Strike a Pose (Blame It on Fame #1)

34. Willow

Chapter 34

Willow

A t precisely 7 p.m. the next day, I hug Aspen tighter than a drowning man clinging to a life preserver, and I don’t let go. She grips me back just as desperately, and a muffled sob escapes my lips.

“I thought you were doing better,” I choke out.

She sighs, still clinging to me. “I was.”

“What happened? Why didn’t you call me? I would have dropped everything and come back the second you even hinted that you were feeling overwhelmed, Aspen, I swear it. I only left because Mom insisted, and I thought I’d disappoint her if I didn’t go, and I wasn't thinking enough about you or Maple or what you’d?—”

“Willow,” Aspen says, gently prying herself free from my grasp. “This isn’t your fault.”

“If I wouldn’t have left, you wouldn’t have been under so much pressure.”

“Nothing you could have done would have made a difference. Really, Willow, please believe that,” she reassures me earnestly, her blue eyes searching mine .

“You’re actually feeling better?” I ask, looking her up and down as if her injuries were physical.

She’s wearing flimsy blue scrubs and grippy socks, hair loose down her back. I can’t tell if she looks especially thin or if my eyes are just playing tricks on me.

“I am.” She gives me a small smile. “Stop worrying, Willow, it’ll give you wrinkles.”

“I’ll gladly be wrinkled for you.”

Aspen good-naturedly rolls her eyes before moving to hug Heena, who was respectfully standing back to give us a moment together. My parents were able to talk to Aspen on the phone earlier this afternoon, and despite their protests, she insisted that they stay home tonight and not come to see her since Mom still isn’t feeling very well. Maple wanted to come but had tutoring scheduled for tonight, so she’ll just come with us when we visit again tomorrow.

Maple hasn’t been back to school in person in New York since Mom got sick, and even though her school has been accommodating these past few weeks, there’s only so much that they can do from afar to help her keep up—so her tutoring sessions are pretty imperative. So, it’s just Heena and me tonight.

“I’m so glad to hear that you’re feeling better.” Heena breathes a sigh of relief into Aspen’s shoulder. “We were so worried.”

“I promise, I’m feeling a lot better. In a weird way, it helps to finally have a game plan for how to deal with this. For the longest time, I just tried to shove my feelings down and pretend they weren’t there. I guess if this is what it took for me to finally seek serious help, then it was a good thing in the long run.”

“What is the plan?” I ask. “For when you come home?”

“Well, I was officially diagnosed with generalized anxiety and panic disorder . But the doctors told me both are definitely manageable with medication and therapy. Today, I started on a medication that should help, but it won’t start working for a few weeks because it needs to build up in my system. Until it’s fully effective, they’re going to have me do daily therapy, then cut back as they see fit once the medicine helps take a little of the weight off. And I think being here for a week will help me too. I like the group therapy sessions. It’s nice to see other people struggling too—as fucked up as that sounds.”

“I don’t think that’s fucked up at all,” Heena says. “And I know it probably doesn’t mean much, but I really admire that you sought help, Aspen. It’s a hard thing to do.”

“Coming from the bravest person I know, it means a lot, Heena.” Aspen reaches for Heena’s hand. “Thank you, truly. But enough about me and this stuffy place, I want to hear about the Sports Illustrated shoot.”

And so we catch up, the hour flying by in what seems like minutes. Eventually, a nurse comes out and informs us that visiting hours are over. But then we all flash our trademark “we’re famous and pretty, please do us a favor” smiles, and she grants us an extra ten minutes.

Six days later, Aspen is home, and Mom is feeling a lot better. So, obviously, a girls' day is in order, beginning with mani-pedis. Normally we call someone to the house for in-home services. But today, both Mom and Aspen are anxious to get out. So instead, we rent out a nearby salon for the morning—it would be a security nightmare if the five of us just walked in somewhere open to the public.

“I’m torn between white and this bright blue color,” I say, holding two shades up to Maple .

“White,” she answers definitively.

“Mmm, I think I want the blue,” I say. “But thanks for helping me realize that.”

“Why did you even ask if you’re just going to make the decision yourself?” she huffs.

“Because I needed you to say something so that I could see what my reaction was. And my reaction was ‘No, I want blue.’”

“Well, which of these should I get?” she asks, holding up two identical shades of black.

“The one on the left.”

“Too bad, I’m doing the one on the right.” She smirks, putting the left back. But then she hesitates to let it go.

“You liar, you want the left.”

Maple narrows her eyes at me and slyly switches the shades so that the left one is now in her right hand. “Nope, I’m going with the right one.”

“Maple, I saw you switch those.”

“Whatever.” She grins. “You get the point. It’s annoying.”

“I don’t think I got the point at all, seeing as you chose the one I picked.”

Maple just rolls her eyes and walks away, plopping down in the chair next to Mom.

“Teenagers,” Aspen snarks, sidling up next to me. “I like the blue. That’ll be pretty.”

“Thanks. What are you doing?”

“I think I’m going with ‘Ballet Slipper.’ Classy, you know?”

“Ugh.” Heena gags. “I’ve walked a hundred too many runways where they have my nails painted and repainted in various shades of light pink. Maple’s got the right idea. I’m doing black.”

We take our seats, and the staff begins to work on our nails .

“So, you guys will never guess what happened to me last week in New York,” Heena says to all of us.

“What happened?”

