Fakers (Licking Thicket 1)

“It was at Beyond Wonderland. Remember when that EDM band played that I liked and I decided to take shots every time there was a beat drop?”

I remembered. The beat hadn’t been the only thing that had dropped that night. I’d had to borrow a friend’s stroller to get Ava home.

“When? We were together the whole time.” I racked my brain to think of any part of that weekend we weren’t joined at the hip. Sure, she’d flirted with some guys and even shared a blanket with one of them on the lawn one night. “Wait. Wait. Jesus, Ava. Fuck. You seriously fucked a guy while sitting right next to me?”

She let out a big sigh. “He told me he was a yoga instructor, but I think he was just really bendy. Do you think that means the baby will be flexible? I hope so.”

I still couldn’t wrap my head around what she was telling me. “That was only six weeks ago.”

“Yeah. That means I missed my period twice. The first time was two weeks after the concert, and I was just grateful I could take those surfing lessons without being in a mood all weekend. Then I finally realized it never showed up, so I took a test.”

Her voice had finally broken, and the real Ava came out. “I’m so scared, Mal. What am I going to do?”

I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. “Do you want to keep it?”

She reeled back with a gasp. “Of course I want to keep it!”

“Shh, simmer down. Just making sure. You know I’m here for you. You won’t be alone. I promise I’ll help however I can.” I tried not looking at the lethal metal sculpture right in front of us. My life was hardly kid-friendly. But I could change. Since the day we’d met at the Eyebrow Waxing Appointment We No Longer Speak Of, Ava had been there for me. She’d held me while I cried over the end of my favorite television shows and yelled at me to get my head out of my ass when I’d accidentally started dating the world’s douchiest canoe. She’d accompanied me back to Homer when my mom had died two years ago and held me back from beating the shit out of my father when he’d called me names right there at the gravesite.

So, yes. I would be there for Ava and her baby no matter what. I’d do anything for this girl.

She sniffled and snuggled back into my shoulder. “I need you to come to the Lickin’ with me.”

But not that.

“No.”

She opened her mouth to say more, but I cut her off. “Absolutely not. You know I’m allergic to stupid small towns, and that goes quadruple for small towns in Tennessee.”

“I went to Homer for you.”

“You’re a sucker.”

She smacked my chest, but I barely felt it through my coveralls. “You owe me.”

“I’ll change diapers for a solid year. I’m not going to your crazy-ass town to meet your crazy-ass family after everything you’ve told me about it.”

“It’s not that bad,” she promised.

“It’s called Licking Thicket. The mayor’s name is Red, and his wife’s name is probably hyphenated. Her first name, I mean. And I’ll bet you my next Friday night’s tips at the club that she’s on a steering committee of some kind.”

“Ha!” she said triumphantly, sitting up in victory. “Not hyphenated.”

I narrowed my eyes at her until she looked away and admitted, “It’s Cindy Ann. No hyphen.”

I poked her in the ribs. “And the steering committee?”

She sighed, blowing her bangs up in the process. “She’s the chairwoman of the Thicket Beautification Corps.”

“Corpse? Like, dead person?”

“No. Corps, like… like corps. I don’t know what corps means. The thing with lots of soldiers. Corps.”

I snickered. She was proving my point. She came from a more ridiculous town than I did, and mine had been premium pecan level on the nutty scale. “I believe that’s pronounced corps,” I corrected, leaving out the ps. “Like an apple core.”

“Oh, she’s also on the Apple Festival committee too.” Ava’s skin turned pink. “Um. The Lickin’ Pickin’.”

“No,” I said again, shoving her to the side so I could get up and put some distance between us. “Not happening. I will not ever again set foot in a place with an orchard-based festival, a harvest-based festival, a holiday-based festival, or a mascot-based festival.”

Her eyes darted away. That was her lame attempt at hiding something.

“Out with it.”

“No, I was just…”

“Out of curiosity,” I said, holding up an index finger, “what is the high school mascot of Licking Thicket?”

She pushed herself up from the chair and headed toward the door. “Never mind. It’s not important. Be ready to go tomorrow at nine. I found us cheap tickets online, but you’re only allowed to bring what fits in a backpack and your pockets or you have to pay extra.”