Page 114 of Give Me a Shot

He just wondered how intense it would get as his garb and the Faire itself were sparking memories of her.

“Fezzik!” A masked noblewoman walking down the path called to him. “Are there rocks ahead?” She and her group smiled expectantly.

The direct reference to thePrincess Bridehurt, making it hard for him to reply. But the guests needed to have a good time.

“If there are,” he answered back, “we’ll all be dead.”

The woman and her friends laughed, clapping their hands as he continued on his way. The outdoor bar of the Ale’s Faire ale house came into view. Suddenly a man in a colorful padded vest sort of thing stepped directly in front of Mo. He stopped.

“No more rhymes now, I mean it,” the man said. Mo caught the mischievous look in his eye before he glanced at a woman and two children in garb just to his right. Mo sighed.

“Anybody want a peanut?” he asked, forcing a smile.

The man and woman exploded in laughter, while the children looked lost.

“Gramercy, my good sir,” the man said, clapping Mo on the arm before stepping out of his way. Unsure about the meaning of that word, Mo nodded and continued on.

The crowd on the path was much bigger than he’d realized from inside the smithy. Thankfully, there were enough people to make it easy not to glance at the archery stand as he passed it. He wove around other families and couples fully decked out. Some of them nodded to him or waved, and he gulped and waved back. It was intensely uncomfortable for so many strangers to be looking at him, engaging with him. His chest was tightening, his heart rate picking up. He didn’t understand why they were doing it; then he noticed everyone was acknowledging one another that way. As long as no one spoke directly to him, the atmosphere was actuallykind of nice. He could feel everyone’s good mood. When he reached the bar, it was several people deep, so he made his way to a clear spot down one side. Eventually, a bar wench he didn’t recognize noticed him and asked what he’d like. He asked for a Coke, and she returned, thunking a large stainless-steel tankard in front of him.

“You’re the blacksmith teacher, right?” she asked.

“One of them, yeah,” he said, nodding slowly.

“No charge,” she said and walked away.

Mo took a long, deep sip, grateful for the generous helping of ice she’d included. As he was lowering the drink, a “huzzah” went up from the other end of the bar. And there was Jess, surrounded by a small group of people, raising their drinks to her. Mo’s heart dropped. He didn’t want to see her, it hurt too much. But he’d barely made a dent in his drink, and there was no way for him to toss a big metal mug in the trash can a few feet away. Trying to drink quickly, he scooted to the very corner of the bar and hoped for the best.

But Jess looked miserable. It was obvious that she was trying to humor the people around her, raising her tankard to clink with theirs as they motioned to her. He could tell that she was putting their comfort ahead of her own. Her smile was tight, and she kept taking long gulps of her drink, probably doing the same thing as he was, trying to finish quickly. One of the young men pretended to fire a bow, and the young woman next to him quickly turned to Jess to ask something. Mo realized that they must have been talking about Jess’s performance, which he surmised must have gone well for them to be so excited, but Jess wouldn’t have wanted this much fuss. She answered the young woman with a smile and nod, her face flushed. Just as the young woman turned away, Jess’s face dropped completely, looking stricken before she took another long drink. Mo couldn’t stand by and do nothing.

Taking a deep breath, he picked up his tankard and strode over to the group. He stood to his full height and cleared his throat loudly. They went silent and looked up at him.

“Good morrow, Master…brewer?” one young man said, eyes wide.

“Good morrow,” Mo said as deeply as possible. “Not to spoil your fun, but methinks Lady Archer needs a break.”

The group looked at one another, then at Jess, and began apologizing. Jess nodded, and they took their drinks, moving farther down the bar. Mo put his tankard down and crossed his arms on the bar beside her.

“You have fans,” he said, hoping his voice wasn’t as tense as he felt.

“Thank you, Mo.” She sighed. “Um, are you okay? There’s uh…there’s a lot of people and noise.”

He appreciated her asking, her knowing. But the pitch of her voice was too high, her jaw tight. He didn’t want her worrying about him just then.

“It is a lot,” he said. “But I haven’t had groupies.”

The laugh she attempted fell flat.

“I didn’t want to offend them, but…” She trailed off.

“Too much,” he said.

“Exactly.” She took another long drink, put down her tankard, and rested her palms on the bar. “And…and the girl. She looked—” Jess’s face was pale, her eyes glistening as she looked up at him. There was a sharp blast around his heart. He swallowed hard.

“Like Cassie,” he said softly, remembering the photo of her and Jess laughing together.

She nodded; her lips pressed tightly. Mo hesitated before gently putting his hand on her back.

“Do you need to leave?” he asked. She shook her head hard.

---