Chapter 2
TWO
Eight Weeks Later
Fisher
I spent the first eight years of my life in England, just outside London.
Then I moved to Pennsylvania with my mom and dad and have been in the US ever since.
I don’t know if it’s my British accent, but I’ve always felt like a bit of an outsider.
Somehow, eating chicken wings in a bar in Colorado feels more like being at home than it should.
“They really are incredible. I’ve never had food so good,” I say, taking another bite.
Byron chuckles. “You eat out every night in New York at some of the best restaurants in the world.”
“Right,” I say. “And this chicken is better than all that shit.”
“If you say so.”
“You completely underestimate it because you’ve had it your entire life.” I take a swig of my beer, and somehow the chicken makes the beer taste better, and vice versa.
“Wrong,” Byron says. “I left Star Falls way before it was legal for me to eat wings at Grizzly’s.”
“Then your taste buds have shriveled up and died,” I say.
“That must be it. You think we should bring Vivian here? You think your world-famous pop star of a client would enjoy the chicken wings?” he asks.
“It’s a guy thing,” Rosey, Byron’s fiancée, says, sliding into the booth next to Byron.
“What’s a guy thing?” I ask.
“Loving the wings. Loving chicken. It’s like genetic. Or chromosomal or something. Is that the same thing? Anyway, Vivian might enjoy the wings, but she’s not going to worship them in the same way you guys do. Her husband might. He’s with her, right?”
“Yeah, and her baby,” I say. “But, Rosey, you can’t say a word to anyone about her being here.”
“I know,” she says, pressing a finger to her lips.
“I don’t worship the wings,” Byron says. Rosey shoots him a look that calls bullshit. “What?” he protests. “I don’t. I’m not saying I don’t enjoy them, but I don’t love them like Fisher and Worth and… all of them.”
“No one could love them like your best friends love them.” Rosey glances around.
“You think you’ll get Vivian out of the gilded cage of the Club and down here to sample small-town life including the chicken wings?
She’s one of the biggest stars on the planet, but there’s nowhere like Star Falls.
She should experience some of its magic. ”
“So, I worship wings, but you think Star Falls is magic?” I ask Rosey.
She gives me a pitying look. “Maybe you haven’t been here long enough.”
“I’ve been here a lot. It’s beautiful. I love it. You know that.”
“Yes, but seeing it is one thing. Living it is another,” she says with a sparkle in her eye.
She looks over my shoulder, and her eyes brighten as she sees someone or something. I turn, and a woman just arrived. She’s scanning the patrons, no doubt trying to find whoever she’s meeting. She’s got wavy blonde hair and bright eyes that I can tell are blue from over here, five yards away.
Rosey catches her eye, and the woman breaks out into the biggest infectious smile that even has me grinning. She waves at Rosey, and I watch as she heads off to one of the booths on the other side of the bar.
She’s bloody beautiful.
“That’s Juniper,” Rosey says before I get a chance to ask. “She’s the artist we’ve been telling you about.”
I frown and take another bite of the wing while I try to think back to whether I remember Rosey or Byron mentioning an artist from Star Falls.
I’m used to people mentioning singers they’ve seen on YouTube or guitar players they’re following on Instagram and telling me I need to check them out.
Almost always, it’s immediately clear why they’re not signed to a record label.
But Juniper has something about her. Star quality is such a bullshit concept.
Except it’s not. You either have it or you don’t. And maybe Juniper has it.
“She a singer?”
Byron starts to make an up-and-down motion with his hands, like he’s gently flapping.
“She’s a painter,” Rosey says, clarifying Byron’s miming. “You know, the one who painted some of the pieces in the Colorado Club. In fact, one of her paintings is opposite your bed in your lodge.”
“Ohhh,” I say, everything clicking into place. “And you wanted to know if I knew of anyone who might be able to help her in New York.” I nod. I should have paid more attention. “I know a few people.”
“Shall I go and get her?” Rosey asks, half out of her seat already.
I’m not complaining. I wouldn’t mind being introduced to her.
“Sit down and let the man eat his chicken,” Byron says.
