Page 17 of The County Fair Queen

"Not good enough for your band, were we? You never mentioned us. Not in any interviews. Not on the behind-the-scenes DVDs. As I recall, you told your fans you grew up inDallas. And now you're trying to pull off some ridiculous British accent like you're Madonna or something. Why is that? Are you ashamed of your heritage? Are you ashamed of your roots?"

Sabotage. It was an absolute sabotage. I had to act. Had to shift the narrative. I tried to think of some way to pivot back to the docuseries, but topical segue refused to come. In a frenzy, all I could do was give her a pleading look.

Siobhan sighed, realizing her chance at a viral video clip was nonexistent. "Fine," she mumbled under her breath, turning toward the camera. "That's all we have for you today. Stick around forRivers Knows Best,where Phillip Firecracker will be performing live for the first time in almost two decades."

"Where I'll be doing what now?"

"He'll be singing his hit single—"

"I most certainly will not!"

"—which reached number ninety-three on the Billboard Hot 100 chart in 2007. As always, I'm Siobhan Donahue, and this"—she winked at the camera—"is the night the lights went out in Georgia."

"That sign-off line makes absolutely no sense," I said frantically, doing my best to avoid hyperventilating. "We're not in Georgia, and it's barely past dawn."

As soon as the ON-AIR sign flicked off, Siobhan stood up, offering me a friendly smile, telling me how much she’d enjoyed our interview. I flipped her the finger and stormed off set, because I'd be good-goddamned if she thought I was gracing her with the privilege of my pearly whites after her terrible on-air behavior.

Jordan was waiting for me in the wings, his eyes filled with just as much shock as mine.

"What the fucking fuck does she mean 'live performance'? Did you know about this?"

"I swear to God, Phillip, I had no idea. They never mentioned anything about a performance when they cleared the questionnaire with me. If I knew—"

I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath. "Yeah, I know. I know, Jordy. I'm sorry, I just… can't."

Before he could soothe my shattered soul, a stagehand pressed his hand against my shoulder and forced me down a long corridor. At the end of the hallway, there was a giant set of swinging doors. The man patted me on the back before spinning me around to face him. Standing in front of me was none other than Danvers, the diabolical dick tease, pilot and perpetual prick. I wasn't sure why he was moonlighting as a public access television crew member, but I had far more pressing matters to deal with.

Yet again, his eyes dipped down to my package. I reached down, covering my junk with my hands. "You can stop staring, Danvers. You had your chance."

"Are you playing hard to get? Because I've got something hard, and you're welcome to get it." This time, his gaze fell to his own crotch. "My penis, Phillip. I was talking about my penis."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, I'm aware of how puns work."

He dipped his eyes down to the imprint of his semi-erect penis beneath his jeans."You like what you see?"

"I'd like for you to fuck off."

"Fuck, you're pretty." He touched his hand to the side of my face, his thumb nail digging roughly into my skin before I slapped it away.

"Yes, well, that's lovely and all, but this is hardly the time or place."

"It could be. Wouldn't take me long." After scanning me from top to toe, clicking his tongue obscenely against his cheek, Danvers pointed toward a door at the end of the hall. "On secondthought, I think I want to take my time with you. I'm gonna saddle you up and ride you like a fuckin' bronco."

"Jesus on the cross," I grumbled, taking a step back. His dick had twitched at me. It fucking twitched! "I think you mean 'like a bucking bronco'."

He cocked his head to the side, and grinned. “I said what the fuck I said. Gonna ride you good, baby. Gonna ride you so hard I break your fuckin’ back.”

My eyes bulged. "You most certainly will not!" I was getting more frustrated by the second, and I knew I needed to get the hell away from the diabolical dick tease. "Where am I supposed to be going?"

"They want you in there." When I spun around to make my way toward the set, Danvers reared his arm back and slapped my ass. It sent me jolting forward, and I let out a squeak that was sure to be heard all the way back at Fletcher Family Vineyard. "And I want to be inthere."

I turned around, scowling as I pointed at his crotch. "That thing looks like it's four feet long, it's not going anywhere near me."

"We'll see," he taunted, stepping ahead of me and leading me toward the set door. He held it up open for me and threw me a wink. "Break a leg."

"Break your neck," I bit back. Slamming the swinging doors open with my palms, I marched through, desperate to escape Danvers and his gargantuan dick.

The set ofRivers Knows Bestwas just as tragic as Good Morning Tallulah's had been. On the left side of the room, there was a chocolate-colored sofa, the same shade as Rivers' eyes. A tacky, plush pink rug rested underneath it, and there was a cheap, particle board coffee table just in front of the couch. Rivers was standing off to the side in front of a red velvet curtain like some knockoff version of Jimmy Kimmel, only cuter.

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