The Right Wish Read online

With the weight of that responsibility on my shoulders, my feet landed heavily on the floor. Firming my spine, I reached for the robe on the end of the bed. Jewel had given it to me as a gift for Christmas. It was thoughtful, and I loved it, loved her. Clothes, food, a safe place to live, we’d come a long way from working as hookers on the wrong side of town.

  Well, Jewel had come a long way. She’d turned her life around, gaining the admiration and affection of a rock star. After a significant misstep, Rush had proven his affection equaled hers. She wore his ring on her finger and carried his love in her heart. As her best friend, and someone her fiancé felt sorry for, I was a side note and beneficiary of her good fortune.

  I tried not to take advantage of Rush’s pity or Jewel’s love. As much as I could, I earned my keep as I attempted to regroup.

  Knowing it was time to get started on my work for the day, I slipped the robe on. The silk was pure luxury. I hadn’t felt anything like it against my skin in years. Belting it on, I stood and tiptoed softly across the hall to the condo’s only full bathroom.

  Inside, I shut the door and clicked the lock. Not that I feared Rush would barge in, or expected the couple would be awake this early. They’d been making love well into the night, enjoying their privacy together before the tour started tomorrow. On the road, they would be sharing a tour bus with Jack Howard, Rush’s easygoing drummer; Benton Kennedy, his flirty bassist; and Bradley Marshall, his ever-controlled manager.

  Everyone would leave tomorrow.

  But not me.

  I would stay here. In Rush’s condo. Alone.

  I swallowed hard. I would be okay. Being by myself wouldn’t be so bad. No more having to deal with Mr. Bossy Marshall. Right?

  The thought didn’t comfort me like I wanted it to.

  Removing the robe, I refocused my thoughts on the things I had to be grateful for. Jewel’s friendship was at the top of my short list. Being able to remove the robe without the encumbrance of a sling was another. Not having to sell myself . . .

  Don’t go there, Cam. That’s over. Spin your thoughts differently.

  Since I’d been here, I’d provided a service with legitimate value. I took care of the house for Rush. I cooked. I cleaned. While he was away, I would housesit the condo. But the future for me when the tour was over? I didn’t know. Employment outside of what I did right now was unlikely. I only had a fake ID and the history associated with it, and my real and long-ago expired one wouldn’t help me get a job.

  I was resigned to the inescapable. Within it, fate would do what it would with me. It always did.

  I removed the Avery Rose robe and the mini slip dress, allowing the ruby-colored luxury to puddle at my feet. The Swarovski crystals on the straps of the slip sparkled like diamonds atop the rest. Sidestepping the puddle to open the glass door, I turned on the water, and removed the elastic tie from around my wrist while it warmed. Gathering long strands of hair from around my shoulders, I lifted and secured them on top of my head, out of my way.

  Stepping into the stall big enough for two, but overly large for only one, I washed and rinsed, bathing efficiently and quickly. Once upon a time, I’d celebrated how I was made, the smoothness of my bronze skin and the silkiness of my hair. But those attributes attracted men, and I didn’t want to attract men anymore. I didn’t need to.

  But thoughts like these led to other ones, thoughts of fear, shame, and helplessness. Some days it felt like I was holding back the world to keep the darkness at bay.

  Get going, Cam. One step, then another. Don’t feel sorry for yourself. Don’t look backward. And don’t dwell.

  I flipped off the water and stepped out of the shower. Rewrapped in my gifted robe, I opened the door and crossed the hall. Within moments, I was clothed, leaving my hair in a messy updo. A loose, flowing long-sleeved top and matching black yoga bottoms covered my curves and most of my skin. Carrying my flip-flops, I unlocked the guest bedroom door and returned to the hall. As I expected, the condo remained quiet.

  Moving away from my room, I tiptoed past the master where Rush and Jewel slept, then crossed the large open living space. Skirting around the leather sectional, I went directly to the patio door. I unlatched the lock and stepped outside before closing the door behind me. My skin, the small amount I left exposed, was immediately coated in the dampness of the ocean air.

