Jasmine’s face was clear of makeup and she wore her thick brown hair in a high ponytail, but in a hot pink sports bra and black yoga pants, she looked anything but plain. Spandex encased her curves enticingly, and she exuded strength and sensuality. She carried her script and a stainless steel water bottle in one arm, with a towel draped over her shoulder.
She greeted him with a sunny smile and a wave. He just gave her a nod, because he seemed to have swallowed his tongue.
Jasmine set her things in the treadmill’s cup holders while Ashton tried not to stare at her ass. Why was women’s workout gear so tight? His own tank top and shorts were loose. Wouldn’t she have been more comfortable in a poncho or something?
Hell, she’d probably still find a way to make a poncho look sexy.
After setting her treadmill to a brisk walk, Jasmine flipped open the script.
“Let’s start the way Vera does,” she said. “What’s the context?”
“Context?” He had no idea what she was talking about. He was trying to focus on running and not on the way her breasts bounced delightfully as she walked.
“Yeah. You know—what’s happening in the episode?”
“This is the dancing one, right?”
“Right. Carmen tries to get Victor on that competition show where celebrities team up with professional dancers.” She read the notes. “Do you know how to dance salsa?”
“Of course I do,” he scoffed. “Do you?”
“Well, yeah,” she said, laughing. “My mom taught me basic steps for salsa and tinikling.”
“I don’t think I’ve heard of that one,” Ashton admitted.
“It’s a traditional folk dance from the Philippines,” she explained. “It’s like doing double Dutch with long bamboo poles on the ground.”
She demonstrated a few moves right there on the treadmill, rotating 360 degrees as she bounced her feet from the belt to the side rails and back.
Ashton gave a little clap. “I bet you were un petardito jumping rope. A little firecracker.”
“Absolutely. All the other girls made me teach them how to do it too.” She sent him a sidelong glance. “You like running, huh?”
“Clears my mind.” The treadmill’s incline setting changed and he dug in, relishing the burn. “I prefer running outside, but my producers in the past insisted I stay out of the sun.”
When she gave him a curious look, he tapped the skin on his arm. “Can’t be too dark in telenovelas, and I’m already pushing it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Riiiight. Nice to see colorism is still alive and well in the Latinx community.”
“It’s gotten better now, but when I started acting, it was really bad. If I tanned even a little bit, they’d get all bent out of shape.” He shook his head, remembering the not-so-tactful comments he’d gotten before his career had taken off. “You know how hard it is to avoid the sun in Miami?”
“I get you.” Jasmine upped the speed on her machine, her stride confident and energetic. “When I worked in commercials, I auditioned for all the ‘racially ambiguous’ roles. But even if there were a lot of people being hired, there was this whole Highlander ‘there can be only one’ mentality. They’d use me to check off the ‘brown girl’ box on their list and fill the rest of the commercial with white people.”
He made a sound of disgust. “Lazy casting directors.”
“Lazy agent too. This was before I signed with Riley, my current agent. She’s biracial Chinese, so she understands me, but my first one would send me to casting calls for all kinds of ethnicities. In some cases, I’d show up at the audition and be totally mortified, especially since I was still using Rodriguez in my name. I finally put my foot down and refused to go to ‘ethnic’ casting calls unless they specifically listed South East Asian or Latina.”
“What kind of commercials did you do?”
“Oh, lots.” She squinted at the ceiling while she thought about it. “Shampoo, baby diapers, face wash, canned soup. Nothing super embarrassing.”
“My first real role was playing a ranch hand,” Ashton said. “I was twenty-three, living in Mexico, and I told them I could ride horses.”
“Could you?”
He shrugged, feet pounding the treadmill belt in a steady, metronomic rhythm he found so calming. “I’d sat in a saddle a few times, but I was not, by any means, a cowboy. Saying I could ride was a total exaggeration, and let me tell you, that horse knew it.”
She laughed. “But you’ve played other roles that involved horses, right?”
