Page 6 of The Ex Factor

Simon gave her a fatherly smile. ‘Relax. I’m sure we can work something out.’

Three

A week later, Ashley was on her couch, contemplating her silly life. The couch was an obscenely expensive, oversized velvet thing that still only took up a fraction of the living room of her Knightsbridge flat—a massive, high-ceilinged space with huge sash windows and a marble fireplace she’d never used. She thought she might be depressed.

But she wasn’t going to say that out loud to anyone. It was laughable to imagine anyone should care.

‘Aw, poor wickle baby made a bit less money on her silly songs than last time. Boo fucking hoo. Some people have real problems,’ said her critical inner monologue. It sounded suspiciously like her father.

Her phone rang. Hallie. She was a backup dancer for Rocket Monkey, whom Ashley had met when she opened for them in the old days. They’d stayed friends—more due to Hallie’s efforts than Ashley’s. Ashley tended to let friendships die.

Ashley let it ring off. And immediately, it started again.

‘Someone better be dead, ringing me like this,’ Ashley answered.

‘Yeah, my dog,’ Hallie said.

‘Oh, God! Sorry.’

‘I don’t have a dog,’ Hallie said.

‘You sod!’

‘You know I don’t have a dog.’

‘I thought I’d forgotten you had one because I’m too self-involved,’ Ashley said with total honesty.

There was a tut. ‘You’re too trusting, if anything.’

‘Why are you cold calling me?’ Ashley asked.

‘I tried texting. I wasn’t getting any joy. You forced me to go old-school.’

‘Sorry,’ Ashley said sincerely. ‘I just needed a bit of time to myself before the tour.’

‘To wallow?’

‘Yep. That.’

‘I saw Reva, by the way,’ Hallie said.

‘What?’

‘Yup. She’s in rehab. Seeing one of my friends.’

‘I’m so glad it all worked out for her,’ Ashley breathed. ‘Did she mention anything about publicly retracting the lies that ruined my career?’

‘No. So anyway, there’s a party tonight.’

‘If it’s a dancer party, I’m not coming.’

‘What’s wrong with dancer parties?’

‘They always turn into dance-offs, Hal. I nearly lost an eye to a pirouette last time.’

‘It’s not a dancer party, I promise.’

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