by Lea Coll
“That’s true. Although, you seem really concerned about me dating her. Are you staking a claim?” His tone was infused with incredulity.
“What? No. What are we, teenagers?” We hadn’t worried about staking a claim on anyone since Henry’s high school sweetheart cheated on him our junior year of college. He found out when he went home with an engagement ring intending to make things official. Humiliated by her betrayal, he’d hit the bars more often. We’d matured since then, discovering we liked different people. He went for the confident women who were tourists visiting town and usually came on to him. I was generally distrustful of people, so I liked to do the pursuing.
“No, but I won’t go after a woman you’re interested in.” What he’d left unsaid was that it was rare for me to take any interest in a woman.
I had short relationships, thinking I could offer something more. It was inevitable I’d freak out when they asked too many questions. I tried to avoid anything serious. The words stuck in my throat on the way up. I managed to choke them out, “No claim.”
His expression was thoughtful as he took a long sip of his beer. “How’s work going?”
I settled deeper into the couch, thankful he was letting it go, my eye on the football game on the TV. “Ed finally mentioned drawing up papers so I can buy the business.”
“That’s great news.”
“The problem is, he’s not convinced I’m going to stay.” I’d been on edge since the conversation with him. It felt like an ultimatum: Prove yourself, or you’re not going to get the business. How could I prove I intended to stay when I lived like I could pick up at any time to start over?
Henry shifted in the chair so his attention was on me. “I got the impression you don’t want to go back home.”
I shook my head, leaning my elbows on my thighs. The place that once had been a sanctuary, turned on me. “I don’t.”
Henry rubbed his forehead. “You don’t want to live anywhere else, do you?”
The one thing I appreciated over the years was that Henry never pressed for more information than I was willing to offer. That’s why we remained friends for so long, even when I’d distanced myself from other people.
“I don’t.” If I moved, I’d be starting all over again. That, I couldn’t stomach. At least here, I knew a few people. It was as close to home as I’d ever get.
“Then how are you going to prove it to him?”
Henry wanted me here. It felt good that he had my back, even if I didn’t trust anyone one hundred percent. “Buy a house, date a local.”
Henry shook his head, chuckling. “You might as well get married and pop out a few kids.”
An image of Elle popped into my head, long brown hair curling around her shoulders, wearing a thick sweater over leggings with fuzzy socks on her feet, curled up on my sofa with a steaming mug of cocoa in her hands. It was simple, domestic.
The picture was everything I’d avoided. I had to remember nothing was what it seemed. She was no exception. Even if you got comfortable with someone, thought you knew them, they might turn out to be someone else in the end. “Yeah, that would probably do it.”
Henry shook his head, turning in the chair so he faced the TV again. He was quiet for so long I didn’t think he was going to comment on it further. At the next commercial break, he said, “Why don’t you?”
“Why don’t I what?”
His expression was pensive. “Why don’t you buy a house? You said yourself you’re not planning on leaving.”
Every muscle in my neck stretched taut. Being tied down to a place meant it hurt that much more when it was gone. “What if he doesn’t offer me the business? I’ll probably want to go somewhere I could open my own practice or buy one.”
My stomach churned at the idea of leaving. It was something I thought I could do if I had to, but I didn’t want to.
“I don’t know. It’s easier than finding someone willing to marry you quickly. You could sell the house if you had to.” Henry shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal.
I sighed, leaning back into the cushions. I couldn’t expect Henry to understand when I’d never told him about my past, at least not all of it. He knew my parents were divorced, and that I visited my mother occasionally. I never spoke of my father. Opening up to someone was difficult. A woman I was dating would want to know things about me, my family, my past. “That’s true.”
“Would it be so horrible to put down some roots, maybe buy some more furniture, get a good gaming system so I can come over?”
I picked up the nearest pillow, throwing it at him.
It smacked him in his face because his attention was on the game. He shot me a disgusted look. “Hey, that was uncalled for.”
“So was what you said. There’s nothing wrong with my apartment.” What I didn’t say was that I couldn’t have a home as much as I might want one. Buying things made me feel uncomfortable. It had a permanent sort of feel when nothing was guaranteed. Things could be taken away. People left.
“It doesn’t even look like you live there. You’re either working, hanging out with me, or sitting in that depressing as shit apartment.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Buying a house is so permanent. Your family has lived on this property for generations. It’s assumed that it will always be in your family. You’ll always have a place to call home.”
My heart cracked, breaking open. It was the first time I’d spoken anything close to the truth since the day I went to college. I’d run from everything that was taken from me, never wanting to be in that position again. If I didn’t have a home, it couldn’t be taken away. If I didn’t fill my apartment with things, I could leave quickly. If I didn’t get close to anyone, they didn’t have power over me when they left.
Henry focused on me. “You never talk about your family or why you don’t go back.”
I stayed silent as my teeth ground together. I knew the day would come when he’d want answers to the blanks I’d left in my story. Why I didn’t talk much about my family; why I was never eager to return home. Why questions made me uncomfortable.
