And that’s how it went for awhile. I developed and suppressed new feelings for Ashley everyday. I simply stored them and waited for an opportunity. Not that I truly believed it would ever come. She was wrapped so tight in defense mechanisms, it was almost impossible to imagine a time when she had trusted anyone else but herself. Yet for whatever reason, I saw it happening. I saw us happening. It just made too much cinematic sense, and I always was a believer in the Hollywood fairytale. So far I had only slept with directors and producers. But we all start somewhere I guess.

I talked to Madison sometimes. We would convene in the kitchen after a long day and decompress. This was a big step for me because I rarely discussed work with other people—especially in a circumstance such as the one she and I found ourselves in these days. It was a sisterhood of a strange sort. Sisterhood of the Traveling Whores. But I embraced it more and more as my time in the house went on. I had never had a sister of my own.

Ashley would come up to my room sometimes, sit on my bed, and listen to me talk. I imagine her definition of friendship is found in one-sided conversations and lots of uncomfortable staring. She seemed to enjoy our time together though. She seemed to enjoy the test she was convincing herself was subtle. She was working her way up to trusting me, and I was working up the nerve to handle what that trust required.

One thing I was still uneasy about was her relationship with Aiden. I’ve always been a terrible insomniac. Lately I spent my nights drinking red wine and staring outside one of my massive bay windows. Aiden’s car would be parked outside and wouldn’t leave until three or four in the morning. I knew he was with Ashley. Beyond that I knew he was sleeping with Ashley, but it didn’t seem to fit her M.O. to develop a relationship with him. I wasn’t exactly certain how she was benefiting.

It had been a long weekend, and I gave myself the next couple of days off as a reward for not telling off a fifty-five year-old douchebag attorney who had decided he needed my services for both Saturday and Sunday and insisted he could only get off by receiving blowjobs.

Oh, I’m sure.

“Taking a holiday?” Ashley joked as we sat on my bed late on Sunday.

“I need it. Trust me.”

“Because of Stan?”

“That man is an asshole.”

“I told you. Anyway, the lawyers are always the worst.”

“Of course. But this guy is unusually bad, Ashley.”

“I totally agree.”

She had been more talkative this evening. That usually meant she was preparing herself to say something important or she had gone out for drinks with Kyla. Alcohol was the only sisterly bond they had.

“Either way, I’m not going to do anything for the next two days. I’m going to lounge around the house and order Chinese food and finally watch the movies I got from Netflix last week.”

“Sounds perfect.”