“Yeah, but you’re stuck with me, Dessy.” I wrap my arm around her, holding my sub in the other hand, and press a kiss into her hair.
“I guess it could be worse,” she grumbles, the hint of a smile suggesting that being stuck with me might not be such a terrible thing after all.
ChapterSeventeen
Aulie Desfleurs
Play:Be My Baby by The Ronettes
“Everyone’s here that should be. Roger,” Emy’s voice rings in my ear.
Last year, I invested in two-way radio headsets to make communication more accessible across the fairgrounds. The Wentworth Estates’ acreage is vast and hilly, and cell service is spotty on a good day, so after four years of torturing my poor legs, the purchase felt necessary.
“Perfect. I’m just unloading a few more boxes, and I’ll be over in a second,” I say, pulling the bonnet box from my car and walking it to the white crew tent in the back corner of the fair. It’s tucked away behind an enormous willow tree and obscured as best as possible, so we don’t ruin the illusion.
Although Food Truck Row may do that just fine. But I doubt anyone would complain about easy access to fried dough and poutine.
A long pause, not characteristic of my best friend’s loquacious demeanor, sounds on the other side.
Oh. Darn it. “Rabbit,” I say, ending my side of the transmission. This morning, when I gave Emy the earpiece, it was with extreme hesitation. I love my friend, but having her in my ear is a dangerous prospect.
She promptly confirmed my fears when she held her device in the sky and declared, “Unlimited power!” like Darth Sidious from Star Wars.
She’s spending too much time with Gus.
When I tried to establish some ground rules like keep the channel open in case I need you and don’t litter it with every thought that crosses your gorgeous mind, she agreed.
But she had a few rules of her own.
One was our call and response—Emy thought it a wasted opportunity for walkie-talkie users everywhere who didn’t use “Roger” and “Rabbit” as their sign-offs.
With the fair opening in five days, I’m thankful that Emy gave her employees at the toy store extra shifts and came to help. I don’t think I’d be able to navigate managing the players, setting up inside of the estate, and the grounds crew and players’ tent without her and Bridget stepping up. Even Jack pitched in; taking me to Portsmouth a few days ago was a big help. We stopped at Costco on our way home for water and snacks for everyone, and I took advantage of his powerful muscles to load up the car.
I don’t know how I’ve done most of this on my own the past four years.
But I’ve always been a bit of an overachiever. It helps me manage my pain if I can hyper-focus on something else.
Or at least, itusedto. I’m unsure if I can overcompensate for the pain torturing my pelvic region this year.
“I can start the introductions where you know everyone already—Roger,” Emy says.
“I’d say yes, but we should hold off on that until Jack gets here. He’s the only newbie, and the rest of the cast knows each other. Oh, but maybe it will be a good idea to prep them. Tell them we’ll have a quasi-celebrity joining us this year and that they should treat him like he’s Wickham at the fair and not Jack…rabbit.”
“Heh. Jackrabbit. I bet he wants to do you like a—”
“Oh my god, I regret giving you a headpiece.”
Silence.
I roll my eyes. “Rabbit.”
“You knew what you were getting into. But yes, I can give them a heads up. See you soon! Roger Rabbit over and out.”
I don’t think that’s how ending a call works, but I’m more than happy to let Emy be her best self when she’s helping me. Pulling a box of props from my trunk, the chorus to “Centerfold” blares in the slim pocket of my leggings. My heart skips a beat.
I need to remember to change that before Jack accidentally hears it.
“Hey, what’s up? You almost here?”
