Chasin' Eight (Rough Riders #11)(9)

Silence.
Ava blurted, “Please? The paparazzi are everywhere. They don’t have access to the private air strip so I truly can just disappear.”

Puff, puff. “How soon would you need to leave?”

“First thing tomorrow. That’d give me time to figure out a way to slip the tabloid guys who are determined to be the first to report my suicide.”

Her father chuckled. “People are idiots if they believe you’re still despondent over that cocksucker Jake.”

“I’m hoping out of sight, out of mind will cure lingering curiosity.”

“You really doing okay, Ava Rose?” he asked gruffly. “You’ve been awful damn scarce since this whole thing went down.”

Switching her phone to her other ear, Ava rested her elbows on the railing. “The last thing I wanted was you guys getting swamped by my shit storm.”

“Well, honey girl, that’s what family does—sticks together and flips the world the bird. I’ll remind you that your mother and I’ve been through a shit storm or two in the thirty years we’ve been married. We’re tougher than you give us credit.” Puff, puff. “Far as I know, your mom doesn’t need the plane tomorrow. So I’ll call and arrange it.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Keep in contact. You’re a big girl and all that, but we worry, okay?”

Guilt swamped her. Her justification for shutting her family out was only partially true. They’d never understood her pursuit of a show business career, and when she failed so publicly in that career and her personal life, she felt like an embarrassment and a disappointment. “Okay. Love you.”

“Love you too. Be safe, be well and—”

“Give ’em hell,” she finished and hung up.
“I love the Dumond family motto,” a dry, female voice intoned behind her.
Ava turned toward Hannah, her friend/personal assistant/gal Friday. “Hey, Han. I didn’t know you were here.”

“I gathered that. Now what’s this bullshit plan about you hiding out in some godforsaken Western state?”

“Not like it’ll be permanent. Just seeing the sights.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who are you going with?”

“No one. Just me.”

Hannah lifted one eyebrow in her usual imperious manner. “Oh really? That’s surprising.”

“Why?”

“Because you never go anywhere by yourself, Ava. Never.”

Ava bristled. “I do too go places by myself. I went to lunch by myself today.”

“No, you met your agent for lunch.” She raised her hand, stopping Ava’s protest. “And please don’t think that driving four miles to lunch in your car counts as by yourself.”

Shoot. Hannah knew her too well. “I went to Madrid by myself last year.”

“You flew to Madrid by yourself last year, in your parents’ plane. As soon as your Manalos hit Spanish soil you had a translator, a stylist and a driver.” Hannah cocked her head. “Come to think of it, that is a small entourage for you.”

“Fuck off,” Ava said crossly.
Hannah laughed. “I make your schedule, so I know where you’ve been and where you’re going better than you do.”

Maybe that was another part of the problem. Her decisions were all laid out for her. She hadn’t done things for herself…well, ever. In addition to Hannah, she employed a housekeeper, a groundskeeper, a personal trainer, a stylist, a publicist, a part-time chef, a financial planner, an agent…and the list went on. Made her head spin. She curled her hands into fists by her sides and said, “Stop.”