Part 7: In which we get to know our heroine a bit more....
Ashten's POV
"Ok, so where were we?" I was in the middle of quizzing Gunner for the English midterm he was having in a few days. He and Storm were hanging at my place while Nikki was in the studio with the rest of the band. The three of us camped out in my kitchen while I painted Storm's nails, made dinner, and went over study questions with Gunner.
I have to admit, things got a lot better after the night Nikki drove me home from the bar. I guess they got better, considering I hardly ever really saw him for the first month he moved into Tommy's house. Between my schedule with Tommy, Nikki's book signings, and other projects, our paths never really crossed much. But when we did come in contact things were a lot less tense and actually cordial. At least it got to the point where he would stop looking at me like he wanted me to drop dead. So, I took that as a good sign.
Anyway, with Nikki staying at the house, I got the opportunity to spend a lot of time with Gunner and Storm. I didn't really know all of the details but I was under the assumption that the younger kids were primarily staying with their respective mothers, and the two older ones were splitting their time between whichever parent they wanted. They seemed to stick with Nikki more than their mom. So, whenever they were around Tommy's place and we had some downtime we would hang out. I liked them a lot.
"Crusoe." Gunner replied.
"Right. So, what is his greatest fear?"
"Isolation," Gunner replied, "Even with his injuries, the physical pain doesn't even compare to the loneliness he is feeling."
"Excellent. Remember that. I'd bet my next pay check that will be an essay question" I replied, finishing Storm's left pinkie. "Hold that thought. I need to stir the pasta."
"You really don't have to cook for us, Ashten," Storm said, blowing her nails.
"Oh, I know that," I shrugged and smiled. "I just like to cook and it's no fun cooking for one person."
"True," she nodded, "what are you making, anyway?"
"Chicken Fettuccine Alfredo."
"Yum," Storm replied.
"You can make that?" came a male voice from behind me. We all turned around to see Nikki leaning in the kitchen doorway. I felt my shoulders tense up a little bit. Not from fear of an altercation, but because I was very aware of the tight black t-shirt he was wearing.
I turned back to the stove and nodded. "Yeah, nothing to it. Just cream, butter, and cheese."
"Thought you were in the studio tonight," Gunner turned the page in his notebook.
"I was," Nikki replied. "We wrapped up a little early and I thought I'd take you two out for dinner and a movie but looks like you already have plans."
"Yeah, Ashten is making an Italian feast," Storm replied. She presented her nails to Nikki and looked up at him, batting her eyes. "She also did my make-up. Am I beautiful?"
Nikki sighed and kind of grunted. He placed his hand on Storm's chin, tilting her head up towards him. "You are so beautiful that you don't need make-up. Why don't we go ahead and swear off this whole make-up thing until you are, I don't know, forty?"
"Whatever, Dad," Storm replied, rolling her eyes.
"We were just fooling around with some different colors," I spoke up. "I told her that it wasn't appropriate to wear heavy eye make-up like that to school."
"Or ever, as far as I'm concerned," he grumbled.
"Really, Dad? I've seen YOU wear more eye liner than that," Gunner spoke up with a shitty grin.
"Yeah," I replied, smirking slightly while I added garlic to the simmering sauce, "but with your complexion you should probably stay away from those peach and pink shades that Storm is wearing and go for deeper reds and purples."
This was met with a round of giggles and snickers from the kids and me. Nikki actually cracked a smile when he realized he had nothing to say in his defense. "You all suck," he replied.
"Ya gonna stay and eat with us?" Storm inquired.
Nikki looked at me. "Ok with you?"
"Sure."
"Cool. Where's your bathroom?"
"Down the hall, first door on the left," I motioned.
NIKKI'S POV
She turned her back towards me to start grating a block of Parmesan cheese and I couldn't take my eyes off her. As much as I had to piss, I could not physically make myself turn around and leave the room. I just stood there and stared like a fucking deer caught in the headlights. She had this killer black tank top on, that hugged her in every awesome way possible, and jeans. God could this girl do dangerous things to jeans. I don't know how long I stood there. Seconds? Minutes? Hours?
"Dad. What are you staring at?" Gunner looked up from his books.
Fuck! Busted. Luckily, as Ashten turned around to get a strainer for the pasta, I noticed an "R" and a "U" stitched on the side of her jeans. RU. Royal Underground! My pants! She was wearing my pants! I wasn't a creepy, weird, pervert! I was looking at my pants! I was saved!
