Page 71 of Fa-La La-La Land
Rhys
Iwait until I’m upstairs in the guestroom to ring Danny. I could’ve talked to him in front of Stella, but I’ve got to keep a bit of distance from her. The second she put her arms around me, I wanted to pull her in and tell her again I’m falling for her. Reckon I must like the torture of saying “I love” her only for her to tell me she can’t say it back. She’d rather follow some list she made when she was fourteen than what’s right in front of her.
I know she’s falling for me. But until she’s ready to be honest with herself—and with me—I’ve got to ease off. Had enough hurt the past few years to last a lifetime.
Danny takes his sweet time answering, which tells me everything I need to know. Used to pick up on the first ring. Now he makes me chase him like every other client.
“Rhys!” he exclaims after finally answering. “I’m in the middle of something, but what can I do for you?”
First time it occurs to me I’ve heard him say the same thing to other people when he’s knocking off for theday. Maybe it’s his little mind game—keep the clients chasing him so they feel like they’ve got to earn his attention.
Instead of giving him my sob story like I’d planned, I cut it short. “Weather’s got me stuck in Idaho, mate. We’ll have to push rehearsal a couple days.”
He laughs. “We’re not postponing. There’s no place we can’t get you out of. I’ll send the VibeHouse plane. Tell me where you are.”
“Yeah, nah. I’ll be back in a couple days.” I told him before I left for Italy that I’d be in Paradise over Thanksgiving. Not telling him again.
I end the call and toss my phone onto the bed. My pulse thrums. I’m on the verge of panicking when I pick up the soft hum of the radiator. The rest of the house is quiet. No sounds of cars or kids outside. No noise inside.
Dunno how old the house is, but it’s older than anything in LA. Something about that thought and the sound of the radiator grounds me. Stops the spinning in my head.
I walk to the old desk in the corner to study the photos pinned to the wall above it. The first is a pic of a man I recognize as Mike Sparks with a little kid whose dark hair gives him away as Seb; a second photo must have been taken right after Stella was born. The whole family’s in it, and Seb’s holding her. Then one more of the family minus Mike Sparks.
Strange how a bloke can be gone so long and still hang over everything.
Been thinking about that since Stella told me the story of her letters. Obviously, he’s not the one writing those letters she gets every Christmas Eve, but it’s got to be more than one person. Whole town seems to be in on it, as many of them who’ve asked me if I know about it.
When she told me about the storm, my first thought was that the concert would be canned. Yeah, Liv andJax pulled me out of a tree, but once I told them the show was for them, I realized I wanted it to be for everyone in Paradise—to thank them for what they’ve done for Stella. They’ve made Mike and Santa real for her. They’ve all been part of keeping her belief alive. Maybe this show’s my turn to return the favor.
She might not be as gone on me as I am on her, but this town’s shaped who she is. Wherever this goes between us, I’m better for it. I’m a better man for loving her. And I want to thank the people who taught her to see magic in the everyday—who taught her to be her.
Once Stella’s cleaned up, she drives us to the Garden of Eatin’ in Gia’s truck. We go slow. Snow’s still coming down hard, but she reckons it’s not blizzard conditions. The wipers struggle against the snow, the world outside a blur of white. Stella hums along to the radio, calm as ever, while I’m clutching the dash like a rookie on his first driving lesson. Not sure what I’m more worried about—whether we’ll make it there alive or if the place’ll be empty because no one’s mad enough to drive in this weather.
Five minutes later, we pull safely into the snow-covered car park, and there are cars everywhere. When we walk inside, the place is packed. Don’t know how many people usually show up for Adam’s gigs when it’s not snowing, but the Garden’s full tonight. Standing room only and more coming in behind us.
The air inside’s thick with heat and chatter and the lingering tension between Stella and me. Lights are strung through the rafters, and the smell of good burgers and fries rolls through the room.I spot Adam and Bear setting up gear on the temporary stage opposite the entrance and weave through the crowd to reach them. Hear my name more than once and a few squeals, but no one stops me.
“This normal for a night like this?” I ask Adam when I reach him.
He shrugs. “I think word got out that you’re here.”
“How?” I take a guitar from him and start tuning.
Adam’s lip twitches, and he nods toward Stella a couple feet away. “Stella invited a few neighbors, and apparently somebody got video of you stuck in a tree and posted it on Paradise’s Facebook page.”
Just then, Stella joins us on stage. “Everything ready to go?”
“You know there’s a Facebook post going ’round about me getting rescued out of a tree this morning?” I ask her. That’s more of a worry than her inviting a few people. Couldn’t care less about that, honestly.
“Okay. I’m on it.” Stella’s already scrolling on her mobile. In seconds she’s found the post and watches the video. “I can try to get it taken down, but that’ll stir up more interest than this video is worth. It only has a few hundred views. We’re better off spinning it.”
“Spin what, exactly?”
“What’s there to spin?” Adam asks. “You were helping a local widow put up some inflatables on her house and got stuck. You were so grateful to the firefighters who helped you down, you offered to throw a free concert.”
Stella looks from Adam to me. “True. If it gets more views or goes viral, it’ll be good press, Rhys.”
She’s right about that, but I’ve got a bigger concern. “You told everyone not to film this morning, yeah? They did anyway. They’ll do the same here, no matter what you say. If VibeHouse catches wind of me singing any version of ‘Fa-La La-La Land’ that isn’t theirs, I’m cooked.”
