Page 68 of Prime Time Romance

Sherry unloads the rest of the box and then breaks down the empty container, folding it flat. “And apparently they work up quite the thirst doing it.” She hitches her head in the direction of the keg she brought in. “Make yourself useful and hook up the new one, would ya?”

I grab the dolly and wheel the new keg to the end of the bar, next to the old one. I turn off the CO2, release the pressure in the lines, and then grab a wrench to disconnect them. It’s a process I’ve done easily a hundred times. My dad made me do it as soon as I was strong enough to lift a keg. Definitely before I was legally allowed to. The practiced movements of cleaning and rinsing the lines are oddly soothing. I think I’d even go as far as to say that I missed them, or at least missed the way they give me a few moments to clear my head and think. Today, I find myself thinking about Brynn. About that kiss and about how I’ve been thinking about it far more than I should.

“Hey, Sherry. What’s the deal with the whole lobster queen thing?”

Brynn wasn’t super clear on what exactly she had to do.

Sherry’s response to my question is a loud snort. “When you say ‘deal’ do you mean: Why are they still running the thing, seeing as it’s an antiquated, fabricated farce?” She holds up her hands. “Who the hell knows? Who the hell knows why the town does half the things it does? Your friend Red, she’s the one calling all the shots now.”

My brain files through Brynn’s flash-card explanations. “Do you mean Poppy?”

Sherry shrugs as if she couldn’t care less. “That sounds right. The whole deal is happening next weekend. As you may have deduced, I will not be in attendance. But if you care to go, we can probably shut this place down for the night. Even if last night wasn’t a fluke, no one is showing up here the night of the pageant, even if it’s a Friday.”

Friday. That’s right. If time presses on back home, the way it does here, which presumably it does, next Friday is also the night of my dad’s auction.

I don’t know what’s going on in my head—if I’m still running on the adrenaline high of last night’s success or what—but I’m getting this itch to try and see what else I can do with this place.

My thoughts break enough to notice Sherry staring at me. Her mouth is pressed into its usual unimpressed line, but there’s a slight lift to her left eyebrow, as if she finds something about me slightly amusing.

“Think you’ll be back at it tonight?” she asks.

I knew the answer to that question the moment the first customer walked in here yesterday. “Yes. Definitely.” She gives a curt nod and taps the bar twice before turning toward the door. “I just hope the power holds out this time.”

Sherry turns back around, the lines between her eyebrows deepening. “What do you mean ‘holds out’? I’ve never once had issues with the electricity. And we had some wild parties here back in the day.” She squints, her expression turning momentarily dreamy. “Good ole Axle. I wonder what he’s up to these days?”

I let that question remain rhetorical. “Yeah, it’s the weirdest thing, then. We blew a fuse last night. The whole place went out.”

Sherry squints like she’s not fully believing my story. “You can’t trip the whole place at once. It’s all on multiple breakers. You might blow one, but never all of them at the same time. It must have been something you did?”

I open my mouth to argue but instead pause, a funny feeling swelling below my ribs.

What if it was something I did?

“Weird. I’ll keep an eye on it. And maybe I’ll start locking the storeroom.”

19

Brynn

“Sloan, babe.” Poppy waves at me from the other side of the town hall’s auditorium. “Where have you been? I was starting to freak out.”

She moves at a considerable speed despite her four-inch heels, which clack loudly on the wooden floors as she crosses the auditorium to meet me. She’s shed her black clothing from this morning and is wearing an emerald-green sundress. Her hair appears to be freshly curled and her classic red lip is perfectly intact. When she reaches me, she grabs me by the arm and pulls me over to a quiet corner of the room. A tall whiteboard on wheels shields us from the curious gazes of the other contestants.

“Why haven’t you changed?” she whispers in a tone that feels unnecessarily sharp.

“Uh, I didn’t exactly have time.” I draw a deep, cleansing breath through my nose. “You forgot to mention there was a pageant meeting today. The only reason I knew to come here was because I ran into Spencer while I was out on my very long walk home from Luce’s place, where you abandoned me.” The last two words come out sharp and irritated.

Poppy, seemingly unperturbed, reaches up and smooths my hair with the palm of her hand. “What are you even talking about? First off, I absolutely told you about the meeting. I said we had to be back by noon sharp, and second, I didn’t abandon you. You made the owl call. That was the signal to abort. I had no idea which way you went, but I figured you could take care of yourself.”

Again, I’m lost on how to respond.

“What were you even doing this morning at Luce’s?”

Poppy holds her palms up as if the answer is obvious. “Helping you win this pageant.”

When I shake my head, she rolls her eyes. “It’s pageant sign-up day, right?”

I nod, having gleaned that piece of information from the giant sign outside.