"My pants!" I looked at Gunner, pointing at Ashten as if I were pointing at a boat from a mile away. "She's wearing my pants!"
With a pot of hot pasta in one hand and a strainer in the other hand, Ashten froze in mid stride. She looked at me like I had just told her I found Bigfoot. "What?"
"My pants! Those are my pants!" I couldn't believe I was standing in the kitchen yelling about my pants. Keep in mind I was still pointing at her. What a fucking idiot!
"No," Asthen spoke to me as if she were trying to talk some lunatic off a ledge, "I got these while I was working for Claudia. Kelly Gray sent over some samples from her Royal Underground line."
"My Royal Underground line. Well, mine and Kelly's. We're partners."
Ashten's eyebrows shot to the ceiling. "For real?! You're Royal Underground? I love your pants!"
Storm, who had become an expert on the contents of Ashten's closet, confirmed this. "It's true, Dad. She has a ton of your stuff."
"Yeah. By the way, when are you gonna launch the lingerie line? I've been waiting for that for a year."
Now why the fuck did she have to go there? Not only was I really enjoying watching her walk around in my jeans, but now I had great mental image of her prancing around in my panties. Well, not MY panties. You know what the fuck I mean.
I cleared my throat and shook my head, trying to bring myself back into reality. "Uh, soon, I think." I took this moment to finally get the hell out of the room and excused myself to get to the bathroom.
As I washed my hands, Ashten announced dinner wouldn't be ready for another ten minutes, so my kids decided they really wanted me to have the grand tour of Ashten's house. I have to admit, Tommy's guest house was enormous and the two of them did a real primo job decorating.
We started with the living room, which was done all in black and white. I won't bore you with the details since Ashten already told you all about it earlier. What I was most impressed with was her music collection. There had to be thousands of CDs tucked into the built-in shelves and talk about an eclectic mix. She had everything from The Beatles to KISS, Van Morrison, Van Halen, Alice in Chains, all kinds of old R&B,and of course, the entire Motley Crue catalogue. The best part was she had a bunch of old vinyl, too. The girl was down with some good stuff.
Gunner and Storm then took me down the hall to her office where I was, again, taken aback when I discovered she also had a massive book collection. Once again, there were all types of different styles of writing ranging from classics to Shakespeare, historical fiction, mysteries, and a bunch of rock biographies. I mean, A LOT of rock biographies, including THE DIRT and The Heroin Diaries. In my mind, I was jumping back to my original conclusion that she was nothing but a glorified groupie, until I noticed some large picture frames sitting in the corner. I looked a little closer and saw the first frame held a Master's degree from Notre Dame. Notre Dame?! Jesus. Smart fucking girl.
"Food's ready!" I heard Ashten call and I made my way back to the kitchen, my stomach growling when the scent of the food hit my nose. The kitchen island contained four plates, a pan of Chicken Alfredo, a tossed salad, and garlic bread. The kids sat themselves in front of the TV after we agreed on a movie to see later. I asked Ashten if she would prefer they sat at the table and she said to leave them be. We piled food on our plates and camped out at her kitchen table, which was cool in itself. It was one of those tall, round, glass bar top tables with these really sweet red velvet chairs.
Before she sat down, Ashten opened her top cabinet and looked at me. "Wine?" She offered, a very slight southern drawl coming out in her voice. Had I never noticed that?
"Sure."
"Are you sure?" She looked skeptical.
I smiled and gave a nod. "I understand the concern but that is actually something I am able to control. I can have a drink or two without having to run for the needles.
Ashten smiled back. God, I love dimples. "Right," she replied, that southern drawl coming out again as she popped open a bottle of Pinot Gris and poured a glass for each of us.
ASHTEN'S POV
"That accent," he sat down at the table. "Where is it from?"
"Mmm," I took a bite of garlic bread and chewed, covering my mouth with my hand. "Kentucky originally. I was born there."
"Raised there, too?" He took a bite of the alfredo and closed his eyes in ecstasy "This is fucking amazing, by the way."
I took a sip of wine and nodded. "Thanks," I swirled some pasta on my fork. "No, not completely. I was born in Kentucky. We stayed there until I was about ten and then we moved to South Carolina. Charleston, to be exact."
"Southern girl, huh? Not surprised."
"Why is that?"
"The south is known for its beautiful women." He shrugged, picked up his wine and gave me a small smile. "Although, I thought maybe you were from Indiana."
