The Big Fish
“Do you think she knows about the boys?”
Ashe looked up from his beer as he sat at the bar of the Hotel Americana. He really shouldn’t be drinking, but on a day like today he’d make an exception.
“Hello to you, too,” he said as he indicated the seat next to him. Gareth sat down, nodding toward Lance and Ben who sat opposite.
Gareth had actually mentioned his sons with Paige in front of Lance and Ben in the bar of the Hotel Americana, as public a place as you could get. It was testament to his state of mind, which also showed on his face. Gone was the cool and collected Gareth Roman, and in his place was a man drumming his fingers on the table. Lance and Ben were engrossed by their phones, checking all the social networks for news about Ashe, Riley or Kyle Lloyd, and Ashe doubted that they’d even heard the question.
The seating arrangement was strategic, ensuring that Ashe and Gareth were facing the crowd but anyone wanting an autograph or a picture with them would be politely turned away by their two friends. They didn’t expect to be approached, however. Certain places had unspoken rules, and approaching celebrities to ask for autographs or photos simply didn’t happen in here.
The bar at the Hotel Americana was busy; there were a few sideways glances from other patrons, but no one bothered them. A group of women sat by the bar, and a few businessmen chatted about polo at a table next to them. Close to the bar entrance, two men with big cameras were drinking beer, credit-card-sized ID cards identifying them as students of an advanced photography course at a nearby gallery space.
Ashe had no idea where Betty was, nor where her contacts were positioned. It was a risky undertaking in a public establishment, but he was willing to take the risk. Riley was at his condo waiting for him, and Paige and Clint were flying in from the Hamptons with the boys. For his woman, Ashe would do anything.
“I checked all the media outlets. Nothing yet,” said Gareth. “But I’ll kill her if she breathes a word about them!”
“I don’t think horizontal stripes will do your career any good, Gareth, though I’m sure you’d be popular inside,” said Ashe, chuckling when he was rewarded with a glare. “Take it easy.”
“How do you expect me to take it easy? They’re just kids. They shouldn’t be subjected to this shit. Hell, I shouldn’t be subjected to this shit. It’s fucking stressful,” Gareth whispered as a server walked by. He flashed her a practiced grin.
“I want whatever they’re having,” he told her with a wink before turning to Ashe again. “Izzy says hi, by the way. She’s not coming to see the show tonight. She worries about what people might say.”
“I’m sure they won’t say anything,” Ashe said with a faint smile, not meaning it.
“Yeah, right,” Gareth scoffed. “Anyway, her dad’s in town for meetings today so she’s having dinner with him tonight. She said she’ll wait for the streamed version. You are filming this play for release, aren’t you?”
Ashe was amused by Gareth’s behavior, his words fired out at a mile a minute, the drumming of his fingers on the table joined by his boot tapping the floor. This was a habit that Gareth engaged in only when he was really nervous, like the time they were supposed to film a dangerous stunt with both of them fighting on top of the hood of a futuristic car as it raced through the desert in Sentience. On film the scene was amazing, but Ashe would never forget how nervous Gareth had been during the long wait while the shot was being set up.
Ashe wished he could tease Gareth, the way they used to torment each other when they were filming. He missed the pranks they played on each other, the paintball wars on off-days just to let off steam, even camping out in the open when they had to be left on location and be ready for a pre-dawn shoot. The first time it happened, Ashe had taught Gareth how to fish in the nearby lake, showing him the same things Ashe’s father had shown him. They even had fish for dinner that night which Gareth caught himself with a lot of whooping and hollering, though he’d opted out of the gutting and cleaning.
But Ashe’s memories of Gareth on set also included Hazel, who’d gone to Namibia to see Ashe film on location. Hazel always thought Gareth funny and Ashe suspected that she’d a crush on him, which Gareth mercifully didn’t encourage. He’d been a good friend to her, cracking jokes at every possible opportunity and making Hazel smile. How was Ashe to know that she’d catch a simple cold on the flight home and never recover, her immunity compromised from a new bout of treatment? She hadn’t sought medical approval to leave London but had gone anyway, assuring him that the doctors had given her the okay.
So laughing with Gareth and teasing him was bittersweet. Ashe wondered if Hazel was one of the reasons he and Gareth seemed bound together, not just Riley. He remembered the last time he’d seen his sister alive, laughing as she joined in their silly games around the set and cracking dirty jokes that left Gareth so impressed he’d committed them to memory so that he could use them later.
As Gareth’s fingers drummed more loudly on the table, Lance and Ben exchanged glances but said nothing. Under normal circumstances, Gareth would have checked out all the women at the bar by now, rating each one of them. “She’s an eight, that one’s a five or maybe a six. Now that girl’s off the charts, but she’s not my type; too perfect. We’d end up fighting over the mirror.”
Today Gareth had other things to worry about. He behaved as though he were guilty of something and in a way he was; what’s done is done, however, and the most useful thing Gareth could do now was make sure none of his sons with Paige got hurt if Collette revealed their indiscretion in an effort to humiliate Clint. It was a gamble being here, but one Ashe was willing to take. It could be someone else upstairs; there were other people in the world like Catriona Marks.
When the server arrived with his beer, Gareth thanked her and turned to Ashe. “Are you sure it’s Collette up there? We could be sitting here wasting our time when it’s not her. For all we know, she could be in L.A. right now.”
“It is her,” said Lance. “She ordered room service earlier and I tipped the server for a description. He said she was ‘blonde and bitchy and doesn’t tip’.”
Ashe and Gareth exchanged knowing looks. Though Collette was a good tipper when she was out in public where she knew the paparazzi could be watching, it was a different story when she was in private, especially if she was having a bad day. At the Hotel Americana, Collette wasn’t really harming her reputation as the room was booked under Catriona’s name.