  I lifted my chin into the welcome sea breeze and filled my ears with the soothing roar of the surf. Tendrils of my hair escaped the elastic. Freed, they danced around my face, and I inhaled deeply. I loved living near the ocean. Another thing to add to my list to be grateful for.

  Exhaling bad thoughts and the tension associated with them, I slipped my feet into my flip-flops and jogged down the steps. My lips curved as I turned toward Venice Beach, like I had when Bradley was here the night before. Groceries were more affordable outside of Santa Monica. Saving money for Rush was part of my reason for the two-mile hike, but there was another more important one.

  Two of them.

  Along my usual route, I passed a few early-morning walkers and joggers. Some I recognized, and I waved. Soon, the uniform high-end establishments morphed into more varied colorful ones.

  At a craftsman-style bungalow with peeling purple and lime paint, I stopped. Two small ragtag figures emerged from beneath the Pete’s Tattoos sign. The warped wood on the sagging porch seemed to shift precariously beneath the weight of the children’s slight frames. The building wasn’t all Pete neglected.

  “Cam!” the young boy shouted as he dashed across the weed-infested yard. He was bolder with me now, his limbs long, overly thin, and nearly always in motion. His little sister trailed at a more sedate pace behind him.

  “Hey, Gerald.” I smiled at him first and then his sibling. They were the real reason for my long walk. “You’re up early.”

  “It’s Friday.” He flashed me a grin that filled me with warmth. It had taken weeks to convince him to talk to me.

  “It’s thopping day.” Geraldine, Gerald’s little sister, had a lisp due to her two missing front teeth.

  “Would you two be my shopping helpers today?” I extended my hand to Geraldine. She was six. Gerald was eight. He was too old to hold my hand, or so he’d informed me.

  “We always help you on Fridays. Are you buying us doughnuts?” Gerald glanced back at his house before giving me a furtive, hopeful look.

  “Yes, of course I am. Chocolate-covered ones with sprinkles. Juice and milk. Whatever you want to eat that looks good to you.”

  Once, I’d given the children cash instead of food. It had been a mistake. Pete, their father, had used the money for drugs, and gave his son a black eye when he asked about it. Bruises weren’t uncommon for Gerald.

  My heart hurt for him and his sister. I had experience of my own with neglect and hunger. And I wished . . . well, wishes weren’t practical.

  “Great!” Gerald moved to one side of me, and his sister went to the other. She favored the side by the ocean. I often found her losing her focus, staring longingly at it like I did.

  If I sailed to the farthest ends of the ocean, was there a place where I could be remade?

  That was my wish. I wondered if the little girl’s might be similar.

  “I’m hungry.” Geraldine placed her tiny hand in mine.

  “I’m hungry too.” And lonely with Rush and Jewel paired off so much of the time. But I had these two. I curled my fingers gently but firmly around the girl’s tiny hand. If wishes could come true, I would gladly give her mine.

  “Are you going to tell us a thtory?” Geraldine glanced up, hope brightening her baby-blue eyes.

  “Yes, please,” Gerald said politely. His eyes were the same hue as his sister’s and sparkled just as eagerly. “We love your stories.”

  “All right.” I agreed readily, because how could I refuse them? Wishes might not be practical, but sometimes those and stories were all you had.

  “Once upon a time,” I began, like all good stories start. “There was a
young girl. Her name was Snow. She lived in a palace, but she wasn’t a princess. She had all the food she could eat and pretty clothes to wear, but she wasn’t rich.

  “Snow was poor because she had no friends, and no one to love her. Her father’s heart had grown as cold as his ice castle since his beloved wife, Snow’s mother, had died.

  “One day, the king called his daughter to his throne room. ‘Snow,’ he said. ‘I have a new wife. I want you to meet your stepmother.’

  “‘Hello, Stepmother,’ his daughter said politely, trying to smile, although her heart was sad. She worried her father would forget her mother. She worried the ice around his heart toward her would never melt. She worried he couldn’t love her anymore.

  “And she was right.

