16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

THE COUNTY FAIR QUEEN

Rivers was right in front of me. He was so close I could have reached out and touched him. We were standing in line, both of us waiting to cast our ballot for the muscadine king and queen. He didn't notice me at first. One by one, the line had trickled down, and then it was his turn. When he was done, he turned around to head out. The second I saw his face, I realized just how hard this had hit him. His eyes, once bright and beautiful, were now bloodshot. His lips, usually plumped to perfection, were trembling in front of me.

I took a step forward, reaching for him. "Riv." He must have caught sight of an interesting red brick, because once his eyes dropped to the street, they didn't budge.

"I'm so sorry, Firecracker. I can't do this right now," he said, brushing past me. I didn't chase after him. If he needed to ignore me until I was gone in order to keep his composure, I would allow it. I'd welcome it. It felt like I owed him at least that much.

There were six names listed on the ballots. Three women and three men. The only familiar name on the list was Danvers, and I sure as shit wasn't voting for him. So, I went with my heart. For the muscadine king, I wrote my king's name down. When it came to the queen, I didn't even have to think twice.

Phillip Firecracker, the ballot said as I folded it in half, pressing a kiss to the paper.

King and Queen, the way we were supposed to be.

On stage, a band was playing an old country and western song as I walked past. I caught sight of Rivers sitting in the gazebo on the courthouse lawn. He was alone, staring down at his shoes. The music swallowed me like quicksand, making each step more difficult than the last. He didn't want to see me. I knew he didn't. Still, I couldn't stop myself. It was like my body was acting on instinct. Like every step toward him was taken by someone else.

He saw me, unsurprised by my presence, like my finding him was inevitable. We said nothing, just sat side by side, our knees touching. My hand was on my thigh, just like his. I didn't acknowledge how good it felt when his pinky made contact with mine. Not when he looped them together, either. Not even when he leaned over, laid his head on my shoulder, and sighed.

We stayed that way for another three songs, each one sadder than the last. I didn't know who picked out the setlist, but it seemed like they'd been hellbent on emotional devastation. When the band finally finished their Dolly Parton cover, Rivers removed his pinky from mine and walked away without saying a word.

As soon as he was gone, Preston approached and took the seat Rivers had been filling.

"I'm sorry you're hurting, Phillip."

"Dad…" And then the dam broke. I shattered, coming apart at the end. And when I could no longer hold myself together, my father wrapped an arm around me, and he held me through it.

"I know," he said. "I know, kid."

***

There were three men and three women standing on either side of Rivers and Minnie Sinclair. Rivers was standing at the microphone, having somehow fixed a smile on his face. As he gave his customary speech before the crowning, I clung to his every word. Funnily enough, as soon as the words were out, I couldn't recall a single thing he'd said. It was just an endless chorus of Rivers Rivera.

Minnie's smile was just as wide as Rivers had been when she approached the microphone. There was a small, purple envelope in her hand, and as she drank in the sight of the city, her hot-pink fingernails scratched at the paper. A chant of "Minnie, Minnie, Minnie," echoed out from the onlookers, and she reached for her face, wiping away a tear.

"I've been announcing these winners for dang-near thirty years, and Muscadine Madness still gets the better of me." She scrunched her eyes into slits as she searched the audience. "Phillip, sugar? Are you out there?"

I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. With no crack or crevice for me to fall into, I knelt behind Jordy's miniature frame, praying to remain unseen.

"As you all know, last year's winners, Debbie Kirk and Malcolm Bradley, passed away in a car accident this past spring. In their absence, we've secured another Muscadine Queen to crown this year's winners. Please help me in giving a round of applause for 2001's Muscadine Queen, Phillip Firecracker."

An eruption of applause spread through the crowd, but I remained strong, refusing to budge. Jordan, the anarchist, attempted to move, taking with him my only means of remaining incognito.

He was going to be so fucking fired when this was over.

Thankfully, the grip I had on his hips held tightly, rendering him immobile. Good. I had this. So long as he didn't budge, I was fine.

"Excuse me," Jordan called out, waving his hand in the air like a lunatic. "Miss Minnie? He's over here."