“Well, I guess it’s Collette, then,” said Gareth, turning to Ashe. “But if we know she’s up there, why don’t we just go upstairs and talk to her? If we know the room number, then let’s go and do it.”
“Betty told me that Collette’s client has a premiere in midtown, so she should be coming down soon.”
“What about your play?”
“I still have a few hours,” said Ashe. “It’s a tight schedule, but I’m not going to wait to hear about it from some blind item when I can be on the spot. Now remember: whatever happens, don’t let your excitement get the better of you.”
“How do you mean, ‘whatever happens’?”
As if in answer to Gareth’s question, the elevator doors opened and, just as Ashe had suspected, his former manager stepped out. Dressed in a cream silk top with a jacket and dark slacks under a wool coat and scarf, she looked every inch the manager who had taken his career all the way to the top over the past five years. She walked with her chin held high, dark glasses hiding her eyes and heavy makeup.
Suddenly flash bulbs went off, courtesy of the two photographers who’d been sitting near the bar entrance, close to the elevator. They took Collette by surprise, and she held her hands up to cover her face. As if on cue, two women appeared with their mobile phones held out, asking questions.
Is it true that Catriona Marks has let you go as her manager? What about the Dominatrix movie deal—is that still going forward if she’s not involved? What can you say about the rumors that you stole a substantial amount from a client?
Behind her, Sid looked as startled as she was. When he realized that the photographers weren’t interested in him, he skirted off to the side away from Collette and rushed out the main doors without even seeing Ashe and the others.
Hotel staff sprang into action but it was too late; the damage had been done. They pushed the photographers and reporters toward the main doors, demanding that they leave. As quickly as the photographers and journalists had appeared they were gone, leaving Collette standing in the middle of the lobby. Her face went through a range of emotions: embarrassment, shock, confusion and then anger.
“Time to go,” said Ashe, slipping a generous tip under his glass as he got to his feet. Everyone else at the table followed suit, and the four of them sauntered out of the bar.
“Collette! I had no idea you were here!” said Ashe, feigning surprise. “What’s the accommodation like? I’ve always wondered about this hotel. You never booked me in here.”
Collette stared at Ashe and then at Gareth. “What are you doing here?”
“The usual, meetings and so on. You know how it goes, Collette,” replied Ashe while Gareth fidgeted beside him. “What was that Dominatrix thing all about? Is it true that it’s your deal that’s on the table rather than Catriona’s? Do you have the experience? I never would have guessed.”
“What does it matter whose deal is on the table, as long as it goes through?” she replied in a whisper.
“Ah, but what happens when they realize that it’s not Catriona Marks who is selling the story, but you?” wondered Ashe.
“Does it matter? She’s already made a fool of herself.”
“Thanks to you,” Ashe pointed out.
“What’s everyone complaining about? It got her noticed, just like I got you noticed when no one cared about another Brit in Hollywood,” Collette said. “Did you really believe that you did it all by yourself, you and your so-called talent?” She paused and glared at Gareth, who had caught on and feigned surprise. “And you! If it weren’t for you and that twit, none of this would have happened!”
“All right, Collette,” Gareth said calmly. “I thought we were having a civilized conversation here; just three friends running into each other, right? Or did you want one of us to lose it? Is that what all this is about, sending those guys to ask around my neighborhood and dig up any dirt you can get on me? Paying Sid for anything he says about Riley? How much did you pay him to tell tales about her? I hope it was worth it because, you know, he told us all different stories.”
“You planned this, didn’t you?” she sputtered. “The paparazzi, the reporters and all of you conveniently being here. How dare you think you can play my game better than me?”
“Is that what all this is to you, Collette—just a game?” Ashe said as coolly as he could. He tried to keep the anger from his voice but knew he was failing. He could remain calm as long as his thoughts focused on Collette, at the very idea that she’d orchestrated everything and played each of them like a finely-tuned instrument; but the moment his thoughts drifted to Riley and the hurt on her face, he couldn’t stop the anger from taking over. “Dragging Riley into all this as if it’s a spectator sport, just to get back at us and her father.”
“Which one?”
This time Gareth stepped toward her but Lance and Ben grabbed his arms, holding him back. “She’s not worth it,” muttered Ben as Gareth calmed down and squared his shoulders.
“I can’t believe how low you stooped just to get the dirt on all of us, Collette. It certainly took determination and guile, and maybe a dash of vengeance through Catriona, to pull it off. Too bad she let you go,” Ashe murmured. “If she did one thing right, it was that.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Ashe,” she said. “You’re nothing but side entertainment; I’m after a bigger catch. You and your stupid girlfriend made it easy for me, and Sid Eames, bless his stupid heart. Throw him a bone and he sure barked. Then there was Catriona, so much in love with you that she’d have given up her firstborn to get you back,” sneered Collette. “You were all easy game, but you’re not the one I’m after.”
“Ashe, it’s time to go,” said Lance under his breath. “Hotel security is on the way.”
“And people are taking pictures,” muttered Ben.
“Let them,” said Ashe, his jaw tensing. “Make sure they see her face. After all, I need something to go with the audio.”
Collette took a step back, her eyes widening as Ashe retrieved his phone from his jacket pocket. “What audio?”
“This. It will go perfectly with everyone’s pictures,” replied Ashe, turning his phone toward her so she could see the red Record button on the display. “If there’s one thing members of this industry hate, Collette, it’s people they trust robbing them blind and betraying them. You’ve just admitted to that. You’re finished in this business, Collette. Now don’t let me delay you; go and get your big fish. I’ve just caught mine.”