  “A year passed, and then many others. Snow tried to be brave, kind, and good on her own. It was her mother’s last wish for her, but it wasn’t easy. Her stepmother was mean. She told the king bad things about Snow because she was jealous. As the stepmother grew older, Snow grew older too, but she became more beautiful, not less. Her hair was the blackest ebony. Her lips were as red as her mother’s beloved roses. And her heart—the most important part of anyone—was as white as the purest snow.

  “One cold winter day, the jealous stepmother went to the enchanted ice lake. She often went there. She could see her reflection in the frozen surface, and she liked what she saw. She asked, ‘Magic Lake, am I still the most beautiful woman in this icy land?’

  “‘No,’ the magic lake answered. ‘Snow is.’

  “The stepmother became angry. She called for Chris, one of the king’s best drivers. Chris was handsome and a talented driver, but he wasn’t good or true. He was weak, not strong. When the evil stepmother gave Chris money and told him to take Snow far from her father’s land, he did. Chris tricked Snow into going away. He told Snow he could love her, if only she would leave her father. Snow believed him. She wanted so badly to be loved the way her father had loved her mother.

  “Snow went with Chris. They traveled far from everything and everyone she knew. They went to a land that was unfamiliar, and hot rather than cold. Snow went because she hoped to be loved. But deep down, she knew that a man who wasn’t good or true, a man who was weak and not strong, could never truly love her.

  “And she was right.

  “One day in the warm land, the money the evil stepmother had given Chris ran out. Chris had to get a job that wasn’t driving cars. Snow had to get a job too. For a while, they worked at the same place together, but Chris didn’t like his job. He blamed Snow for having to do something he didn’t like to do.

  “When you love someone, truly love someone, no sacrifice is too great. But Chris didn’t really love Snow. He became angry with her and called her names. He hurt her in big and small ways that left marks on her skin, and other deeper ones inside her heart that no one else could see.

  “Snow tried to leave him. But even though Chris didn’t love Snow, he didn’t want her to go. He found her and brought her back to his house. He lied to the boss at Snow’s job. He told the man Snow stole money she didn’t steal. So Snow ran away. She ran far. She had a little money in her pocket, but it didn’t last long. She couldn’t get a job because of the lies Chris told. She lost her way in a very dark place. Snow had nowhere to live. She had no food to eat. She had no pretty clothes to wear.

  “A year passed, and then others. One day, she found a friend. A friend who understands you can make even a very dark place seem better. Together, Snow and her friend did what they had to do to live, even some things that maybe weren’t completely right. Another man came along during that time. He said he loved Snow, but like Chris, he lied. When Snow discovered his lie, she told him not to come around anymore. She pretended she was okay, but with her heart broken, she was very sad. She feared no one would ever truly love her the way her mother had.

  “And she was right.

  “That night, before she went to sleep, Snow made a wish. She wished to be brave. It was the right wish. She had a dream that night. In the dream, her father, the king, called for her. He had tears in his eyes because the ice around his heart had melted.

  “When she woke up, Snow thought, I must go back to him. He needs me to be brave, kind, and true. She didn’t know how to find her way back to the land of ice, but she took one step, then another, and before she knew it, she had traveled very far.

  “A year passed, then more, before she finally reached her father’s land. The stepmother was gone. The king had sent her away when he realized she was a jealous woman who loved no one but herself. The people in her father’s land cheered when they saw Snow. They remembered her because brave, kind, and good deeds are never forgotten. The people welcomed her back. But Snow worried about her father.

  “She should not have worried.

  “With the ice around his heart melted, he knew his daughter, and he remembered that he loved her.

  “The king said, ‘Snow, my fairest daughter, you remind me of your mother. You are brave, kind, and good like she was. I love you. I missed you. Please stay, be my daughter again, and help me rule my land.’

  “‘But I ran away,’ she said.

  “The king smiled gently at her. ‘I forgive you.’

  “Snow said, ‘But I did some things that were wrong while I was away, because I had no food to eat and no place to sleep.’

  “The king laid his hand on her shoulder. ‘If you are sorry for what you did wrong, I will forgive you.’

