by Mary Frame
At the top of the costume is a foam cookie that surrounds my head, with a big hole for me to put my face through. The body is a black bicycle, one tire over my top and one over my bottom, and then there’s a fish tail that doesn’t quite cover my legs. I have to hold the fin up in one hand. The whole thing looks like it was sewn together by a blind person with two left hands. Which means Tabby probably made it.
“Dude.” There’s a gleam in her eyes that I don’t like the look of. “Yes!”
“Dude. No,” I say.
“You look hot.”
“Are you insane?”
She tilts her head. “Most of the time.”
“Can I take this off now?”
“Hell no, this is like a rite of passage. Do you need me to tie it in the back?”
“I don’t need you to do anything,” I grumble. I’d much rather take it off, but I suppose a promise is a promise. She did build me that shelving unit and babysit Paige for free, and she’s been nothing but nice to me. I don’t understand why anyone would be nice and not want something in return. Although now that I’m wearing this costume from hell, I’m beginning to understand her motives a bit more.
I turn around and let her tie me up, against my better judgment.
“So, why exactly do I have to dress like this?”
She tugs on the costume behind me, making it tighter around my waist. “You’re the lure.”
“Why can’t you be the lure?”
“I was the lure yesterday. We need fresh meat to draw in the sharks.”
“Sharks?”
“You know, customers.” She finishes tying me up and I turn around.
“What do I do now?”
“I wrote a song for you to sing.”
My mouth drops open. “Are you kidding me?”
“Yeah.” She laughs. “You should have seen your face. There’s no song.” Then her eyes light up. “But maybe we can write one.”
She’s kidding. I think. “Why would you need a song, anyway?”
“Sales have been terrible.” She straightens out some items on a shelf. “Mr. Collins across the way keeps stealing the customers with his fancy cheese.”
I glance over to see Mr. Collins grinning at us. He’s an old guy in a wheelchair with a floppy hat and sunglasses. His booth has items similar to Tabby’s.
“That’s cheating, Mr. Collins,” Tabby yells. “This isn’t the cheese festival.”
He waves at us, still grinning.
“I hates him,” Tabby grumbles.
“We can beat him at this game.”
“We can?” Her brows lift.
“Of course.”
It’s easy. As soon as there are people wandering in our direction, I use some tried and true carnie tricks. I hide most of the cookies down on one of the shelves, out of sight, and then call out to people as they pass. “Only two cookies left over here! We’ve barely opened and they’re disappearing quick! Get ’em while you can before they run out!”
That’s all it takes. The outfit probably does help. It’s one of those things you can’t look away from. Once people think they might be missing out on something, they’re quick to head over. And once there are a few, it naturally draws in more. When people see a crowd forming, they want to know what’s going on.
Once Tabby’s booth gets busy, we stay distracted all morning. Most of the people I don’t recognize, likely from neighboring towns and counties who came up for the day for the festival.
I still feel ridiculous in the costume, but something warm blooms in my chest when I see how happy Tabby is to have one-upped Mr. Collins. It’s almost enough to get rid of the embarrassment. Almost.
The embarrassment intensifies when Troy and Jared show up in their uniforms, all put together and official.
I look like a weirdo.
Troy grins at me. “You wear the costume of death well.”
“Costume of death?” I keep my gaze focused on Troy. I cannot bring myself to face Jared’s reaction to this absurd getup.
“I had to wear it one year when we were having a warmer than usual spring and I thought I was gonna die.” He peers at the costume with a grimace. “I sweated in this thing like a pig. I doubt Tabby’s washed it since.”
Ugh. Gross. I make a face.
“I get out of it every year by volunteering for overtime.”
Jared laughs.
And now I’m forced to look at him. Have I ever heard him laugh before? The sound is as startling as it is attractive. His head goes back, exposing white teeth and a strong throat. I swallow and try to focus on the conversation. “Good to know,” I say. “I’ll keep that in mind for next year.”
He’s smiling at me, and there’s no trace of disgust in his expression. I suppose I have that going for me.
“How long have you guys had this . . . costume?” I ask Troy.
“Since they started the Bike, Fish, and Cookie Festival years ago.” He smiles and his eyes soften a little bit. “My mom made it.”
The ludicrousness of being in the costume melts a little bit at his words. This is obviously a family tradition, and even though it’s weird, it’s nice to be included in something. I wonder if someday Paige and I will have some family traditions other than swindling people.
“Do your parents ever come back to visit?”
“They’re supposed to come back for Christmas this year. I think they have too much fun travelling around in their motor home like they’re gypsies.” He chuckles, then turns to Tabby. “We came by to see if we could steal Ruby. The festival is a prime opportunity for theft. We’ve been patrolling around, keeping an eye on things, and thought she might like to contribute.”
“Yes, please,” I say before Tabby can answer for me. “I need to change.” I disappear into the back of the tent. This will be perfect. I can keep an eye out on people’s feet.
