Page 86 of The Fine Art of Faking It
Davis grinned. Last year’s HeHa had been an organizational disaster. Information about drop-offs had gone out with a typo in the address and forty-seven bags of winter clothing were deposited onto Juan Garcia’s front yard. His pet ferrets had escaped—again—and burrowed into the bags of down vests and heavy sweaters. It took two hours for the dozen volunteers to find the ferrets.
“It’s come to my attention that our co-chairs for the HeHa Festival have both stepped down, citing irreconcilable differences, which really only applies in divorces,” Beckett said into the mic. A low rumble of speculation rolled through the crowd.
“Who were the chairs?” Eden asked.
“Charisma Champion and Fitz,” Layla whispered.
Charisma, with her long black hair and purple glitter tunic, stood up. “I’d like the record to show that I was willing to work with Bill Fitzsimmons, but he made itimpossible.”
Beckett leaned into the mic. “There is no actual record.”
A rat-tailed, skinny hippie in a Save the Bay t-shirt that didn’t quite cover his pasty belly rose on the other side of the theater. “AndI’dlike the record to show that my schedule is a complex organism.”
“There’s still no record,” Beckett put in.
“You own a bookstore that’s open twenty hours a week,” Charisma shot back.
“I’malsoan exotic dancer,” Fitz announced.
A crowd-wide shudder made its way through the building as everyone remembered the Facebook video of a nearly naked Fitz being hauled out of the barn at Pierce Acres during Phoebe Merrill’s bachelorette party.
“You spent two days last week restocking your underground bunker!” Charisma was working herself up to a full-fledged fit.
“Well, someone has to be prepared!”
Beckett rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes as if in a bid for patience.
“It’s your fault that we have three weeks until the festival and absolutely nothing in place!” Charisma shouted.
“Let’s try to get back on track here,” Beckett said, shouting into the mic to be heard over the din. “We’re looking for two volunteers to chair the event which, just as a reminder, includes a day of community service and a town-wide dance.”
Rainbow Berkowicz got to her feet. “I volunteer Eden Moody and Davis Gates to co-chair.”
Davis lost his smile.
“Oh, hell no,” Eden said next to him. Layla snorted out a laugh.
“Seconded,” Ernest Washington said from under his denim cap.
“That’snothow asking for volunteers works,” Eden muttered.
Davis mentally rolled through his to-do list which included zero room for organizing a huge community event. Although, itwouldalso give him even more time with Eden…
Beckett cheered considerably as the burden of public service in Blue Moon was passed to someone else. “Great. If anyone has any questions about HeHa, please see Eden and Davis after the meeting.”
“What the hell just happened?” Eden whispered.
“We were just thrown under the Blue Moon Volkswagen bus,” Davis answered.
Beckett picked up his gavel and banged it ceremonially. “On to the next order of business. It’s been brought to the council’s attention that the rumor that businesses do not have to pay their taxes is circulating again. Once again, it is very, very important that you file and pay your taxes every year. For more on this subject, please welcome Mason Smith.”
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“Ican’t believe that just happened,” Eden breathed out a silver cloud. The chaos of the town meeting was behind them in the theater where half of the town was still throwing tax questions at the sweet and sweaty CPA. The quiet of an empty One Love Park was in front of them.
“I can believe it,” Davis said, leading her across the road into the park. “We live with a bunch of manipulative sociopaths.”
“It’s not like you have time to deal with this. I mean, you’ve got the insurance company, the fire damage, plus all of your usual work.” Eden ticked off the items on her fingers. “And why are you smiling at me like that?”
