Ash and I shut down Cantina Pequeña last night. We polished off a pitcher of margaritas and a plateful of loaded nachos between us.
I’m unbothered by the nosy antics of Zwena, my mother, and Mrs. Eisenberg. Because I rolled in at 6:30 a.m., the trio has become obsessed with their own narratives about what happened last night. All of them include innuendos of a rom-com-worthy first kiss under the streetlights and rolling around in the frothy surf, unable to keep our hands off each other.
Hello, ladies, I came home dry as a bone.
The truth is, Ash and I talked all night. Never have I experienced a man, or anyone, listening so intently and showing such admiration for my simple, mundane life. His reserved body language of encounters past—set jaw, steely posture—gave way to loose limbs and a booming laugh that made my body hum. While I tried not to bore Ash with descriptions of the daily deeds of me, Coco, and Lou, that’s what he wanted to hear. Working to recount stories that ensured I came across as an outstanding mother and daughter, I rambled on as Ash drove us from Cantina Pequeña to the beach at the Santa Monica pier. I told Arroyo tales as we took in the darkness of the ocean lit up by an almost full moon.
Ash grew concerned during my story about Coco and Lou giving each other goose eggs on their foreheads from falling over one another when attempting their first steps. He was in disbelief when I disclosed that Simon is the only man I’ve ever dated. When I asked Ash how many people he’s dated, he teased with a wink, “I can’t incriminate myself to you so soon. My body count could get me arrested.” Hisanswer left me no choice but to call him out on his slick evasion of my question.
When Ash cupped my hands in his, I felt safe enough to relive the day I got the call at UCLA that my father had died and with him my dream of graduating a Bruin. Ash’s presence, along with the comforting blanket of an inky sky, was calming. The setting opened the floodgates of my experience that for my whole life I have lived for other people’s come up, while sidestepping my own. I felt myself oversharing like some of the passengers I transport between terminals, but Ash didn’t interrupt. He listened until I had my say.
As we dipped our toes in the ocean, it was Ash’s turn to storytell while I took a breath. Although he already seemed to me like the ultimate success, I asked Ash what he was looking for next. He revealed that as he passed forty-five and marched toward fifty, he was determined to have a family and had broadened his vision of how that might look. Ash disclosed that over the past few months he’d been looking into surrogacy and adoption on his own. To that surprising news, I blurted, “You and late-night feedings?!”
Without missing a beat, Ash assured me, “Don’t worry about me, I can stay up all night long.”
Taking him in as our toes sank in the sand, I thought to myself,I bet you can.
I was gathering myself after that suggestive response when Ash leaned in and whispered, “I’d also welcome a couple of stepchildren.” I didn’t presume he was talking about mine, but the thought did make me smile.
Ash added that he hoped this plan would play out while his grandmother is still alive. He aspires to show Mrs. Eisenberg that he can be as devoted a parent to his children as she has been to hers, and to her grandkids. At the mention of stepchildren and the familial dedication that we were both raised and enveloped in, we reached for each other’s hands and stood in quiet understanding.
While my lips craved a kiss in the fortuity of having the beach to ourselves, I was content simply sitting in the sand tightly next to Ash, our shoulders, arms, hips, and legs touching. We were so close not even a breeze could blow between us. As we told our stories, sad and joyous, side by side, we were two melded into one. As the sun began to rise and the weight of the coming day loomed ahead of me, Ash cut into my dreaminess with, “I can’t have spent the night on a beach with a beautiful woman without—”
“Kissing her?” I finished his sentence.
“Kissing you.” So he did.
Ash dropped me off at the hotel when the sun was high enough in the sky to insist a new day had arrived. He pressed his lips to my hand. The one he hadn’t let go of for hours. Not knowing how to say to Ash that he had given me the gift of an incredible night without sending him running for the hills, I simply breathed, “Thank you.”
“This is just the beginning, Antonia,” was Ash’s response as his eyes met mine with the perfect mixture of care and conviction.
Given the magic of the last ten hours and feeling like the opportunities of the next ten were limitless, I could only respond with, “I believe you.” And in that moment, I did.
Now, I can’t tear my eyes away from Ash in his judge’s seat. He’s sporting a crisp khaki suit, and I know his lavender button-down is a nod to his grandmother’s favorite color. He bites the end of his reading glasses, then puts them on to jot down notes on a pad of paper as Simon talks. Having met Simon in my garage, and then listened with care last night as I revealed the details of my marriage journey, I suspect the words being scribbled arewhat a loser.
