“You pick,” she said. She was genuinely curious about his musical taste.

  “Do you like country?” he asked.

  No. No, I do not like country. “I don’t really know any,” she replied diplomatically.

  “Let me introduce you to one of my favorites,” he said. He punched in a playlist and a twangy guitar rang out through the sound system.

  “Do you mind if I turn that down for a minute? I have to make a video.” She angled the phone, so her face filled the frame. Some of the leather seat was showing behind her, and it looked nice enough, so no one would be able to tell that she wasn’t in the back of a fancy town car.

  Freddie turned down the music.

  “Um. Maybe all the way,” she said while smoothing her hair.

  He dutifully jabbed at the power button, and silence filled the cab. She started her video, but ten seconds in, they crossed over the Buffalo Springs river and the sound of the tires humming on the metal bridge interrupted her. She pressed delete and waited until they were over the bridge to start again.

  * * *

  Freddie glanced at Serena out of the corner of his eye as she filmed another video. They all seemed perfect to him, but she kept re-doing them. He wondered if it was a tactic to avoid talking to a real person, in this case, him. Traffic was steady, but as they neared the exit for Buffalo Springs, it slowed to a crawl. Which, of course, she had to film.

  He was kicking himself for being excited about the date. This was going to be the longest evening of his life and he was wearing a month’s worth of salary. He wondered if he could return the custom suit before hightailing it back to Chance Rapids.

  “There, that should do it,” she said and set her phone down on the dashboard. “You can turn the music back on.”

  Freddie bristled at the order but was happy to have some sound between the two of them. One of his favorite country singers, Chris Stapleton, was on the radio, and his soulful voice rang out of the truck’s speakers.

  “This is country?” Serena asked.

  “It is,” Freddie replied.

  “Hmmm. I kind of like this one.”

  So maybe she did have some taste after all. Freddie turned up the volume and thought that he saw Serena relax into her seat as he wove through traffic to the theatre. He could see her long, tanned legs peeking out of the thigh-high slit in her dress. She was gorgeous, just as hot as any of the supermodels his hockey player brother used to date. “He’s got a lot of soul,” Freddie replied.

  “Who?” Serena was back on her phone.

  “This artist,” Freddie pointed at the stereo. Man, goldfish have a longer attention span than this woman, he thought. “What’s the longest you’ve gone without looking at your phone?” he asked.

  Serena set the phone down on the seat beside her. “It’s my job,” she replied.

  “Making videos of yourself is your job?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’m an influencer,” she replied.

  “An influe whatser?” Freddie scanned the street for a parking spot.

  “I get paid to wear stuff, use certain makeup, go to events, that kind of thing. I’m getting paid to come to this film festival, so I have to be on my phone.”

  “So, you don’t have a real job?”

  She sighed. “This is a real job.”

  Freddie braked as a car pulled out in front of them. Perfect, he was starting to wonder if they’d have to park a cab’s fare away from the theatre. He signaled. He had impressed many a date with his stellar parallel parking skills.

  “What are you doing?!” she screamed.

  Freddie practically jumped out of his skin. He slammed on the brakes and glanced in the rear view mirror. “What? Did I hit something?”

  “You can’t park here,” she replied. She seemed out of breath.

  “But there’s a meter right there.” Freddie pointed.

  “Can’t we put this in the parking garage and walk?” She was literally wringing her hands in her lap.

  “I thought that you were tired of walking.” Freddie was thoroughly confused by this beautiful woman. “And the theatre is right there.” He pointed to the throng of people and the lineup of paparazzi behind the velvet ropes. Then it dawned on him, she was embarrassed. He had made a huge mistake coming to the city and going on a date with this shallow woman. “Fine,” he said. He put the truck back into gear and started to nudge back out into the stream of traffic.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “We’re going to be late by the time we find a spot and get back here. A car service would’ve just dropped us off. I didn’t take finding a parking spot into account when I made the schedule.”

  “Are you sure?” Freddie asked.

