Page 18 of The County Fair Queen

Strike that.

Rivers wasn't cute. He was a Grade-A douchebag, and I fully planned on telling him so before a single note of my flop-pop single,Methods to My Madness,played out over the speakers.

"There's the man of the hour," Rivers called, motioning me over. He was already in the middle of his television segment, and once I was at his side, he wrapped an arm around my shoulder like we were best buddies. "Twenty years ago, Phillip Firecracker—"

"Can we please skip the biography? I just had to sit through that with Siobhan."

He winked at me. "Phillip is back in town filming a reality series that chronicles his return to Tallulah. On top of that, he'll be grand marshaling this year's county fair." If I thought I was safe from Rivers' uninvited touches, I was wrong. His warm, rough hand slid into mine, and our fingers melded together perfectly. My eyes must have been bulging something fierce, because the fear on the cameraman's face was palpable. Yet again, I was being jerked around without my consent, this time by Rivers as he led me back toward the red curtain. Above us, there was a mechanical hum, and the curtains slowly parted, revealing an oversized dry erase board. On the board, there was a photograph of my smiling face, circa 2007. Beside my picture, there was a calendar of sorts, though the lines of the squares were off-centered and sloppily drawn. Each of the squares were crossed out except for one lonely little box at the end. Rivers held up a pink marker and beamed at me. He uncapped the lid, and with two gentle flicks of his wrist, he crossed out the final square.

"We've been counting down the days until your arrival. This is usually the part of the show where we'd play your music video, but I figured since you're here in person, we could give the viewers a treat."

Dear Lord, he’d been subjecting Tallulahns to my music video every day for a month? It was a wonder half the town hadn't gone blind and deaf.

To the side of the dry erase board, there was a microphone stand with a keyboard beside it. I assumed that's where he wanted me, so I sighed and stepped behind the mic. I wasn't sure which track they had. Hopefully, they just wanted me to lipsynch along to the album version. If that was the case, it was possible I could come out of this with trace amounts of my dignity still intact.

"Singing the lead single—"

"My only single," I interrupted.

"—to his number one hit album—"

"It didn't even chart, and you know it. Can we please just get on with this?"

He had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing. "By all means. Take it away." He walked around me and took a seat in front of the keyboard. When he rested his fingers on the keyboard, the opening notes rang out through the studio. I wasn't even aware Rivers knew how to play, but then again, I didn't know much about him. It surprised me how effortlessly each note had come to him. My single hadn't been a hit, yet somehow, Rivers knew each note by heart. And, God, he played them beautifully.

Unfortunately, his ability to tickle the ivories didn't do much to erase my own shortcomings, and the moment the first note left my lips, I knew I was DOA. My voice cracked three times in the first line alone, and things went steadily downhill from there. By the time we reached the bridge, Rivers shot me a knowing look and nodded his head. As he took over, he sang the lyrics with a talent they'd never been granted before. He carried on through the bridge, and then the chorus. His voice had this whole Michael Bublé meets Josh Groban quality to it, eachnote louder and lovelier than the last. Though he'd occasionally glance my way, offering me a line here and there, I was mostly standing in front of the microphone, watching him come alive.

When the song was over, Rivers stood and made his way toward the sofa in the center of the set. A stagehand flagged me over, and I scurried off stage toward Jordan, who was standing in the wings. He beamed brightly at me, giving me a thumbs up and holding a bottle of water out for me.

"Alright," I said, unscrewing the cap. "Be honest. One to ten, how bad was it?"

"I think you dodged a bullet. It wasn't bad at all. There were a few bum notes, but overall, you guys did well."

Brenda/Carole approached with a smile. "Damn good job, Philly. I wasn't sure if you'd be able to pull it off, but you two were magical together. The live tweets have been great. I'll screenshot a few and send them your way later." Pointing at a fire exit, she led me toward it, pausing long enough to motion for Jordan to hang back. She led me through the door, into a narrow alley behind the studio. There were bags of trash lining the walls and questionable puddles pooled on the concrete. Beside a dumpster, there was a plastic blue crate that she motioned for me to have a seat on. Pulling her oversized vape from her pocket, she took a hit and blew the fog directly into my face. It smelled better than the juice she'd been using earlier, this one being more of a spicy cinnamon scent with afternotes of… banana?

"Listen," she said. "I want to talk to you about Jeremy."

"Jeremy?"

"The little British twink with the iPad."

"His name is Jordan."

"His name is irrelevant." She blew another puff of water vapor directly into my face. "I had an idea, and I'd like you to hear me out before saying no. "We've got some really good footage, so far. The tension between you and Lake has been great, and thatpilot molesting you with his eyes at the airport?" She pinched two fingers and her thumb together, plating a kiss against the tips. "C'est magnifique. The first episode is going to be must-see-TV, I can already tell. Now, we just need to keep the momentum going. I had this whole'tragic ex-popstar humiliates himself at every turn'character arc I thought we could play with, but I don't know if that's going to be enough to keep the viewers tuning in." She eyed me with caution, one eyebrow arched. "What do you think about a romance side plot?"

I blinked at her.

"You can wipe that look off your face, kid. I'm not asking you to raw-dog someone on camera. I just think it could help hook the viewers. We need them to cheer you on, Philly."

"Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there's not a single person in this city I'm even remotely attracted to."

"Who said you have to be attracted to them? It’s not like you have to buy the guy a ring. We just need someone for you to make goo-goo eyes at. I've already got a few men in mind," she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a folded-up piece of paper. "There's the pilot from the airport. Dakota, I think?"

"Danvers," I corrected. "And I'd sooner guzzle a gallon of bleach than—"

"Guzzle his cum?" She winked at me and waited for a response. All she received was a glare. "Fine, Denver is no go. I figured as much. That's why I brought up Jeremy."

"Jordan? Absolutely not."

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