He shook his head, sighing. “I’m just saying, it might be time to make a change. Maybe making a home here won’t be so bad. Maybe it will be the best decision you’ve ever made.”
“Dinner’s ready,” Mrs. Rigby called from the kitchen.
“Think about it.” He got up, leaving me alone.
Following behind him, I rubbed my neck, trying to erase the itch that started when he gave his opinion.
Mr. Rigby came in the house, pulling off his shoes, and washing his hands in the mudroom. When he finally entered the kitchen, his gaze landed on me. “Oh good, you’re here. Would you mind looking at Blaze before you go? I don’t like the way he’s limping.”
“Of course. You want me to check him out now?” I always kept a bag in my truck in case of emergencies. It was easier than running to the clinic each time. Plus, I liked helping the Rigbys out. They’d done so much for me.
“No. Eat, then I’ll take you to him.”
I nodded, accepting a dish piled high with food from Rose. The food was delicious like always. I appreciated that after my first visit, the Rigby family never asked why I spent so much time at their home, seeming to accept I was too far from my family to visit often. I never said that; I just let them believe it.
The conversation inevitably turned to talk of the progress on Henry’s cabins. He had visions of turning a few rustic cabins on the far end of the Rigbys’ property into rentals. He was in the process of renovating them. I was trying to convince him to build a lodge for group events with a condo for himself on the top floor. It sounded amazing. Lodging in Telluride was at a premium. I knew it would be a success.
After dinner, I grabbed my medical bag, following Mr. Rigby to the stable. After leading the horse out, I could see what he was talking about. Blaze dropped his hip to the right. I offered him an apple before petting him slowly, talking softly, soothing him. I crouched down to ru
n my hands along his leg, checking for heat, swelling, or any source for his lameness. Finally, I picked up his hoof. There was a foul-smelling, black discharge.
“It looks like thrush,” I said to Paul.
“That’s what I was thinking.”
He held the reins, patting Blaze’s nose while I carefully cleaned out her hoof. When I finished, I said, “You’ll want to clean it out daily with diluted iodine, and keep him in a clean, dry stall.”
“I know the drill.” Paul led Blaze into the stall, securing the door while I cleaned up.
I shouldered my bag, ducking into the house to kiss Rose on the cheek, thanking her for a good meal, and saying a quick goodbye to Henry. Then I headed back outside, falling in step with Paul, heading to my truck.
“I heard a rumor you’re finally going to buy Ed’s practice.”
I’d gone to the bank to start the process; word must have gotten around. “That’s the plan.”
“Good.” We came to a stop by my truck door.
As a pseudo-parent to me, Paul’s approval felt good.
“He’s not going to give it you easily, is he?”
“No. He wants to make sure I’m staying here, that I’m making permanent roots. He’s worried his clients won’t like the change.” Speaking to him about Ed’s expectations made everything more real than when I spoke to Henry.
“And are you?”
“Am I what?” Even though I knew exactly what he was talking about, I wanted to hear his opinion, yet I dreaded it at the same time. If Paul agreed with Ed’s assessment, it made what I had to do more real.
“Are you making permanent roots?”
“I’ve lived here for four years, ever since I graduated from vet school.”
Mr. Rigby crossed his arms over his chest, widening his stance. “Listen, I hope you’re going to stay. I don’t want Ed’s practice going to anyone else. Henry likes having you here.”
“I don’t know if I can do what Ed wants. I work hard.” I almost never had free time. I took over most of the emergency calls, working six to seven days a week. I didn’t have a family or anyone I needed to make time for, so it worked perfectly.
“He just wants to see you settled here. House, marriage, kids.”
I chuckled without any humor. “Yeah, but that’s impossible. I’m not even dating anyone.”
“What about buying a home, a small farm or something?”
The pain of losing my childhood farm was still strong, twelve years later. I grabbed the back of my neck, squeezing it before I responded. “I saved money to buy the practice. I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.”
“I hope you can convince him. You deserve it.”
“Thanks.”
Paul said goodbye, heading back toward the house.
He was the closest person I had to a father since I was eighteen. His concern was appreciated. I just wasn’t sure how to convince Ed I was serious about Telluride, that I had no intention of leaving when I’d avoided anything permanent over the years.
I sensed I was on the cusp of something big. I couldn’t keep going like I was. Buying a home was a tangible way to prove I wanted to stay. It was a huge commitment, especially if the deal with Ed fell through. The thought of signing a contract, putting money into something like that, made my heart pound and my chest tight. It was overwhelming, making it difficult to draw in a deep breath. The feeling was suspiciously similar to the panic attacks I’d experienced before I left home.
Chapter 5
Elle
* * *
We had a slow, steady stream of customers the first week, but it wasn’t enough to pay the expenses for the building. I had enough money to get by for a few months until it was profitable. I hoped that would be sooner rather than later.
“It’ll get better,” Piper said when we closed the door Friday night, turning the sign from open to closed.
