Phoenix Reborn (Woodland Creek)(15)

“Hawke is funding this project,” said Wayne, noting Ashling’s confusion. “I’ll bet he’s been too modest to tell you that it’s his baby from start to finish, which is why we’re speaking to him about all the finer details before proceeding.”

“I wanted to do a story of a boy who grows up in a small town and moves away, only to come back home again,” he said. “Not the most exciting pitch, I know. But they’re letting me have my way, so I thought I’d take advantage. To be honest, though, I knew that the only way that they’d let me come film in Woodland Creek is if I paid for everything.”

“Why did you want to come to Woodland Creek?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Hawke winked at her, sending a rush of blood to places that Ashling had rarely thought of in recent months.

“I — I’m not sure. But it all sounds good,” she replied, blushing as her eyes turned towards the table top in front of her. “Is it an autobiography, then?”

“Sort of — though I’d say it doesn’t cover some of the more — interesting — aspects of my life.”

Ashling closed her mouth rather than speak again, assuming that he was talking about the women in his past, or any number of other things that she’d prefer not to hear about.

The next hour or so involved her sitting, quietly observing while the men spoke in animated tones. This was more her doing than theirs; she enjoyed quiet, just as she enjoyed watching others. She was an expert at silence. She’d spent her life studying others from a distance. And now, in the bar, she watched young women text one another as more and more entered, all gathering around the room’s perimeter to watch the famous Hawke Turner behave like a normal human being. This was the only thing that rendered Ashling uncomfortable.

At one point when the producers had gone to the bartender to order more drinks, Hawke looked at her and, laying a hand across hers, said, “You okay? I’m sorry this is taking so long.”

“Fine,” she said. “Just…is this what happens to you on a regular basis? Herds of women flocking to watch you?”

“Not everywhere,” he laughed. “This is a small town, remember. People here haven’t figured out that celebrities don’t like being stalked. Besides which, I think they’re really watching you.”

Ashling turned to observe and realized that he was right; somehow she’d missed it. The women in the room were either trying to find out who she was or why the hell Hawke was with her, knowing full well that she was that girl; the freak who’d burned their high school friend.

“They’re jealous,” she thought. For the first time ever, she’d rendered people jealous.

“They wonder why I’m drawn to you. I mean, aside from the obvious fact that you’re gorgeous,” said Hawke frankly. “Because they don’t know what I know.”

“What do you know?” she asked, her cheeks reddening at his compliment.

“I know what you are, inside,” he said. “I know how special you are.”

Wayne and the others returned at that moment, laying their pint glasses on the table.

“So, we all set?” Wayne said.

“I think so,” said Hawke, turning to Ashling. “We all set?” he grinned.

“Yes.” She smiled back at him, wondering if the night was ending or beginning.

The location scout turned to Ashling. “Listen, Hawke mentioned that you know the wooded areas around here well. I was wondering if I could pick your brain for an upcoming scene, while Hawke is off working tomorrow.”

“Um, sure,” said Ashling. “What did you have in mind?”

“I need somewhere with a creek. Something idyllic. Anything like that around here?”

“I know just the place,” she said, smiling. “I can show you, if you’d like.”

“That would be amazing. Can I take your number?” He looked at Hawke, as though seeking permission.

“It’s 555-8627,” she replied. “You can text me a time and I’ll tell you where to meet me. Or if you’re like Hawke and use phones in the old-fashioned way, you can always call.”

“Great, I will. Okay, you two — get out of here. We’ve kept you long enough. Have a good evening while the guys and I have a few more beers. We’re not the ones who have to look pretty tomorrow morning.”

“True, you spoiled jackasses,” said Hawke, standing. He extended a hand, offering it to Ashling. “My lady, come with me. Let’s go for a walk.”

As they made their way towards the exit, Ashling noticed that more young women had gathered, their eyes locked on the two people leaving the bar together.

Perhaps it was because of that, or because of Hawke’s attentive nature, that they failed to see the man who was tucked away behind a thick column, his dark eyes fixed on the two of them as a smile spread across his thin lips.





6





With his hand securely placed on her lower back once again, Hawke escorted Ashling outside under the watchful eyes of the throng of female spectators. They seemed, for the moment at least, too apprehensive to approach him. Ashling was impressed; it was as though he’d erected a wall around himself and her, protecting them from the onlookers’ nosiness.