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 were 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.”