by Scott, Lisa
Words escaped me for a moment, and he playfully punched my arm. “Doesn’t matter if I guess wrong. The prizes are so cheap we make money even if the customer wins.”
I wondered who he meant by we, but I just smiled, hoping my verbal malfunctioning would end soon.
When the kid’s sister saw the cute stuffed dog her brother picked out, she started crying that she wanted to play, too.
“I’m out of money, guys,” their mother said, not looking up from her phone.
I was about to reach for a few bucks so the girl could play when Junior smacked his forehead. “I totally forgot, it’s buy-one-get-one-play-free day. In honor of Grease day.” He looked at me.
“Grease day?” the woman asked.
“The movie,” he explained, jerking his head toward me.
She looked me over and raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t see anything about that.”
I shrugged. “I don’t think they publicized it very well.”
“Okay, mister, guess my age,” the little girl said. Clearly, she was three or four, and if Junior guessed within two years, she didn’t get a prize.
“Hmm,” he said, walking around the girl and doing his measuring tape trick again. After a few minutes, he said, “Seven?”
The little girl jumped up and down. “You lose! I’m four.” She held up four fingers. “You’re a loser! Now get me my stuffed doggy.”
Junior held back a laugh. “You got me,” he said, retrieving the prize.
I couldn’t help but smile watching the way Junior enjoyed himself with the kids.
After the family moved on, he leaned against his stand and smiled. “So, how’s the Grease festival?”
“Oh, fun. Didn’t see too many other people dressed up for it, though. Like I said, someone must be slacking in the marketing department.”
He smiled at me long enough to make me squirm. “Hope you didn’t take the day off from work for this,” he said. “What do you do?”
Telling him the truth—that I’m an underpaid special Ed teacher who was off for the summer—probably wouldn’t set off his scammer’s radar. I needed a lie, and a good one to get this guy’s interest. I sighed and tried to take on a somber tone. “I haven’t worked since my husband died.”
His eyes widened, causing his eyebrows to disappear under his mop of hair. “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. What happened?” He touched my shoulder.
I cocked my head, confused.
He squeezed my arm. “I mean, how did he die?”
I hadn’t thought about that one. I looked away, trying to decide how my fake husband should die. No diseases. That might lead to too many specific questions. A fire? A murder?
A kid walked by with an ice cream cone, and I wished to God I had one so I could take a big lick to buy me time while I thought about what to say. Where was an ice cream truck when you needed one? “He was hit by a truck. An ice cream truck.”
“Wow,” Junior said, shaking his head. “That’s almost hard to believe. I mean, that inane music they play, you’d think he’d hear that.”
I nodded. “Well, he was deaf.”
“Oh. Huh.”
“Lucky for me, he had a pretty big life insurance policy, which means now I don’t have to work.” I looked around. “I suppose he’s the reason I came here for the Grease festival. That was our favorite movie. And this was our favorite place. Neverland Island.” The lies were just rolling out of me. I hadn’t been here since I was a kid. I really was getting good at this.
Junior nodded. “Doesn’t seem like it’s been the best day for you, though.”
I swallowed hard and summoned my courage. “But, I did meet you.”
His beautiful blue eyes locked on mine. “You’re just saying that because of the teddy bear.”
“No. I like you, Junior. And I’m going to stop back tomorrow.” I walked away and looked back over my shoulder. He was watching my every move. Probably spending my money in his head, too. And to my dismay, I realized I was whistling, “You’re the One That I Want.” Damn it. That man had something magical going on, because part of me did want him. And I didn’t know why.
***
Patti was still in pajamas when I went back to her place, but at least she had moved from the bed to the couch. “How’d it go?”
“I think I found him.”
“Already?”
“Hot guy with blue eyes and dark hair. Calls himself Junior this time. He’s working at the guess-your-age-guess-your-weight game, and while I was there, he got a call and locked up in a real hurry right in the middle of the day. Then he came back. Oh, and he said, ‘Yo.’” I nodded, as if saying “yo” was proof enough.
