Page 71 of Love Fast

“Is that what thisClubis about? Proving to your father you’re better than him?” Her question hits me like a physical blow.

“No,” I reply, with the tone of a surly teenager.

“You could have built that billionaires’ playground anywhere in the world, but you chose the town where you were born.”

She sounds like Worth. Don’t they all know that I’m rich enough to pay for therapy? I don’t need it for free. “I don’t need to prove anything to my father. Like you said, he’s dead. Has been for a long time now.”

“Let him rest,” she says. She turns and heads down the steps back to her car. “It’s good to have you back, Byron.” She winks at me. “You might have run away from this place. But there’s no escaping a town that loves you. Don’t be a stranger, now.” She slides into her car, toots her horn, and then she’s off. I didn’t even get a chance to thank her for her pie. Or the words of advice.

I stand on the porch, watching the driveway long after Nancy has left. Athena is twisting and turning through my legs like she doesn’t actually hate me. Maybe she knows just how good Nancy’s pie is and she’s hoping for a slice. I sigh and pick up the pie before I lose it to the cat. I glance up in the direction of the Club, whose lights twinkle in the distance. It’s as if it’s saying hello to Star Falls, and the lights of Star Falls reply. They peacefully and harmoniously coexist.

I’d always kept track of what happened to the farm after I left for New York. I tracked it after it was put up for sale after my dad’s creditors took ownership. It was run as a farm for a couple of years and then bought by a developer who didn’t seem to get any of the necessary permissions to do anything with it. When I had the money, I approached the developer and bought it. I didn’t even think about it. Maybe it was nostalgia. Maybe it was some kind of reach for a legacy. I just knew I wanted it—had to have it, actually. But maybe subconsciously I’d been wanting a home. Perhaps that’s what the Colorado Club is for me—a home. Or maybe an excuse to come back to the one I’ve always had.

I grab my phone from beside the pie and dial Gary. I know he likes to catch up on everything once I’ve left for the day. It’s one of the reasons I make sure I leave early—because he won’t go home for two hours after I do.

“I have an idea,” I say as he answers. “I want to throw a party.”

There’s silence from the other end of the phone. “You know we have a launch party in less than two weeks? You’ve been in on those meetings.” He clearly thinks I have some kind of memory issue.

“This is a different party. And it’s going to have to come together fast because I want to do it before the launch.”

“Before?” His voice comes out strangled, like he might be mid-panic attack.

“Yeah. Like next weekend.”

“And who or… what… is this party for?”

“For the people of Star Falls. No need to worry about invitations—I’ll tell a couple of people in town, and everyone will know in no time.” I chuckle to myself. I might not have been here in a long time, but some things in Star Falls never change.

THIRTY

Rosey

It’s the first time I’ve been into Star Falls since I left the cabins and moved into my apartment. I haven’t had a day off since. Even though the Club runs a shuttle bus into Star Falls every half hour, it feels like a long way away.

And I know it will remind me of Byron.

There’s no escaping him. He’s in every brick of the building I live in. He’s in the diner, at Grizzly’s. There are memories of him everywhere.

A few of us get off the bus at the same time. We’re all starting to work shifts the closer we get to opening, and a few of us have a day off today. I recommended Galaxy Diner to a few of my co-workers, and some of the bar staff are going to check it out. I point them in the right direction as we get off the bus, and I head to the post office. Frank’s ring is in my pocket. I need to mail it back to him. I haven’t prepared a note or anything. I can’t think of what to say. But mailing the ring to him still leaves the issue of the trailer. I don’t know where to start with that. My mom has probably burned all my stuff by now, including the deed Frank gave me.

There’s no line at the post office. I explain I’m mailing jewelry, and the woman behind the counter, who seems to be wearing a dead yellow bird in her hair, tells me how to package and insure the ring.

I fill out Frank’s address on the padded envelope she hands me.

“Don’t forget to put your address on the top left-hand corner on the front.” She smiles at me like she’s being helpful. But it’s not helpful.

“Do I have to do that?” I ask. “Or can I just put down my name? I’d really prefer him not to know where I am.”

She offers me a sympathetic smile. “You don’t have to, but the postmark is going to give the town away. And there’s no hiding anything in this town.”

It’s probably fine. Frank won’t think twice about the postmark. He’ll be so happy to get the ring back, I’m sure he’ll just trash the packaging.

“You want the PO box?” she asks.

“It will be fine. I’ll just put my address.” It’s not like he’s going to get on a plane and try to change my mind. I humiliated him in front of his friends and family. Frank’s not a monster. He’s not going to send a hitman after me, either. And it’s not like I’m alone in the woods. I’m living among loads of people. Putting my address on this package is no big deal.

Before I can second-guess myself, I scribble out Frank’s address, my address, and stuff the Ziploc containing the ring into the mailer. I pay the bird lady and head out.

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