  She glanced out the passenger window, “Yes,” she said, but he caught the hesitation.

  He shook his head and expertly maneuvered the truck back into the small city spot. Like a glove, he thought to himself as he shut off the engine.

  Serena pulled down the visor and reapplied her lipstick. Freddie hopped out of the truck and jogged around to open the passenger door for Serena. She took his hand, glanced up and down the street, then stepped out onto the sidewalk.

  “Serena,” a voice rang out. Freddie turned and was instantly blinded by the flash of an expensive camera. He instinctively put his hand up to his face and protectively stepped in front of Serena. He reached his arm around her shoulder and shepherded her away from the paparazzo.

  Ten steps later, he realized that his arm was still wrapped around her shoulders, his fingers gripped into her skin tightly. “Sorry about that,” he said and let his hand drop from her shoulder.

  “That’s okay. It takes a minute to get used to their aggression.”

  “Yeah, that guy came out of nowhere,” Freddie replied. “Do you want them to take your picture?”

  “Now that I’m ready for it, yes. Are you?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” Freddie replied. He steeled himself for the flashbulbs as they approached the entrance to the red carpet. He was surprised when he felt Serena’s thin fingers lace through his. He looked at her and smiled, she smiled back. He knew that they were pretending, but there was something about her eyes. They seemed to glint when she smiled at him, but that glint disappeared as her name was shouted over and over again. He stood up tall, wondering what Tom Cruise did in these situations. He smiled and waved at the cameras, rested his hand proprietarily on Serena’s lower back, and followed the throng of well-dressed people on their snail’s pace walk into the theatre.

  “Serena, can we get a shot?” a random man asked.

  “Of course,” she paused, jutted her hip out, and smiled widely at the cameraman. Freddie smiled and put his hand on her shoulder but she shrugged it off. Freddie didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he clasped them behind his back. “Move out of the shot,” she said through her teeth without losing her million mega-watt smile. Freddie took a step to the right while Serena turned and peacocked for the cameras.

  Freddie didn’t care about being in any photos. He just hoped the film was a good one, otherwise this date was going to be a colossal waste of his time. Charlotte had been right. This wasn’t a date. He was arm candy and he hated it.

  Four

  As he descended the steep hill into town, Freddie had never been happier to see the colorful houses of Chance Rapids. Growing up, he couldn’t wait to get out of his small town, but after years of living out of a suitcase with the national ski race team, he felt like he had seen enough of the world. He was and would always be a lifelong Rapidian, a local boy through and through.

  He still had a slight limp from three knee surgeries, and the first thing he did was limp into the Last Chance Tavern. After his night with Serena, he needed a drink. The so-called ‘date’ had been arranged months earlier and thinking about it had gotten him through the rainy and cold spring months. He had imagined laughing and flirting, checking out a few good movies, maybe getting some drinks, and then waking up in bed together, her hair tousled from fucking all night. In his fantasies, she would send him on his way, but not without giving him an amazing blowjob first.

  What fool he was.

  He spent the evening holding her lipstick and smiling pretty for the camera as she laid kisses on his cheek. The first time she had done it, his heart had raced like a runaway freight train, then he realized that once the cameras were gone, so was her affection. The movies had subtitles, and there was nothing Freddie hated worse than having to read a movie.

  Serena Cruise was beautiful, but as the night wore on, her beauty faded. There was more substance in the cold coffee in his travel mug than in her entire body. After the festival, she ran into a friend and was invited back to the city for an afterparty. Freddie was immediately excused from his position and he couldn’t have been more relieved. He was thankful that he didn’t have to spend one more minute with Serena Cruise.

  The bar was quiet. It was a Sunday night after all and he slid onto a stool. The bartender, his friend Charlie, was polishing the counter and tossed the cloth over his shoulder. “Whoa, Nelly. Fancy suit, Fred. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

  Charlie was one of the most stylish men in Chance Rapids. He wore his long hair in a bun and his skinny jeans were held up with suspenders that didn’t seem to serve a purpose. As a matter of fact, Freddie had made fun of his jean/suspender combo on more than one occasion. Freddie still wore the same baggy Levi’s that he had in high school.