“Junior?” Patti asked.
I kicked off my heels. “He’s not going to call himself Devon again. I’m sure he changes his name for each woman.”
She winced. “So, what are you going to do next?”
I plopped onto the couch next to her. “I’m going back to his booth tomorrow, dripping in jewels. I told him my husband died and left me a bundle.”
“Do you think he bought it?”
“We’ll find out.”
“Get a picture of him, and I’ll tell you if he’s the guy.”
“Oh sure, I’ll snap a picture all nice and subtle.”
“Find a way, Colleen. We have to be sure.”
***
The next morning, I put on the jewelry I’d bought the day before. This time I wore a sundress and much lower sandals, because my feet were killing me. And because I didn’t want to continue with the movie theme. What would be next? The Wizard of Oz? I didn’t have any ruby slippers. Since the rain had revealed I didn’t have naturally curly hair, I pulled it back in a twist. I hurried to his booth, where a line of little kids waited for him to guess their age.
“My cousin told me this guy always gets it wrong,” one little boy said to another.
“Good. I want the fuzzy dice,” the other kid said. “I heard girls like fuzzy dice. I’ll put them on my bike.”
Once all the boys received their prizes and scurried off, I sauntered over to him. “How’s it going today, Junior?”
“It’s going, just not fast enough.” He grinned. He certainly had the nicest teeth of anyone working there.
I narrowed my eyes. “I bet you have a really embarrassing name, and that’s why you go by Junior.”
“Maybe so.”
“What is it? I won’t laugh.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know you well enough…Sandy.”
I blushed. “Yeah, I was really playing up the role yesterday. If I tell you my name, will you tell me yours?”
“Depends on how embarrassing yours is.”
I blinked a few times. “Gertrude. It’s Gertrude. Gertrude Edith, in fact. Now tell me yours.”
He cocked his head and studied me. “Really?”
“Horrible, I know.”
“Nah, not at all. It’s not so embarrassing. Real old-fashioned. Gertie. It’s nice.”
I stifled a groan. This guy was a pro all right, he was unbreakable. “Well, how about a nickname? You got a nickname besides Junior?”
He ignored me and gestured to the thick necklace I was wearing. “Nice.”
I ran my fingers over it. “My husband bought me lots of nice things.”
“Looks just like the stuff they got right here at the jewelry store. I hate to break it to you, but that diamond isn’t real.” He gestured to my hand. “The gold probably isn’t either. Doesn’t have the right shine to it.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.”
I twisted the ring on my finger. “Well, of course it’s not real. I wouldn’t wear my real stuff here. But he did buy me many, many nice things.” I summoned my courage. “I’m thinking about selling a lot of it.”
He paused. “Talk to me if you do. There are a lot of scammers out there. I’ll tell you what to watch out for.”
You’d know, wouldn’t you buddy?
He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got a break. Want to go grab something to eat, see a few of the sideshows? What’s your favorite?”
I blinked at him. “What?”
“Your favorite act. You must have one, since you come here so often.”
Lying required much more planning than I’d initially thought. “Hmm. The one with the people…who…juggle?”
He snapped his fingers. “The fire jugglers. Let’s do it.” He held out his arm. I snaked mine through his, and we walked toward the midway.
“I’ve been craving fried dough,” he said.
“Sounds good. I’m sure you’ve worked up an appetite. How many people won a prize from you today?”
“Everyone won a prize.”
I smiled, wondering how he could be so sweet with children, yet so cruel to lonely women. We strolled along, slower than everyone else around us. “Why don’t you actually try to guess someone’s age or weight correctly?”
He made a face. “I made a little kid cry once. I didn’t like it.”
My heart fluttered.
He stopped and pointed. “Fried butter? Come on!” He grabbed my hand, and we ran over to the fried food stand. As we stood in line, he continued to hold my hand.