Yesterday, Paige and I went over the tapes again. Even though the visual wasn’t the best, it was easy to see that the shoes themselves were cheaply made. Whoever is stealing is obviously doing so for money, i.e., because they don’t have any. Following that train of thought, it probably won’t be easy for them to obtain new shoes or even laces right away. So, they could be walking around either without laces or still using the frayed one. It won’t be easy to spot, but it’s something to look for. Along with the canvas bags.
The only problem is that I really don’t want to be around Jared. Not because he’s an ass, but because he’s no longer an ass.
Once concealed behind the flap of the tent, I take a deep breath and start removing the costume, which quickly proves to be a problem. I forgot about the ties in the back. I struggle for a moment, but there’s no way I’m getting this thing off without untying it.
I stick my head out of the hole to ask Tabby to help me, but she’s talking to a customer in a large cowboy hat, explaining the benefits of a lure used to catch some kind of sea bass.
Troy is on his cell phone about ten feet away from the booth, his back facing me.
“Troy,” I call out to him anyway.
He turns, sees me, and then points at his phone, rolls his eyes and points at Jared.
“I need help,” I say, ignoring his silent commands.
I really don’t want to ask Jared for help, but Troy waves me off and turns around again, away from me.
I can’t exactly ignore Jared. He’s standing near Troy, hands on hips, brows raised in my direction. He totally saw that whole exchange. I can continue to try to squirm myself out, or I can pull myself together and just ask him.
“Will you help me untie this thing?” I ask, gesturing toward my back with my fingers. I’m starting to get a little claustrophobic, especially after Troy talked about sweating all over the inside of the costume.
Unfortunately, Jared nods and joins me in the back of the tent.
It’s suddenly much smaller in the enclosure than it was a moment ago.
I turn my back to him. “Tabby tied it for me earlier,” I say, although
I have no idea what that has to do with anything or why he should care who tied it. All he has to do is untie it. I press my lips together to avoid any more nonsense from erupting.
The fabric tightens for a moment against my skin as he works the ribbons apart.
I wait for the costume to loosen around me, but it seems to take forever.
And then his fingers brush against my bare skin, making my skin tingle and shooting goose bumps up my back. I draw in a short, shallow breath.
“Sorry,” he murmurs. “She really tied this in a knot.”
It takes a few more seconds of tugging and warm fingers brushing against my skin before the costume finally sags around me and I hold it up without turning around.
“Thanks.”
The tent flap jostles as he leaves without saying a word.
I take a minute to gather my breath and get changed, feeling hotter without the costume than I did in it.
Once I’m back in my normal jeans and T-shirt, I meet Troy and Jared out in front of the booth.
“We should split up,” Jared says.
“Right. Troy and I can check the perimeter and work our way in.” It’s a bit bossy of me, but I really don’t want to spend more time with Jared and I’m not going to examine that reluctance too closely.
Troy lifts a brow at me and Jared frowns slightly, but then nods in agreement. “I’ll go from the center out and meet you guys in the middle.”
We split and I can breathe again.
“Come on, Ruby me dear.” Troy takes my arm and we meander through the crowd toward the outer booths. “Tell me if you see any ghosts or aliens or anything. And also why you’re avoiding Jared like he’s got a flesh-eating parasite.”
“I’m not avoiding anyone.”
“You can’t fool me. You like him, don’t you? I’m totally telling him.”
“Troy!”
“I will make you regret ever deciding to spend time with me.”
“Too late.”
He laughs and thankfully drops the whole Jared thing.
We spend a couple of hours walking around looking for trouble, but everyone seems to be having a great time. I keep an eye out for people with the canvas bags and cheap shoes, but it’s not very effective.
The festival is more diverse than I expected. There are booths with clothes, food, artwork, all kinds of items I never would have thought of at a Bike, Fish, and Cookie Festival. But they do all have bikes, fish, or cookies on them. Except the booths with carnival-type games, and the funnel cake which Troy buys for me after I tell him I’ve never had it in my life.
“You’ve never had funnel cake?” he says, his voice incredulous.
“Never. It’s amazing.” I shove a big bite in my mouth and chew. I’ll have to save some for Paige. She’s supposed to be coming here after school lets out. I check my watch. School’s been over for twenty minutes so she should be around here any time now.
“Didn’t you ever go to a state fair or anything when you were a kid?”
“My parents never had time to take us,” I say. Which is the truth. We never stayed anywhere long enough that I could go, and carnivals really weren’t their thing; there was no money in it. We spent most of our time pretending to have more money than we actually did at swanky country clubs and charity dinners. Those were my parents’ hunting grounds. Where pockets were deep and morality was low.
“What did they do?” he asks.
“Um . . .” I take another big bite of the powdered-sugar-covered confection to give myself some time to formulate a response. “They worked a lot of different jobs.” I shrug. “We moved around a lot.” All very true.
We stop at a few booths and Troy checks in with the people working to make sure they haven’t had any thefts or seen anything unusual. No one has anything to report. We stumble across the boys we bought Gravy from, Gary and Greg, at one of the booths, playing some game where you shoot a water gun into the big mouth of a fish and win prizes.
And we finally run into Paige with her new friend, Naomi.