For the second time in my life, through no fault of my own, I channeled my inner Moses, splitting the crowd into two as if I was splitting the sea itself. Resigned to my fate, I rose from the proverbial ashes, holding my hand in the air and giving the crowd a wave. On stage, Rivers chuckled softly. It seemed like a bit of that ice around his heart was finally thawing.

On stage, I moved cautiously, worried one misstep may result in a disastrous round of deja-vu. The last time I was on up there, I'd almost lost my teeth. I didn't care if I had to crawl across, I was leaving that stage with my dignity intact.

"This year, we had a record voting turnout," Minnie said, reading from the slip of paper she pulled from the envelope while I occupied the empty space beside Rivers. Be it instinct or urge, I reached for his hand. He must have seen me coming, because he brought his hands behind his back, out of the line of fire. "Over nine-hundred votes." As usual, Minnie had her thumbs covering the names of the new king and queen, like she wanted to save the surprise for herself. "And it seems we have a landslide election this year. With over seven-hundred and fifty votes, our Muscadine King is…" She lifted her left thumb, and a smile curled up in the corners of her mouth. "Phillip Firecracker."

The crowd went silent.

In the front row, someone dropped a fork, and the sound it made could have been heard from miles away. As I tried to catch my breath, Rivers' hand rested against the small of my back, and he guided me toward the microphone. The only thing going through my head was the revelation that I would be murdering Brenda/Carole when this was over. I didn't know how she did it, but I knew for a fact she was behind this.

"Did you do this?" I barked into the microphone, glaring at her. "I'm not stealing someone's crown for this damn show, Brenda." I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath. "I'm sorry, everyone. We're going to need a minute to recount the votes. Hopefully, my producer hasn't already shredded them."

Brenda/Carole scoffed, dismissing me with the flick of her wrist as she took another hit off her vape. The crowd folded into confusing clusters as they whispered amongst themselves.

"Is he saying they rigged the election?" Eulah Smith asked, less than three feet from the stage. The whispers grew louder. Minnie pushed past me, toward the microphone

"Excuse me," Minnie said, tapping the tip of the microphone. And then, louder. "Excuse me!" The crowd went silent, and the sea of citizens turned their attention to her. "Bernadette, is this your doing?"

Again with this Bernadette person? Who the hell was this mysterious woman?

Brenda/Carole shook her head emphatically, cupping her hands to her mouth and shouting, "I'm ashamed to admit that the thought didn't even cross my mind. It's a damn good idea, though."

"Well, if it wasn't you, then who?" I asked.

"Alright," Minnie said. "Let's try this. Who here voted for Phillip?" In shock, I watched most of the crowd raise their hands. When I turned toward Rivers, my heart cracked in my chest. His was held higher than everyone.. "Well, it looks like we've got ourselves a winner. Alright, sugar, get back over here and make your speech."

I stumbled forward, almost tripping on my feet. I won? I actually won?

At the microphone, I stared out at the city, dazed. "I guess a 'thank you' is in order. I'm sorry, I didn't really have anything prepared." My eyes flickered person to person, soaking in the sight of my city. Their expressions weren't hateful like last time I'd won. There were no jeers or hushed laughs. Just a sea of smiling faces. Rivers approached and squeezed my wrist in support.

"When my assistant came to me with the show offer, I told him to turn them down. After last time, I didn't think I'd be able to show my face again," I admitted. Aunt Lurlene and Beau were standing side by side, holding hands. In the distance, Evelyn Foote was glaring at me, but there was the briefest hint of a smile in the corner of her mouth. Hell, even Siobhan Donahue was giving me an appreciative nod. "Twenty years ago, you let me down. It's taken a long time for me to put that night behind me, and even still, there's this little part of me that's always waiting for the other shoe to drop—like someone's going to come along and rip the rug out from under me." Rivers' hand gripped me even tighter, his nails digging into my skin. "When our plane first landed, I was terrified you were all going to shun me, but that didn't happen. Instead, you scooped me up in your arms, and you reminded me of who I am. Of where I come from. Thank you all for reminding me. I needed it."

