Page 78 of The County Fair Queen

"And I'm Phillip Firecracker," I interrupted, glaring at her. It was the fourth time this week she'd attempted to upstage me. I didn't know where she got off pretending like I was just window dressing to her set, but I'd be having a talk with our producer when the show ended. I would put up with many things; being ignored on my own talk show was not one of them.

She cleared her throat. "As I was saying, we've got a special treat for our viewers today. Tallulah's own Phillip Firecracker has agreed to sing an a capella rendition of Mariah Carey's 'Vision of Love' this morning. He said he wants to really show the city what his voice can do. Take it away, Phillip."

I blinked at her. "That wasn't funny the first time you tried it, and it isn't funny now." She'd been trying to sabotage me all week. Just another blip on the dossier of her misdoings that I'd been compiling since our co-hosting stint had begun. "Are you done now? May we continue the show, or is there another bucket of slime waiting for me in the rafters?"

She scowled at me before lifting the collar of her shirt, whispering into the microphone clipped to the fabric. "Cancel the bucket, Danvers."

"Today," I said, reading from the teleprompter. "We've got a special treat for you. Tallulah's own Lurlene Fletcher…" Wait, what? Had there been a last-minute change of plans? Was this Siobhan's doing? I sighed, knowing the only way out of this mess was to barge right through, so I continued. "Lurlene is here with an announcement she claims will…For the love of… she's here with an announcement that's sure to dazzle your taste buds justas much as Fletcher Family Muscadine Wine, now available in both box and travel-sized bottles."

Siobhan glared at the producer on the other side of the set. "Are you hearing this? I was almost fired for promoting my own brand. You're really going to let him peddle his family wine to the mindless masses?"

"Your brand—and I use that term loosely—is an adult sex toy line with your name signed in cinnamon-scented marker. The show was sued for pain and suffering after Eulah Smith got third degree vaginal burns from one. What the hell did you expect?" I said.

"That was never proven," she said with a huff, folding her arms against her chest.

"Oh, itabsolutelywas proven. In court. You were ordered to pay her a quarter of a million dollars. Had to sell your condo in Dallas just to cover the legal fees."

"I don't see what that has to do with anything."

I opened my mouth to continue the verbal annihilation of Siobhan Donahue, only to be stopped dead in my tracks when music began blaring from the speakers at a deafening volume. I covered my ears and winced. The off-screen television monitor played a video of a younger version of myself. In it, I was prancing around in front of a pink backdrop. Dear God. It was the music video forMethods to My Madness.

"Did you do this?" I screamed at Siobhan over the unbearably loud music. "If you think you can bully me into quitting, you've got another thing coming. Give it a rest, Donahue."

Siobhan shook her head, just as confused as I was. On screen, the image of a twenty-year younger version of me disintegrated into tiny pixelated squares. I wasn't sure who was responsible for the editing here, but it looked like they'd just run it through Windows Movie Maker on some decades-old laptop still operating on Windows XP.

"What the hell is happening?" I wailed as an image of Aunt Lurlene now filled the screen. She was wearing a replica of the outfit I'd worn in my one-and-only music video. As she pranced around the screen in nothing more than a nude-colored catsuit with strategically placed rhinestones covering her whosits and whatsits, the music shifted. Someone had created a mash-up with Bruno Mars'Marry You.

"Oh, dear God," I said, scrubbing my face with my hands. "It's a medley."

I didn't realize what was happening. Not at first. Then I saw them. Just past the cameraman, a janitor tapped his foot to the beat before flinging his mop to the ground. He reached for his ridiculous ball cap, ripping it off and throwing it on the floor. He was wearing a pair of coveralls, and once he'd ripped them open, shucking them off and leaving them in a crumpled heap on the floor, I realized it was none other than Preston Fletcher. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, but he didn't let that stop him as he awkwardly performed a poorly choreographed jig, sashaying his way toward the set wearing a t-shirt with my winking face front and center.

Behind a table displaying a vast assortment of bagels and donuts, a tiny caterer ripped off his apron and chef's hat. It was Beau Rivers incognito. Beau pointed at me, mouthing about it being a beautiful night and that he was looking for a dumb thing to do, but I couldn't think of anything dumber than what was transpiring in front of me.

Unfortunately, the Muscadine Madness didn't end there. Seated on a metal folding chair, Jordan set his tablet on a small table at his side, winked at me, and rose like a traitorous phoenix from the ashes. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt as he eyefucked my father from across the room. Preston blushed and looked away, muttering something under his breath. With the lastbutton of his shirt undone, he pulled it open, revealing a picture of Rivers' face.

"What the hell is happening?" I cried out.

Then I saw him. With flushed cheeks and a pained expression, Rivers emerged from the shadows. He was wearing the same tuxedo he'd worn to the muscadine king and queen crowning three months ago. He stalked slowly toward me holding a small red box.

My eyes must have been bulging out of my head, because he immediately began shaking his head. When he reached me, he held his hand out for me to take.

"Firecracker," he said, a nervous smile locked in place. "I promise this isn't what it looks like."

"What the hell is going on?" I hissed.

Then, Aunt Lurlene's voice bellowed out of the speakers like a foghorn. "Dearly beloved—"

"Oh my God. Please tell me you're not…" I said as Rivers squeezed my hand, still shaking his head like he was scared I might run off. "Rivers, we've been dating for three months. This is fast, even by my standards."

"I'm not—"

"We've come together today to celebrate a blessed union," Aunt Lurlene said as she approached. "Two hearts beating in time with the rhythm of a stunning stanza."

"Is that beat poetry?" Jordan asked her. "Because it was absolutely stunning."

"Our city's Muscadine King and Queen, coming together to—"

"Thank you, Mrs. Fletcher," Rivers said, grabbing the microphone out of her hand. She let out a small huff and folded her arms against her chest. Rivers turned back to me and flashed me a nervous smile. "Hey, Firecracker."

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