by JA Huss
But I lose track of her words after that. Because she is pulling up her tank top, just a little bit at a time, just like I used to do out there last summer. I get a glimpse of the taut muscles of her stomach as she sways, my eyes glued to her fingertips as she grabs my attention like no woman ever has. Not before she came along and not since.
The hurt pumps through me again. It takes me by surprise, to be honest. I thought I was over it. Thought I had gotten beyond what happened last summer. Thought I had it under control.
Claudio is frowning. “I lied.”
“I guess you did.”
“She’s here. She’s been here since she took control last year. Every day, Fletcher. She’s been working on this hotel like her life depends on it.”
“Then why did you lie and tell me she was out of town?” I’m angry at him, I realize. For tricking me into this. He asked for help, but it’s clear now that he and Steve are trying to play matchmaker. And I don’t play games anymore.
“I knew you wouldn’t come.”
I nod, understanding. And it’s appropriate, I guess. That I should get played after all the playing I did myself last year. I turn to leave, but Claudio grabs me by the arm.
“Wait,” he says. “Just hear me out.”
“I can’t do it, Claudio. I can’t. We’re not right for each other and pretending that we are won’t change that fact.”
“She’s changed, Fletcher.” He says this as I slip through the rehearsal studio doors and back into the hallway. I walk briskly back towards the elevator and punch the button, ignoring the security guard and the man calling my name behind me.
The doors open and I slip in, but Claudio is right there, out of breath and talking a mile a minute. “It was a misunderstanding, Fletcher. It was—”
I tune him out. Fuck that.
“—and she was manipulated, you know this. She was—”
“She had a very low opinion of me, Claudio. And I’m pretty sure that hasn’t changed.”
The doors open to the lobby and I walk straight out, Claudio still keeping stride, still making excuses for her.
“Just talk to her, Fletcher. Please. For me.”
I stop outside the hotel and wave to the valet to bring my car. “Why?” I say, whirling back to him. “So she can say she’s sorry? It’s easy to be sorry when you find out all your preconceived notions are wrong, isn’t it? It’s easy—”
“She didn’t know,” he says, almost pleading.
“Isn’t that the point, Claudio? Isn’t that the fucking point?”
He stops talking as I stare at him, maybe a little defeated or maybe just disappointed in me for my predictable reaction. Then his expression changes to anger. “You weren’t fair to her either. So get off your high horse and stop being a prick. Stop being the asshole you want everyone to see you as and be real for a minute.”
I look around to find two dozen people staring at us.
But Claudio doesn’t care about perceptions right now. He’s pissed off. “You only saw what you wanted to see as well. So don’t stand there all high and mighty and tell me that you don’t owe her an apology. That you don’t owe each other an apology. Because if you walk out this time, she’s moving on. She saw you back there, Fletcher. Her eyes met mine just before you stormed out. So she knows now. She knows you’re here. And if you don’t man up and get it out in the open, then you burned this bridge.”
He plants his hands on his hips and stares me down, daring me to do it.
“I’ll be glad if you leave, you know. You hurt her, Fletcher. Bad. She tried to contact you many times and you turned your back. She’s my best friend, so I don’t take kindly to people who make her sad.”
“Please, Claudio. She was—”
“Don’t,” he says, putting a hand up. “Don’t, OK? She did her best with the information she had. You were the one who knew everything. You can’t expect people to make the right decisions when they only have half the information. You know that better than anyone.”
I growl out my frustration. He’s referring to my matchmaking. My fuckup with Cole and Katie. My secrets. All of which are out in the open now, since my name is all over the fall TV schedule.
“And don’t pull this bullshit that she only wants you because you’re not a stripper anymore, either,” Claudio continues. “Because it’s not fair. She started that show up again, Fletcher. She did all of it. She held the auditions, she hired the dancers. She found the best choreographer she could and was part of every bit of it. So fuck you and your attitude. She didn’t want to be with you because you were a liar, not because you were a stripper.”
“Well,” I snarl back, “it would’ve been a lot easier to know that if I was still stripping instead of what I’m doing now, wouldn’t it.”
“You walked out on her. If you hadn’t, she’d have stuck by you. And the only reason you’re still pissed off now is because you think she’s gonna use you. Well, newsflash, asshole. You used her last year and she looked past it. So just fuck you if you can’t extend her the same consideration.”
Claudio turns to leave me there, but it’s me who catches his arm this time. “Wait.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Fletcher Novak.
My eyes meet Claudio’s just as Fletcher turns to walk out of the rehearsal room. My breath hitches in my chest and my stomach gets a sinking feeling that I haven’t felt in months.
I’ve done my best to put him behind me. Come to terms with the way I judged him. The way I hurt him. All the many, many mistakes I made with Fletcher Novak over the short time we were… friends.
Because that’s what he was to me. In every way. It’s just too bad I didn’t have the good sense to realize it when I had the chance.
I tuck away the urge to run after him and scream his name. Beg him to forgive me and all my preconceptions about who and what he is. It takes me several seconds. And by the time I look away from the door, the entire troupe has noticed.
Steve shoots me a sympathetic look, then clears his throat and grabs the attention of the dancers so I can recover.
