Page 41 of Meeting Mr. Adorkable
Arlo ground his teeth, and his shoulders tensed. It was only a joke, but…
Next to them, the old lady gasped, covered her dog’s ears, and did her best to edge away.
Sheriff Morgan kept his speech short and sweet, as against a cacophony of cheers and whoops, he declared the official start to Jake’s Day.
With a drum roll, a marching band led the way, woefully out of tune and out of step. The crowd reformed, the outraged old lady nowhere to be seen.
Lucian had edged in front of Arlo, leaning back into him, waving and cheering, all his focus on the parade. Arlo’s breath was heavy in his lungs. It was the crush of bodies, that was all, the only reason Lucian pressed against him, his ass way too close to his awakening dick, before a sliver of space pushed its way between them, gone a second later as Lucian’s back plastered once more against Arlo’s front.
Ah, Jesus… Arlo’s erection pressed painfully against the zipper of his jeans, but somehow, some way, he found a little space and held on tight to a hair’s breadth of air between him and Lucian.
At some point, high school cheerleaders replaced the marching band, every movement crisp and sharp, the crowd greeting them with applause as they high kicked their way along. Local veterans, marching in perfectly synchronized, tight formation, provoked an explosion of cheers and frantic flag waving. A small fleet of classic cars followed, bodywork polished to blinding brilliance, chrome dazzling in the sunshine.
“Oh, my god. We have one of those at home. We hire it out for weddings.” Lucian grinned up at Arlo as he pointed to a classic Bentley, sleek and cherry red, every undulating line an understatement of class and sophistication.
“What the…?” Lucian’s mouth dropped open as the last of the cars rolled by.
“I’d forgotten about this,” Arlo muttered. A few young children began to cry. “This gave me nightmares when I was a kid.”
“I can see why. They’re super creepy, but weirdly fascinating.”
On a convoy of flatbed trucks, plaster statues of Jake Collier stood proudly.
Jake, or several Jakes. Ten, twelve, fifteen feet or more. Jake with a lasso. Jake taking aim with a rifle. Jake flexing his muscles. Jake looking noble, shielding his sightless eyes with his hand as he stared into the distance.
“Okay, I know this is weird—”
“You bet it is. God, I have to take some photos for posterity. Nobody at home will believe me otherwise…”
”The models are old, mostly made just after the First World War, by the returning soldiers.”
“Then I can only imagine they were shellshocked.”
Attempts had been made to restore the models over the years, but even at a distance, the cracks were visible, the repainted faces bright and clown-like.
A snort of laughter replaced Lucian’s shock. “Eyeliner, lipstick, blusher. I expect the West was very wild in good ol’ Jake’s heyday.”
“Young man.” They both jumped. The pink-haired lady had reappeared; an even older woman whose hair was a startling shade of orange hovered just behind her. She glared at Lucian, five feet nothing of softly permed pink indignation.
“I’ve seen you before, your potty mouth upset my Barky—”
“What—”
“I never forget anybody who upsets my baby. I don’t know where you’re from, but it sure ain’t from around these parts, not with that funny accent you’ve got. In this town we revere our heroes. If it wasn’t for Jake, none of us would be here — and that includes you, with your snooty east coast — Barkasaurus Rex, stop it! Down boy, down,” she shrieked as her mutt, still in the bag, began wriggling, drool dripping from its chops. “You and your disrespectful ways, you’ve upset my Barky. Bichons are very sensitive—”
“I’m very sorry. Honestly, I didn’t mean to offend you. But I have to say, I’m not from the east coast and whatever your dog is, it’s not a Bichon—”
Both old ladies gasped in unison.
“Our apologies, ma’am.” Arlo stepped in. “My friend’s been in the sun a little too long. He needs a cool drink to recover.”
“I kinda reckon he’s already been drinking, and I don’t mean a root beer.”
“Geraldine, come on,” the orange-haired woman said, easing her friend away. “We don’t want any trouble, not on Jake’s Day. Let’s find a shady spot and fix poor Barky’s ribbons.” She made to pat the dog but whipped her hand away when it growled and snapped at her fingers.
“I haven’t been drinking, and I don’t need—” But Lucian didn’t have the chance to finish, as Arlo steered him out of the crowd.
“Where—”
