Chapter Four - Blaire
CHAPTER FOUR
Blaire
I might have overestimated what I’m capable of on my own. I didn’t let any of my team follow me on this trip and already it’s been a disaster.
I managed to get through the flight with no big issues besides an occasional autograph. But once we landed at Jackson Hole Airport, I realized I had to wait for my own luggage and find my own taxi.
Easy enough. Right?
Wrong.
When my disguise of a hat and sunglasses stopped working, a crowd started following me and taking pictures with more and more aggression. Then obviously I panicked because I have no bodyguards with me, so I found my luggage and I sprinted out the exit to the first taxi I saw. Which also meant cutting a long line of angry onlookers.
The front-page headline opportunities for tomorrow are endless. Maybe they’ll go with: “Blaire Evans’ Bad Behavior: Snubbing Fans and Stealing Cabs”. Or if they’re already speculating about a breakup, it might be something like, “Blaire Breaks Hearts and Bolts Home” .
Home.
Is that where I’m headed? Solace Springs was my home when I was little, but I’ve lived in Los Angeles three times longer than I did in Solace Springs. And I haven’t been back since Gram’s funeral almost five years ago.
It’s hard to believe it’s been five years. I’ve done at least six movies since then, which somehow feels like a more accurate measurement of time.
“Back in Solace Springs.” My taxi driver points out. He’s an older gentleman and had mentioned he actually lives in Solace Springs, although he doesn’t look familiar. “Where do you want to be dropped off?”
I lift my gaze from my phone where I’ve been doomscrolling news of my fake engagement. I take in my surroundings. The familiar wooden shops on Main Street are still painted in bright pastel colors. The sight slows my anxious heartbeat. It’s been five years, but nothing has changed.
Except that’s not true. Everything has changed. Gram isn’t here anymore.
“Right here is great.” I offer as I twist her charm around my neck.
He pulls up to the sidewalk and pops the trunk. I hand him my credit card and a hefty cash tip, as if money could clear my bad karma for cutting all those other people.
“Thanks much,” he says flatly as he hands me back my card and a receipt. I’m thankful for the normalcy of the interaction. Sometimes it feels like Solace Springs has an invisible bubble around it and as soon as I enter it, people stop treating me as someone special but just a girl who used to live here. Or maybe the man has no idea who I am. It’s certainly possible, although unlikely.
He jumps out of the front seat and walks to the trunk to get my suitcase. I step out of the cab and smooth out my white linen pants. The cooler summer air of Wyoming goes straight through my breezy linen outfit. I take a deep breath that’s so fresh it tastes like it came straight from the snowcapped Grand Teton mountain range that lines up on the horizon in welcome.
“Here you go.” The cab driver lifts my luggage onto the curb. He goes to leave but then seems to think better of it. “Oh, and Miss Evans?”
My head snaps up to meet his gaze. So he does know who I am?
“Money might fix things in Los Angeles,” he says the city’s name like a swear. “But around here, you gotta work for forgiveness.”
I knit my eyebrows in confusion. Is he talking about cutting all those people in line? What could I even do at this point for them?
I open my mouth like a dying fish, unsure of what to say. But it doesn’t matter, he’s already slipping back into the front seat.
I face the town as a steady flow of unease rushes back into my body.
Not a great welcome.
But I’m here. And…
Well, I didn’t plan much more after that. My life is always so over-planned that I think I assumed I’d fall into some type of plan without really even trying.
But I’m here, I say to myself again and take another deep breath.
A woman I don’t recognize tips her head in greeting as she swerves on the sidewalk to avoid my luggage.
Usually, when I get to town, I go straight to Gram’s. But that’s not an option anymore. So I make a silent prayer that things truly haven’t changed around here and head to Mae’s Diner .
As soon as I pass through the doors, it feels like every eye in the place turns to me. Some of those stares turn into polite smiles, while others show clear dismay and a few cold shoulders. It’s not even close to the warm welcome I usually get here. In fact, for a town that will schedule homemade food deliveries to your house at the slightest sign of a cold, this reception feels outright frosty.
I know I’ve burned a few bridges, but nothing that I thought the entire town knew about.