  “‘I am sorry,’ Snow said.

  “‘Then you are forgiven, my child. Please don’t ever leave me again.’

  “Tears filled Snow’s eyes. ‘I should never have left you,’ she said. ‘If I had stayed, maybe the ice around your heart would have melted sooner. I love you. I will stay.’

  “Snow returned to the palace. She had food to eat. She had pretty clothes to wear. And she was rich for the first time in her life, not because of those things, but because she finally had true love.

  “And Snow and her father lived happily ever after. The end,” I told the children, ending my story as all good stories should end.

  Geraldine’s bottom lip jutted out. “There was no prince or magic in the story.”

  “The good we find in ourselves and share with others is better than magic,” I told her.

  After considering that a moment, she nodded somberly.

  “I’m glad it didn’t have gross kissy stuff.” Gerald gave me an approving nod. “I liked it because it had a happy ending.”

  “Exactly.” I intended to continue spinning happy outcomes in my stories, but in real life, I knew those rarely happened.

  Chapter 5

  * * *

  Bradley

  The ocean was on my right as I arrived at the end of my run. My favorite route hugged the Pacific for twenty-two miles. With ample time, I could follow it all the way to Santa Monica where Rush lived, but that was twelve miles from my place. I hadn’t gone that far today. Only to the pier and the stairs I’d climbed a dozen times to punch up my cardio.

  The soles of my shoes pounding the pavement in tandem to my breathing, I told myself the synchronization was as satisfactory as the perfect melody combined with the right rhyme. It was an inferior substitute, but I stuck with the delusional theme that had begun my morning.

  At my street, I turned and squinted into the sun, eyeing the final five hundred yards up the hill before I stepped on the gas. As I climbed, my thigh muscles burned, and my playlist switched from the high-octane rock of Rush’s first album to the slow, mournful beat of a Coralee Chase number.

  As planned, the music ended just as I reached the top.

  Coralee was a soon-to-be-discovered talent. I had just brokered the deal to sign the talented teen to Zenith Productions. My twenty percent of the million-dollar advance I’d negotiated for her had posted to my bank account this morning.

  Charles Morris had agreed to the amount with hardly any hesitation. He had a trained ear for music and r
ecognized Coralee’s potential as the next big thing. His instinct regarding music was nearly as refined as his top rival’s. In fact, I’d played up Mary Timmons’s interest in Coralee to increase the amount Morris had been willing to advance.

  Exercise endorphins flowed as I stepped on the welcome mat at my door. My lips curved up with satisfaction. With my run complete, I was now officially ready to conquer my day.

  My cell rang again. It had rung several times while I was on my run, but I’d let the previous calls go to voice mail. Stomping my feet on the mat to remove lingering sand, I yanked my earbuds out and answered this one.

  “Bradley Marshall speaking,” I said into my phone.

  “I know who the hell I’m calling.” There was a hint of amusement in Benton Kennedy’s raspy voice. “How’s it hanging? Balls drawn up and cock pointed toward a nice juicy pussy? You sound out of breath. Are you still in bed with your girlfriend, the one with the fuckable tits?”

  “I’ve been out of bed for a while.” I wasn’t going to give him details.

  Ben was one of the best bassists I knew, and I liked him. I could appreciate his cavalier, call-it-like-he-saw-it approach, but he was also an arrogant, entitled son of a bitch who didn’t get that most of us didn’t get to do whatever we wanted and have whatever we wanted handed to us on a silver platter.

  “You caught me finishing up my run. I’m just letting myself back into the house.”

  “She inside?” he asked as I inserted my key. “Bree?”

  I was surprised he even remembered her name. And concerned. “Bree’s at work.”

  “Damn. I hoped I might convince you to—”

  Guessing where this conversation was leading—sex, the usual place for him—I cut him off. “Not sharing my girlfriend with you, Ben.”

  “Why the hell not?” He paused, and in that moment, my stomach began to churn. “You two aren’t exclusive, are you?”

  My frown deepened. “We are.” At least, we were on my end. Had Bree told him something different?

  “Oh, my bad.”