Chapters (85)
- BOOKS BY LOUISE BAY
- ONE
- Rosey
- TWO
- Byron
- THREE
- Rosey
- FOUR
- Byron
- FIVE
- Rosey
- SIX
- Byron
- SEVEN
- Rosey
- EIGHT
- Rosey
- NINE
- Byron
- TEN
- Rosey
- ELEVEN
- Byron
- TWELVE
- Rosey
- THIRTEEN
- Byron
- FOURTEEN
- Rosey
- FIFTEEN
- Rosey
- SIXTEEN
- Byron
- SEVENTEEN
- Rosey
- EIGHTEEN
- Byron
- NINETEEN
- Rosey
- TWENTY
- Rosey
- TWENTY-ONE
- Byron
- TWENTY-TWO
- Byron
- TWENTY-THREE
- Rosey
- TWENTY-FOUR
- Rosey
- TWENTY-FIVE
- Byron
- TWENTY-SIX
- Rosey
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- Byron
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- Rosey
- TWENTY-NINE
- Byron
- THIRTY
- Rosey
- THIRTY-ONE
- Rosey
- THIRTY-TWO
- Byron
- THIRTY-THREE
- Rosey
- THIRTY-FOUR
- Rosey
- THIRTY-FIVE
- Byron
- THIRTY-SIX
- Rosey
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- Byron
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- Byron
- EPILOGUE
- A month later – New York City
- 14 months later - Star Falls
- MR. MAYFAIR
- Beck
- Beck
- Stella
- BOOKS BY LOUISE BAY
Juney laughs. “Really? I was a mess in high school. You don’t remember I always had paint in my hair and under my fingernails?”
“It’s been a while,” I respond. I just remember Juney being quiet. It seemed like she was in a world of her own.
“You were too busy playing sportsball.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, sportsball was a big thing back then.” I used to take out all my frustrations about everything out on whatever field I was playing on. Sportsball was what the kids that didn’t play sports called any sport that involved a ball.
Juney pulls out her phone from the back pocket of her jeans. “Do you have your phone? I’d love to share my digital business card.” She holds up her phone, which has a QR code on it. I scan it and hold up my phone so she can see that I have it. “I won’t take up any more of your time. Take a look at my work and if you think you might be interested, give me a call. I won’t hound you, I promise.”
“You can hound me. I have a lot going on, so I might forget—”
“He won’t forget,” Rosey says. “I’ll make sure he remembers.”
My eyes widen in surprise. She’s going to be moving up to staff housing soon. How does she think she’s going to remind me if we’re not neighbors?
Juney makes her excuses and heads back to her table.
Rosey mutters under her breath, “This is perfect.”
“What’s perfect?” I take a swig of beer and turn to face her on the stool. No one’s taking any notice of us anyway.
“Local art.” She says it in a way that suggests I should know what she’s saying. “The Club can start supporting a local artist. You’re trying to make the town less hostile to the Club, right? This is another way you can encourage local support.”
“I can’t put up art that isn’t any good. If I refuse to support a local artist, that could have the opposite effect—people might start to hate me.”
Rosey holds out her hand. “Let’s have a look at her stuff.”
Our gazes lock, and for a second, I wonder why the hell I insisted on coming to Grizzly’s. I can’t do anything I want to do to her with all these eyes on us. Rosey breaks eye contact first and clicks on Juney’s website.
“Whoa,” Rosey says. “This is not what I was expecting.”