Page 191 of Story of My Life
“Appears so.”
“I have a good feeling about today,” I said with a confidence I almost didn’t recognize.
“Good. Since you’re Miss Positivity, why don’t you wander over there and see what you can do about Tweedle Kid and Tweedle Doc.” Cam nodded in the direction of our boy mayor and Dr. Ace, who seemed to be embroiled in a heated—ha—discussion next to the bleachers. It appeared that most of the thirty-four entrants to Story Lake’s Sh*t Out of Luck 5K were eavesdropping.
“I’m on it.” I turned to walk away, but I stopped and gave Cam a lingering flirtatious look. “Just so you know. In my head, you’re moving in slow motion to a hard-rock guitar solo.”
His blatantly wicked grin nearly took me out at the knees. “Good.”
I rolled my eyes and once again turned to leave. He snagged me with a tug on my belt loop and pulled me back against his body. He leaned down, mouth moving against my ear. “Just soyouknow, Trouble. There’s only one thing hotter than the weather, and she’s standing right in front of me.”
My swoon was due to eighty percent Campbell charm and twenty percent humidity.
Deciding there was no way I could come up with a sexier parting line, I settled for pressing a kiss to his cheek and walking away with a little extra swing in my hips, hoping it would hold his attention before he could notice the crotchal sweat. I headed over to Darius and Ace, arriving just in time to catch part of their argument.
“I can’t in good conscience allow people to run a 5K in this heat,” Ace said. He was wearing a Summer Fest Staff shirt, cargo shorts, Birkenstocks, and compression socks pulled up to his knees. He had one of those personal fans slung around his neck and a wide-brimmed straw hat perched on his salt-and-pepper Afro.
Darius’s outfit was more interesting. He wore a poop emoji mascot costume and appeared to be sweating profusely. His cross-country teammates were taking turns spraying him in the face with water bottles.
“Doc, I am a big fan of the Hippocratic oath. Huge. But we can’t just cancel the first event of Summer Fest. We’ve got legions of people who signed up to run and whose entry fees are going straight to the sewage treatment project.”
“Darius, it’s thirty-four people, and they paid twenty dollars apiece. If we let these folks chase you around town while you’re dressed like doody, you and half of them are going to end up with heat exhaustion, if not worse.”
“Can I be of assistance?” I offered.
“Ye-sh!” Darius sputtered as one of his friends unleashed a stream of water directly into his face.
“Hazel, talk some sense into the mayor,” Ace said. “It’s too hot for people to be out there running. They’ll be dropping like spotted lantern flies in the first mile.”
“This is Pennsylvania. It’s summer. People know what to expect. We have so many water stations set up that I’m worried I should have rented more portable toilets,” Darius said, waving his arms.
Zoey appeared at my elbow. “I need to know what the poop suit is all about.”
Darius preened. “I’m glad you asked, Zoey. All proceeds benefit our sewage treatment upgrade. And any runner who finishes before me gets a free pack of toilet paper from thegeneral store. The good kind with the wave perforations,” he added.
A stream of water hit him in the back of the head and ricocheted onto me.
“I am so happy I asked,” Zoey announced.
“Are we running or what?” shouted an athletic-looking woman who was slathering herself with anti-chafing stick.
“Oh, boy. Okay. How about we leave the decision up to the runners?” I said. “But we put out the word on the Neighborly app requesting people to turn on their hoses or run fans curbside for the race?”
“Lang Johnson brought an extra tent along. I can get it set up as a cooling station. And I bet Rusty’s Fish Hook will donate pitchers of ice water. Maybe they have some spare fans we could use,” Zoey suggested.
Darius clapped his gloved hands, sending what I hoped was a fine spray of just water everywhere. “That is a great idea! You two are going to save the day.”
Ace looked defeated. “At least take off the poop suit, Darius. We can’t have our mayor hospitalized with heat stroke.”
But Darius was already shaking his head. “I hear you. I really do. But this race is bigger than me, bigger than a poop suit. It’s about saving our town. Besides”—he gripped Ace’s shoulder—“I’m not wearing anything under this costume.”
Zoey covered her laugh with a cough. “Darius, you’re the shit,” she said.
Our optimistic, poo-outfitted teenage mayor beamed at her like she’d just promposaled him. “Thanks, Zoey.”
“I have a good feeling about today,” I said again with slightly less confidence.
“This is a nightmare,”I groaned as I adjusted the oscillating fan to aim at half of the high school cross-country team.
