Clearly her instincts couldn’t be trusted. So maybe it was time to let someone else call the shots for a while.
Next thing she knew, he was ushering her into his makeshift office and settling her in front of a fan that provided little relief against the unbearable heat. A few moments later, she heard his voice rising over the din of hammers and saws.
“And when it’s ready, this will be our VIP area,” he said.
Aster took a steadying breath and faced the woman with the gorgeous mane of wild bronze curls. Though they’d never met, Aster recognized Trena immediately. It was Trena who’d convinced the cops to question Ryan Hawthorne, though admittedly, that hadn’t exactly turned out as Aster had hoped. While Aster had no idea what Ryan had told the police, she had no doubt he was solely to blame for turning their attention to her and planting the blood-covered dress that was the most damning piece of evidence being used against her.
If nothing else, his actions proved Ryan was guilty. Why else would he bother setting her up and framing her for the crime unless he had something serious to hide?
Maybe Ira was right. Maybe talking to Trena was exactly what she needed. While she wasn’t sure where Trena stood, it couldn’t hurt to befriend her, or at the very least talk to her. If public opinion was truly ruled by headlines and sound bites, then it would serve Aster well to author a few that might turn the tide in her favor.
Trena had an agenda; everyone did. And while Aster had no idea what it might be, now that Trena was standing before her, giving Aster an appraising look while Ira acted like he hadn’t actually planned the whole thing, she had no choice but to play along and hope it wouldn’t come back to bite her.
“Aster Amirpour, meet Trena Moretti.” Ira presented the two women to each other.
“Well, this is certainly a surprise. Or at least it is for me.” Trena shook Aster’s hand and shot Ira a look like she recognized a setup when she saw one.
Aster looked to Ira for guidance. Seeing his nod of encouragement, she faced Trena and said, “Ira was generous enough to post my bail.” She hoped it was okay to share. But Ira looked pleased, as she figured he would be. Most people loved taking credit for their good deeds.
“Ira? Not your parents?” Trena tilted her chin in a way that caused her shock of wild curls to spring across her forehead and dangle over her amazing blue-green eyes.
Aster shrugged. She was willing to talk, but she would not bash her family, no matter how conflicted she currently felt about them.
“And how are you doing?” Trena narrowed her gaze on Aster’s split lip and the enormous purple shiner surrounding her eye.
Aster forced a half grin; it was the best she could do. She knew her pathetic appearance could work in her favor, but that didn’t mean she felt comfortable looking so defeated, beaten, and unkempt that it served to provoke pity.
“Any chance I could get an in-depth with you? I’m sure that after a week of being locked up for a crime you didn’t commit, you’ll want to get your own story out into the world.”
“So you don’t think I’m guilty?” Aster had assumed Trena was out for her blood. But the warm smile she received instead nearly pushed Aster to tears. Someone in the press believed her. Someone powerful enoug
h that people might actually listen to.
“Aster came directly from jail,” Ira said. “I made her swing by so I could take care of a few things, and she’s been waiting patiently for me to take her home. While I’m sure she wouldn’t mind answering a few questions, anything more will have to be scheduled for a later date. This isn’t exactly a comfortable venue—or at least not yet.”
Trena shot Ira a knowing look. Clearly she recognized the game he was playing. “I’ll want an exclusive,” she said.
Ira nodded. “But of course.”
Aster regarded them closely. The way they discussed her as though she was feeble and voiceless and not actually standing right there left her feeling simultaneously annoyed and relieved to let other people handle the weightier details of her life for a change.
Just for a little while, she promised herself. Just until I get a proper sleep, a shower, a professional blowout, an eyebrow wax, and get back on my game.
“You can film in any of the clubs—Night for Night, Jewel, the Vesper—up to you. I can give you exclusive access wherever you choose.” Ira inspected his nails like he wasn’t all that invested.
Aster noted the way Trena’s face lit up upon hearing the word film. It was so predictable—so Hollywood. Aster had yet to meet an ambitious person who didn’t secretly dream of being in front of the camera, and print journalists were no different. Still, it bugged her to see how willing Trena was to use Aster’s personal tragedy to elevate her own profile. staying true to the media’s motto: If it bleeds, it leads.
After only a moment’s hesitation, Trena reached forward to shake on it. Switching her focus to Aster, she said, “Do your friends know you’re out?”
Aster’s expression was blank. Her best friend, Safi, was no longer speaking to her; most people weren’t.
“Layla and Tommy,” Trena clarified.
Aster closed her eyes and sighed. More proof of just how much her life had gone off the rails. The two people she’d once written off as being completely beneath her were now the only true friends she had left in the world.
She opened her eyes and met Trena’s gaze. “No,” she finally said. Her voice sounding more timid than she liked, she cleared her throat and tried again. “Not yet. Just got my phone back and the battery’s dead. And so far, Ira’s managed to keep the news quiet.”
Trena considered the info. “We’ll want to move fast then. The one who leaks the story controls the story.”