“I hope you’re right.” Success didn’t happen overnight. I hoped for enough customers to at least break even the first month. Coming here felt right. Telluride was an escape from Los Angeles. I hoped it would become a haven. I’d avoided people for fear of being recognized. The only person I talked to with any regularity was Piper, and she was my employee.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Looking at the screen, I saw it was my sister, Alice. Smiling, I said to Piper, “I’m going to take this in the back office.”
“I’ll finish cleaning up then head out.”
“Thanks, Piper.” I’d thanked her a billion times for giving me a chance. It would never be enough. Her working here gave my business some legitimacy with the locals. If she trusted me, they could too.
I hit speaker as I entered my office, closing the door behind me for privacy. “Hey, sis.”
“Hey. I miss you.” Her usual cheerful voice came over the line.
“I miss you too.” I’d asked Alice to come with me, to help open the shop. She’d declined, loving life in LA too much to leave.
“When are you coming home?” Alice’s voice brought me back to the conversation.
My family seemed to think I’d fail, coming home sooner rather than later. My parents still owned the beach home we grew up in. There was nothing there for me but bad memories. I was determined to make Smoke & Mirrors a success so I didn’t have to go back. “I bought a building and opened a business. I have no plans on leaving.”
Her sigh filled my small office I was so proud of.
“You could come visit.” I wanted to show her what I’d done, not just in pictures. I wanted her to see the business I’d built.
“I don’t want to leave LA. Everything’s here.”
Alice followed me there, living with me while I filmed the spin-off show, the one that followed us after high school as most of us attempted to go to school and figure out what we wanted to do with our lives. It was mostly throwing parties, watching us fight over guys, and shopping. When I was filming the show, I tried to keep her away from it as much as possible. I wanted to shield her from it.
“There’s nothing there for me anymore.” Moving here was the right decision. While filming, the cameras followed me relentlessly. I felt like I never had a moment of peace. Even when the show wasn’t following us, members of the paparazzi were.
My one attempt at working at a salon was a disaster. People in LA would never forget the person I’d played on TV. They’d never forgive me or acknowledge it was a role, not reality. There was nothing for me in LA except Alice.
“You could have the barbershop show. The producers wanted you to open it here. They would have given you money to do it, too.”
Pressure from Alice to go back on the show felt like a betrayal. She knew how much I disliked it. Acting like someone else, someone who wasn’t a good person, slowly chipped away at my soul.
“I wouldn’t have owned the business. The studio wanted to dictate the name, the look, who I hired, how I ran it.” I would have been continuing my role as the show’s villain, a person who stabbed her friends in the back, who stole other people’s boyfriends. I got a sick feeling thinking back to that time in my life.
When we started out, the producers convinced us it would be a good acting opportunity. We could use the experience to get more roles. Unfortunately, the show was sold as reality, following rich teenagers with nothing but time on their hands. When the shows went off the air, the producers finally came out with the truth. By then, no one believed it was scripted or that we were talented.
I was a I sixteen-year-old who believed whatever the producers said. My parents loved the idea of me being on TV. They told me it was an amazing opportunity. I believed them. To be fair, I don’t think they thought the show would be as successful as it was. That my reputation would forever be marked by my actions, directed or otherwise.
“It’s easy money. Emily said she wanted to hire me as the shop’s receptionist.”
Emily was the producer who was with me the most. At first, I thought she was a friend. When I’d gotten older, I re
alized she only cared about ratings and keeping her job. She wasn’t my friend. I didn’t like that she was trying to manipulate Alice too. “You don’t have any experience at a salon or barbershop.”
“You know as well as I do, it’s a role. I can play the part.”
“It’s so much more than that, Alice. I don’t want that for you. It didn’t lead to any acting opportunities for me. That’s a line they feed you to get you to sign on.”
“What? My picture on every gossip site? Look at the amazing opportunities you guys had. Lillian has her own fashion line now. You were offered a spin-off.”
I was sad that any friendship we might have had was ruined by filming, but I am happy for her. Lillian, one half of the popular sweetheart couple on the show, had a better reputation than me. As far as the public knew, I stole her boyfriend from her. I was the bitch in that situation. I only kissed her boyfriend, Chad, on camera. Nothing happened otherwise. “That opportunity came with strings, very real implications for my reputation and my future. I don’t want that anymore.”
I wanted a place to call my own. I craved privacy, that cozy, comfortable feeling you got when everything was yours. Nothing would be shown to someone else, dissected or talked about. I didn’t want to live in a snow globe anymore, one the producers could shake up at will, upending my life, changing the trajectory of my future.
“We’re young. We should be having fun.” Alice’s voice was whiny.
“I’m twenty-four. I’m tired of clubs, cameras, and gossip columns. If I never see a member of the paparazzi again, I’ll be happy.” I wasn’t friends with my castmates. I didn’t keep up with what they were doing. I wanted a clean break. I wanted to figure out who I was without the cameras and the people prodding me about what to say and do.
“I’m only twenty-two. I deserve this opportunity. It’s not fair they chose you. They never wanted me.”
I ground my teeth at her entitled tone.
