, it

would take a little over an hour. Barring traffic

jams, of course. It was either too much time… or

maybe not enough. I couldn’t decide. Who knew

what I would find when I got there?

The GPS directed me to an impressive gated

mansion, apparently only steps away from the

water—as in the ocean was pretty much its

backyard. I didn’t even want to think about what a

place like that might cost. More money than I

would ever see in my lifetime, that was for sure.

Despite

the

snatches

of

music

and

conversation coming from inside, I could hear the

ocean waves from where I stood, hesitant and

scared, near a sleek, dark Mercedes. I felt so out

of place there, in that rich, exclusive neighborhood

with its fancy cars and huge designer houses. My

station wagon stuck out like an ugly-ass hippo in a

herd of gazelle. If I went inside, I wondered if I’d

feel the same way.

I already knew Asher was there. His

Volkswagen was one of the cars that lined the long

driveway. Did I want to go inside and find out

what he was really doing? If he was working like

he said, or if he was….

Oh, God. OhGodohGod.
What would I do?

What would I do if I walked in there and he was

with someone else? Kissing, touching… fucking?

My stomach cramped at the very idea. I

already felt sweaty as hell, my chest tight, and no

matter how hard I’d been trying, I didn’t think I’d

taken a full breath since walking out of my house

back in WeHo. I’d be lucky if I didn’t faint or puke

or make some kind of ridiculous spectacle of

myself.

As I stood there deliberating, wringing my

hands together, another car pulled up and a group

of two guys and three women in skimpy dresses

and stiletto heels got out. They approached the

closed gate and rang the buzzer.

Now or never, Dusty. Now or never.

I swallowed back my nausea and scurried

after them when the gate slid smoothly open. If

there were cameras, I was in no way being covert

enough for them to miss me, but no one came after

me as I trailed behind the trio of women.

Once we were in the doors, it was a whole

different world. I paid no attention to the tasteful

decor and elegant furnishings. It was hard to notice

them when I was surrounded by clusters of

beautiful, half-naked people.

Scratch that. A girl wearing nothing but a tiny

scrap of material that just barely covered her lady

bits had just wandered past me. Out of the corner

of my eye, I saw a guy who didn’t even have that.

He was naked as the day he was born, and

obviously used to being that way. His flawless,

deep gold skin didn’t have a single tan line to

speak of, but I doubted it was natural. Beyond him

was a couple on the couch, a dark-haired man and

a bottle-blonde with huge boobs and maybe a

dozen tattoos, and if they weren’t in the middle of

getting each other off, then I’d suddenly started

having stress-induced hallucinations.

I looked away and shook my head.
Jesus

Christ, Archer was right.
And if he’d been telling

the truth about the party, then did that mean he was

right about Asher too?

I don’t want to know. I don’t.

I didn’t. Because if Asher
was
cheating on

me, lying to me, it would break my heart. But I’d

come too far to turn back without finding out for

sure.
Better now than when you love him too

much to let him go.

Except for the fact that I loved him already.

It didn’t take me all that long to find him. I’d

been saving the upstairs for last. Dreading it, more

like. That was where the bedrooms were, not that

being out in the open had stopped any of the

couples—or groups—I’d passed up already.

Asher was lounging on one of the chairs that

surrounded the pool, a bottle of water in his hand

and one of his cameras on the low glass table

beside him. For a second, all I could think about

was how excessive it seemed. Why have an in-

ground pool with the Pacific mere steps from your

door? But then, maybe if I had money to waste, I’d

have a pool on the ocean too.

Strange that my first thought was about the

pool instead of some kind of relief at seeing Asher

there, fully dressed, his camera within arm’s

reach. I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. The night

had been pretty damn surreal so far.

The relief came quickly after that, though, and

for the first time in what must have been a couple

of hours, my shoulders finally relaxed.

I started toward him. No point in going back

without telling him I’d been there. I didn’t doubt

Archer would probably take great pleasure in

repeating everything he’d said to me to Asher

later.

I was maybe only a few yards away when

two things happened. First, a guy rushed past me,

tanned and pretty and thankfully clothed—at least

if a skimpy pair of black briefs counted as clothes.

Second, he flung himself on top of Asher, and

while I stood there watching, mouth agape, he

shoved his tongue down my boyfriend’s throat.

Asher hit the back of the lounge chair, the

bottle he’d been holding slipping from his fingers,

his hands coming up to grip the guy’s arms.

