Perhaps it was a good sign for my humanity that I felt terrible. A woman was dead. That in and of itself was grounds for sadness. I didn’t know Louisa very well, but she was someone’s mother, someone’s sister, someone’s aunt （my would-be boyfriend’s, to be precise）。 Granted, it wasn’t very nice of her to deprive her offspring of their inheritance, but it wasn’t my fault that she’d snubbed them. I flashed to how the son had shouted at me in the elevator vestibule. Maybe her kids are monsters and don’t deserve the money?
But even if Louisa had a good reason for sticking it to her kids, why should I be the one to get her money? Just because she’d left it to me didn’t mean that I could keep it. I mean, what would my mom say when she found out I’d accepted another family’s inheritance? She’d never stand for it. So in reality, my good news wasn’t really good news at all.
And then of course there was the fact that my life was a black hole. No career. No day job. No boyfriend. No roommate. Not even a last-resort marriage pact. I literally had nothing and no one. I probably would have stayed in bed all day if it wasn’t for Brando, who reminded me there was still one being on this earth who cared whether I lived or died by doing his pee-pee dance at my bedroom door.
“OK, I’m getting up,” I said, and he literally jumped for joy. I was chilled, so I put a pot of coffee on so it would be ready when we got back, then grabbed his leash and clipped it on his collar.
“You ready?”
He barked—“You bet!”—and I opened the door and stepped out into the afternoon drizzle. Brando pulled to the left, but we were going right today—away from Louisa’s house. Which I guessed was my house now, at least until the lawsuit hit and I was forced to give it back. I didn’t have any misconceptions that Louisa’s children would go down without a fight. And what kind of person would I be if I tried to fight back? Not that I was a pushover. Hollywood was a society of social climbers and backstabbers, and I’d learned how to spar with the best of them. It’s not like the lowly gatekeeper has any way to confirm if Matt Damon personally invited you to that audition or premiere, so why not just say it? And we all lied on our résumés. None of us really know how to ride a horse/speak French/play the violin—we learn when we get cast! So yeah, I knew how to get what I wanted. But this fight felt a little too fraught, even for me.
As Brando pulled me down the sidewalk, I thought about my perilous future. My mom had said I could （should?） go back home, but then what? There were no jobs for a failed actress–slash–tour guide–slash–Saturday Cinderella in Wisconsin. And all my friends were married and in normal-people jobs; it would be humiliating to have to face them now. I had been so confident, so envied when I left. “Don’t forget us when you’re a big star!” they all said. “Invite us to your premieres, send autographed pictures, say ‘hi’ to Tom Holland for us!” “I will!” I’d promised. “And I’ll be sure to give Michael B. Jordan a kiss from you, too!” I’d stupidly joked. But turns out I was the stupid joke.
“OK, Brando, we gotta turn around now,” I said, gently tugging on my dog’s leash. He had his nose in a flower bed and was sniffing up a storm. “C’mon,” I said as I tugged again. My pant legs were getting wet beneath my thigh-length windbreaker, and I was jonesing for coffee, which I imagined was ready now. He finally relented and we turned back toward home. I was so in my head I didn’t see Nathan standing in my driveway until Brando barked to announce his presence.
“Oh!” I said, surprised but not unhappy to see him. “What are you doing here?” I asked dumbly. I knew exactly what he was doing there—he’d been sent by the family to talk some sense into me, because why else would he be here?
“Can we talk?”
“Of course,” I said. “Come on in.”
The coffee was ready, so I offered him a cup, then led him to the living room sofa, where we sat knees to knees.
“It’s good to see you, Ashley,” he said. And I wanted to believe him. But I also knew he wanted something from me （e.g., my cooperation）， so I didn’t get too excited.
“I have no intention of keeping the money,” I said, before he could ask. “I could never do that to you or the family.”
He smiled and nodded. And for a second I thought maybe things would be OK between us.
“That’s not why I’m here.”