Page 4 of The Wild Card
Jo’s happy squeal and wide smile, complete with a dimple and a missing front tooth, send an ache through my chest.
“She’s doing a shift at the cake walk,” Winnie says. “Eula Martin threatened her with bodily harm if she didn’t stay there for at least two hours. Sitting, of course, given her condition.”
Lindy’sconditionis pregnancy. She isn’t all that far along, but everyone is treating her as though she’s going to break any moment. And Lindy, usually a strong, more-than-capable woman, has been leaning into it. Pat used to have to argue his way into pampering her, but for now, she’s welcoming any and all offers of help and special treatment.
“I already served my time at the roasted corn stand,” Winnie adds. “I’m free from the committee’s demands.”
“Mmm,” Pat says. “I like the sound of a cake walk.”
James rolls his eyes. “Like you need more sugar.”
“It’s a festival,” Winnie says, patting James on the arm. “Lighten up, big guy.”
“Yeah, Uncle James,” Jo echoes. “Lighten up. Let’s go walk cake!”
“That’s not quite how a cake walk works, little bird,” James says, but already he’s following Pat.
Winnie shoves the purple unicorn at me, then wraps an arm around James’s waist as they trail behind Pat and Jo. Dad joins them as they pass a stand selling turkey legs and sausage on a stick.
And I … just stand here, rooted in place as I watch them all go—the very picture of happiness.
I am feeling far too melancholy for a fair where you can fry just about anything.
When no one in my family realizes I’m gone, my mood goes full-on emo. I hug the purple unicorn—my new best friend.
My only friend?
Here I am, having an existential crisis in Sheet Cake, Texas—which sounds like a line from a country song. A bad one.
Suddenly, a hand comes out of nowhere, fingertips lightly curling around my wrist. I can hardly see the woman touching me—what with my new purple bestie blocking the view. She’s out of breath like she’s been running. I get a general sense of glossy brown hair and blue eyes. Long legs and desperation.
“If you’re single,” she says between panting breaths, “can I borrow you for an hour or so?”
Maybe it’s the existential crisis I'm having next to a stand selling turkey legs or maybe it’s the urgency and panic in her voice, but I find myself nodding as I shift the unicorn out of the way. “Sure.”
And that’s when I realize who this woman is—Molly, sister of Chase, my sister’s husband. Took me a minute since her hair is now a chocolatey brown rather than blond, but I know Molly. We met at Chase and Harper’s wedding, then again at Feastivus, Sheet Cake’s version of Thanksgiving.
I wait for her to place me. To remember me. But even after giving her a few moments of blinking her pretty blue eyes a few times, it becomes clear. Molly doesnotrecognize me.
Swell—once more, I’m the invisible and forgettable Graham brother.
CHAPTER 2
Molly
Ten minutes earlier
“Is thereanything else you need to know?” I ask. “Anything that might help you make your decision?”
Molly, your desperation is showing.
It totally is. But I don’t even care. Because this isnothow my audition was supposed to go.
And I should know since I spent so much time manifesting. Not that I even believe in that kind of thing, but I tried anyway. (Along with knocking on wood and crossing my fingers for luck.) According to my manifesting and visualization, I would walk into the room with confidence and poise. I’d hand over my acting resume, which they won’t think is too barren, even though it is. I’d highlight my millions of social media followers, which shouldn’t but probably does hold lots of sway. Then, I would totally wow the casting directors with my reading, leavingthem in awe and wonder as to how the perfect person for the role waltzed right in the door.
I’d waltz rightbackout with a leading role in a made-for-TV movie, a promise of income to fill my empty bank account, and an explanation for my parents as to why I’m not coming home.
And …scene.