  “Here, you might like this,” Freddie pulled the bowtie out of his shirt pocket and tossed it at Charlie.

  “A bowtie?” Charlie smiled. “You?”

  “I know. You might as well have it. There’s no way I’m going to be able to tie that damn thing again.”

  “Rough night?” Charlie asked.

  “One of the worst nights of my life,” Freddie replied.

  “Beer, or something harder?” Charlie asked. “I’ve got a nice hoppy India Pale Ale.”

  Freddie found Charlie’s homemade small-batch craft beer to be hit and miss. “You know what, I will try one of your snooty beers, and I better get a shot of whiskey too.”

  “You got it, boss.” Charlie poured the drinks and slid them across the bar.

  Freddie gulped back the shot and took a swig of the beer.

  “Another shot?” Charlie asked.

  “Make it two,” Freddie replied.

  Charlie poured four shots and another beer. Freddie raised his eyebrows. Charlie shrugged, “We’re closing up shop and I can’t let you drink alone.” He ducked under the bar, flipped the open sign around and locked the door.

  They knocked back the shots, and once the fiery liquor numbed his limbs, he felt like he could finally exhale.

  “Where were you tonight?” Charlie asked. “I didn’t hear about any events up at the ski hill.”

  “I was at a movie showing in the city,” Freddie replied.

  “That’s a pretty fancy suit for a movie. Wait, are those argyle socks?”

  “Who are you, the fashion police?” Freddie laughed; a slight slur had made its way into his voice.

  “Easy there, tiger. I like them, that’s all.” Charlie held up his hands in front of him. “Wait, were you at the Buffalo Springs film festival?”

  “Film festival, that’s what it’s called, not a movie showing.”

  Charlie exhaled with a slight whistle. “That’s a big deal. Did you see any celebrities?”

  “All of them. And you know what? They’re nothing special.”

  Charlie pulled out his phone. Freddie groaned. Was he the only one who didn’t care about his phone? It was currently sitting in the cup holder in his truck, next to a bunch of wilted coral roses.

  “Freddie, is this you?” Charlie turned his phone around and held it in Freddie’s face. It took him a minute to register what he was looking at. A good-looking couple smiled at the camera, the hot girl kissing her boyfriend on the cheek. It wasn’t just any boyfriend, it was him. The photo certainly didn’t reflect reality. It didn’t show her brushing him aside seconds after it was taken. It didn’t show how fake her smile was and he could’ve sworn his face was a shade darker than it was in real life.

  “Shit. I almost didn’t recognize myself,” Freddie handed the phone back to Charlie.

  “You’re dating Serena Cruise?” Charlie asked and continued to scroll through the pictures from the evening.

  “Dating? Hah, not sure that’s what you’d call it.”

  “That’s what she’s calling it,” Charlie replied.

  “Where do you see that?” Freddie asked. “My name isn’t even there.”

  “It’s in the hashtags. She called you her boyfriend. See here, it says #hotcouple.”

  Freddie rolled his eyes. “She wishes.”

  “If I could bottle your confidence and mix it with my beer, I’d be the richest brew master on the planet.”

  “That’s not real life.” Freddie took a sip of his beer. “If I was her boyfriend, would I be sitting here at the bar with a hipster like you? No offense, Chuck.”

  Charlie laughed. “None taken.”

  Freddie was happy to be back in his town, drinking with a real friend, leaving the bright lights and fake smiles of everyone he met that evening, where they belonged, in the city at the after-party. He and Charlie sat up laughing and drinking until the early dawn sun made its entrance over the mountain peaks. Freddie stumbled home and into his bed, ready to sleep off his hangover, and forget that he ever met Serena Cruise.

