Page 3 of Don't Hate Me
Me:What does working on it mean? You’re rich. Buy a ticket home.
Ash:It’s not that simple. It’s not like I want to see him.
Me:George misses you. If you can come and you don’t, that’s not fair to him.
Ash:Guilt trips aren’t going to work, and we both know you’re the one who’s going to be angry if I can’t come home.
Me:Not sure what you’re talking about.
Ash:It hurts me, too. Every day here…hurts. But the more he believes I want to come home, the more he resists. Do you have access to a car?
Me:Yes. I just recently bought a used one. Why?
Ash:Hold on.
A number appeared on my phone I’d never seen before.It’s still me.
I frowned.
Me:Why are you texting me from a different phone?
Unknown number:A precaution. Update this as my second contact information for now. I’ll still use the other phone sometimes, but I’ll use this one, too.
I made her Ash2.
Me:Okay. What gives with the cloak-and-dagger stuff? Your father’s an asshole, but it’s not like he can see your texts.
Ash2:He can see data usage. I want that to start dropping. Make him think I’m using the phone less and less.
I shook my head. This was crazy. And part of me wondered if she wasn’t adding to the drama. She said her father had threatened me to get her to go to Switzerland, but was that true? Would Landen really do something like that? I accepted it as fact because Ash wasn’t someone who lied, but this was all starting to sound a little crazy. I’d known Landen since I was twelve years old. I knew him to be a stuck-up prick who didn’t want me messing around with this daughter. Very typical for an uptight prick given my background. Not someone who Ash felt she had to play these kinds of games around.
Unless…
Me:Is there something you’re not telling me about your father?
* * *
Ash
I looked at the text and winced. Did I tell him about the trip my father made here last month? With his client—who I knew wasn’t a client—Evan Sanderson. Much like our interactions before, there was nothing untoward about Evan’s behavior with me. He was charming, polite, courteous. Maybe a little distant.
Arthur said they were here together looking at an investment opportunity in Zurich, and so, of course, they had to stop by and see me. They took me to dinner. Arthur and I made small talk about my progress at school, and Evan listened, albeit distractedly, as he was on his phone the entire time.
After dinner, we were standing outside the restaurant when Arthur went back inside to use the restroom. Evan apologized for his distraction and spoke about considering running for US Senator. The consultants advising him apparently never gave him a break.
The whole thing seemed as weird to me as those dinners at the house. Like there was something Arthur and Even knew, something they maybe thought I should know, but I didn’t.
It felt very ominous.
I considered all the things I hadn’t told Marc about Arthur, and knew I was breaking our no-secrets rule, but these were things he was better off not knowing. I took a hit of my inhaler, and felt my chest ease enough for me to take a full breath.
Me:I think I have to be cautious. I feel like he paid more attention to me than I realized when he was gone all that time I was growing up. Maybe he’s not looking at my data usage, maybe he is. Either way, I feel like I need to be one step ahead of him.
Marc:Ash, tell me you’re not making all of this up as some way to...hold my attention.
Hold his fucking attention?
I closed my eyes and puffed out a breath of frustration. Then I put both phones in my nightstand and didn’t reply. He didn’t understand what was happening. He didn’t know my father had hit me. Had come to visit me with hisclientonly to witness me wheezing my way through dinner. Knowing the cold air was only exacerbating my condition. When I mentioned as much, he stopped any talk of me returning to the States.