“Can I stay the night at Naomi’s tonight? Please?” Paige begs after I hand her the remaining half of my funnel cake.
Naomi is a sweet-looking girl with dark hair and big eyes that are also pleading in my direction.
“As long as it’s okay with her parents.”
“I live with my grandma. My dad’s overseas in the military,” Naomi tells me.
“Okay, well as long as it’s okay with Grandma. I should probably meet her.” I scrunch my face. Is that how this works? We’ve never done something as formal as a sleepover.
Actually, I’m not sure I’ve ever spent even one full night away from Paige, unless you count the one drunken night at Tabby’s, but even then I apparently couldn’t handle being without her.
Troy, of course, knows her. “Mrs. Andrews,” he says. “She’s a cool lady. Paige will be fine.” He offers me a disarming smile.
“Come home first before you go,” I tell Paige. I’ll go with her then to meet the grandma.
Then I let her and her friend wander off to do whatever it is teenage girls do.
Troy pats me on the arm while I’m watching them walk away. “You’re doing a good job. She’s a good kid.”
I smile up at him, relieved. “Thanks.”
Although if he knew the truth . . .
We walk around a little bit more and then meet up with Jared at Tabby’s booth when most of the vendors are starting to pack up.
“Well, this was a bust,” Troy says after Jared confirms his afternoon was the same as ours—uneventful.
“Did you get anything?” Jared asks me.
I shake my head.
“You guys gonna stay and help me pack up?” Tabby asks.
“I have a lot of very important police work to do,” Troy says, backing away. “This town is counting on me to avenge them, protect them from evil forces, fight for justice and the American way.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Tabby calls after him, but he’s already turned to jog away.
“I have real work to do,” Jared says. “Finishing up the paperwork from the gas station, still.”
Tabby shakes her head. “You’re both lying liars who lie.”
“I’ll help you,” I tell her after Jared has waved his goodbyes and stalked off after Troy.
She wraps an arm around my shoulders with a sigh. “You’re my only hope.”
I laugh. “I don’t have anything to do until later anyway. Paige is having her first sleepover at Naomi’s.” I grimace.
“Uh-oh,” she says. “That frown is bad. Baby’s first night out? We should do something to distract you.”
I definitely don’t want to end up at the bar again. But a distraction sounds divine. I don’t want to think about Paige being gone, or Jared, or the fact that there’s a ticking clock and I probably won’t see any of these people in T minus three months and counting.
“Do you want to come over and watch movies or something?” I suggest.
Her eyes light up. “Yes! Girls’ night! I’ll bring the booze and the nail polish.”
“Nail polish?”
“Okay, so it’s been a while since I hung out and did the whole girly thing, like sixteen years, but still, I don’t think things have changed.”
I’ve never had a girls’ night at anyone’s house, so I guess I’ll have to go along with whatever she’s saying.
As long as it doesn’t involve Jared or playing psychic, I’m in.
Chapter Fifteen
Tabby shows up right as I’m leaving to drop Paige off at Naomi’s.
“Sorry,” I tell Tabby. “We’re running late. Naomi lives on the other block, so I’ll be right back. Go ahead and make yourself at home.”
Tabby nods and walks past us into the house. “Groovy. I’ll get the margaritas sorted.” She’s carrying a couple of plastic bags. “Do you have a blender?”
“It’s in the bottom cabinet by the fridge,” I call after her.
Naomi’s gra
ndmother is nice but tries to talk to me for way too long. By the time I’m running up to my door, I’m worried Tabby will be mad I left her for so long.
I’m rushing so much, I don’t even notice the figure on the roof.
“I’ve been thinking,” Tabby calls down.
“Did you have to get up on my roof to do that?”
“I could probably fix this for you,” she says. “I could bring over some supplies to get it patched up. I’d only charge you for materials.”
I gape up at her. “You already got me the display case.”
She shrugs. “That’s what friends are for,” she calls before disappearing from view.
A few seconds later she comes around the side of the house with a ladder.
“Where’d you get that?” I ask.
“Mr. Bingel.” She gives me a cheeky grin.
“He talked to you?”
“Sort of. I asked him to borrow the ladder and he grunted and complained but then unlocked his garage before stomping back inside.”
We laugh.
An hour later we’re in the living room with green mud covering our faces, something that Tabby assured me would shrink pores, watching Legally Blonde and eating ice cream straight from the carton.
“I’ve always wanted to do this,” Tabby says.
“Do what?”
“Girly stuff with other girls. It’s no fun when you already know everyone in town and they suck. I’ve had a girls’ night with Troy, but it’s not the same.”
I try to picture it. “You got Troy to do a mud mask?”
“Oh yeah, more than once. He always complains but I think he secretly loves it. Especially when we give each other pedicures.”
That mental image makes me laugh. “You could do these things with Eleanor.”
Tabby makes a face. “She’s nice, but she’s so boring.”
“Maybe she’s shy.”
“You’re right. I bet she’s a freaky wildcat underneath those cashmere cardigans. She probably has whips and chains and a cage under her bed.”