“OK,” I say after that moment passes. “Let’s do it again, guys. From the top. We’ve got a show tonight, and we’re gonna blow this town away.”
They smile and joke, as they take their positions again. The music restarts and the lights come on, allowing me to make a dignified escape off the stage.
I slump down into the director’s chair set up offstage and watch eight months of work finally come together. They are as near perfect as we can get. They are all fit and handsome. All dancers. The music is original, and there is an artistic quality to the show that might set us apart from all the other male revue shows that have cropped up over the past few years.
It’s a long shot, I know that. The show Fletcher and Chandler put together before I took over the hotel was fun. It was very good too. And it did get a five-star review, although it was a moot point since Cole shut it down and ruined everything.
But that’s OK. It was a long process, regrouping and finding my stride. But I found it. And I’m proud of this show. I’m proud of the men who dance, the stagehands, the lighting guys. We even have a film crew to do promos for us along for the ride tonight.
It’s not the same show. It’s better. Because it’s mine.
Claudio appears again, making his way towards me. He sits down in his chair, next to Steve’s empty one, since he is dancing. The three of us are a team now, but even though I talk myself into feeling complete… I’m not.
The hole is still there.
I don’t bring up Fletcher, and Claudio is silent as we wait for the rehearsal to be over. Everyone gathers around for a few words of encouragement—the nerves are hard to keep at bay, and it’s my job to keep them all focused and positive. Until finally the rehearsal room goes quiet and it’s just Claudio and me left.
“He gave me this,” Claudio says, holding out a white plastic card. “Said you’d know what to do with it, and I quote, ‘if you w
ere interested in talking.’”
I stare at the card and take it from Claudio’s outstretched hand. It says Windshore Estates on it, with a beautiful picture of the lake.
“Do you know what to do with it?” Claudio asks. “Because I sure don’t.”
I nod and turn the card over, studying it. “I think so.” I check my watch. It’s almost an hour up to the North Shore.
“Go,” Claudio says.
“What?” I look up, still thinking of Fletcher. He has been on my mind since the moment I laid eyes on him back at that first show last summer. Even though I knew him such a short time, he dominated my thoughts. The anger when he propositioned me. The rage after he turned my plot to fire him against me. I look back down at my shoes and smile just thinking about it. And then I remember the sex on the roof and feel flushed. I felt betrayed when he set Cole up with Katie, but then cared for when I found out who she was and what Fletcher was doing. Of course, I’ve found out a lot more about him since that last meeting with Katie.
It wasn’t hard. The fake Wikipedia entry is still there. But the name Rourke on those legal papers Katie sent started Claudio and I on a hunt to figure out who Fletcher Novak really is.
Claudio is waiting for me to work all this out and when I look back up one more time, he reaches for my hand and gives me a sad smile. “If you don’t try, you’ll never know. So just go, Tiffy. It might be your only chance.”
I give him a slight nod as I take in a deep breath. “He’s not going to care why, Claudio.” Claudio starts to protest, but I put a hand up to stop him. “I’m still gonna try,” I say. “And OK, he might still hate me afterward, but he might not. So I guess it’s better to know one way or the other than let it stay a mystery.”
Claudio leans in and hugs me. “Good luck, girlfriend. And don’t be late for your show. If he’s still a stubborn bastard, just keep your mind on the show. We’ve got opening night, babe. And those bitches in the new auditorium are going to scream so loud, Fletcher Novak will hear them from the other side of the lake.”
I chuckle into his shoulder, trying my best not to cry so he won’t complain about tears on his suit. “I promise to remember that.”
xoxoxoxoxoxoxo
The drive up the lake takes almost an hour. This time I know where I’m going and I’m not in a rage trying to follow his red car. So I enjoy it. That’s something I’ve been working on since my father died last summer. Live in the moment, Tiffy. Don’t waste any chances. Because you only get one life. One trip around the game board. One chance to win.
I pull up to the gatehouse where I lied to the guard all those months ago. It’s not the same guy, thank God. Mr. Silverman was very confused by my behavior that day, but he ended up blaming it on my father’s sickness and death.
The guard leans down, placing a hand on the top of my car hood, and says, “Good afternoon, ma’am. Can I help you?”
I grab the pass Fletcher gave Claudio to get me past the gate. “Fletcher Rourke invited me to the house and gave me this pass.”
The guard’s expression changes and a beaming smile comes forth. “Ah, I’m gonna miss him.” He backs away a few paces to push the button for the gate. “Go on in, ma’am,” he says, waving me through.
I drive slowly down the road running parallel to the lakeshore. Every now and then I get a peek at the brilliant blue water flanked on all sides by the majestic mountains. I see the driveway for Fletch’s house. There’s a sale sign attached to the gate with an Open House By Invitation Only banner running across it. When I pull up, the gate opens automatically and I drive forward until Fletcher’s red Camaro comes into view.
I park behind him and get out, dragging my fingertips along the white racing stripe on the hood as I walk up to the front steps. The door is not open, and it has one of those lock boxes on the handle so agents can show the place.
