Page 32 of The County Fair Queen

Rivers smelled delightful. His cologne mingled magically with the sheen of sweat on his forehead. It was a combination of musk, spice, and everything nice. He must have thought the same about me, because he pressed his nose into my nape and inhaled deeply.

"You smell great,baby."

Baby?

BABY?

"What the hell did you just call me?"

"Oh my gosh," Beau said, sounding awestruck. "You're Phillip Firecracker." Rivers opened his mouth to speak, but his son cut him off. "I got all your albums, Mr. Firecracker!"

"I only have one album."

"Nuh-uh. You got theMethods and Madnessalbum—"

"Methodstomy Madness," I corrected.

"—and you got the ones with the other guys in the band, but you didn't get to sing too much on them."

"I didn't sing on any of those," I said, trying my best to keep the bitterness from my voice.

"Point is, I got them all, Mr. Firecracker." He grinned widely at me. "You're my favorite singer."

I scoffed at him. "Well, clearly you have impeccable taste." I knelt in front of him and tapped the tip of his nose. "You, my friend, are positively delightful."

"I told you," Rivers said, crouching beside me. "He loves you. Just about had a heart attack when I told him you were coming to town."

"It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Firecracker," he enthused.

"You met Phillip last night, remember?" Rivers said.

"Last night?" he asked, twisting his face into a thoughtful scowl. "He saw me last night?" Before either of us could respond, Beau put his hands behind his back, grabbing his left with hisright hand, and circled us slowly, muttering to himself. "Last night. Last… last night? Last night, I watched TV, had dinner… Did I shower?"

He paused.

Sucked his cheek in.

Nibbled.

Continued walking.

"Did the doorbell ring? I think Fudge oinked at something." He turned and stared at fudge with an accusatory expression. "Did you oink last night?" When the piglet stared down at his hooves in shame, Beau huffed. "Figures." He was in motion again, walking circles around us. "Long day at school. I was tired, I can't be expected to remember everything. Was I polite? Did I remember to tell him it was good to meet him? What was I wearing?" He turned toward his father and frowned. "Answer the question, please."

"Which one?" Rivers said.

Sighing like it was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard, he clarified, "What was I wearing?"

"Your jammies, buddy. You were in your jammies and your sleep shirt."

"Okay," he said, continuing his circular march to nowhere. "Jammies. That's fine. They got baby cats on them, and Phillip Firecracker likes cats. Has one of his own. Maybe I'll get to meet him." Apparently, it was my turn to face his wrath. "I'd like to meet your cat, Mr. Firecracker." I opened my mouth to tell him that, actually, no, he wouldn't, because Papadop was a domestic terrorist, hellbent on mayhem, but I didn't get the chance. "I woke up in my pink shirt. That's fine. Phillip likes pink. We got that in common. Birds in bad weather, as they say."

"I think you mean 'birds of a feather,'" Rivers added, but all it earned him was a scoff. Beau tugged the tail of his shirtand sighed before continuing his bizarre orbit around us, still mumbling to himself.

"I brushed my teeth before bed, so my breath must've been okay. My hair was…" His eyes bulged so widely I worried they might just pop out of his head. "Oh, my God. My hair."

"Brace yourself," Rivers whispered, grabbing me by the wrist. "Here he goes."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

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