Page 16 of Crimson Desires

Aster looked like she was trying to devour everything with her eyes.

“Oh, my God. This looks amazing. Thank you, Sue.”

Sue patted Aster on the shoulder. She gave me a wink. “Dig in, kids.”

Sue headed back into the kitchen, and Aster picked up her fork. She was tentative at first. She poked at the eggs and hashbrowns gingerly, as if she was afraid that they were a mirage. But hunger must’ve won out against shyness because soon, she was tucking away her food like nobody’s business.

I smirked. There was something undeniably attractive about a woman who could eat.

“God.” Aster all but moaned as she bit into her bagel. I struggled to keep my mind from drifting as Aster continued to make little noises of pleasure. “Okay, I’m officially denouncing every bagel I’ve had up until this one.”

“Told you they were amazing,” I said.

“Admitting that you were right literally hurts me... but, yeah, you were right,” Aster said. She took a sip of orange juice. “Thanks for taking me out to eat, Jack. I guess I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

“No problem,” I said.

Aster glanced down at her phone to check the time. “It’s crazy. If I were back home right now, I’d already be an hour into my shift at the bar.”

“Instead, you’re eating bagels in New York City with a famous rock star.”

Aster made a face. “I’d rather be at work.”

“Ouch.”

“Just being honest.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure, you are. Anyways, what do you do?”

Aster looked at me like I was crazy for asking such a stupid question. “I used to be a waitress.”

I sighed in faux exasperation. “Other than waitressing, I mean.”

Aster turned that question over in her head for a moment. She hummed noncommittally. “I take care of my Dad. Sometimes I watch Netflix or go for a walk. Other than that, not much.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“I used to work like, sixty hours per week. That didn’t exactly leave me a lot of time to have hobbies or interests.”

“Didn’t you ever get a day off?”

“Sure. But usually, I spent those days catching up on chores or sleep.” Aster swallowed a bite of her eggs. She sipped her orange juice. “Look, I know this sounds depressing—but really, I was fine. I liked my life. At least, as much as I could like it. It was hard, but I did what I had to. You know? Well, I guess you wouldn’t know. But still.”

My heart ached for Aster. I couldn’t imagine having to do what she did every week. Being a rock star wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows and screaming fans—but it was a job that I was passionate about.

It was becoming clear to me that Aster’s hard outer shell was less a facet of her personality and more a consequence of her circumstances. She wasn’t mean and callous because she wanted to be that way. She was mean and callous because that’s how she had to be to survive.

More than anything, I wanted to show her that it didn’t have to be that way anymore.

“Aster, what if you had some help?” I asked. “I mean, after all of this. What if-,”

“Jack, no.” Aster’s gaze hardened. “I’m not a charity case. Don’t fucking treat me like one.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were. And I can tell because of that stupid goddamn look on your face. You think I haven’t been pitied before? Fuck you.” There she went, retreating into that shell again. Her shoulders rose up toward her ears. “Thank you for buying me breakfast. I officially accept your apology. And now that we’re even, you don’t owe me anything else. Okay?”

I know I don’t owe you anything. But I still want to help you. Why is that so hard for you to accept?

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