“She used to go to school with Byron,” Rosey says. “They’ve known each other since they were kids.”
I can’t decide whether I’m imagining it or whether Rosey is putting a little too much effort into our conversation. She’s usually way more relaxed than this.
“So, how’s it going with Vivian?” Byron asks, awkwardly changing the subject.
I nod, still fixated on the beauty across the bar. I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s laughing with a group of friends on the other side, by the door, and they all seem as equally transfixed as I am.
“Really good,” I reply. “She seems exactly as she comes across to the public—focused on being a new mom and wife. She’s low-key and… great.”
Vivian Cross is probably the most successful singer on the planet right now. And I just signed her to my record label. She’s recording her next album up at the Colorado Club, which is why I’m here in Star Falls.
“You sound surprised,” Rosey says. “She always comes across as low-key and great when I see her interviewed.”
“I’ve been in this industry a long time,” I say. “The image you see on TV is usually just a fabrication of how the artist’s team wants them to come across. How they think they’ll appeal to the widest audience possible.”
I don’t know how I ended up in an industry that revolves around pretense when authenticity is what I value most. Actually, I know how—the music. I’ve loved music since I can remember, and I’ve managed to make it my work. I’m lucky.
“So, you thought America’s sweetheart, Vivian Cross, would be a total diva bitch?” Rosey asks.
I finally pull my gaze from Juniper and grin at Rosey. “I thought she might be more demanding than she seems to be. At the moment. Yes.”
“Does she like the recording studio?” Byron asks, always focused on the Club and what people like and don’t like about it.
“What’s not to like?” I ask. “It’s state of the art. You put in everything I’d asked.”
I sneak another glance across the bar. Juniper’s making faces as she’s talking, completely unselfconscious and relaxed. I have to press my lips together to stop myself from smiling at her obvious joy.
“I just wrote the checks,” Byron says. “I don’t know if what you suggested is any good.”
“It will pay for itself eventually,” I say. “You’re going to get loads of people coming out here to record. It’s so fucking peaceful. Vivian loves that it’s so private as well. She’s excited that she’s going to be able to take a hike without worrying she’s going to get recognized.”
I glance across to see Juniper again, but she’s gone from where she was sitting. My gaze flits across the bar to try to find her. Did she leave?
“What does she think about her lodge?” Rosey asks. “It’s one of my favorites of the ones that aren’t already taken.”
“She loves it. Plenty of space but cozy, is what she said. Everything’s good.”
Rosey wrinkles up her nose. “Okay, so she’s all settled, and her producer is staying at the Snowdrop Inn. So, why are you still here?”
I raise my eyebrows in mock horror.
“It’s lovely having you here, but I just don’t get it. You’re the CEO of the label. Are all stars like this? They need babysitting?”
I laugh. “A lot of them. But their managers do that, mostly. But she doesn’t want her manager on-site because she wants to focus on her family when she’s not in the studio.
He only agreed to stay away if I was around.
I’m here just to make sure she’s happy. If anything comes up, I’m not at the end of the phone. I’m here, ready to sprint into action.”
“But you’re the head of the record label. You can’t do that for all your artists,” Rosey says.
“Right, but Vivian Cross is the biggest recording star in the world. And the biggest signing Right Records has ever had. I don’t want to fuck that up. Whether her manager wants me here or not, I’m here. But the fact that he does want me here means I’m not going anywhere.”
I also can’t be hovering around Vivian like some overprotective guard dog.
I’ve just got to make sure she’s happy. And leave her alone to create her next album.
Signing someone like Vivian, when every label would have cut off their right arm to have her, is a big fucking deal.
If I fuck up, everyone will be waiting to pounce.
Vivian has only signed for this one album. I need to make sure it goes smoothly.
Right Records might be the biggest independent record label in the business, but it’s a small fry compared to the big players. If Vivian’s signing goes well and she’s happy, I expect others will want to come aboard. It could be completely transformational for my business.
