“How does this guy know that she moved there? Can’t she just be on a plane?”
“Her sister lives there.”
“Maybe she’s just visiting.”
“Some inside source says she wanted to get out of L.A.”
“I could tell you how crazy you sound right now, but I know it won’t help.”
“If she’s moving there, I have to go.”
“To Houston?”
“Yeah.”
Felix fills the squad car with cautionary quiet. He sighs.
“Well, you know I’ll support you whatever you do. Just make sure you put your time in early enough for the boss.”
“No, Felix, I mean I gotta move there.”
“…What?”
“This is my chance. It’s not like I could go to L.A., go right up to the door and ring the doorbell. She’d probably have me killed.”
“But you’d have a better chance in Texas?”
“Maybe. Away from the hoopla. I wouldn’t approach her or anything just…”
“You’re right, moving to her city and stalking her from afar seems much more reasonable.”
“I’ll have a better chance if it happens organically. It’ll seem like… the universe brought us together.”
“You can’t just like… send this chick an email?” Felix asks in a frustrated tone.
“…No.”
“Houston’s a huge city, Cliff.”
“I know. All the more reason to go. If it happens, it happens. If I run into her, I’ll know. I’ll know it means to go after her.”
Felix shakes his head.
“Didn’t you say she already has a boyfriend?” he whines.
“That was a rumor.”
“Still, it’s a realistic complication you should probably be ready for.”
“I just want to talk to her. I got no right to ask her for anything else. The odds of seeing someone from Halcyon in the outside world are astronomical enough.”
“You don’t even know for sure if that’s the girl.”
“I have to try.”
“Uprooting your whole life is ‘trying’?”
“You wouldn’t understand. I’m her Match.”
Felix rolls his eyes. He should’ve known it was time for that religious mantra. It solved all romantic problems and solidified all reasoning. He’s heard it so many times he could’ve recited it himself.
“This Halcyon program sure has turned you into a schmo,” he says.
“How long for a lateral transfer?”
“To Texas? No telling. Probably got stricter hiring policy somewhere. Gotta re-certify. Figure about a year.”
I could be all wrong. There’s no real way to know. I signed away all my rights to know. But if I’m right…
I take a deep breath of resolve.
“Then I better get started.”
Chapter 3
Bria
“The past is the past, prasice…”
My eyes drift open against my will, looking up at the ceiling of Skye’s apartment guest room, the ceiling that’s slowly becoming familiar after six months. I wake up feeling serene. I had a good dream. What was it again?
Oh yeah. I was with Luke. At an outdoor concert. In front of Halcyon headquarters, weirdly.
Chase was there, oddly enough, sitting on a blanket to the left of me. Luke was on my right, sprawled out on a quilt with a striped shirt and jeans, a very 70’s look to go with his 70’s hair. I’ve never seen him in regular clothes that he picked out, but I’m pretty sure he’d never wear that in real life.
There was no tension among us of any kind. Romantic, sexual or otherwise. I was grateful they were there, and grateful I had them. I looked at him and for the first time had nothing to ask him, nor was he running or walking away, or pleasuring me while fading away, or being mute. He said something. What did he say?
I take a deep breath. It doesn’t matter. I only miss the man a little. His sense of humor. So dry it made you thirsty. There wasn’t much to Luke, on the surface. I guess if you stick anyone in a room with nothing but you to keep them occupied it strips away quite a lot. He just had this presence about him. Genuine mystery, and not the manufactured kind. The kind that gets boring after a while.
I always have a dream like that when a transition is happening or about to happen. Growth. I’m not surprised, but it feels good to get the report card from the old psyche. Now more than ever I know I’m on the right track. And any track that’s other than what I was doing before is the right one.
I’m not making enough as C.H.L.O.E.’s manager, not yet. And for some reason, I’ve been reluctant to add anyone else to my managerial roster. I’ve started to get approached. I’m still green, but I’m good. And the family connections are doing the rest. A few tastemakers have agreed to take me under their wing, but again, who knows which way that door’s opening. Who cares, I’m actually supporting myself, and when in doubt I just call my mom, who knows just as much if not more than some of these bigwigs. Or at least, knows better how to make keeping the artist happy a part of the business.
I know my way around a deal better than I thought. C.H.L.O.E.’s getting exposure while also getting paid, for the first time in ever. And all the while, I’ve also shed another 54 pounds, bringing me down to my pre-Halcyon weight. Feels good, but I’m not done.
Each morning I walk to the gym a half-mile from Skye’s apartment. I hate working out. I’d rather do something I liked for exercise, like dancing or… hiking. But Texas is pretty flat, and I’m not ready to go in some studio dressed in a leotard like I know I’m all that. I am all that but… I’m also too much. I still gotta work on my stamina and strength training. And I can’t do Zumba alone in my room like a weirdo. That doesn’t motivate me. So, the gym it is.
The gym has an in-house trainer, Nash Malone, who’s not particularly nice and who I found myself compulsively trying to please almost immediately. When I walked in for the first time six months ago, he shook my hand and asked me what my goals were.
“I just don’t wanna die anymore,” I nodded, as if I was just now deciding.
“Not a bad goal. Anything else?”
“My lowest I’ve ever been was 170.”
“I can get you there,” he simply said. “And from what I can tell, so can you. When do you want to start?”
“Tomorrow, I guess.”
“Maybe we should start right now.”
“Well, we could but… I’m not wearing the right thing for working out. And full disclosure, I just ate a giant chocolate bunny.”
“Don’t you worry about that anymore. You just do everything I tell you to do from now on.”
I loved him for saying that. Every day I came in and did whatever exercise he told me, no matter how strange. I hardly sweat for the first month. And I didn’t get much smaller than 8 pounds. But I trusted him. He certainly isn’t milking the cow, if L.A. prices are the standard. But even if he is, just to have him look me in the eye every morning, telling me when and how to work harder is enough.
Sweating is now my past-time. Despite the fact that I’m not losing the weight as fast as I would like. I don’t know what’s up with that. Back in the yo-yo dieting purgatory of my teenage years, I knew how to drop weight quick for a premiere here or there. Sure it was unhealthy, but the difference is staggering. I’d blame it on getting older, but it’s too early for that. Then again, I’ve never before kept it off as I have, now that I’m doing whatever Nash Malone tells me to do. Even my clandestine cheat days aren’t coming back to haunt me.