I glance over at the love seat in our dressing room and notice Mrs. Eisenberg is staring as intently at her grandson as I am, a loving gaze settled on her face. She meets my eyes momentarily before returning to the TV, and a simple, knowing “Uh-huh” releases from her lips.
“He’s doing well,” Gloria informs the room, as if rooting for Simon even in the slightest is acceptable. I don’t want to believe Gloria is pulling for Simon, but maybe she is.
Zwena steps next to me, wrapping me under her arm. “These judges are going to rip his phony ass to shreds, I can tell.” I get a big side hug to calm my indignation at my mother’s comment. “Neither of the female judges are falling for his tall talk. He’s a sham. Transparent as tissue paper. Any woman can see that.” I lean in to Zwena to show my appreciation for words I could not have delivered myself without catching an attitude and putting on a whole other kind of show.
Ash asks Simon the first question: “What’s your revenue to date?” As the person who knows his body language best, I can detect Simon bristling at what he perceives as Ash launching a direct attack on his early financial success. I have to give it to him—Simon has managed to exploit the American penchant for silver-bullet fixes in order to achieve the latest wellness standard du jour.
Ash’s question serves as a warm-up, and soon the other three judges pelt Simon with challenges he seems ready to catch and then return with data-infused answers like a fast-paced game of spreadsheet dodgeball. I soon realize that when watching the edited version ofInnovation Nationfrom the comfort of my own home, the show seems to move at a tolerable pace, the participants having a moment to think and then respond. In the studio, the show moves at hyperspeed. Each question, each interrogation, each proposition comes at Simon before he can fully address the last, but he remains calm, losing neither focus nor form in the eye of the storm. Watching him take the verbal hits in stride leads me to believe that maybe he did get something out of his personal pilgrimage other than an impending divorce.
With an imperceptible press of Simon’s thumb on a gadget I didn’t realize he was holding, life-size images of the four judges appear on the screen behind him. All four are clad in apparel that relates to their favorite pastimes, serene smiles on their faces, and not a wrinkle among them thanks to Photoshop. In the case Simon is making, these lifestyle goalsare thanks to the services Best U Man can provide. Ash is on television in his full golf getup, welcoming watchers to become as blissed out as he’s been made to look.
“I think Simon looks nice and is well spoken. He did always present his best side,” my mom voices, Zwena’s alliance with me having washed over her like water off a duck’s back.
As I’m about to not so delicately lay into my mother, Simon gets his first rejection in the form of a big red buzzer when one of the two female judges claims, “I’m not sold.”Eat it, Simon. Ash isn’t going to invest in you either.
Simon’s first offer comes from the female judge who’s still in play. The offer is drivel compared to the $400,000 for 20 percent of the company Simon pitched. Seems both women know Simon’s self-care services are bunk. I bite my lower lip, sitting in smug satisfaction that one of the female judges has valued Best U Man at nothing and the other as not being worth much of her effort or finances. A pity deal. My guess is that as a revered manufacturing magnate, she’s only willing to invest a paltry amount in Simon so her portfolio proves entry into the mental health industry. The four of us watch Simon’s eyes desperately dart back and forth, anxious for more bids.
As a lull of indifference for Simon’s services settles on set, an offer is lobbed for $425,000, cash, more than Simon wanted, but for 30 percent company ownership. The offer comes from the eldest investor and resident bully on the show, the only judge who has held his seat since season one. I grab my notebook ofInnovation Nationstatistics out of my purse and quickly run my index finger down the investment numbers I have recorded from the past three seasons. Simon just received one of the highest cash offers on record. He looks unfazed that he has made reality TV history. I know there is no way he is giving up that much ownership of his company. Hell, all he offered his own wife was a glorified secretary position.
On the heels of the veteran’s deal, a third offer is made. By Ash. Same amount of cash but only 20 percent ownership, exactly whatSimon is seeking. Zwena gasps and covers both our mouths, silencing me before swear words start flying. Ash is telling all of America that he wants to be in business with Simon. Even after all he heard from me last night, Ash still considers Simon a founder worth investing in and Best U Man a solid company capable of decent returns.
I think I’m going to be sick.
