Page 23 of The County Fair Queen

"The only thing I'll be signing is your death warrant if you don't explain yourself…" I stared at his nametag, trying my best to make sense of the chicken scratch slathered carelessly across the sticker. "Leopold," I said, wagering a guess.

"It's Albert, actually."

I flung my hands in the air. "Albert. Leopold. Call yourself whatever the hell you like. How about instead of focusing on minute details like autographs and given names, we cut down to brass tacks?" I pointed at the offending banner, narrowing my eyes. "Did you create this little doodle?"

He turned toward the sign and pointed at a small watermark at the bottom that saidBanners by Bart."I don't make the signs, son," he insisted. "I just hang 'em where they tell me to. Truth be told, I've been feeling a bit under the weather lately, so it's taken me longer than usual to make sure it's straight enough."

"Straight enough? Is that a homophobic dig? Is that how you roll, Leopold? You just sus out the city queer and shame him in front of the town for a cheap thrill? I bet you get off on this, don't you? Ruining lives for a laugh. Well, not with me, you won't. I've already been shamed at one of these festivals. I'll be damned if I let you green-light a sequel."

"Keep it together, Phillip. You're spiraling," Jordan whispered.

"Why isn't my face on the banner?" I shrieked.

"It's like I said, son; they just give me the signs, and I hang 'em up."

"I ought to hang you up. By the toes. Tie a little twine around your pinkie and let my assistant whack at you like a piñata."

The man slowly turned toward Jordan, his hands fisted at his sides. "I ain't as strong as I used to be, but I reckon I could take him." He paused for a beat, letting his eyes travel up and downthe length of Jordan Miller, and gave a quick nod. "Come on, kid. Let's dance."

Jordan squealed like a stuck pig, ducking behind my back and peeking over my shoulder. "I don't want to hit you with anything," he pleaded. "I'm the one trying to stop this madness."

I took a step forward, driving a finger into Albert-slash-Leopold's chest before pointing at the banner. "If I ever see anything like this again, I'll end you. Maybe not physically, but I will rip your self-confidence to shreds. Do not test me." I held my hand up, snapping my fingers. "Hand me a headshot."

Jordan sighed, but he obliged, reaching into his messenger bag and pulling out one of the pre-signed photos we'd packed earlier.

"Now, I want this on that banner before you leave this stage. I don't care if you have to staple it on. I've earned my place."

"There's no need to yell, son. I ain't hard of hearing." Albert/Leopold took a step back, and I opened my mouth to give him another dressing down, but before I could get a word out, someone clapped their hand against my back.

"Is there a problem here, gentlemen?" Of course. Because, of-fucking-course, Mayor-turned-piano-playing-legend Rivers Rivera would show up at that precise moment to stick his nose in where it didn't belong.

"We're fine," I said, keeping my eyes locked on Albert in case he decided to make a sudden lunge. "Just settling a little squabble. We don't need you, Rivers. You can go."

Rivers grabbed me by the forearm and pulled me away, leading me down the sidewalk until we were hidden from view by a food truck that stunk of fried turkey legs and body odor.

"What the heck was that? I had three people flag me down saying you were about to come to blows with a volunteer."

"Well," I said, leaning against the food truck and sulking. "He started it."

"They said you barged up on the stage and started unloading on him for no reason. How in the world did he start it? Sheriff Harris told me he was about three seconds away from arresting you for disorderly conduct. I had to beg him to let me handle it."

"I don't need you to handle jack-shit, Rivers."

"Really? Cause from what I saw, you were about to punch that man in the face. Is this about this morning? Are you still mad you had to sing? They told me you'd signed off on it. I had no idea you didn't want to." A gentle smile worked its way across his face. "Besides, I thought your voice sounded beautiful, Firecracker."

I rolled my eyes because he was clearly patronizing me. "This isn't about a damn performance. I'm trying to make this show a success. I can't do that by walking around like Pollyanna, all sunshine and rainbows and love and light shooting out of my ass. Sacrifices must be made." I paused, eyeing him up and down. Perhaps I'd been directing my anger at the wrong man that morning. "Maybe I ought to sacrifice you instead."

Rivers swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down like a fishing lure in open water. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe I should go out there and tell the world about what happened that night. See if they buy into this newfound Godlike persona you've taken on since I've been gone. Do you know what it feels like to be publicly canceled, Riv? I do. All it would take is one little admission on my part, and…" I puckered my lips and kissed the air in front of me. "You can kiss your career goodbye."

"I'm sorry. You might not believe it, but I am. I know I shouldn't have run out on you like that, but you're making it sound like I went out of my way to hurt you." His eyes were pleading with me. "I was just a scared kid."

"You stuffed the damn ballot box. You rigged the whole damn thing to humiliate me."

"I did not!" He took a step back, his eyes wide as saucers, staring at me as if I'd just slapped him. "I never would have done that to you."

"We were the only two at the polls. I saw the ballot in your hand. You had my name scrawled across the top with a red marker, the same as all the other votes." I flung my hands in the air, my annoyance rising. "You were a prick, Rivers, and I didn't deserve it. What the hell did I ever do to you? I mean, I know you caught me staring at you a time or two, but was that really enough to make you want to humiliate me? Was the idea of a guy thinking you were cute really that terrible?"

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