“You’re not going to fuck anything up. You’re in Star Falls,” Rosey says. “It’s all going to be great.” She’s looking behind me, and then she starts to wave. “Oh, Juniper!” Rosey calls out and beckons her over.
I turn, and Juniper and a couple of friends are heading toward the pool table in the back. Juniper says something to them and then leaves them and heads to our table.
“Have you met Fisher?” she asks.
Juniper’s gaze turns to me, and her eyelashes flutter, and her lips part. I swallow, like she’s unexpected royalty or something. Her cheeks are dusted in pink, and her skin glows under the dim lights of the bar. Her eyes sparkle as she smiles.
“Hey, Fisher.”
“He’s the friend from New York Byron’s been telling you about.” Rosey turns to me. “I’m sure you can help Juniper out with her art career. You know so many artistic people in New York.”
Juniper laughs, and the scent of orange blossom and jasmine fills my nose. “I don’t have an art career. I’m a teaching assistant.”
“You’re so talented,” Rosey says. “I’m sure if more people knew about you, you’d be a wild success.”
Juniper smiles like she’s half indulging Rosey and half pleased to receive her praise. But it’s a real smile. A smile that I can tell she means to her core. It fills me with lightness and energy.
“Fisher’s staying in one of the lodges that has one of your paintings in it.”
“It’s beautiful,” I say, even though I can’t even remember it. But everything about the lodge is beautiful, so I can’t be lying.
She lays her palm flat on her chest. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
“What is it you’re looking for?” I ask. “An agent? A gallery to exhibit you?”
A whisper of panic crosses her face. “Oh, I… I’m not really—I paint for fun. I sell one now and again. Twilight Latte always has one up and a few other stores in nearby towns. I don’t expect I’m going to make it or anything.”
She lets out a nervous laugh at the end, like she’s ridiculous for even thinking she might be successful.
Part of me wants to scoop her up and tell her it’s going to happen for her—just like I have done with countless artists over the years when they’ve doubted themselves.
But I haven’t seen her work, and so I won’t say that to her.
I made a promise to myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t give people false hope.
It’s too painful in the long run. One thing I pride myself on is I don’t say things just to inflate people’s egos.
“I’d like to see your work,” I say before I have a chance to think about it. “I don’t know much about art, but…”
“Great. That sounds like fun. You just tell me when you’re free.”
I nod like I can’t form a sentence, like speaking and looking at the woman in front of me takes up too much brain capacity or something.
She glances down at my plate. “Finished your wings?”
I grin like an idiot. “They were good.”
“They were great,” she corrects me with a smile. She glances over toward the back of the bar. “You all want to come and play pool?”
“Sure,” Rosey says for all of us, and she’s out of her seat before anyone can say anything otherwise.
Byron and I take our beers and follow Juniper and Rosey.
“Juney’s nice,” Byron says, and then he sighs. “That’s it. That’s all I’m doing. If she asks, tell Rosey I told you that Juney’s the greatest woman on the planet.”
Realization dawns. “Oh, I see. It’s like that, is it?” I’m being set up. But I’m not mad about it.
Byron groans.
“Don’t sweat it,” I say. “She just wants everyone to be as happy as the two of you are. It’s nice.”
“I know. But people have to find their own path, and it’s not like you’re going to come live in Star Falls forever, is it?”
I chuckle. “Unlikely. But I’m here for the next six weeks.”
“Well, Juney is… well, she grew up a lot since high school. As you know, until the Club, I hadn’t come back to Star Falls since leaving, so she could have become a serial killer in the intervening years.
We’ve been in touch a little since I came back to town, but we don’t hang out a lot.
But tell Rosey I told you she’s amazing. ”
“Deal.”
We knock together our beer bottles and arrive at the back of the bar, where the pool table is. There are a few women gathered around, but Rosey and Juniper seem to have already started a game.
Rosey breaks and then turns to me and Byron. “Doubles?”
Rosey hooks her arm around Byron’s, leaving me and Juniper standing here and gazing at each other.
“You in?” I croon as I tilt my head toward Juniper.
She smiles and saunters past me, and I very happily follow.
I couldn’t have picked a prettier partner.