Page 115 of Faking the Shot
CHAPTER22
The following day Ainsley squeezed in some shooting around Rosie’s damage control, and alleviating the concerns of her family. That night she called on her best acting skills as she flew to Seattle with Diana and watched Zac annihilate Kyle Tinker and the rest of the Seattle team.
When people at the game looked at her, Ainsley smiled, acting surprised when people offered concern. Some, she guessed, weren’t fooled, but others appeared convinced that she was okay.
And she was okay. Mostly. About that anyway.
Zac’s visit had been exactly what she needed, a God-given few hours of sanity. But as awesome as that was, it only clarified the danger of letting herself fall completely for him. Because as kind as he was, he’d be sure to reject her once he knew the truth about why Baden had done what he did.
It had to have been Baden who’d photoshopped and posted that picture, or one of his cronies at least. It had to be. Nobody else hated her that much. But Rosie’s sources were yet to prove it was him, so she had to keep the game of pretend alive, as if Baden’s actions hadn’t eviscerated her. It was so unfair to have to play pretend while the hurts and frustrations massed within. She cringed when people—men and women—glanced at her chest then up again, nodding like they knew she wasn’t the same. The fakeness didn’t stop their gazes from making her feel sordid, cheap, and tawdry. She wondered if this was how Destiny and the others had felt when they’d first had to dance in high heels and spangles. Like they were being judged and found wanting, hating the show they’d signed up for, the show that must go on.
Some days it felt like her mask was bulging with the pretense, like one wrong word would split it open and send a spray of poison across all those she came across. She craved moments of respite, moments when she could just be normal. Be Ainsley. Whoever she was these days.
Sweet and innocent? No. She hadn’t been that since she was eighteen and Baden had lied then disrespected her, then had his way and spat her out.
Zac’s girlfriend? No. As wonderful as he was to her, this was pretend. He was her friend, someone she’d shared a momentous kiss with, but once was enough. She couldn’t fall again. See? A sweet good-hearted woman wouldn’t manipulate a man, especially a genuinely good guy like Zac. Guilt and shame lay heavy on her heart, forbidding her from talking too long on their phone calls, making her wait too long to reply.
A beloved actress? The questions swirling around her career had tainted her reputation there, too. Rosie and Mal weren’t happy; the Hallmark bosses had called too. Apparently seeing one of their linchpin actresses dressed in not very much at all—fake as that might be—and attending a strip club of all places was off-putting to their family-friendly audience. Who knew?
At least she still had the Christmas mysteries project to concentrate on, something she was diligent to remember her lines for as they completed shooting the final scenes. Next week it would go into postproduction, which would give a little bit more breathing room.
So as soon as that was done, she joined Mack in giving her parents some respite and spent a few days with her aunt on the island. They sat and painted, enjoying the wintry sunshine as it picked out the whitecaps on the sea. Time with her aunt was special, especially knowing this was likely to be one of the last times her aunt felt well enough to paint.
Each moment was filled with poignancy, but each hour held moments of grace. And occasional laughter. Like when Ainsley shared that comment of Zac’s about Luc Blanchard in his tiny green shorts.
“Oh, it’s good to laugh,” Aunty Win said, wiping her eyes. “Thank you for that. I’m sure I’ll now have that visual when I go to sleep.”
That sparked more laughter, and Ainsley’s heart, as rough as the seas around Thetis Island, seemed to find calm thanks to it. Or maybe that was just the joy of being away.
For when she returned to her apartment, it was back to reality and the pressures that hadn’t gone away. Like the house rezoning holdup. The questions over her career, made worse by a message from Rosie that Mal, the director ofAs The Heart Draws, wanted a meeting.
A meeting with Mal meant canceling a date with Zac, which he’d said he understood, but she could tell he was disappointed anyway. Especially as he was scheduled to leave on a long east coast road trip the next day, so she wasn’t due to see him until the All-Star weekend. But even so, it wasn’t fair to keep asking him to support her. He’d proved himself an excellent friend, just like Diana. But she couldn’t keep using him, leaning on him like they were a real couple. She was being unfair.
“Ainsley,you know I’ve long been a fan of yours, but lately I’ve been very concerned.” Mal leaned back in his chair, opposite Ainsley.
Ainsley clasped the arms of her chair. “You know the photo wasn’t me.”
“I know. But the fact your name is associated at all with a gentlemen’s club—”
“There weren’t any gentlemen inside there,” she murmured.
“See? When you make snide comments like that you’re not the Ainsley we all know and love. I can’t help but wonder how this is going to impact our show.”
Regret panged. “I’m sorry. I only ever went to try and help the women who worked there as part of my church’s ministry. I certainly never meant any of my actions to hurt anyone.”
“Well, your lack of judgement is particularly unfortunate. Surely you have been in this industry long enough to know that people read the photo, not the story, that it’s about image, not reality.”
Like her fake relationship with Zac.
Mal’s frown seemed carved in stone. “I hope you know we’re very disappointed, and don’t want to see another peep from you regarding this kind of thing again.”
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
He seemed satisfied with her nonspecific promise. Because nonspecific it would need to be. She’d do her best… to do what she felt God wanted her to do. And if that meant Mal and Rosie weren’t happy with her, then let the chips fall where they may.
“Lord, You need to direct my paths. Because right now, everything seems a little too blurry for me to see a thing.”
The next morningher phone rang. She glanced at the name on the screen, and her heart lifted. “Hey, Jackie.”