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Charlie has trouble sitting down to collect the entry fees given how bulky her gown is, so she remains standing until the crowd starts to thin. I am beside her, handing out small whiteboards and markers to each participating trivia group when Samantha arrives.
She is not dressed for the theme, which I was not expecting anyway, but she looks equally ravishing in her sleeveless, black-and-white striped dress that fits her body like a glove and lands just above her thickly soled black combat boots. The top of her hair is pulled back, leaving a loose strand on either side of her face, and the rest of her tight curls fall around her rounded shoulders.
She shakes her head at the sight of my attire, but the smile that plays on her lips tells me she is impressed by my commitment. “Well done, sir,” Samantha says, softly clapping as she reaches me. “You look like you’re straight outta Mayfair.”
My eyes widen. “You…”
“Yeah, Mom and I started watching the show,” she admits sheepishly. “It’s better than I thought it would be. It’s actually really funny and sharp.”
“That’s what my dad said when I finally got him to watch,” Charlie adds. “He was skeptical at first too.” She steps around the table somewhat awkwardly in her long lace-and-flower-covered gown and extends her hand. “Hi, I’m Charlie. I’ve seen you in here a ton, but we haven’t officially met yet.”
Samantha shakes it and returns Charlie’s smile, which pleases me. I didn’t understand the discomfort I sensed from Samantha whenever Charlie’s name came up.
“Are you a romance enthusiast yet?” I ask Samantha, knowing that with each book I read to her, the more her resistance wanes.
“Eh,” she says with a half-shrug. “I wouldn’t use the word enthusiast, but I’m coming around.”
I cannot help but beam with pride. “I knew it.” Then I decide to test Samantha’s emotional investment inBridgerton. “On three, state the name of your favorite character,” I say, hoping mine matches hers. “One…two…three––”
At the same time, we both shout, “Lady Danbury.”
We chuckle over our shared love of the ’Ton’s most clever and impressive resident for a few moments before Samantha looks around the room nervously and clears her throat. How odd.
“How can I help?” she asks. “Since I’m not participating tonight, is there anything I can do?” Opening the black bag at her hip, she pulls out her camera. “I can take photos.”
“Wonderful idea,” I tell her. Though I don’t want her to feel as if she needs to work at this event. I wanted her to come and enjoy herself. “Are you certain you don't mind?”
“Not at all,” she says, her face lighting up like a sky full of stars.
Despite the stress of her life as a caregiver, I sense being able to use her photography skills in some way steadies her soul. Bridgerton Trivia Night at the Sudbury Public Library is nothing like the scenes she is used to capturing, I’m sure, but hopefully the event is entertaining to her.
We end up with forty-seven attendees, which far exceeded my wildest expectations for the night. The group called “Benedict’s Broads” comprised of four women in their sixties ends up winning the grand prize––a $20 gift card to Supreme Buns for each of them––but are far more thrilled by their perfect trivia score.
Charlie and I take several pictures with them and their prizes, and the event continues with more lemonade––plus a splash of vodka for those who prefer it––the instrumental songs from the show’s soundtrack, and light chatter.
Several more selfie requests follow from people who saw the photo Samantha took of me, and though I find the fascination strange, I oblige. Samantha offers to take portraits of everyone in costume and has people stand beneath the arched brick entryway from the lobby to the non-fiction section.
I make my way to the front desk when someone asks to be signed up for a library card, and it is only then that I notice the presence of Officer Burton hovering near the entrance. Encountering him in public is enough to make the hairs rise on the back of my neck but seeing him at my place of work is much more sinister. Why is he here?
“Mr. Monroe,” Officer Burton says as he reaches the front desk, spittle already gathering at the corner of his mouth. “Quite the event you’ve put together here.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Charlie weaving her way through the crowd, away from the man in front of me, and while I don’t know the reason why she feels compelled to avoid him, I don’t blame her. I wish I could be anywhere else at the moment.
“Thank you, Officer Burton,” I reply stiffly. This is the man who tried to send my brother to jail for the rest of his life. Granted, it was for a crime Axil did commit, but still. Trevor Burton deserved what he got, and on Sufoi, rape is punishable by death. Though she has not told me herself, I know that not only did Officer Burton’s late nephew rape Vanessa but also Samantha.
After Vanessa attempted to report the crime, and Officer Burton manipulated her into thinking it was her fault, Samantha was too afraid to say a word to anyone, knowing no justice would follow.
That is enough to enrage my draxilio, who sends “Rip out his tongue and nail it to the wall”in a menacing whisper.
“Mmm,” Burton grunts. He scans the room, looking for, I’m not sure what, until his gaze lands on the bottle of vodka in the hands of the frazzled server from Supreme Buns. “Did you apply for a temporary permit to serve that alcohol?” he asks, looking strangely delighted to catch me in what he thinks is a trap.
“I did not,” I tell him, straightening my spine. “As there is no charge for it, I didn’t think a permit was required.” There’s no way they can penalize me for a law that simply does not exist.
I detect a hint of disappointment on his face, but then, just as quickly, he turns back to me with his signature sour grin filled with brownish-yellow teeth.
Axil catches my eye from the far corner, and I notice him take Vanessa’s hand and pull her behind him toward the doors. They’ve dealt with enough harassment from this vile, egg-shaped man. I’m glad to see them slip past him.
Officer Burton continues staring at me, saying nothing, just pressing his tongue against the back of his teeth to make a squeaky, slurping sound that is most unpleasant. “Watch yourself now,” he eventually says, the warning clear as glass.