I ring the doorbell several times, but no one comes. I step back from the house and walk back to the driveway, trying to see the backyard. It tilts a little, goes uphill, so I walk a few steps along the stone pavers flanked on either side with brightly colored flower beds, and when I get to the top the view almost takes my breath away.
The thirteen-million-dollar house has an equally impressive backyard. The sand is clean and raked to perfection with the exception of one trail of footsteps and my eyes follow them to the apex of a short dune where I can barely make out a mess of blond hair flowing in the lake breeze peeking out over the top.
I slip my sneakers off and step into the warm sand, my toes digging in deep. It feels wonderful. I have not been on our beach this summer at all. Too busy getting the show in shape. Too busy trying to forget my mistakes last summer. The walk only takes half a minute, and then there I am. Staring down on his sitting frame, his knees tucked up to his chest, his forearms poking out of the rolled-up sleeves of a crisp white dress shirt. Untucked and open in the front so that the slight wind coming off the lake makes it flutter around his body like a sheet in the wind.
“It’s a tough sell,” he says, his back still to me. “Thirteen million dollars.” He turns his head slowly, giving me a sidelong glance over his shoulder. He eyes my tattered jeans first, then his gaze travels up to my white tank top. “Nice outfit.”
“I hear it’s the uniform.”
That gets a half-hearted chuckle out of him as he turns his attention back to the view. But it helps me relax. So I take a few more steps, crest the soft peak of the sand dune, and then slide a little as I descend and take a seat next to him. “Did you sell it?” I ask, my fingertips digging into the sand.
“Got an offer this morning.”
“Are you gonna take it?”
A shrug. “I guess.”
I nod. “I guess I would too. But it would be sad.”
He looks over at me. Another side glance, like he’s not interested in meeting my gaze. “She wasn’t my wife, you know.”
“I know, Fletcher. I know a lot more now than I did back then. I have investigators too.”
He picks up a twig and stabs it into the sand a few times. “She’s my brother’s ex. And Shelly is my niece.”
“You don’t have to explain,” I say. “I know.” He stays silent after that. Just staring out across the sapphire-colored water. I can’t see the south shore from here, but it’s a long view down the entire length of the lake. Breathtaking. “It must be hard to leave.”
“I’m still trying to figure that one out, ya know?” He turns his head again. This time he looks at me straight on. “My granddad was a pretty important golf-course designer back in his day.” Fletch takes a deep breath, looks away, like he’s wondering if he should talk about it or not, then decides he will, and continues. “He got this land before all the development. Back when it was still valuable, but not outrageously so. It was a partial payment for a course he consulted on. And before he died years ago, back when I was eighteen and Walker was nineteen, he was in a huge fight with my parents. Called them no-good lazy bums.” He stops to laugh. It’s real and comes with that smile I loved so much last summer.
“But he was right, I think. And that’s why he gave Walk and me the house. He wanted it to stay in the family and figured my parents would sell it off the first chance they got.” He squints in the sunshine and look over at me again. “They would’ve too.”
I nod. “It’s a lot of responsibility, I imagine.”
“I did my best, Tiff. I tell myself that, anyway. But I just can’t afford it. My granddad left Walk and me about five million each. But after Walker fucked up with Samantha, I bought him out. I spent every last cent getting the title to this place to keep my promise to my granddad and give her a home to live in. A base that Shelly could count on, just like I did when I was a kid.”
I want to take his hand as he works through this decision to sell his house and break his promise. But it’s not something I can make him feel better about. It’s just something he has to come to terms with.
“So it’s ironic, ya know?” He loo
ks at me again, the wind tossing his blond hair in a mess of loose curls, his blue eyes shining in a slash of sunshine that cuts across his face. “I’ll be so rich if I take this offer, money will lose all meaning. Add in the deal I just made down in LA, and it barely makes sense to me.”
I sigh along with his frustration. “That’s how it works, right? The rich get richer and they don’t even have to try. Money makes money.”
“The taxes alone killed me. Every year I scrambled to pay them. Fifty thousand dollars in property taxes. That’s not even counting what it costs to maintain this place. The gardeners alone.” He shakes his head. “And I tried, OK? I tried to mow that fucking lawn. But it was an all-day job, and half the sod died, and then it just cost me more to hire people to come fix the shit I messed up.”
“I can relate. The cost of running that hotel made me throw up when I found out. And then I had to hire someone else to come do it for me, because every time I thought about it, I’d make myself sick. So yeah, I couldn’t win. And I can relate.”
He stares at me for a moment. “Am I doing the right thing, Tiffy? If I take this offer?”
I look out at the lake now, thinking about how I got here. Not here on the beach, but here, this moment in time. “It’s opening night tonight.”
“I know,” he says with a sigh. “I’ve been seeing the promos everywhere.”
“But it was a long road, and a lot of decisions to get to this night.” I smile at him and he smiles back. Not the big one that I love, but I’ll take what I can get right now. “My lawyers took all that info you had Katie gather and ran with it. They got the will overturned. Not just the executor thing that Cole tried to slip in, but the whole damn will. It was something of a miracle. The right judge, and all that.”
Fletcher raises his eyebrows.
“Yeah, I got all sixteen billion dollars.”
