He smiled when he thought of how he’d taken control on the dance floor.
That’s what I need to do on the track. Lead like that. Like I did once upon a time.
Funny that fairy tales always begin with that—Once upon a time. It makes it sound so final and done. But life doesn’t work like that. His once upon a time was gone. And even now, he wasn’t certain he could get it back.
He looked down at the rifle and cringed.
Why did I place her hand on my heart and say what I did? Where the fuck did that come from? I wish I could take it back.
But then why did she suggest the rifle might be loaded?
He held it up, pulled back on the slide, peered into the chamber, and sighed.
Of course, it isn’t loaded.
But with a girl like Ceci Rivers, you never know.
Chapter Four
Ceci
Sir Stick Up His Ass?” Pixel cried, taking the last bite of crème brûlée.
“I think so,” said Ceci, ignoring the stares from a couple of guests who were sitting at the large circular table. “Maybe.”
“Sir Stick places your hand on his heart? And tells you to be kind and aim here?”
“Weird, huh.”
“What do you suppose he meant by it?”
Ceci had been asking herself the same question.
Aunt Delilah shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious? He was dressed as the Man in the Iron Mask. He feels imprisoned, doesn’t know what crime he’s committed, and doesn’t know his true identity.”
Ceci scoffed. “Crime? Sir Stick? I bet the man has never even jaywalked.”
Pixel grinned. “I’ll bet when the cashier gives him too much money back in change, he corrects their mistake.”
“Even if the man has to drive over one hundred miles to do it,” added Ceci.
This got them both laughing.
Once Ceci could catch her breath, she turned to Aunt Delilah. “Just because he dressed up as the Man in the Iron Mask doesn’t mean he identifies with him.”
“You dressed up as Annie Oakley—independent, tenacious, courageous,and resilient. Not to mention a crack shot. Are you going to tell me you don’t identify with her?”
Ceci crossed her arms, refusing to indulge her aunt. “Can you tell me what crime you think Sir Stick committed?”
“Speeding,” her aunt said with a smug expression.
Ceci rolled her eyes.
Aunt Delilah wiped the corners of her mouth, splotching the napkin with her favorite shade of lipstick, Scarlet Shame. “He wouldn’t have said what he did if he didn’t identify with the man. Sounds like he’s got all the marks of a tragic romantic hero.”
Ceci, sitting between her best friend and her aunt, shook her head, regretting she’d brought up the subject of the Man in the Iron Mask. But only because her aunt had overheard her. Ceci suspected Aunt Delilah’s supposed hearing loss was just that—supposed. It was just a tad too convenient. She had no trouble hearing things she wanted to, things that were usually none of her business.
“We should have waited until she wasn’t around,” whispered Pixel.
