Page 39 of The County Fair Queen

I arched an eyebrow at him. "Shouldbe?"

"Well, I'm not God, Phillip. I can't see the future. For all I know, one of them might nibble your toe and the cut could get infected."

"Is that common?" Darting my eyes here, there, and everywhere, I sought out Rivers. He was approaching from behind, cocking his head to the side when he caught sight of me. "Rivers? Dear God, Rivers, I can't! I didn't sign up for death and dismemberment."

"What's wrong?" he asked, taking his place at my side.

"Your son just informed me that these pigs are conspiring to infect me with an incurable fungus. When you pitched this idea to me, you didn't mention the prospect of me being maimed or gravely wounded."

Rivers blinked slowly at me before turning toward Beau. "My Philip Firecracker translator has the day off. You have any idea what the heck he's talking about?"

Beau sighed. "I just told him to be careful around the pigs 'cause sometimes they bite."

Rivers chuckled as he reached over and wrapped his arm around my back, holding onto my hip. Had I not been in the midst of a vicious panic attack, I might have scolded him for it. Instead, my voice came through fast, and it came through frantic. "I'm too young to die, Riv. I don't want to die."

"You're not that young," Beau said. "And you're not going to die." He smiled at me and offered me a quick pat on the arm. "I'll protect you, Phillip. Don't worry."

There was a lonely little lass lounging in a mud pit, a swarm of flies buzzing around her face. "That's the momma, but you can just call her Brunhilda."

"Why the hell would I call her Brunhilda?"

"Because it's her name," he said flatly, staring at me like it was the stupidest question he'd ever heard. He turned around and pointed at a selection of tools hanging on a rack beside a larger steel building, just off the side of their pen. "I gotta go in there and clean out their cages. I usually do that first, 'cause it's the part I like the least. After that, I’ll give them their feed and make sure they've got enough water. At the end, I’ll hose them down. They love that part, Phillip, you'll see. That guy over there"—he pointed at a roguish little fellow with wiry black hair—"his name's Brian O'PigHair"

I almost choked on my tongue. "Brian O'What now?"

"O'PigHair," he said again, beaming with pride. "Mr. Monte let me name him. He let me name all of them. He said he don't normally give them names, because the big farm they get sent to after they're done here likes to do it themselves, but I talked him into it."

"The big farm?" I arched an eyebrow at Rivers, but he looked like he was about to have a nervous breakdown. He shook his head emphatically, mouthing'don't'over and over.

"Anyway," Beau continued, "there's Brian, and then that guy over there with a freckle on his snout, that's James PigKing. He thinks he's God's gift to the world. Walks around with his head in the air, all high and mighty."

I had to laugh, because of all my former band members, James was the least pretentious of the lot. He was a bit of an introvert and had been happy enough to sit in the background while Brian and I took the lead during interviews and appearances.

He named off the rest of Friendzone's swine alter egos before rattling out another twenty-six names. When he was done, hepointed at a water hose dangling over the fence. There was a big blue barrel beside it with small silver nipples poking out of the side. In front of the barrel, Brian O'PigHair was latched onto one of the nipples, his throat working as he swallowed down the warm water.

"Wait," I said, staring down at the kid. "Why is there no Phillip Pigcracker?" The realization hit me like a ton of bricks, and it took everything I had to hide the resentment from my voice. I didn't necessarilywantto be a pig, but I didn't like being excluded, either.

Beau shot a fearful look at his father, and a teardrop dripped down his cheek. Rivers squeezed his son's shoulder and smiled at him. "It's okay, buddy. We talked about this, remember? He won't be mad." Rivers' eyes locked on mine, and the pleading look he shot me sent a chill down my spine.

"I'm real sorry, Phillip," Beau said, his voice cracking. "I tried."

"Tried what?"

When Beau couldn't find his words, Rivers found them for him. "Phillip Firepig," he explained. "He was Beau's favorite. The runt of the litter."

Shit. He'd already mentioned watching a pig die. Christ, did I always have to stick my foot in my mouth?

"When I got to the farm he was already going," Beau said, sniffling. "His momma was on top of him. She didn't know, Phillip. You can't be mad at her. Mr. Monte says it just happens sometimes." He wiped a tear from his cheek. "I can take you to see where I buried him when we're done, if you want. I like to go out there sometimes and tell him how his brothers and sisters are doing. Do you want to?"

I knelt down and squeezed his wrist. "I would like that very much, Mr. President."

He nodded, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Good. Yeah. He would have loved to meet you. I used to tell him all about you.I sang him some of your songs sometimes, too." He pointed at the large steel structure, trying to steady his voice. "I'm going to go get started cleaning their cage out. You two need to fill their water tank. There's a handle over there by the hose. Just stick it inside the barrel and fill it up. When you're done, you and Daddy can put out their feed." He turned and pointed at a large, white sack that was resting on the other side of the fence. "It goes in those blue totes. Just empty the bag in them, and come find me when you're done. Try not to take too long, 'cause it's hot as heck in there, and we'll get done quicker if there's three of us."

I didn't say a word until he was out of sight. "He's adorable, Riv."

Rivers laughed. "He gets passionate about his babies."

"Less talking, more walking," Beau ordered, poking his head out of the tin building and snapping his fingers rapidly. "It's hot as heck in here, and I ain't doing all this on my own."

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