I try not to let the hurt show on my face as I seat myself in the closest empty booth. The light blue fake leather releases a puff of air as I sit down.
“Well, look who the cat dragged in,” a cheerful voice I’ve known my whole life fills me with ease. I slide right back out of the seat and take my cousin Lacey into a tight grip.
“I was hoping you would be here,” I say as I back away and hold her shoulders in front of me to get a good look at her. The same cheerful freckled face I’ve known all my life stares back at me, except now her hair is back to its natural deep red color after her brief stint as a blonde. Our grandma used to say I had a strawberry in me, but Lacey had the whole cake. My hair has a bit of red in its brown, while Lacey’s red can be spotted from a mile away.
“Still here.” She smiles. “And I hear a congratulation is in order. Scoot your pretty butt back in that seat. I’m taking a quick break so I can hear all about that fancy new fiancé of yours.” She says as she unties the yellow and white pinstripe apron from around her waist and sits down across from me.
Right. My fiancé.
Guilt churns in my stomach. I didn’t even think about how Lacey must have felt reading about my fake engagement instead of hearing it from me .
“Oh, we can talk about all that later.” I smile weakly. I’m sure it will only be a matter of days until I learn what clever way Mika’s agent will choose to spin the story.
Lacey glances down at my ring finger, which is glaringly bare. She cocks an eyebrow at me.
“Long story,” I say as I look around to see who might be listening in on us. An older couple that I vaguely recognize is staring at me with openly hostile expressions on their faces.
“Uh, hey Lace?” I ask her as I continue to scan the room. “Is it my imagination, or are people not so happy to see me?”
“Oh,” she waves a dismissive hand at them. “Don’t worry about them. They’re all just mad you haven’t been back to visit us. And okay, maybe they’re still hung up on your Drew Barrymore Show interview.”
I practically get whiplash from her answer. Of all the reasons I have for people to be mad at me, that’s the last thing I expected. I rack my brain to pinpoint what she could be referring to.
“I last went on her show like two years ago?” I say, confusion thick in my voice.
She nods and takes a deep breath. “Yeah, but you know how people get here. They don’t forget.”
I wrack my brain to think about what I possibly could have said. There was no crisis meeting with Patricia afterward, which happens after I say something wrong. So it couldn’t have been that bad?
“I’ll be honest, Lace. I have no idea what you’re even talking about.” I scan over some of the faces still looking at me.
“You said,” she starts with a hushed tone. “That it’s ‘nice to visit such a cute little town every once in a while.’”
“Okay, and then what?” I ask, waiting for the drop.
“A cute little town.” Lacey looks at me expectantly.
I tap my foot in anticipation, anxious over what I might have said next.
“A cute little town.” She says again, this time more slowly. “You don’t think that’s a bit demeaning? I mean, our town is a bit more than that. And then you just stop visiting altogether.”
“Lacey, that’s-” I start to object, but I stop myself. I should try to think about it from her perspective before I open my big mouth again. I’ve been media-trained well enough to know that you don’t ever say the first thing that comes to your head.
“Well, I’ll reflect on that a bit,” I say with a weak smile. “When you put it like that, I can understand how it might be offensive.”
Lacey places her hand on mine. “You’ve been away for a while. I get that it might all seem strange to you. Just like I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to find a bite to eat in Los Angeles, that wouldn’t make me want to toss it right back up.”
She slips out of the booth and wraps her apron around her waist again. “Well, that’s about all I’ve got until my shift is over. Hey, where are you staying, by the way?”
“About that…” I start. “Do you happen to know where the Airsteam camper is that Gram left for me?” I know this is something I would know if I had been around, but I hope she won’t remind me of that.
“Of course. It’s parked out at Rile Ranch. And you’re in luck. Colt Rile is right over there. If you ask nicely, I bet he’ll even give you a ride.”
I don’t follow her hand in the direction she’s pointing. I don’t need help to recognize Colt Rile. In fact, I could probably find him in a dark room with the lights turned off. And it wouldn’t be the first time.
But she’s wrong about one thing. Having to ask Colt Rile for a thing certainly doesn’t make me lucky.