I must have made a sound, called his name,

something. Whatever it was, it made Asher’s head

jerk up. Wide brown eyes met mine for a long,

agonizing moment. The only word I could use to

describe his expression right then was stricken—

which was appropriate, actually, because it also

described exactly how I felt inside.

My cheeks flamed hot with humiliation. I

didn’t wait for him to detangle himself from the

slim, pretty, blond boy. I turned on trembling legs

and bolted, dashing around the pool, shoving

through the people in my way. I heard him call my

name and looked back once, but I wasn’t anywhere

near ready to talk to him just then.

I ran around the side of the house instead of

back through the patio doors, betting on the odds

that there was another exit to the driveway in front,

not wanting to deal with the sex and the nakedness

and whatever the hell else might be happening

inside.

My vision blurred, and instinctively I reached

up to swipe a hand across my face, cursing the

tears and my own stupidity.
Dammit.
The very last

thing I needed right then was to start crying.

It was too late to stop it, though. All I knew

was I had to get out of there, had to get as far away

from Asher as I could, as quickly as possible. I

couldn’t stand the thought of embarrassing myself

any more than I already had.

Asher

“DUSTY, no!” I dumped Josh off my lap and

jumped up to run after him. I had no idea what

Dusty was doing at the shoot, but I knew what he’d

just seen hadn’t looked very good. He was

weaving his way around the pool, through

glammed-up porn stars, other photographers, the

director. I started to push people out of my way.

“Sorry, excuse me. I have to get through. Dusty!”

He looked back at me, then turned and kept

going. Dusty was doing his damnedest to get away

from me. I didn’t blame him. It was a good thing I

was taller and a hell of a lot more desperate. I

slammed through the rest of the crowd and broke

out running at the edge of the pool. I caught up with

him just as he was going through the gate out of the

pool area and into a path that curved around to the

front of the house. We were alone on the pathway,

with only my out of control heartbeat and the sound

of the party in the background as company.

“Dusty, you have to wait for me!” I panted.

He turned to look at me. His face was wet with

tears, like I’d completely crushed him. God, I

understood. If I even thought for a second that

some other guy was touching him, kissing him,

even looking his way, I’d lose my shit completely.

“Please, just listen. I—”

He put his hands up like if I were closer he’d

push me away. “Listen? Are you serious? You told

me you had to
work
this weekend. And maybe it

makes me untrusting, but when Archer said what

this place was I decided to come up here and

prove him wrong. And here you are, doing exactly

what your brother said you’d be doing.” He

swallowed a sob. “How long until twinky back

there had your dick in his mouth, huh?”

“Josh?”

“Oh, is that his name?” Dusty wiped furiously

at his face. “Feel free to send my regards.” He

turned to leave.

“Dusty, no. Wait, it’s not what it looks like.” I

felt like I was going to throw up. It couldn’t have

gone any worse. He stopped one more time.

“Fine. Tell me exactly how it isn’t what it

looks like, ’cause it sure looked a lot like you

were about to fuck some porn star by the pool just

like Archer said you were.”

“My brother is such a fucking asshole—and

apparently a jealous one too. Listen, yes, this is a

porn shoot.” I sighed and pushed on my eyeballs.

“I know how you feel about my job so I didn’t

want to get into it with you. It’s not what I want to

do with my life, but it’s money and I need it—at

least until something real comes along. But it’s

only pictures. I’m never in front of the camera.

And Josh is just a friend. An exuberant friend who

was about to hear exactly why he couldn’t be so

touchy-feely anymore, but a friend only.”

“What do you mean, you know how I feel

about your job? I only just heard about it for the

first time when Archer called me. Why did you lie

all this time?”

What?
I stared at Dusty, unable to even

decide what to say next. “You… but back in the

café. I mean.”
Jesus. Spit it out.

“What, Asher? Just tell me so we can get this

over with.” He looked angry still. Angry and

impatient.

I reached out to touch him. It had to be better

if I was just allowed to touch him. Dusty flinched,

but he let me put my hand on his shoulder. “Back at

The Banana Leaf. You said you knew about what I

did, and it wasn’t any better than my brother’s

manwhoring. Well, this is what I do. I don’t really

like it either, but I have bills.”

“I never said manwhoring! Wait—you thought

I knew about the porn stuff the whole time?”

“ We l l …
yeah
.” I was bewildered and

scared. Was he going to break up with me?

“And you thought I was being judgmental

about it, so you didn’t want to bring it up to cause