Page 19 of Fairground

This process is supposed to narrow the field before the November election—but when you're the one waiting to hear your name, it feels anything but simple. Lydia submitted my nomination last week, but I’ve got no clue who else is in the running. Either no one trusts me enough to spill the tea—which doesn’t bode well for my chances of winning—or I’m running unopposed. Either way, my stomach is in knots, my palms are clammy, and my cheeks are on fire.

“You’ve got this,” Lydia says, giving my elbow a quick squeeze and flashing me a smile that does little to calm my nerves.

I glance around us at the thick crowd and then lean in toward her. “Why are there so many people here? Couldn’t they just, I don’t know, read about it in the news tomorrow? Does this town even have a newspaper?”

She shrugs, scanning the crowd. “Everything in this town is a big deal. We rally around each other, support as much as possible. And after the last mayor’s…” She drops her voice and glances over her shoulder. “…scandals, people are extra invested in who will take his place. Whoever wins this election needs to be someone they trust, or—”

“They’ll riot?” I finish for her, my voice dry but my heart racing inside of my chest.

“Pretty much.” She nods with a smirk.

Well, shit. They don’t even know me.

The city manager, Mr. Craig Archer, steps up to the podium, his voice carrying over the chatter. “Good afternoon, everyone and thanks for joining us for this announcement. Just a reminder, folks, the mayor of Whitewood Creek is a vital role in maintaining our small town’s success here in North Carolina. The mayor will oversee the town council, represent Whitewood Creek among other mayors in the state, run public hearings, and most importantly”—he pauses, glancing meaningfully at the crowd—“coordinate the State Fair planning committee to ensure everything at the fairgrounds goes off without a hitch this November.”

I lace my fingers together and press them tight, trying to keep my hands steady. No pressure or anything. Just managing the whole State Fair.

Craig pulls out his tablet, scrolling with deliberate slowness using one finger. I’m guessing it’s for dramatic effect. There’s simply no way that many people were nominated.

“I’m happy to be here announcing the two candidates who will be running for mayor of Whitewood Creek. These individuals will be on the ballot for the November election and, ultimately, one will take on this prestigious position—”

Okay, let’s slow down here, Craig.

Calling this positionprestigiousfeels like a stretch. Sure, it might be a big deal in places like Charlotte or Raleigh, but here in Whitewood Creek? It’s barely more than a glorified figurehead who oversees hot dog eating contests and makes sure the fairgrounds are clean. Still, my heart’s pounding like it’stheelection of the century or a presidential nomination with the way he and everyone else here is hyping this announcement up.

“And candidate number one is…” Craig clears his throat “…Rae Black…”

A few quiet murmurs ripple through the crowd as they try to figure out who the hell that is. I paste on my widest smile and give a friendly wave. Eyes slowly find mine and a few kind people give me thumbs ups and clap politely as if they recognize me.

There's no way that they could. I've never seen them in my life.

“Rae Black is our town’s beloved ophthalmologist, Laken Black’s younger sister. Rae moved here three weeks ago to help Laken with her two sons while her husband is deployed overseas working in special ops. An honorable effort, I might add. Rae’s experience includes working in politics for the past eight years in Charlotte, making her a natural candidate for this role. Her background in planning and marketing will be invaluable for this year’s state fair. She’s full of fresh ideas and excited to dive in,” Craig announces with all the enthusiasm of a high school principal on career day.

I flash a polite smile, leaning toward Lydia to murmur out of the corner of my mouth, “Uh… did you write all that?”

She grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Was it too much?”

“Maybe a little but I think they ate it up.”

And the crowd seems to love it. The applause picks up, accompanied by a few cheers and even a stray “woo!” It’s a warm reception, and for a second, I feel a flicker of relief—like maybe, I’ll actually fit in here and have a chance at winning this thing.

After a few more seconds of clapping and waving, Craig clears his throat loudly, pulling everyone’s attention back to the stage.

“Alright, folks, we’re excited to have you running, Rae, and can’t wait to see what you do with the state fair this year. And the second candidate on the ballot for mayor this November is…”

Well, shit. I guess I'm not running unopposed after all...

“… Cash Marshall! Of the Marshall family!”

If I thought my applause was decent, the eruption that follows Cash Marshall’s name being shouted across the courthouse steps could be mistaken for a rock concert. The crowd goes wild—stomping boots, cheers loud enough to rattle the windows, and hollers so enthusiastic I half expect someone to start chanting his name. For a second, I’m convinced there’s an earthquake. But nope, it’s just the overwhelming realization that I am not, in fact, running unopposed and the man I'm running against isMr. Whitewood Creek.

And then I see him.

Cash saunters toward the podium like he owns the place, waving to the crowd, blowing kisses, and flashing that million-dollar smile of his that has every woman turning and blushing.

At some point during his walk towards the stage, a woman hands him a baby and he kisses it. Straight up kisses a baby.

I thought they only did that in movies.

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