I gave her hand a quick squeeze. “I can see why.”
“Firefly loves having its very own celebrity.”
My eyes widened.That’swhere I knew him. We hadn’t attended school together. I had gone on a date to seeThe Centurions,and he… wow. On screen, he had worn tight leather, which made him a sex symbol, but it didn’t compare to the charisma in person. All night, he traded barbs with the players and more than once had to deflect a salacious comment from the little old ladies.
“Don’t get any ideas. He’s dating Bobby.”
When I left Firefly, I cut off every line of communication. It appeared there was some gossip worth hearing. The thought of him and Bobby… I’d file that away for the shower. Though it brought up questions about how one small town wound up with so many bears, not that I was complaining.
Once Sherrie finished her victory lap, the game resumed. While I worked on a single card, Mum had six laid out in front of her. Her hand moved in a flurry, the purple marker leaving blotchy dots. Chris spoke into the microphone with gusto, putting on an overly dramatic performance for the room. Whenever he called a number she didn’t have, she’d grumble toherself. Mum might be a calm woman, but put a Bingo card in front of her, and she transformed into a ruthless player.
“I heard from Jackie that the kids were impressed with you.”
As Chris called another number, I struggled to get up and carry a conversation. “Kids? Do you mean the gremlins?”
“Jackie said they’re excited for the trip.”
“Who’s Jackie?” Wait, did he call another number?
“Jackie. You know, Eric’s wife. She lives in the old McMillan house.”
None of these words made it any clearer. Impressing gremlins? I’d take it as a victory. Maybe this project wouldn’t turn into a nightmare. Now to find out who Jackie?—
“B-7,” Chris roared.
“BINGO!”
More groaning. Everybody turned to see which adversary had claimed victory. To my surprise, I knew the crazed figure jumping up and down, waving her sheet in the air. Lacie. I shouldn’t be surprised that she had infiltrated another local activity. At this rate, she’d be buying property and sitting on her porch talking about the ‘good old’ times.’
“We have ourselves a new face,” Chris said.
“Take a victory lap and come on down.”
In jeans, a tank top, and a long-sleeve flannel, Lacie fit right in. She strutted between the tables. Somebody should warn her that Gloria might come after her with knitting needles. Unlike earlier, her shirt now held the unofficial Firefly emblem, a moose with a turkey riding on its back. The legend of Beatrice would continue to be an inside joke. I wondered if she knew the story, or, for that matter, if she even cared?
She stood at the front of the Legion, raising her card high in the air. A group of women in their cardigans sneered before shuffling through a new deck of Bingo sheets. I couldn’t fathom why a flatlander would find this place charming enough toimmerse herself in the everyday culture. She didn’t have the normal condescending attitude of outsiders. Instead of raising an eyebrow at their way of life, she thrust herself into it. Lacie didn’t want to be an onlooker; she wanted to join the ranks.
This is why Lacie made me uncomfortable.
Sure, her enthusiasm could be dialed down to a six and still be too giddy for my tastes. While she charged into Firefly, determined to embed herself in the culture, I wanted to run in the other direction. She found the small-town nature endearing. I found it suffocating. She loved the interconnectedness. I couldn’t handle the invasion of privacy. Every which way, I found my opposite. But it wasn’t that, it was that I couldn’t understand the mindset. Perhaps she had never seen the dark underbelly of a small town? Or maybe she simply didn’t care.
Huh.
“I know you hate it when I meddle,” Mum whispered.
She leaned against my shoulder, trying to be subtle. Unlike the rest of Firefly, she and Pops had always given me space. It’s part of why I didn’t understand why they loved it here. They were aware of the gossip and prying eyes, but they didn’t participate… mostly.
“But there’s a young man looking at you.”
“Mum, I think you’ve had one too many Moxies.”
She snatched the unopened can from the table, clutching it against her chest. “Why would you say such horrible things?” Not even Pops could tolerate it. Mum couldn’t get enough. She claimed it’d keep her kicking until she hit triple digits.
“Subtly, Charles. He’s at your eight.”
I turned, taking my time, the chair groaning under my weight.
“I meant your five!” she blurted out.