“I was having dinner with some guy from the Jets?—”

“Where?” my mom asks. She knows that Heena only goes out to the nicest places with the most desired men.

Heena’s approach to dating is pretty much the exact opposite of mine. While I tend to keep a low profile, keeping my dates few, far between, and private, Heena doesn’t mind her love life being in the public eye. But it actually works in her favor because since she goes on so many dates with so many men, the press doesn’t even bother keeping up with her anymore. Meanwhile, the second I’m spotted in the mere vicinity of a man, the press is on me like flies on honey.

“We were at Zero Bond.” Heena shrugs as though that isn’t one of the most exclusive spots in the city. “But guess what he told me.”

“What?” my mom asks, perched on the edge of her seat. She lives for Heena’s dating drama since the rest of us don’t have much to offer.

“He asked me what I gave up for Lent, and I told him that I wasn’t religious, so I didn’t give up anything. And then he kept harping on the issue, practically begging me to ask him what he gave up. So finally, I bite, and ask what he gave up. And he says he gave up masturbation .”

We all burst out laughing. Even our nail ladies pause their filing for a split second to giggle. One of the qualities I admire the most about Heena is that she’s so authentically herself. Because when Heena says something, she means it. She doesn’t care who knows. She doesn’t wait to say things in private. She’ll unabashedly say them in public. And although we ensured that no other customers would be here, we’re still very much in public, as the salon is buzzing with nail technicians .

“And that’s not even the best part,” Heena continues. “He then proceeded to tell me, in the middle of the very crowded restaurant, that it doesn’t count if someone does it for him .”

“Was he gunning for an under-the-table handy?” Maple asks, eyes wide.

“Maple!” my mom scolds halfheartedly.

Heena laughs. "He totally was.”

“What did you say?” I ask, knowing damn well Heena would never do that.

“I suggested that maybe one of his teammates could help him out,” she responds with a smirk. “And then I ordered another drink and three desserts only to take a single bite of each. It’s the penance God would have wanted for him.”

“You didn’t go home with him afterward, did you?” Aspen asks.

“No way. He didn’t get so much as a kiss on the cheek.” Heena laughs. “He didn’t deserve anything. So, instead, I called up a guy I know on the Giants and went over to his place.”

Aspen’s jaw goes slack.

“What! A girl has needs. And I was already all dolled up and prepared for a fun night. And going for a Giants player after denying a Jets player was just too funny an idea to pass up. And, by the way, the Giants player thought the whole ‘giving up masturbation for Lent’ story was hilarious .”

“You told him?” Maple asks.

“Oh, of course. Come on, that guy forfeited his right to privacy when he told me something so heinous.”

Maple raises her eyebrows appreciatively. “I like your style, Heena.”

“Thank you.”

“Heena, you need to help me set up Willow. She never dates,” my mom says, grabbing a tabloid off a side table and flipping through it .

“I don’t think so,” I interject.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t like public dates. Everyone stares, and it makes my skin crawl.”

“Then you could go on a private date. What about this guy? He’s very handsome.” She points to a photo of Grey Aldridge on the set of James Bond.

I roll my eyes. “I like that you set your sights so high.”

“Oh, come on, Willow. You’re the most famous model in the world. You could bag anyone, including him.”

“I could bag ? Mom, who taught you that?”

“That was me,” Maple answers sheepishly. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together, okay? Mom made me teach her Gen Z slang one night.”

As Mom laughs in her chair, Heena slyly points to her phone. I check mine.

Heena: Do you not want to go out with anyone because of Riley?

I told her all about our weekend together while in Turks and Caicos, including our kiss and my maybe-feelings.

Me: …maybe

“Isabelle, I don’t think Grey is her type. I could set her up myself in New York if you want.”

“If he’s not her type, then I’m disappointed by her taste.” Mom raises her eyebrows. “But, Heena, that would be incredible. When are you girls going back?”

“I need to be back in a week and a half for a Vanity Fair panel I’m going to be on.” Heena answers. “I could set her up, then. I know you have to be in New York to shoot that perfume ad anyway, Will. ”

“I don’t think so.” I shake my head. “I was going to cancel that shoot. The last time I agreed to leave, I was called back because you had another emergency. I’m not going to leave you guys again when you need me.”

“Just a couple of days,” Heena urges, pleading with me through her eyes. Trust me , her look says.

“Willow, I think you should go,” Mom says. “You’ll have the entire week to be cooped up in LA with us. And as much as we love having you here, I promise we’ll manage just fine without you. In fact, I have a live-in nurse starting tomorrow to help take some of the load off of everyone.”

“Seriously, Willy, a couple of days is nothing. You should go. I’ll be fine too,” Aspen agrees. “I’m going back to set next week anyway. My doctors said I should resume the normal pace of life. You should, too.”

“We’ll be fine,” Maple adds on.

“Please go,” Mom insists. “Really, it would only make me feel worse if you put your life on hold for me, Willow. I know I keep saying it and that you probably don’t believe me, but it’s true . And you can always come back and visit as often as you want.”

“Fine,” I reluctantly agree. “But I’m only leaving for a couple of days at a time. At least for now. And the second there’s any trouble at home, I want you to send the plane and call me immediately,” I warn, narrowing my eyes. “You promise?”

Mom nods. “I promise.”

“Me too,” Aspen agrees.

My gaze shifts to Maple. “I promise, too,” she concurs.

“Yay! One hot date for Willow, coming right up.” Heena grins deviously.