When I turned toward Rivers, he had a smile stretched clear across his face. Beside him, Minnie held out a small, sparkling tiara for him to take. He lifted the crown and placed it on my head, his thumbs brushing back and forth against my cheeks. "Congratulations, Firecracker." His hands descended slowly, falling down the sides of my face, past my shoulders and arms. When his hands found mine, it was like waking from an endless dream. He gave them one last squeeze before returning to his original place on stage. With Rivers behind me, Minnie handed me the tiara that was to go to this year's winner. Though the women were all beautiful, I didn't particularly care to dance with any of them when this was over. The only person I wanted to share this with was my king.

Minnie stood in front of the microphone, lifting her thumb from the other name on the paper, finally revealing the winner to herself. As she stared at the page, I stared at the tiara in my hand. It wasn't the one I'd worn that night. That one was still back home in Santa Barbara. This one was just a cheap, plastic replica they probably purchased down at Dudley's Automotive and Halloween Superstore (don't ask, because I can't even explain it myself). Still, it was a pretty little thing, the tiara. It sparkled against the spotlight, sending out fractals of purples and pinks that reflected against my tuxedo. I tried to imagine what it must feel like to share the crown with someone you care for. To dance with the man of your dreams while the world watched on. The crowd erupted into an overwhelming round of applause. I wasn't sure how long I'd zoned out for.

"Sweetie," Minnie said, leaning in. "That's your cue. Go ahead and put it on." She motioned me toward the group of hopefuls, and Rivers standing at their side, but I wasn't sure who'd won. Too embarrassed to admit I hadn't been paying attention, I swallowed the lump in my throat and approached a random woman, hoping for the best.

The first girl I approached glared at me as I held the tiara inches away from her head. "Is this some kind of sick joke? Are you making fun of me for losing? I campaigned eight months for this, and now you're just rubbing it in my face? Well, you can go straight to hell, Phillip Firecracker!" She choked out a sob, covering her face with her hands as she dashed off stage.

One down, two to go.

The next girl slapped my hand away as I held the tiara out for her. I leaned in and hissed into her ear. "If you ever touch me again, I'll make sure my producer gives you an edit so horrible, you won't be able to show your face in public for years."

I turned toward the final hopeful. She was a lovely woman I'd met earlier in the week when I'd stopped by the Pick-n-Save to grab a package of denture adhesive for Aunt Lurlene. Becca, I think her name tag had said. Well, Becca was beaming at me like I'd just given her the world, and she knelt in front of me, happily accepting her crown. When she rose from the stage like a blooming violet, she said, "Thank you, Phillip Firecracker. You made my dreams come true."

I smiled, because it felt like I'd just made her entire year. "Congratulations."

"Oh, for the love of—give me that dang crown," Minnie grumbled, snatching it off of Becca's head. "Get off this stage, Rebecca. Off! Don't make me call your momma. That woman's already suffered enough, what with your brother's rampant inhalant addiction." Becca wiped a tear from her eye before slowly sauntering off the stage. "Now, go on. Get!"

"What in the hell is going on?" I said.

"Now," Minnie said. "Mayor Rivera, if you wouldn't mind joining me, I'd like to get this show on the road so we can finally see you two dance."

"Firecracker," Rivers said, pulling me out of the endless fog.

"Riv? What's happening?"

He reached out for me, and for a moment, I thought he might pull me toward him. Scoop me up in those big arms of his and hold me tight, never letting me go. Instead, he took the crown from my hand and brought it to his head, setting it on top. And he smiled. My God, he smiled.

"Why are you—Rivers, what's happening?"

"My king," he said. "I guess that makes me your queen." He leaned in, kissing my cheek. "Can I have this dance?"

I had to bite my bottom lip to keep it from trembling. He led me offstage, then through the crowd, toward the center of the red brick road. From the stage, a familiar song played out through the speakers, and a man's voice belted out the opening lines to my one-and-only solo single. Preston was at the microphone, staring down at us like God, witnessing the world he'd created. The man who gave me life, but not much else. The father who'd never been much of a father at all. Still, I wouldn't have changed it. Not a single second of our history. His ice-cold demeanor, his quiet way. If it hadn't been for him, I wouldn't be standing in the middle of an old brick street, holding my hand out, waiting for the man I—

Oh, my God.

Oh, my fucking God!

