Torn (The Fosters of New York 3)

"I will." Those are the last two words she says before she ends the call.

CHAPTER 35

Falon

I thought traffic in Manhattan was bad. It's nothing compared to Philadelphia on this sunny Thursday evening. We had to stop again. This time it was for road construction. They were moving heavy machinery across the roadway so everything came to an abrupt standstill. I was tempted to call Asher back to tell him we were delayed yet again, but I know he'll press me for more information about the woman who called and left that cryptic, and downright creepy, message.

It happened yesterday when I was busy taking photographs of a man who just launched his own software company. He was meticulous, wanting a say in every single shot I took of him. What should have been an hour long shoot, lasted for over two. I had to push the shoot that was booked after him back another hour. It messed up my entire day, but he left with the confidence that his headshot will make all the difference between his company succeeding or failing. I'm not sure it will have much of an impact at all.

He was a handful to deal with and if he treats his future clients the same way, his business won't make it past launch.

After that shoot, when I was readying for the next, I picked up my phone. I saw the missed call. The number was blocked, so I ignored the message. I didn't give it another thought until today when I was turning my cell to airplane mode after we boarded the flight. I listened to it then, as Maya chatted up the flight attendant, telling her the brand of shoes she was wearing.

After I heard it once, I listened to it a second time and then a third.

The woman said her name is Karen. She saw me with Asher last week outside the recording studio. She wanted me to ask him if he's told me about her. She laughed then and hung up.

I wouldn't think a thing of it except that even if she did see me outside the studio, there's no way in hell that she'd know who I am. I'm not a recognizable face in New York. I blend in to the crowd, the same way most people do.

"What did Asher say when you talked to him?" Maya taps her fingers on my knee. "Is he excited to see you because you sure as hell don't look excited to see him?"

I glare out the window. The car is finally moving again. "He asked about the flight. I told him that we'd see him soon."

"You'll introduce me to him, right?"

I turn to look at her face. "Of course I will."

She reaches forward to brush a strand of hair from my forehead. "Something has been off all day, Fal. What is it? Are you nervous about tonight? You're going to knock this out of the ball park."

I know that I will. I studied the layout of the venue online and called the theatre's manager earlier this week to get a better understanding of where I'll need to be to get the shots I want. I rented a lens from the camera store near my studio. It will help me get the definition I need. "I'm ready for the shoot. I think it'll go well."

"You don't seem ready at all." She looks at the back of the driver's head. "If something is going on between you and the rock star, I'm all ears."

I know that. I also know that she'd never share what I tell her with anyone. Maya's discreet. She told me just a few weeks ago that she helped a big name celebrity rent a loft in SoHo. I pressed but she was tight lipped about who it is, telling me that even though she signed a confidentiality agreement, she gave her word to the woman and that was worth more than any notarized document.

I think for a minute about how to respond. I don't want to lie to her. I've never done that. I won't start now. "There's something small nagging at me, but he's open to talking when I get there."

"We can talk about it right now." Her eyes brighten. "You know I won't tell a soul what it is."

"It's not worth talking about." I bend my neck to look through the windshield. "I think we're getting close."

She fidgets on the seat next to me, trailing her hands over the fabric of her dark wash jeans. "I still can't believe we're doing this. You're taking pictures of your boyfriend, Falon. No big deal that he just happens to be Asher Fucking Foster."

I laugh so loud the driver turns his head briefly to look at me. "It's not a big deal, Maya. It's just another job."

***

"You can leave your personal belongings in the car for now." Dita, Asher's manager, walks out of the venue just as Maya and I turn to walk in. "Did you get my last email about the social media snaps?"

I nod. Part of the job tonight involves me sending a few images to Asher's media manager so she can post them on his social media accounts. It may all look impromptu, as if Asher has his phone in his pocket and is snapping pictures from his vantage point on the stage. That's going to be me. Once I get the shots, I'll apply any necessary filters before I send them to the person who is actually posting as Asher Foster.

When I took a look at his Facebook page yesterday, there were dozens of photographs of Philadelphia, including dinners at restaurants, cycling pictures and even backstage snaps at this venue. I can't say for sure whether Asher was responsible for any of them. I highly doubt it. The only time I've seen him taking a picture of his phone was last week when Eli and I were with him at the recording studio. He held up his phone for a selfie that included all three of us. When he forwarded it to me later that night, and I sent it to Eli, he immediately made it the wallpaper on his iPhone.

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"Where's Asher?" I ask Dita as we follow her into the backstage area of the venue. I pull on my camera case while Maya struggles with the canvas case of lights. The four inch heels she's wearing aren't conducive to being a helpful assistant. "I need to talk to him."

She glances at a large, circular clock on the wall. "He's about to go on. You need to set up."