Page 105 of Perfect Mess

“No, that’s perfect. We’ll challenge them to a match.” The dip tent lady was looking at me suspiciously, so I waited until she turned her head. Then I sampled the Teriyaki Sriracha.

“A pickleball match?”

“A pickleball slaughter. Here, try the Bloomin’ Onion.” I handed Gary a dip laden pretzel.

“Wow, that is good. You and I on a team?”

“Me and you on a team. We’ll destroy them. Annihilate them. Make them rue the day they were born.”

“Or maybe we just settle for some nice, friendly competition. This Parmesan Spinach isn’t bad.”

My mouth full of Horseradish Crab, I caught a glimpse of the dip tent lady heading our way.

“Sir? Miss? Would you like to purchase any of the dips you sampled?”

I pretended not to hear her, scooping up a pretzel full of Bacon Chive as we fled.

ChapterTwenty-Four

On our way back to Gary’s tent, we had to pass through a gauntlet of vendors and solicitors, handing out pamphlets and flyers for various charities and events.

“Would you like a free credit score review?” Someone tried to hand me a flyer.

“No thank you, we’re good.”

“Let me tell you how solar panels can cut your electric bill by eighty-six percent.”

“I think we’ll pass.”

“Can you take a moment to save the whales?”

I pushed the clipboard out of my face. “No, I don’t want to save the whales,” I snapped.

“What do you have against whales?” Gary asked.

“I have nothing against whales. My funnel cake is getting cold.” I started marching back toward the tent, but Gary hadn’t moved. He had a look on his face that reminded me of that little blue bird again. Bracing for a coming storm. “What’s wrong?”

“That day in the grocery store, you asked me what my best trait was. Remember?”

“I guess.” I had done my best to erase that total disaster from my memory.

“What do you think it is?”

“What do I think what is?”

“My best trait.”

Out on the lake, the sounds of laughter provided a welcome distraction. I watched for a moment as a man and woman climbed into a swan boat; the man taking the woman gently by the hand. “I don’t know,” I said, trying my best not to look Gary in the eye.

“I mean, there has to be something about me that Janet is supposed to like, right?”

“Can we talk about this later? I told you, the funnel cakes are getting cold.” Looking down at the three plates, the ice cream was already melting, and the sprinkles were sliding off the top.

Gary didn’t budge.

“Fine,” I said. “You want to know your best trait? I’ll tell you your best trait.” But the thoughts swirling in my head were about as coherent as the melting ice cream. “You said it was your personality, right? Back in the grocery store?”

Gary nodded.

---