Page 135 of The Influencer

“I don’t want to give him any reason not to love me back.” I don’t know where the words came from since this is the first time the thought has fully articulated itself in my head, but once they’re out, I understand, finally, what I’m afraid of. That if Asher knows I’m having sex with other people, he won’t want me anymore. It’s a risk I’m not sure I can take.

“So you’d give up your OnlyFans? Or what? Change it to self-love or you and him maybe?”

I shake my head. “I’d rather ghost the fans completely than make them have to watch me get ruined by Asher once a week. I’d lose all my sponsors, I swear.”

“Oh, my sweet little himbo. You’re in quite the pickle.”

I roll my eyes. “Thanks for the diagnosis. How much do I owe you?”

They laugh and shake their head. “Look, you want my advice?”

“I think so,” I say warily.

“Do your job. It’s like you said, in November we’ll be on the road, and that’s months away still. If he freaks, he freaks, and at least you’ll know he’s a hypocrite. But if he’s supportive?—”

“Then I’ll know I’m about to leave the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Aven sighs in sympathy. “It’s not like we’re going to Japan, hun.”

“I know.”

“Work is work. Your relationship is what you make it. But I’d suggest telling him how you feel about all of it and going from there. He might surprise you, he might not. You won’t know unless you try.”

“Thanks, Ave. I needed to hear that.”

The engagement party is at a restaurant downtown where Gideon, Vince, and Asher have rented out the entire space. I’m Asher’s date for the very first time, and I’m as excited about it as I am nauseated.

Gideon tolerates me on a good day. On a bad day, he treats me like a clown or a court jester or something. Granted, my party persona is a little “dumb blond” and “let’s all get fucked up,” so he has no reason not to take as many digs at me as possible, but I don’t like the idea of Asher viewing me through Gideon’s lens. Or Jax’s for that matter, because they both think I’m kind of a joke. Or at least that’s how it feels, and I’m sensitive to rejection of any and all kinds, but especially when it comes to my intelligence. My lack of an education is one of the things I’m most embarrassed about.

But if I can’t find a decent thing to wear to this party, I may be laughed out of it anyway.

I’ve changed outfits six times before Asher finally darkens the doorway of my closet, leaning against the doorframe while I wrestle off my blue, pleather cigarette pants.

“What was wrong with those?” he asks.

“They’re hot, and they look cheap,” I say, eyes fixed on my pants rack.

“Are you like this before every party? Because normally you get dressed pretty quick.”

“Normally, my original plan works, but that wasn’t the case tonight. I was going to wear my pink suit, but there’s a grease stain on one of the lapels. I must’ve forgotten to take it to the dry cleaners.”

I glance over at him, and my knees get soft in the middle. He’s dressed in a nice suit of his own in charcoal gray with a black button-down, open-collared shirt beneath. No tie. He’s added a triple wallet chain and his motorcycle boots, polished to a dull shine. Fucking immaculate. What the hell do I have that goes with that?

“Is it that important that I come?” I ask.

He gives me a dark warning look. “Jade…”

“I’m gonna embarrass you.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because I’ll look ridiculous, or I’ll say something ridiculous, and everyone will laugh at me, and they’ll look at you and be like—” I gesture to an imaginary person at my side— “This? This is the best he thinks he can do?”

“You don’t have to get all dressed up, you know?”

“With you and everyone else looking like that?” I ask him and scoff. “Of course I do.”

“Well, what would you wear if you weren’t going with me?”

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