And I liked it.
Of course I like it. I cursed myself. He’s a gigolo. Or a Lothario. Something ‘o.’ He knows how to seduce women.
“You want a fried stick of butter?” he asked.
My stomach churned—I wasn’t sure if it was from his suggestion or the realization that I liked this guy. “Uh, no.”
“Right. You probably had some yesterday during the Grease festival.” His grin was devious.
“Yeah. And I try to keep to one stick of butter a week, thank you.”
He purchased his stick of butter and chocolate sauce to dip it in, grinning like an idiot. Which gave me an idea.
I reached for my phone. “Let me take your picture eating that thing.” Before he could say no, I aimed it and clicked.
But he was too quick, and he held up his hand, blocking the shot. He laughed nervously. “I hate having my picture taken.”
So I’ve heard.
Once he finished his stick of butter, he reached for my hand again, and we walked through the park. I made a mental note to speed up my investigation, because the man could drop dead from a heart attack with all the fat coursing through his veins.
“Only one more week left in the season,” he said. “The farewell parade’s coming soon. Hard to believe.”
“Farewell parade?”
“On Labor Day. The park stays open on weekends through the middle of October, but the summer season is officially over on Labor Day.”
“Will you have given away your quota of prizes?” I teased.
“There’s no quota.”
“Don’t you have a boss who cares how much money you bring in?”
He opened his mouth as if to say something, then shrugged instead. “It’s not about the money, you know?”
No, I didn’t know. I thought it was all about the money. But we walked on, and I let him put his arm around me. We shared a candy apple and played a few games before watching the fire jugglers.
When the show was over, we stood to leave. He looked at me and cupped his hand under my jaw. I stopped breathing for a moment. This was all happening so fast. I never imagined I could get him to fall for me so quickly. I gulped and felt my throat tighten.
As he grazed his thumb toward my lips, I closed my eyes and moved in so he could kiss me. I’d known it might come to this, but I had to do it for Patti.
Then he rubbed the corner of my mouth with his finger. “You had some red sticky stuff there from the candy apple.”
I jerked back and almost fell into the seat. “Thank you.” My fingers went to the place he had touched.
He smiled. “But since you looked like you were expecting a kiss…” He took a step toward me, and his hand was back on my cheek while his other hand snaked up my back. Then he pulled me in for a kiss that drew a few whistles from the people around us. It also got us a, “Get a room.”
I had a hard time swallowing. Hell, I had a hard time thinking.
Junior held back a laugh, grabbed my hand, and led me out of the crowd. I said very little as we walked on, not quite believing I was seducing a seducer. Heck, I didn’t need to spend time watching the fire jugglers, I was juggling my own fire. “Don’t you have to get back to work at some point?”
He looked at his watch. “In a little while. Let’s take a spin on the Ferris wheel first.”
Little did I know that was gigolo speak for, “Make out the entire time, and include a little second base action.”
Oh, Patti owed me. She owed me big.
“Want to go around a second time?” he asked when the ride stopped.
I could only nod. I thought it was important that I seem into it.
While the wheel spun along with my heart, he received a phone call. He broke away from our kiss to turn form me and take the call.“Yo.”
I cringed, forcing myself to remember who this charming guy really was—and that he was very good at what he did. I ran my fingers across my tingling lips. Actually, he was more than very good.
He shut off his phone. “I’ve got to go.”
“Back to the guessing booth?”
He pressed his lips together. “I’ve got other things to attend to.”
I was going to say something sassy like, “Hey, hope it’s a golden opportunity.” Or something about leprechauns, but I wasn’t sure he’d get the gold reference. And it probably wasn’t a good idea to tip my cards so soon.
We climbed out of the Ferris wheel, and he took my hand. “I’ll walk you to the entrance.”
He doesn’t want to risk me seeing what he’s up to. “No need,” I said.
