Fakers (Licking Thicket 1)

My gaze darted to the right to collide with Mal’s, and the force left me lurching mentally. His eyes held challenge… and maybe even a little sympathy? Or possibly I was reading him wrong again.

Either way, his comment was enough to break through my moment of panic and remind me that an enormous world existed outside of Licking Thicket, and it wasn’t my job to please these folks. Not anymore.

“Mrs. Jepsen, I am so sorry, but I’m not going to be able to do the solo. That recital should be for your current students, anyway, so let’s keep it about the kids.” I winked and she smiled, just a little.

“As for the final totals for Saturday…” I looked around for Paul and found him off to one side of the lobby, standing protectively next to a wooden bench where Ava sat like a very tired, unwell princess. He had my dad’s binder in one hand and held up a paper with the other.

“Sixteen hundred fourteen, as of last Tuesday,” he called, because we really did have an amazing connection, when he wasn’t impersonating my boyfriend.

“Who’s that?” Lurleen asked no one in particular.

“That’s Brooks’s Little Paul,” Mal said sweetly.

I shot him a baleful look.

“And who are you?” Lurleen demanded.

“Oh, I’m—”

“He’s Second Licker,” I interrupted, before Mal could call himself Ava’s honey nugget or something equally annoying. “He’s kind of my assistant.”

Everyone stopped talking and stared.

“What?” Mal kind of squeaked. Then in a softer voice he muttered, “I’ve never been second in any kind of licking situation.”

“Don’t be ashamed, Mal. It’s an important role. If you focus and work hard, you’ll be Head Licking in no time.” I patted him on the shoulder supportively.

My ears heated up as I tried my hardest not to picture Mal licking anything. “Is that all you needed, Lurleen?”

She shrugged and nodded. “I suppose.”

I clapped my hands once. “Excellent! Now, I’m gonna have to think about the food trucks.” The room exploded into yelling, and I held my two hands up palm-down, like I was patting the air in front of me, the universal sign for calm the fuck down. “I know, I know. But clearly this requires some serious diplomacy.” I shot Salma Alvi a commiserating look. “I’m gonna let Ms. Alvi make recommendations, and I’ll approve them. So you can all go kiss her ass today and kiss mine tomorrow.”

That got a reluctant chuckle from the crowd, and I felt… competent. Capable. I often felt that way when I was in charge of a meeting at work, but I’d never felt it around here.

“Mr. and Mrs. Cosway, I think we need to work out a way for the craft fair and the football toss to happen at different times. No one should have to choose which to participate in, right? I mean—” I pressed a hand to my chest. “—I know I certainly couldn’t choose.”

“Does that mean you’ll be at both?” Ms. Cosway asked suspiciously. “You’ll give out the blue ribbon for the craft fair and the football toss?”

“Of course,” I agreed smoothly, conveniently ignoring my meeting in Nashville. Both of them shrugged, looking mollified. “Or Second Licker will, right, Mal? Now, what else?” I was on a roll and did my best to ignore the death lasers shooting into me from the man at my side.

“The milk,” Bert Cobb reminded me. “We got all the farms lined up to donate some, and I can drive the truck, but somebody’s gotta go door to door to do the ceremonial collection in the old milk truck. You remember, Brooks! The ceremonial milk collection?”

I didn’t remember this at all. In fact, I’d think I was being punked, if not for the dozens of other town residents nodding sagely. Then again, I’d never been involved with any of the behind-the-scenes before. I’d taken part in the Lope, but I was starting to realize that with most things in Licking Thicket, I’d only worried about the what, not the how or the why.

“Of course,” I lied. “I remember perfectly. So all I’d have to do is grab the buckets of milk?”

Bert scratched his head. “I mean, I guess. If you wanna take all the magic out of the thing.”

“No,” I assured him gravely. “I promise to feel very appropriately magical.” At this point, I’d whisper incantations under the full moon just to check something off my list.

Bert looked well pleased.

“Now, who’s in charge of uniforms for the parade?”

Mal shot me a homicidal warning look.

“I believe that falls into the Second Licker’s responsibilities.”

This was turning out to be more fun than I’d expected.

“Thanks for the ride, Lurleen!” I called as the woman drove down the street in her ancient Buick. Then I sighed as I traipsed out to the milking parlor at the Ivey Family Dairy.

It had taken three and a half hours to sort out the mess at the community center, even without finalizing the placement of the vendor booths and the food trucks. That was two hundred and ten individual minutes of my life I would never get back—an entire morning and early afternoon when I should have been doing real work.