"Why is that?" I asked, blushing a little at what may have been a compliment.
"Notre Dame."
"Ah. You saw my diploma."
"Yep."
I shook my head as I chewed a mouth full of pasta. "Nope. Just went to school there."
"What brought you out to California?"
"Residency."
"State residency?"
"No. Medical residency."
Nikki stopped chewing and kind of flinched. "You went to medical school?"
"Yep," I nodded. "I did undergrad and med school at Notre Dame and then got accepted into the medical residency program here at Cedars."
"Really?" Nikki contemplated what I said. "So you are a doctor?"
"Technically, yes."
"What field?
"Psychiatry."
If he was shocked, he was doing a good job of hiding it. He continued to look at me and I saw about a hundred questions swimming around in his head. He raised his eyebrows and went back to his food. "So?"
"So, what?" I replied, looking back up at him. I love green eyes and his were spectacular.
"So tell me your story."
I shrugged. "Not much to tell really."
He wasn't buying it for a second. "Come on. You dropped a shit ton of money on your education and you are working for Tommy instead of practicing. Why?"
"I didn't really practice, so to speak." I gave him the short and sweet version of it all. "I finished med school and did a couple years of residency then decided to take a job teaching psych and being a guidance counselor at a private school.
"Wait a minute," he held up his hand to his mouth while chewing. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine in a couple of months."
"Aren't you a little young to have done all of this already?"
"Weren't you a little young to have done everything you had already done by the time you were my age?"
"Touché," he nodded. "Go on."
I smiled. "I also graduated high school when I was sixteen. I skipped two grades."
"Shit," he shook his head. "Are you a genius or something?"
"No, not to my knowledge. Just advanced, I guess. Anyway, that's pretty much the whole story."
"No it's not," Nikki argued. "You didn't say why you gave up teaching."
I put my fork down and nodded, trying to think of the best way to answer without lying to him. I just shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I just wanted to do something with less responsibility."
I focused on the wall behind him, secretly wishing this subject had never come up. It was something I was trying very hard to forget, and this conversation with Nikki was drudging up a lot of old memories.
NIKKI'S POV
I watched her eyes glaze over a little bit after I asked her why she stopped teaching. Whatever it was, it was obviously something very painful. I could tell she was trying not to let me see it, but it was to no avail. She has the kind of eyes that mask nothing.
She shook her head as if to lift herself out of the fog.
"What happened, Ashten?" I knew this was none of my business but for some reason I was intrigued.
She bit her lower lip, which I found out later, was a habit she had when she was nervous. She focused on the wall behind me for a second, almost as if to maintain her composure. She looked like she was battling with the idea of trusting me. For some reason, I really wanted her to trust me. I wanted her to tell me everything.
After a few seconds of silence, she rubbed her lips together, showing off the dimples again. She looked back at me. "You are awfully inquisitive tonight."
"Do you mind?"
"Not at all. My life's like an open book," She smiled slightly and cocked her eyebrow when she realized what she was saying. "For the whole world to read." She looked up at me with a cute grin.
"Nice," I smiled back getting the hint that she was obviously going to ignore my question. I loaded some pasta on my fork. "So. what was your specialty?"
"In psych? Mostly forensics. By the way, I read your book." She finished her wine and took her last bite of food.
"Yeah? Whatdya think?"
"Professional opinion? You were bat shit crazy." She chuckled, leaning back in her chair.
"I might still be, ya know." I smiled back at her.
"Crazy? No. Textbook narcissist and control freak? Definitely."
My eyebrows went up. "Good read," I admitted, finishing my last bit of food. "So, if I need a shrink, I can come to you, right?"
Her eyes widened and she shook her head as she stood up, collecting our plates. "Ohhh NO! No way."
I laughed a little, picked up the wine glasses and silverware and followed her to the sink. "Come on, it could be fun."
"I'm sure," she confirmed, loading the dishwasher. "But, I think the less I know about the inner workings of your mind, the better off I am."
"Ouch," I feigned offense.
I helped her finish cleaning the kitchen and then, as promised, I took the kids to a movie. I left her place that night not really knowing what to think. I still wanted to know why a well-educated woman would want to give it all up just to be someone's assistant. The only thing I knew for sure was that I liked her. A lot. There were only two problems. One, she was way out of my league. Two, she was off limits to any band member because of Tommy's "no fucking the help" clause. There was no way Tommy would make an exception for me.