“Hey, it’s getting dark and there are a lot of weirdoes here. Plus, I want to spend every moment I can with you.”
My heart soared, even though I knew this was an act. “Okay.” The sky was getting dusky, and vendors were walking around selling different light-up toys and flashing goodies.
Junior stopped at a small booth to buy a fake rose. He handed it to me. “It’s not exactly a dozen long stems, but those are hard to come by around here.”
I took the rose from him. It blinked through a rainbow of colors, turning blue, green, purple, then white before going through the cycle again.
We stopped at the gates, and he kissed me. “Will you come back tomorrow?”
I’m coming back sooner than that, I thought. But I said, “Yes.”
After a long kiss goodbye, I sauntered casually down the boardwalk, and then turned and hustled back to the entrance. I waited thirty seconds and ran into the park, hoping he wouldn’t see me. I prepared excuses in case he did. Like, I needed another kiss. Or, I wanted a stick of fried butter after all.
He didn’t look back, but I could still see him thirty feet ahead of me. Good thing he was tall. A gorgeous bundle of six-foot-three man isn’t hard to spot.
But I didn’t want him seeing me. So I bought a tall, fuzzy, mad hatter hat from a passing vendor and a pair of sunglasses. I put them on and followed Junior until he got to the jewelry shop. The shop where they buy and sell gold and conduct some sort of sneaky business in a back room.
My heart sank. While I wanted to bust Patti’s ex, deep down I didn’t want it to be Junior. I really liked him, and it seemed as if the feeling was mutual. But I had to face facts, either he was setting the stage to rip me off, too, or I was going end up with a criminal for a boyfriend. I couldn’t picture myself baking a cake with a file in it. My cakes always ended up too crispy.
I turned and ran out of the park. What more did I need to see? Now I needed to step up the operation a notch so that he could finally scam me and I could end this nonsense.
***
The next morning, I showed up early with a cup of coffee for him. Maybe I should be bringing him gifts. Make him think I’m a sugar mama.
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br /> “What’s this?” he asked when I handed him the Styrofoam cup.
“Coffee. In case you were up late last night. With your business.”
He stood behind his booth, setting up for the day. “Nah, I tied things up pretty early. But thanks.” He reached under the counter and pulled out a huge bouquet of long-stemmed roses. “That plastic rose was a little embarrassing. I wanted to get it right today.”
I took them from him with shaky hands. They were the most exquisite flowers I’d ever seen. “Thank you,” I said, trying to sound as if I received roses from suitors every few weeks and not just twice before in my life—with one of those times being from my dad on my sixteenth birthday. “They’re gorgeous.”
“So are you.”
We stared at each other for a moment, and I wondered how this feeling could be so strong even after everything I knew about him.
“What do you say about dinner tonight? Not here at the park. A date. At a real restaurant.”
“Can’t manage another stick of butter?” I teased.
“No, and I do enjoy sitting down while I eat every once in a while.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes. Do you want me to pick you up?”
I couldn’t let him see that I lived in a tiny apartment. Wealthy widows don’t live in tiny apartments. Unless he picked me up where a wealthy widow would live. “Yes. I live in Grimm Towers. I’ll meet you in the lobby at six.” I was getting pretty good at this.
“Grimm Towers?” One of his eyebrows rose ever so slightly. “I know the place. I’ll see you there at six.”
I held up the flowers. “I should get these home, put them in water.”
After I left him, I raced over to Patti’s place and tossed the flowers on her counter. “Guess things are going well. We’ve moved on to the roses stage.”
Patti sat up on the couch. “I never got roses.”
“Really? Huh. Well, he must be changing tactics a bit. Because it’s him, Patti. We were on the Ferris wheel…” I didn’t mention the kissing. “…and he got a call and had to leave. Walked me to the exit, then went back in. I followed him to the jewelry shop that buys and sells gold. So something is up. I just can’t figure out what this gold operation is. I suppose it doesn’t matter, long as I can get him to swindle me.”