Page 85 of The Fine Art of Faking It
He pretended not to notice the looks shot in their direction. Smug from Beautification Committee members, curious from feud historians.
“Mind if I sit?” Eden’s friend Layla in full deputy regalia tapped the seat next to Davis. He caught a glimpse of the look Eden shot Layla. It was a warning.
“Help yourself,” Davis said, offering his bag of popcorn.
Not one to pass up a snack, Layla dug a healthy fistful from the bag. She stretched her legs out under the seat in front of her, the picture of relaxation.
“I take it you’re not here in a professional capacity?” Eden asked.
“I’m on duty, but since every single citizen is in this building, I figured it would make sense to be here. Plus, I wanted to see Cardona and the mayor in their stupid powdered wigs.”
Bruce Oakleigh had finally successfully lobbied for town officials to wear the powdered wigs of their ancestors for official town meetings, a town ordinance two years in the making. It horrified the straight-laced Beckett Pierce, which entertained the entire rest of the town who had voted unanimously for the motion.
“What are you two crazy kids doing after this?” Layla asked.
Eden leaned forward in front of Davis. “What is this? An interrogation?”
Layla let out a low whistle. “Someone’s feeling persnickety tonight. Don’t worry, Davis. Just feed her something chocolate and tell her she’s pretty, and she probably won’t rip your face off later. I mean, they don’t call her Moody for nothing.”
“It’s my last name, assface,” Eden sniped.
Layla gave a careless shrug. “Don’t mind her, Davis. I mean, I don’t need to remind you that she’s basically a loose cannon.”
Eden bared her teeth at her friend. “I know what you’re doing, and if you want twenty bucks that much I will give it to you.”
“It’s the principle of the thing,” Layla sniffed.
Davis had a feeling he was missing an important key to the conversation.
“If you two get in a fight, who’s going to break it up?” he wondered out loud.
Eden sat back in her seat in a huff. “I need to make new friends,” she grumbled.
Layla grinned triumphantly as if she’d won a tough victory.
The lights flickered, signaling that the festivities were about to start. People started filling in the auditorium seats.
Davis took Eden’s hand and squeezed it. The purpose was two-fold. One, he wanted to hold her hand. Two, it was one less appendage she could throw punches with. He didn’t want to get thrown out of the meeting before the fun started.
The lights flickered again and then dimmed. The speakers crackled on, and the opening strains of “Eye of the Tiger” blasted through the theater.
Beckett Pierce, in powdered wig and a suit, slumped his way to the podium at center stage. The town council members plus Sheriff Cardona took the stage behind him, filing to the single row of seats next to the podium. Millie Murkle, Blue Moon’s police station manager and dispatcher, jogged up to the front of the theater and snapped about a dozen pictures of Donovan sitting miserably between Bruce Oakleigh and Elvira Eustace.
He felt the weight of Eden’s gaze on him and schooled his features into an impassive mask. She leaned in. “Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this,” she whispered.
“I don’t want you to be embarrassed by your boyfriend fanboying over a town meeting,” he returned.
Eden snickered behind her hand and Layla leaned forward and gave them a hard look. “I’m not losing my twenty to Sammy,” she hissed.
“Next time you sleep over, I’m shaving your eyebrows off,” Eden threatened.
“Don’t threaten an officer of the law,” Layla whispered back.
“Ladies, if we could save the threats for later?” Davis suggested, drawing a line in the air between them with his arm.
On stage, Beckett was making a slashing motion over his throat. The music cut off abruptly.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for braving the cold tonight and coming out so close to Thanksgiving,” he began. “As you know, our HeHa Festival is almost here, and we wanted to take this opportunity to make sure we’re as organized as possible.”
