Page 20 of The County Fair Queen

"You get in this orthopedic pump this instant."

"Is that thing even structurally sound? It looks like it's being held together by a string and prayer."

"I saidnow, Jordy!"

"Don't you think you're being a bit dramatic? This is what I was warning you about at the beginning of our trip."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"About you being so over-the-top and not acting your age. You’re unhinged."

"I am a loud and proud gay man. I don't know how many times I have to remind you. And I refuse to change my entire personality to appease the cishets. Let them call me immature. I don't care. I'd rather sparkle than be beige and boring. Just get in this goddamn shoe!"

Sighing, he trudged toward me at a sloth's pace and began his ascent of Mount Footemore. In the paper-mache pump, we hid side-by-side, snug as two bugs in a rug.

Evelyn Foote peeked over the side of the shoe, seemingly distraught. "Can I help you two with anything?"

"Just a bit of privacy, please," I said.

Jordan smiled up at her and waved. "Hi there," he greeted. "Love the hair."

She eyed the oversized shoe, shaking her head. "Perhaps we could—"

"Love the green eyeshadow, too. You're giving me Poison Ivy fromBatman Forevervibes, and I'm absolutely here for it," he said.

"Are you looking for anything in particular?" she asked, reaching down and grabbing me by the wrist in an attempt to remove me from the shoe.

"That's assault," I said, jerking my hand away from her.

"It's just…Vivianisn't a toy, dear."

"Vivian?" I said.

"I named her after my dearly departed best friend, Vivian VanDamme. You remember her, Phillip. She was the minister at Tallulah Episcopalian. Perhaps you boys would be more comfortable on one of our many festive benches." She extendedan arm grandly to her right as if she was a showcase model onThe Price is Right. When I peeked over the side of the shoe, I spotted two small benches. Calling them 'festive' was a stretch. The seats were painted an abysmal shade of periwinkle, and small, dark, purple polka-dots had been dolloped across with no rhyme or reason for their placement. I assumed the dots were supposed to be muscadines, but they just looked like some botched artistic depiction of chicken pox.

"We're fine in here," I promised, shooing her away with the flick of my wrist.

"It's just, Vivian is fragile. She's only made of paper, you see."

"Are you calling me overweight?" I said.

"Heavens, no. Not at all."

"I think you were," I said, inclining a few inches.

“I don’t understand your new accent,” Evelyn pointed out for no other reason than wanting to see the world burn.

"You are, though," Jordan said. "We've discussed this. It's only twenty pounds, but it suits you. There's nothing wrong with it." He smiled warmly at me. "You're just as beautiful as ever." Though his tone was genuine, he'd be getting an earful later.

"As I was saying," I said through gritted teeth. "I don't care for your tone. In fact, I have half a mind to file a complaint with Mayor—"

"Rivers," Evelyn called out as the locked shop door rattled behind her. "Goodness, the door must be stuck. Hold on, Mr. Mayor. I'll be right over. I just need to handle this shoe business."

"Don't even think of opening that door," I practically shouted, stopping her in her tracks. She paused, turning back in our direction as her bottom lip quivered.

"Sweetie, if you two could just step out of the shoe, I'm sure we can resolve this peacefully." She took in a deep breath and let itout slowly, her shoulders squared, her hands fisted at her side. "There's no need to harm Vivian."

"Don't you dare let him in this building!"

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