Ashton Scott

She takes a deep breath. “Well, it’s stopping me this time.”

“It’s my father, isn’t it?” I watch closely for her tell. When Margie lies, she runs her fingers through her hair.

“No, it’s not your father.” Interesting. Her tell is nowhere to be seen.

My phone buzzes with a text.

Jessica: Aaron Steele just rescheduled his meeting to Wednesday. It would seem the universe is onboard with your quest for pussy.

I look back up at Margie. “Email me the info on that property. And the second anyone makes an offer, I want to know. Also advise me if any other properties on Willow Street become available.”

She nods. “There’s plenty of other properties for sale in Pott’s Point. I can email the best listings to you.”

“I’m not interested in anything else. Just send me what I’ve requested.” Without waiting for her reply, I leave her office.

Placing my phone to my ear, I wait for Jessica to pick up. “Did you get my text?” she asks.

“Yes. I also just discovered I require a new real estate agent. Can you compile a shortlist?”

“What happened to Margie?”

“If the gossips are to be believed, her drug habit has kicked up a notch. I wouldn’t be surprised, but I don’t really care what it is. She’s not on my side anymore and I need someone on my side.” I’ve worked with Margie for five years and not once in that time has she refused to divulge any information I need.

“Don’t you think that’s being a little rash? Maybe she ju—”

“Jessica, I don’t fuck around. You know that. Find me someone I can trust. And reschedule every meeting for tomorrow except the one with Brentley.”

“I’ve already started. Oh, and Jack dropped by. Said his appointment with Dr Winthrop was a waste of fucking time and he’s finding a new doctor. You might want to track him down because he didn’t look the best.”

I rake my fingers through my hair. Today is slowly turning to shit.

* * *

I find Jack at home.

“What do you want, Ashton?” He scowls at me from the sofa before raising his drink to his mouth and draining the glass.

I move further into the living room to join him. “Whisky so early in the morning? I thought you usually reserved that for late night drinking.”

He stands and I don’t fail to notice he’s wearing the same clothes he wore yesterday. “I reserve whisky for when life really fucks me in the ass.”

I watch as he refills his glass and downs half of it in one go. “Jesus, Jack, what’s going on?”

Raising his drink, he says, “Cheers, mate. My manager just informed me he’s no longer my manager and that the movie I was supposed to start filming in a couple of months is no longer mine.”

I frown. “I thought you wanted out anyway?”

“I did. Turns out I didn’t know what the fuck I wanted until it was taken away from me.”

“And Dr Winthrop? Jessica told me—”

He scowls again. “Dr Winthrop is a fucking asshole. I’m not seeing him again.”

“Because he tells you things you don’t want to hear, or because he’s an asshole?”

He finishes his drink and slams the glass down on the coffee table. Glaring at me, because he knows I’m the only person in his life who won’t let this shit slide, he says, “Do you really think he’s telling me something I don’t know, Ashton? I fucking know. I live and breathe this shit every day of my goddam fucking life.”

I push him harder. “So, what, you know, but you don’t want to hear it at the moment?”