  Five

  The songbirds that nested outside Freddie’s window warbled and sang, each of their chirps a sweet dagger piercing his skull. He rolled over and patted his hand around his nightstand until it found the glass of water he had left there the night before. He sat up and slowly sipped to ensure that his body was ready for hydration, and once he knew it was going to stay down, he chugged the rest of it back.

  He set his feet down on the hardwood floor and rested his elbows on his knees while he waited for his brain to catch up with his eyes. His head pounded and he felt like he had been run over by a dump truck. Instead of standing up, he keeled back over in bed, pulled his plaid comforter up over his head, and hoped that a few more hours of sleep would heal his hangover. It’s that craft beer, he thought to himself. I should know better.

  He heard his phone buzz, vibrating on his nightstand. He ignored it. Almost immediately it buzzed again, and yet again. Whoever it was, they were damn persistent. He reached his hand out from within the sanctity of his cover cave and pulled it in to join him. He had missed three calls from Josh, his best friend.

  He pushed Josh’s contact number and closed his eyes while the phone rang. When Josh answered, Freddie croaked, “This better be important.”

  “Where are you?” Josh asked.

  “I’m at home,” Freddie replied, wondering if he was supposed to be somewhere. “Where else would I be?”

  “Fred, you sound terrible.” Josh laughed. “Late night with a model?”

  “Something like that,” Freddie murmured.

  “Did you forget about the roofing party?” Josh asked.

  Shit. He had totally forgotten. A group of the guys was getting together to help Josh install the new shingles on his house.

  “I’ll be there soon, Josh. Sorry for um…”

  “Forgetting?” Josh finished his sentence.

  “Um… yeah. You got me. BUT I’ll be there soon and I’ll make a coffee stop.”

  “Don’t worry about the coffee. We’ve got more than enough to go around, but we need your air nailer and compressor.”

  “Roger that, boss. I’ll be there in a flash.”

  Freddie disconnected the call and hobbled out of bed to the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face and ran his fingers through his hair; his bloodshot eyes stared back at him. He lifted his arm to give his pit a quick sniff and shrugged, it could be worse. He proceeded to add another layer of deodorant. Two minutes later he was dressed and out the door, tossing the compressor and air nailer into the truck bed.

  As much as he wanted to stay in bed all day, get up around noon and devour some bacon and eggs, his group of friends helped each other out. When his house had needed new siding, his friends had gotten it done in a day. Now, it was Josh’s turn. His wife Megan was a million months pregnant and they had to put buckets and pans out to catch the water every time it rained. There was no way he could let his friends down. That’s what people do in small towns, he thought to himself, as he shut the tailgate to his truck. They help each other.

  He pulled out of his driveway and headed toward the main street and that’s when he heard it - a slight ticking sound. When he slowed down, the ticking slowed; when he sped up, so did the metallic ting. He stopped at the only set of traffic lights in town. The G-Spot, the local gas station and diner, was also home to the only mechanic in town, but Hank was an old-fashioned soul who still took the weekends off. Freddie made a mental note in his fuzzy brain to book an appointment to get the truck looked at first thing Monday. But it was too late, when he turned onto the main street he heard a loud bang and a pop and then thick black smoke billowed out from under the hood. The truck sputtered, and Freddie swore it wheezed just as he eased it to the side of the road before it totally died.

  Freddie groaned and leaned his pounding head on the steering wheel. This was the last thing he needed. His next big job, one that would pay the bills and then some, was in the neighboring town of Windswan, twenty minutes away. He needed this truck like he needed to breathe.

  When he opened the hood, dark smoke billowed out and settled around him, the acrid smell of burnt rubber challenging Freddie’s gag reflex. He stepped back and took a deep breath. It didn’t look good, but he was no mechanic. He left his truck where it was, grabbed his toolbelt, compressor, and air nailer, and trudged down the main street to Bristlecombe.

  As he arrived at Josh’s house, he could see three guys up on the roof, tossing old pieces of roofing and shingles into a big bin on the front lawn. He followed the sound of voices to the rear of the house.