"Firecracker," he whispered. His fingers weaved with mine, and he pulled him to me until we were chest to chest. Heart to heart. And as we danced—as we swayed and twirled like we'd been preparing for this all our lives—he leaned in, and he sang to me. A song I'd wanted erased from my history for decades. The beginning and end of my solo career. It was a treacherous number I resented with everything I had in me, but coming out of Rivers' and my father's mouths, it was like I was hearing it for the first time. A brand-new song for a brand-new me. That man I could have been, had Rivers been braver all those years again. The man I could still be if I cast aside my dreams of fame.

The man I would never be.

But for one autumn night in Tallulah, Texas, I could.

So, if I held on to him longer than I deserved, Rivers Rivera would just have to forgive me for falling victim to the muscadine madness of it all. Judging by the dreamy eyes he was flashing in my direction, I was pretty sure he'd fallen just as hard.

"Stay the night with me," he whispered. "It doesn't have to mean anything." The desperation in his voice slashed away at my defenses, leaving me open and vulnerable in ways I hadn't been in years. "Please? Just for tonight."

I pulled back, studying his beautiful face. Memorizing every line—every single detail—so I could revisit it whenever I chose. Of course, it meant something. It meant everything.

He meant everything.

And, so, I said yes.

When the song was over, he held me to his chest, dancing with me to the backdrop of a silent symphony. I wasn't sure how much time had passed before I heard Beau shriek. My heart slammed in my chest, a rush of panic encompassing me. Had he been hurt? Was someone trying to kidnap him? I'd rip the world in two to get to him if that were the case. Rivers and I jerked away from each other, staring in the direction his son had cried out from. Confusingly enough, he was standing center stage, staring at Aunt Lurlene. She was kneeling in front of him. Tears streaked his cheeks, and then he was in motion, launching himself at my frail aunt, wrapping his arms around her and sobbing.

"What the hell is happening?" I said.

Preston was standing at their sides on stage, scowling at the pair of them. Even above the noise of the crowd, I could hear the contempt in his voice when he shouted, "I ain't taking care of them. You ain't roping me into this, Lurlene. You hear me?"

Rivers and I approached the stage with caution, still unsure of what the hell was going on. When we made it up there, Beau stared at us with big, bright, beautiful eyes.

"Sh-she's gonna help them. Sh-she's gonna take—gonna take them all, Daddy."

"Who's doing what now?" I asked, trying to make sense of the incoherent ramblings escaping the poor kid.

"I don't know why we didn't think of it sooner," Aunt Lurlene said, smiling up at us. "We've got twenty acres going unused back home. That ought to be enough to raise us up some pigs, don't you think?"

My eyes widened as I gripped Rivers' hand. "You're… you're going to buy them?"

She shook her head. "Sugar, I'm a frugal woman. It's how I've kept my millions. I'll pay a salary for a farmhand, but I think it's only fair for you to pitch in for the pigs. When I called Mr. Monte, he said you could go straight to heck after slandering his name by insisting his farm was a factory farming operation. It took some convincing, but I talked him down. Said he'll sell all thirty of them for three-hundred per pig, but he'd like you to issue an apology."

"Jesus Christ, he wants three-thousand dollars? Does he think I'm made of money?"

Rivers turned slowly toward me, one eyebrow lifted in confusion. "Baby?"

My knees went weak, and I couldn't have steadied them if I'd tried. With his arm around me for support, I didn't need to.

"I don't think math is your strong point," Rivers said.

"Are you calling me an idiot? I know basic multiplication. I'm not a complete moron."

Rivers chuckled, releasing my hand so he could cup my cheek. "God, you're adorable."

"True," I said, leaning into his touch before setting my sights back on Lurlene. "Fine. Tell him he has a deal. I'll have Jordan send him a check once we get home."

Jordan was standing at my father's side, staring up at him with the same look I'd given Rivers during our on-camera breakup. Preston glanced down at him, a frown forming. He cleared his throat before turning his attention back to Aunt Lurlene.

"I mean it, Aunty. I already have a full plate with the vineyard. There ain't enough time in the day for me to care for thirty damn pigs."

