Page 53 of Fast and Dirty

“Yeah… and I know a pretty building when I see one,” I mumble disparagingly. “Otherwise, I only know how to break shit, make messes, and apparently bake a decent biscuit!”

“But you have really good ideas!” Hattie swipes the beer I was tipping to my lips and sets it down before grabbing my hands and leveling me with her pretty hazel eyes.

“The last idea I had was to turn on Maggie’s fourth oven.”

“Oh,” Hattie scrunches her face and bites the corner of her lip. “No! The last idea you had was this town having a festival!”

“What? That wasn’t an idea. It was just animaginative thought that popped in my head.” My elbows slide out sideways as I lower my head in my hands.

“Okay, let’s get some more pizza in you, and maybe some water, there, slugger.” Hattie hops off her chair and heads to the counter where the remains of the pizza lay in their box.

“I’m not drunk,” I mutter. “I’m just trying to get there. And all I said was this town should have a festival, not that I should throw one.”

“But it was still an idea,” she counters as she pops the pizza slice in the microwave. “And you had it, so maybe you should carry it out.”

“Peh!” I scoff.

“Seriously,” she encourages. “You can carry out an idea. And that could be your great contribution to this place, since you’re so worried about it. Where do you think you should start?”

“I don’t know,” I throw my arms up. “Who the hell in this town would even want to have one?”

“And that, my girl, is where you start,” she says smartly as she sits down and places the pizza in front of me. “Now what else should you do?” She reaches for a notepad that’s laying on the far side of the table. She jumps a little, her eyebrows shooting up before she makes disgusted sound, tearing the first page off, and the doodle of a smiley-faced penis with stick arms and legs flutters off to the side. She detaches the pen and looks at me expectantly. “Ooh! I know! You’ll probably need a permit.” She bends her head to scribble it down.

“I think you’re my new best friend,” I mumble affectionately around a hot, cheesy glob before gulping it down. “Don’t tell Toby.”

20

KIRA

Okay, I got this.

I march up the steps of the small and quaint city hall. I not only have a permit in hand all filled out and ready to be signed, but also a typed-up proposal and sales pitch to get the mayor to say yes to having a fun shindig in the town. And if all goes well, I’ll be applying to have one every season to give residents something to look forward to as well as driving-distance out of towners.

After doing surprisingly little research, I found that you simply pick up a permit from the clerk, and because this town is so stinking small, you actually present it to the mayor yourself. Apparently he doesn’t have much to do.

Finding his door at the end of the hallway, I briskly rap my knuckles against it and wait… for a while. After a few minutes, I rap again, and there’s still no answer. I’m thinking over what to do next, when I hear a loud snort on the other side of the door.

I try the door, lightly push it open, and I’ve found him.

The respectable mayor of Coyote Creek is hard at work, sawing logs in his chair with his feet kicked up on his desk and his head dangling off one of his chair arms. His mouth is hung open in a less than flattering position as he snores away.

Well this is awkward.

“Mayor Wineberger?” I softly utter his name and it gets me nothing but another snort. “Mayor Wineberger?” I say a little louder.

“Zzzzzz!”

I look around, wondering if I should just leave the damn thing on his desk but I don’t like taking the chance of him not noticing it.

Thankfully, my eyes fall on a small bell at the edge of his desk. Tiny and bronze, it is a replica of the Liberty Bell in Philadelphia. Ring for service, right? Here goes…

I give the bell a little tinkle and the mayor shoots up ramrod straight in his chair.

“SNORT! Wha? What the? Is dinner ready?”

“Um… no,” I answer. “It’s ten in the morning. I’m Kira, by the way,” I give him a little wave.

“Oh.” He shifts his loafered feet off his desk and wiggles around in his seat, trying to straighten up. “How can I help you, young lady?” He finishes by adjusting his unbelievably thick glasses.

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