Ashes

Chapter 45

"So tell me about the lip-syncing," Bryce said the next day. The way he sat with his elbows on his desk, his chin resting on his hands and that amused expression on his kisser made Ashanté grind her teeth.

He acts like he's the school dean and I'm just a freshman. Well, fuck you, white boy. You made me drop out of school, so I ain't a freshman no more.

"Why are you yelling at me? Yell at Jim Bob or the Lone Ranger or whoever was responsible for the playback. If it was my responsibility, I'd have made sure the damn music didn't skip."

Bryce laughed, then insisted he wasn't yelling. "I'm not mad. I'm curious. Why in the world would you lip-sync in the first place? The people who buy the tickets have a right to hear the real Ashanté. They love your voice, and they pay a fortune for those tickets."

"Don't you mean the real Ashley? Anyway it wasn't my  idea. Your buddy Spur thought it up."

"But why? I don't understand why he'd think it was necessary."

Ashanté drew back into her chair and clammed up. When several seconds had passed in silence, Bryce rose from his seat and wandered over to the chair next to hers.

"Ash? I like to think we're friends more than colleagues─"

"Colleagues? Don't you mean employer/employee? Since when have we been on equal footing?"

"We're both working for the benefit of Ashley Stetson, to make her a successful singing sensation. You may not see a lot of the work I do, but I'm doing as much as you are to promote her interests. And her interests are your  interests. Someday very soon she's going to be rich and famous, and you're going to reap─"

"But I never wanted that! You  wanted that. I wanted to be a school teacher or something."

"Really? A school teacher?"

Ashanté rubbed her temples. "No, that's what my mom wants. I don't even know what I   want, but everyone's pushing and pulling me. I just want to get out of here. I want to finish out the terms of that stupid contract and then be done with all this. You have no idea how much I hate this job."

Bryce bowed his head a moment, thinking. "Vern tells me you're having trouble with drugs and alcohol."

Ashanté laughed. "Yeah, I'm having trouble with them. I'm having trouble getting enough. I'm not legal to buy liquor yet, so I have to get it through other people. It's troublesome all right. Can I go now?"

Bryce shook his head and returned to his desk. "Ashanté, you've changed. Your personality is totally different than when I first met you. You used to be sweet and shy, and now you're bitter and angry and─"

"That's because of the contract, not because of the pills!"

"Tell me something. Are we still friends? Do you like me enough to do me a favor?"

Oh, fuck. Those puppy dog eyes were too much. Ashanté stared at him a moment, wondering whether to laugh, cry or scream at him. "What favor?"

"We'll take a break from touring since you hate it so much. I want you to go into rehab for thirty days. On an outpatient basis ─ you wouldn't have to stay there. Just talk to a therapist and detox. I've done it myself; it's not too bad. For the next month while you're drying out we'll focus on cutting the next album. It doesn't bother you to work in the studio, does it?"

Ashanté shook her head. "No, I like playing and recording music. Just not in front of an audience. I know the guys, and we have fun. It's not the same as an audience."

"Okay, then that'll work. And it'll get you closer to completing the terms of that contract, eh? So I'll make all the arrangements. I know some of the counselors there, or used to. It's been awhile. Don't worry, it'll be fine. I'll be your detox buddy if you like."

"What's that?"

"It's like when you go on a diet, you do it with a friend so you keep each other motivated. When you feel like drinking or popping pills, we'll get together and talk or go to a movie or something until you don't feel the craving anymore. It's hard to get over stuff like this by yourself. It helps to have someone to talk to, you know?"

Ashanté smirked. "Okay."

"Great. Do you have any pills on you right now?"

Argh.

He put out his hand, so Ashanté stood and reached into her pocket. "That's all I have," she said, handing him the bottle.

"I believe you." He examined the bottle with a frown.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he said, looking up. "Anything."

"It's none of my business, but what were you  addicted to?"

Bryce put the bottle in his desk drawer and locked it. "Heroin and opiates. Trust me, I know how hard it is to quit something."