"I… I could help," Jordy said, his voice barely audible. Every head turned in his direction. Every head except for mine. I was too busy trying to steady my racing heart to even move.

"You what?" Preston said.

"I don't know much about farming, but I'm a fast learner, Pres." He turned to my father, gently grabbing him at the wrist. "I'll stay if you want me to."

"You most certainly will not," I half-said, half-shouted. "Absolutely not, Jordan."

"Phillip, I—"

"No. I'm sorry, but no. You don't get to quit, remember? It's in your employment contract."

Jordan sighed. "That wasn't a contract. It was a threat you scribbled on the side of a box of Crunch Berries when I told you I was thinking about going back to school."

"It's legally binding, Jordan Miller."

"It's literally not."

"Jordan," my father said, his voice calm and collected. "No, kid. Your place is with Phillip." Then, either by the forces of dark magic or psychedelics, my father smiled at him. Hell, he was practically beaming. "My boy needs you."

"But we—"

"I've enjoyed getting to know you, but this thing you're wanting ain't gonna happen. You're almost half my age. Besides, you and Phillip got this big show coming out soon. I wouldn't be surprised if you became a breakout star because of it. You've got a whole life ahead of you. I ain't gonna stand in the way of that."

"But—"

"Jordan," he said, his voice commanding compliance. As my assistant's knees wobbled, either from heartbreak or undeniable lust thanks to his ridiculous daddy fetish, Jordy complied, giving my father a nod. I probably should have made a mental note to scold him for essentially agreeing to abandon me in my time of need, but with the look of hurt on his face, I couldn't bring myself to cause him any more upset.

"Sorry, Daddy," Jordan whispered, his eyes dipping down to his shoes.

Preston reached out for Jordy, tilting his chin up until their eyes met. As my father's thumb stroked Jordy's chin, I took a step forward, ready to rain down holy hell upon them for essentially eye-fucking each other in the middle of the town square, but Rivers held me back.

In an act that made my stomach churn, Preston smirked, scraping Jordan's jaw with the nail of his thumb. "I ain't your damn daddy," he said… seductively? Honestly, it was hard to tell. Preston was a wild card. Who the hell knew what went through his mind most of the time?

After our group dispersed, Rivers asked Beau and me to hang back. "Beau," Rivers said.

"Yeah, Daddy?"

"Would it be alright with you if Phillip stayed the night with us?"

Beau's eyes widened, and then he shook his head so quickly that for a moment, I thought he might just take flight. It surprised me, and by the looks of it, Rivers seemed just as confused.

"Ms. Fletcher already told me we were staying the night at her house. She said she wanted to show me where we're gonna keep Fudge's family in the morning."

"She did?"

Beau nodded. "She also said you two were gonna want to spend some time fabricating, whatever the heck that means."

"Fabricating?"

"Is that some sort of oilfield jargon? Dear God, Rivers—I can't. I'm not cut out for manual labor." I held out my hand, palm down, fingers twinkling. "These are the hands of a goddess, and goddesses don't dally in works that require physical exertion."

Rivers took my hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing my knuckles. I may have swooned, but that was hardly the point.

"That's what she said," Beau said. "Or maybe it was 'funnel-caking?'"

"I don't know what that means," Rivers said.

"I'm not frying up baked goods at midnight," I said, taking a step back. "Dear God, I can barely even boil an egg without Jordan's assistance. Why is this child hellbent on me spending my last night doing physical labor?"

"Or was it 'fornicating?'" he mused.

"Oh my fuc—"

Rivers covered my mouth with his hand, his eyes growing double in size. "Funnel-caking. She definitely said funnel-caking."

"It's too late for cooking," Beau said before yawning. "Can we just buy a couple from one of the trucks before we leave? I won't tell Mrs. Fletcher, I promise." Beau yawned, covering his mouth with his hand. At his side, Fudge Rivera followed suit, his obnoxious yawn ending with an oink. Beau turned to me, holding his hands in the air and clapping his fingertips to his palms, motioning for me to pick him up. My heart may have melted a bit when I scooped him up and hugged him to my chest. Rivers bent down and picked up Fudge before leaning in and giving me a quick peck on the lips.

"You ready to go, Firecracker?"

I nodded. "Take me home, Riv."