“You’re too good for that guy. I’ll give you one piece of advice I got from Fletcher the first time we met, before we signed our contract. I think that’s fair game. When I first explained my problem to him, he took my hand, leaned down into my ear, and whispered, in the softest voice possible, ‘You’re way too good for him, Katie. Don’t devalue yourself like that. And if you hire me, I’ll remind you of this fact for the rest of your life. I’ll never let you forget it.’”
I can picture it in my head. So clear. And then the vision morphs into Fletcher and I out on the rocks that day. “Did you believe him?”
She nods slowly. “I still do.”
“You didn’t feel like you were…” I look down, and then eye her from under the hair that falls in front of my face. “Being used? Like you were being played? That he was just telling you those things because he wanted something?”
“Never.” She stares at me for a moment, probably working out the fact that he told me those things too, only I chose not to believe him. “He’s the real deal, Tiffy. I hope you two can work it out some day. I’d really like you to know him the way I do.”
We shake hands one more time after she walks me back to the greeting area, and I spend the quick trip downstairs knowing that I will never see Fletcher Novak again.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Nine months later
The bright sunshine of early morning in Tahoe was a sight I missed since I’ve been gone. June can be hit or miss in the mountains. It can snow one day and be a balmy seventy degrees the next. You just never know.
But this year we lucked out with a mild spring that lingered all the way through the first day of summer. And right now the South Shore is alive, even at nine AM on a Tuesday. I flip up my sunglasses as I walk into the lobby of the Landslide Hotel and look to my right to check the front desk.
None of the people busy with the checkout rush are familiar. But what did I expect? You can’t go home again. I scratch the scant stubble on my chin for a moment, considering.
Should I stop and ask about her?
But someone bumps into me, a man with a young family, his hands filled with a baby and luggage, while his wife is busy herding two small boys under five.
“Sorry,” he says, distracted with the baby in his arms as she starts to become upset.
“No problem,” I say. Yeah, I think I will skip the front desk and head right down to the training room.
I ease my way through the bustling crowds lingering on the edges of the casino. They’re lined up in front of the restaurant that now has a long and colorful neon sign that reads Breakfast Buffet.
Looks like she made some changes and the changes were good.
I punch the elevator button with the card Claudio sent me in the mail, and then wait. Patient, but thinking. He asked me to come by, somehow having gotten wind that I was in town on the North Shore finishing up some business.
I didn’t ask about Tiffy, but he offered. She doesn’t know I’m here. All he wanted was some advice on the all-new and revamped Mountain Man show.
After Cole fired everyone I heard Tiffy shut the show down for good. Maybe with the idea that the hotel needed a new look. Or maybe she was just overwhelmed and didn’t care to put it back together. Some magic act came in to replace us, the whole place got a little more family-friendly with the addition of a water park that opened a few weeks ago, and I figured she’d just move on and forget we ever existed. But now the Mountain Men are back.
Claudio found me through Steve. Tiffy tried to call. Many times, in fact. But I never answered that old phone number. Not once. It was a link to a life I was more interested in forgetting than rekindling.
Steve though, he and I remained in touch, though I told him to keep it private. Which he did. Until now.
But it was nice to hear Claudio’s voice. And nice to hear the updates on the hotel as well. Maybe being a part of the Mountain Men was never my endgame, but I was invested.
The elevator arrives and opens for me. And as I step in, all the memories of this routine come washing over me. The feeling is as brief as the ride down one floor, though. I get out, flash my badge to an unfamiliar face standing guard in front of the training room, and then pull that door open, allowing the sounds of rehearsal to boom out into the hallway before I can shut the door behind me.
The stage lights and smoke machines are on, and the six guys on stage are in the middle of a routine that looks very much like a dress rehearsal. It’s opening night for the new show. They have two stages now, I hear. Claudio filled me in. The family-friendly magician is still here, alternating nights with a comedian and the Landslide’s own version of a Shakespeare Festival for those people who prefer air-conditioning to the outdoor amphitheater up on the North Shore.
That might not be her best idea since she took over the hotel. It’s hard to compete with a tradition. But she’s trying and I’m glad. And hell, what’s success anyway without the sting of an occasional failure to spur you forward?
“Fletcher,” the familiar voice says from off to my right.
“Claudio.” I laugh, surprised at how happy I am to see him again. He’s looking very professional and sleek in his expensive designer suit. I extend my hand, but he hesitates.
“Hell, give me a hug, you gorgeous specimen of a man.” He pulls me into him and claps me on the back.
I laugh and clap him on the shoulder. “Steve is MC, huh?”
“Snotty bitches are going to be pawing him like an animal once the show opens. I have to guard my heart, Fletch. Keep him on the sidelines as much as possible.” Claudio squints his eyes at me and says in a serious voice, “I’m the jealous type, you know.”
He makes me chuckle again. “Yeah, I bet you—”
“No!” The voice booms out, and then the music stops. Tiffy Preston walks out on stage. “No, Jerry. Not like that.” She strides up to him wearing old jeans and a white tank top that reminds me of a Tiffy version of myself last summer. Her hair is all piled on top of her head in something that says that whole idea of doing it was an afterthought. She bellows, “Music!” It starts thumping again, right where it left off, and Tiffy starts moving to the beat. “Tease them, Jerry. You have to seduce them.” She yells it over the noise, the stage lights bouncing off her as she joins the five dancers in the act. “Only show them—”
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.