Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 122097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“Dammit, Amon. How much did you pay for this dog? I thought we had a budget? I said twenty grand apiece. This one sounds like a genius.”
“Nah. I got her on special. She flunked out of cadaver school.”
I don’t wanna laugh at him, but it’s kinda hard not to. Still, I don’t give in. There’s no point in denying that Amon is charming. He is. It’s just… he fuckin’ annoys me too. So I growl, “I don’t know Hungarian.”
“So talk to her in English.” Amon rolls his eyes at me like I’m the dumbest motherfucker he’s ever met. “You take the north gate. I’m taking east, Nash is taking west, and Ryan’s taking south. All the other guys will do the interior.”
“What are we looking for?”
“Assholes, Collin. We’re lookin’ for assholes.” He pats my chest, hands me the lead attached to Mercy’s harness, and walks off.
Mercy and I look at each other, then I shrug and we head north.
It takes me hours to stop thinking about Collin Creed and how he looked in his costume this morning. My God, why didn’t I sleep with that man last night? Why?
He kind of explained himself, didn’t he? I mean, I get it, don’t I? Do I really need a formal explanation with a formal apology?
“Stop it.”
I turn and look at Bryn, who has taken the day off at the inn so she can help out on opening day. There’s no Revival on Fridays. It’s just a look around. But all the booths are open, and the food venders are cooking up a storm, and the children’s choir will be singing at least three times today.
There are also a few rides. Classic ones. A merry-go-round, a Ferris wheel, some bumper cars, and a helter-skelter slide. It’s Good Friday and even though it’s not a national holiday, here in these parts the kids don’t have school. So most of the people are locals from the surrounding towns outside the Trinity.
Our booth is going crazy with customers, so Bryn is here for support. She’s not required to be here every day we’re open any more than I am, but you gotta be pretty much dying to get away with a no-show on opening day.
“Stop what?” I ask her.
“You’re daydreaming. Did you sleep with him yet?”
“No. I’m still mad. He walked out on me twelve years ago. One does not just get over that in a week.”
“He’s living at your house, Lowyn.”
“On the couch!”
“Please. Just sleep with him and get it over with. The two of you have been in love since he first saw you singing in the children choir and you first saw him holding the Good Book open for his daddy when you were back in kindergarten.”
“How would you even know that? You weren’t even there back in those days. You were in the play tent.”
Bryn winks at me, then turns her back to help a customer.
She’s right, though. Inside the Revival tent, the children’s choir stands stage right and Collin was always seated stage left, so we were looking at each other all growing up. I used to imagine that he could pick my voice out of the chorus and I would sing extra loud to make sure that happened.
Did it work?
Maybe. Of course, he’s almost two years older than me, and when you’re five, that’s a big deal. So maybe it didn’t. Maybe he never saw me at all. Not until I was in high school, that is.
We started out as friends first. I was on the cheerleading squad at Trinity High my freshman year. I wasn’t interested in cheering, I was there for Collin. That was it. And I did everything in my power to make him notice me. I’d do backflips across the field right in front of him. I’d decorate his locker on game days, even if I had been assigned some other player’s locker. And I would leave him notes. Not signing my name, at first, but a little picture instead.
I wasn’t an artist, but Clover was, and she and I were besties since first grade. She taught me how to doodle flowers when we were little. And this was what I drew for Collin. That was how I signed my name when I left him notes.
There was nothing scandalous in the notes. They said things like ‘good job’ and ‘nice catch.’ He was the receiver for the football team. But then, one night, after the game, I slipped a new note into his helmet that was lying on the bench. This was the last game of the season. They didn’t go to state or anything. It was just a regular game. And in this note I asked him to meet me at the Revival tent at five a.m. And I signed it with my flower.
I didn’t think he’d show up. I really didn’t.