“Well, yeah. After that, I figured I’d better learn to ride for real.”
She gave him a sly look. “My cousin Michelle liked the show where you were a sheriff.”
“Las leyes del corazón y la insignia.” He inclined his head. “That one is a fan favorite.”
She tapped her chin. “I don’t think I’ve worked with any horses. But my storyline on The Glamour Squad involved a poodle, and I had a recurring role on The Young and the Restless that required me to hold a hamster.”
Ashton shook his head. “I can’t imagine playing the same character for decades,” he said, thinking about the English soap operas that ran for generations. He wanted to challenge himself, to improve his skills—but more than that, he wanted the recognition that went with it.
Jasmine shrugged. “It’s good, steady work. Viewers get to watch the characters grow and develop over time. They become familiar.” She shot him an exasperated glance. “Are you really going to keep running while we rehearse?”
“Ah, no.” But he didn’t stop. Running was the only thing keeping him from embarrassing them both. He’d managed not to sprout an erection while filming their make-out scenes together, but something about her bouncing around in spandex was really doing it for him. “What else happens in this episode?”
Jasmine skimmed through the pages as she walked. “There are some scenes where Victor struggles to record new music. Carmen has a heart-to-heart with her father about the family legacy, and Victor auditions for the dance show producers. But he doesn’t get picked.”
“Poor Victor. He’ll be crushed.” Ashton could relate. Even though it came with the territory of being an actor, it sucked not to get the part.
“It looks like the show’s producers think he’s too unreliable—thanks to canceling the tour—so they don’t accept him.”
“Luckily he has Carmen to comfort him.”
“Yes, but she’s Carmen, so you know she’s going to make it a teachable moment.” Jasmine reached over and tapped the rolled-up script he’d stuffed into the drink holder. “Ready to start?”
“Um, sure.” Ashton lowered the speed on the treadmill and wiped his face with a towel. He had to get his desire for her in check. Thank god this episode required less touching.
When he lowered the towel, he caught sight of Jasmine’s face and rushed to pause his treadmill.
Eyes wide, jaw slack, she stared at the wall-mounted TV in abject horror. Ashton reached over to shut off her machine before she tripped, then turned to see what she was looking at.
Puñeta. That pendejo McIntyre filled the screen, leaning in to talk to a very pretty, very young-looking entertainment reporter. The sound was off, but the closed-captioning appeared at the bottom: So, McIntyre, tell us about your new girlfriend. A second later, Jasmine’s face appeared in a box in the corner, next to a photo of another woman who shared an uncanny resemblance.
Before Ashton could say a word, Jasmine scrambled off the treadmill and dashed over to the TV. With desperate movements, she ran her fingers over the edges, probably looking for an off button. When she didn’t find it, she reached behind the TV and yanked the plug. The screen went black.
Breathing hard, she kept her back to him, but Ashton could see her stricken expression in the mirrors.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice hoarse. “But that—”
“I know.” Ashton got off his treadmill and went to stand next to her.
When she didn’t move, Ashton placed a hand on her shoulder and gently led her to the weight bench to sit. Then he retrieved her water bottle and brought it to her. He sat next to her while she took a long drink.
When she finally lowered the bottle, her expression was bleak.
“Can I tell you the worst part?” she whispered.
He would have given her anything she asked for in that moment. “Dime. I mean, tell me.”
She swallowed hard and hunched her shoulders. “I don’t even think I liked him that much. I just . . . wanted to be liked. And I thought he did.”
Ashton’s heart broke for her. What could he say to that? More than anything, he wanted to take her in his arms, to comfort her. But they weren’t close like that. Victor and Carmen were, but Ashton and Jasmine weren’t.
Still, she’d just revealed something big, and he needed to respond. I like you was on the tip of his tongue, but instead, he took her hand and just held it. When her fingers tightened, he stroked her knuckles with his thumb.
She gave herself a little shake. “My cousins want me to move back to New York. Because of all . . . that.” She gestured at the blank TV screen with her free hand.