Page 50 of The County Fair Queen

What the hell was going on?

"Now," Eulah said, "if that ain't the finest demonstration of the Prophet's Mourner, my name isn't Eulah Feliz."

"Your name is Eulah Smith," Rivers said, his eyes never leaving mine.

"I know, dear. I just wanted to make Phillip feel better about his abysmal performance today."

"What the hell kind of pose is this?" I said as Rivers' stroked my cheek.

"My new favorite," Rivers said. "And just wait, it only gets better from here."

Chapter Eleven

SIT IN MY LAP, FIRECRACKER

The next morning, Brenda/Carole told us she wanted to get footage showing the domestic side of our fake relationship. Beau was already at school when we arrived, and as I made my way toward the front porch, I drank in the sight of the Rivera family home. The last time I was there, it was cloaked in darkness. Under the sun's watchful eye, idyllic didn't even begin to describe it. A two-story colonial with a perfectly manicured front lawn. Walls so white they reflected the sun's rays. Perhaps, best of all, an endless assortment of wind chimes hanging from the porch. While they twinkled out their autumn song, I caught sight of Rivers kneeling over his flower bed.

"Morning, Firecracker," he said as I approached. The crew trailed behind me, capturing the moment.

I was going to have to kiss Rivers today. Brenda/Carole shared the news with me just before we arrived, and I hadn't been given a chance to process the fact. She'd said Rivers was already onboard, but with Brenda/Carole, who the hell knew? She could have just been lying so she could get a shot of Rivers' genuine shock when I eventually slammed my lips on his.

He stood, approaching cautiously, like a racoon readying himself for a midnight snack. Pulling me in for a hug, he brought his lips to the side of my face, whispering, "Don't worry, I've got you. Must've brushed my teeth at least twenty times this morning. Just follow my lead." Sweet relief. He pulled back, but his hand remained latched on my wrist. "Thanks for coming. I was worried you might be sick of me after yesterday."

"How could I ever be sick of you?" I scanned him up and down, clicking my tongue. "Honestly, with a body like that, you could do just about anything and I'd come running back." I turned toward Brenda/Carole, wincing. "Yeah, that was terrible. Do you mind if we do that again?"

"Stop breaking the scene," she shouted. "That was perfect. We're not doing a reshoot. Just keep going and we'll fix it in post-production."

"I hate this," I complained, mostly to myself.

Rivers cupped my cheek, his big brown eyes sparkling in the sunlight. "I love it," he said, his eyes locked on mine. "Seeing you all nervous. Losing yourself at the sight of me."

"Don't flatter yourself."

"Don't have to," he said, pointing at the camera. "It's all on film." His hand fell lower, wrapping around mine with ease. He brought my hand to his lips and gave it a kiss, like I was a Southern belle he was hoping to court. He led me up the porch and then into his house.

Last time I was in the Rivers household, the only light had been from his fireplace. In the cold light of day, it was even more beautiful. The walls were a stunning shade of periwinkle, and framed photographs of Beau and Rivers lined the walls. There were places, however, where squares of discolored paint showedsigns of the home's aging. Forgotten photographs pulled from their rightful resting places.

Rivers must have noticed, because he squeezed my shoulder and whispered, “I hope you don’t mind. I took down the ones of Sabrina. She was a private person, and I know she would have been mortified to know she was on television.”

I gave him a nod, not saying anything back, because I was still mic’d. As my eyes flickered from picture to picture, I took in the story of their lives. Rivers holding an infant-sized Beau Rivera. Rivers and Beau with cone-shaped party hats strapped their heads, and globs of cake frosting on the tips of their noses. There was even an adorable image of current-era Rivers and Beau dressed up for Halloween. In it, Rivers was wearing what appeared to be a burlap sack with holes cut out for his arms and neck. He'd painted his face green, and there were pointy prosthetic tips at the top of his ears. To his right, Beau was dressed exactly the same. Big Yoda and baby Yoda, each as precious as the other.

I took a seat on the sofa, kicking off my shoes and setting them neatly on the floor. Pulling my legs up, I tucked them at my side, wedging my heels under my butt. When Rivers returned, he was carrying two steaming cups of tea. He took a seat, setting his cup on the coffee table. Leaning back, he rested his head on the back of the sofa and turned his face in my direction. Rivers sat wordlessly, just gazing at me like a painting hanging from his wall.

"What?" I said.

"It's nothing," he said, though that was clearly a lie.

"You're staring. It's creepy, Riv."

"Creepy or sweet?"

"Creepy," I said, taking a sip of my tea, studying him intently. "Maybe sweet, too. I'm not sure yet."

"I'll just have to keep staring until you figure it out, then." He stretched arm toward me, leaving our hands only inches apart. I set my tea on the coffee table and swiveled in his direction. One of us needed to make a move. We couldn't just sit there staring dreamily into each other's eyes all morning. Taking a chance, I reached for him, sliding my hand into his.

"Want to play a game?" he suggested, lacing our fingers together.

"A game? Listen, Riv; I will suffer many things.Call of Dutyis not one of them."

---