Page 47 of Prime Time Romance

We start to move down the aisle toward the front, where the man with the mustache is now bagging the woman’s groceries. Their heads are bent low in conversation. But as she leans across the counter, I catch a very clear “It’s about time that place was dealt with,” and something about the tone of the woman’s voice makes the hair on the back of my neck prickle.

I stop. Brynn does as well, tilting her head toward me with a curious glance as I crane my neck to hear them better.

“That place has been an eyesore for years,” the woman continues. “I, for one, will be happy to see it go.”

Mr. Wilder shakes his head. “Yeah, but that Sherry Scott is a good woman. She just never seemed to be able to get people in there after the accident. It’s sad. I can’t remember the last time a business went under in this town.”

Sherry.

They are talking about the Bronze.

I get that sickening feeling of acid crawling up the back of my throat.

I know the Bronze is not Buddy’s.

It’s not even a real bar.

But it still feels like the past is repeating, and once again, I can’t stop it.

Brynn places her hand softly on my forearm, almost as if she can sense the turmoil going on in my head.

“Do you know what they’re talking about?” I whisper, suddenly needing to know more. “The accident he mentioned. What happened?”

She nods slowly. “I think they’re talking about season five.” Brynn’s eyebrows draw together to the point where they almost touch. “Every season, Carson’s Cove always seemed to have this one tragic episode. It was usually a veiled PSA about the dangers of underage drinking or drug experimentation. The setting was usually at some wild, out-of-control party. Some minor character would wrap their car around a tree or drive off a cliff, and the rest of the cast, who were usually drinking as well, would all learn a valuable lesson about the dangers of alcohol or drugs. In season five, the cast went to the Bronze with fake IDs, and even though Fletch knew they were underage, he served them alcohol. This one guy…I can’t even remember his name, but he got into his car, even though Spencer told him not to drive, and he killed an innocent extra on his way home.”

My stomach twists. “What happened after that?”

Brynn pauses as if thinking. “To be honest, nothing, really. Everyone was understandably upset for the rest of the episode, but then it ended, and everyone was over it by the next one. Fletch was given some community service. There was a scene with him in a jumpsuit collecting trash, but that was it. But now that I think about it, there really weren’t any more episodes set at the Bronze after that.”

And now the place is going under.

Rationally, I know it’s not my fault. I wasn’t there. I’m not really Fletch. It happened on a fictional television show. But this place is messing with my head. And for some reason, I feel this sense of responsibility.

“Are you okay?” Brynn’s fingers lightly brush the inside of my wrist.

“Yeah.” I shake my head. “I just wish there was something I could do.”

“I wouldn’t stress too much.” Brynn glances at the counter. “Mr. Wilder is a bit of a gossip, and even before the accident, the bar was pretty run-down. It’s one of those things that’s unfortunate but probably inevitable.”

That doesn’t sound like much of a happily ever after.

“We should probably go.” Brynn inclines her head toward the front door.

I nod, suddenly needing air.

We walk toward the exit, but as Brynn reaches for the handle, the door swings open before she touches it.

“Spencer, hey!” Brynn freezes in place as Spencer steps inside.

“Hey, Sloan. Wow!” His eyes comb the length of her body. “You look beautiful. Is that a new dress?”

Brynn spins around, the bottom of her skirt billowing out around her in a circle.

“It is. And thank you for noticing.” She throws me a look, as if saying See? That is how you’re supposed to compliment a woman. Whether she intended it or not, it brings Spencer’s focus to me.

“Oh, hey, Fletch. Didn’t see you there. Are you two going somewhere?”

Brynn shoots a panicked look in my direction. “No…I mean, yes…I mean, no, I’m not going anywhere with Fletcher specifically, and yes, I was shopping for…” She picks up a package of double-A batteries. “These.”