Page 6 of The County Fair Queen

Minnie Sinclair approached with a look of sheer exhaustion written all over her face. There was a sheen of sweat across her forehead, and her hair was a disheveled mess. Her French bob had always been a striking sight, but with production's bright lights blaring down on her, the heat had sucked out the majority of its volume. Now, it just looked like a half-filled balloon. Despite the exasperation pouring out of her, her smile was wide and aimed directly at me.

"Well, Phillip Fletcher, as I live and breathe. Honey, I didn't know you were coming home," she said as I arched an eyebrow, darting my eyes toward a precisely placed banner hanging from the ceiling.

'Welcome Home, Phillip!'it said.

Ignoring me, she pulled a ballpoint pen from behind her ear and flipped open a small notepad she'd been storing in her apron. Ushering us toward a pristine booth in the corner, she said, "Just the two of you today?" There were two glasses of water on the table, and a pair of menus that were sticky with spilled syrup. After practically shoving me into my seat, her hand lingered on Jordan's back, and she eyed him up and down like he was the tastiest treat she'd ever seen. She clicked her tongue obscenely at him. "I see you've got yourself a real handsome sugar baby. Lord Almighty, if I were twenty years younger, I'd ride you like a buckin' bronco."

Jordan gagged, and I choked on the mouthful of lemon water I'd just gulped. As I hacked splishes and splashes of water across the table, Mr. Papadopoulos glanced at me from my lap like my very existence offended him. Jordan crawled under the table and reemerged at my side, pulling my body in front of him. Apparently, I was a human barricade. Fabulous.

"He's my assistant," I said, still trying to clear the residual lemon water from my throat by banging the side of my fist against my chest.

"Personal lifestyle coach and unpaid intern," he squeaked, cautiously peeking over my shoulder.

"Minnie?"

"Yeah, sugar?"

"What's with the dress code?"

Her eyes shot wide open, like someone behind me had pulled a gun on her. I peered over my shoulder to find Brenda-Carol slashing a finger across her throat. It didn't take long for me to realize this must have been Brenda/Carole's doing. Hell, she'd probably sent everyone in town an official memo demanding they dress like hicks as window dressing for the docuseries.

"I sure do love the new accent, sweetie."

I arched an eyebrow at her. "What accent?"

"This whole Hugh Grant vibe you've got going on. It's lovely. Granted, it doesn't sound terribly authentic, but that's okay. It's the fact that you're giving it the old-college-try that counts.

"Jordan?" I said, glaring at Minnie. "What on Earth is she on about?"

Jordan covered my ears with his hands, but it did nothing to muffle his words. "We don't mention the accent, Ms. Minnie. He picked it up when he moved to England. Well, he's tried to pick it up. Truth be told, it reminds me a bit of Keanu Reeves in that vampire film." He removed his hands from the side of my head,and when our eyes met, I did my best to convey the depths of my rage. "Don't listen to her, Phillip. Your accent is lovely. Spot-on."

I slowly swirled back to Minnie, reminding myself that Jordan’s life was essentially forfeit once we stepped foot in Aunt Lurlene's home.

After taking our order, Minnie shuffled away, and Jordan pulled away from me, turning his attention to the table. "So," he said, squeezing a lemon wedge into his glass, "Rivers seemed sweet."

"I'd call him many things. Sweet isn't one of them."

"Was he really that terrible?"

"He…" I sighed. Jordan deserved answers, but my history with Rivers wasn't something I looked back on with fondness. I'd rather take a blowtorch to my eyeball than discussthat nighton camera. Unfortunately, with Jordy being the only employee on Team Firecracker's non-paying payroll, there were things he needed to know. Facts that would more than likely come to light as filming continued. "He wasn'tthatbad at school. The other jocks were, but he never seemed to get off on bullying me the way the rest of them did."

"Then why the hostility?"

I guzzled the last of my water before setting down the glass. I ran my fingers through droplets of condensation on the table, spreading them across the surface. "Did I ever tell you why I left Tallulah?" I'd only told the story to a handful of therapists, and Brian damned O'Hare, but there was a brief period in the twenty-tens when I'd taken to the bottle to self-medicate. There was a good chance the story slipped out during one of my drunken stupors.

"Bits and pieces. The stuff with your dad. The band audition. I think you mentioned something about a tiara at some point, but you were slurring quite a bit, so who the hell knows?"

I reached down and gave Mr. Papadopoulos a gentle love pat, hoping not to lose a finger in the process. Thankfully, he was in a giving mood. Instead of hissing or nipping at the tips of my fingers as usual, he purred softly, vibrating in my lap.

"Muscadine Madness," I started. "You haven't seen it yet, but it's pretty magical. The scent of funnel cakes frying. Cotton candy whipping around cones. Breathing in the air is like inhaling sugary goodness."

"That's nice," Jordan said. "I'm not sure what the hell it has to do with why you left home, but thanks for sharing, I guess."

"Asshole," I said with a chuckle. "It's always been one of my favorite times of the year. Aunt Lurlene used to bring me to the fair. Even in the off season, she stayed busy with the vineyard, so we didn't get to leave too often. During the festival, we'd go out every night. It always felt like my personal Disney World. Then Rivers ruined it for me." Jordan's hand found mine, and he weaved our fingers together. "It was worse than the TRL incident, Jordy," I whispered, feeling like a toddler in wolf's clothing.

"Fuck Carson Daly," he seethed with so much passion it almost took my breath away. I peeked up to find him staring at me with an intensity I didn't see often. I lived for these moments. Our subtle charade of sassy shade would fade, leaving behind the husks of two lonely boys who just happened to find each other. "He's cute, though."

"Carson Daly? I don't know, he hasn't really aged well."

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