Page 72 of Story of My Life
Anyway,we’re real sorry about the bird murderer signs.”
“And the flyers.”
“Oh, and the announcements over the loudspeaker at the car wash. We didn’t really think you killed Goose.”
“Yeah. Things have just been pretty quiet around here, and it was fun to have a little drama to spice things up.”
I assumed the two sleeveless flannel–clad men were brothers. Though maybe it was just the beards and the mullets that made me think there was a strong family resemblance. They were part of the small crowd of Story Lakers who had made it a point to introduce themselves to me in front of the dais after the town meeting had been adjourned and the leftover alcohol packed up.
“I’m just glad to be exonerated,” I said.
They shared a look of confusion.
“What’s that? Like a fancy gas station?” the taller of the two asked.
“You wanna go out for beers and maybe some necking tomorrow?” the shorter one asked, not caring whatexoneratedmeant.
“Oh. Wow. I…um…” I glanced around wildly for a friendly face to get me out of this.
“Or do you wanna drink beer and go spottin’ deer with me? How are you at handling an ATV?” the taller brother asked.
I hadn’t been asked out on a date in over a decade. And I’d never been asked out by brothers at the same time. Not even when I was at my least cellulite-y in college.
“Gosh. You know, I’m flattered,” I said, signaling wildly for Zoey, who was talking to Cam’s sister, Laura. “But I’m just not looking to date anyone right now. Oh, hey! It’s my agent who obviously needs to talk to me about something very urgent,” I said loudly as Zoey approached.
“Gentlemen, I need to borrow Hazel for a minute,” she said, linking her arm through mine. “What was that about?” she asked when we were out of earshot.
“They asked me to go out on dates.”
“Like you with both of them at the same time?”
“I don’t think so. But maybe? Both offered beer. I don’t know. It’s all a blur.” I scrubbed my hands over my face.
“Excuse me, Hazel?” the vibrant funeral director in her sunshiny suit tapped me on the shoulder.
“Yes?” My greeting was tentative in case the woman wanted to farm me out to another funeral.
“Listen,they just dropped off the rental out front. I need to go back and pack. Do you want a ride?” Zoey asked.
“I’ll walk. I wanna soak up all the positivity I can before my next scandal,” I joked.
“Okay, but try not to accidentally drop-kick any babies on your way out,” she warned, firing finger guns at me.
I clamped a hand over her mouth and looked over my shoulder. “Zoey, I’m begging you to shut up before you start a new rumor so I can enjoy my five minutes of not being hated.”
She wriggled out of my grip. “Fair point. I’m out. I’ll swing by tomorrow after you assure me there is no wildlife present so I can breathe down your neck while you write words.”
“Looking forward to it.”
“Liar.”
“Enjoy your trash panda–free room,” I called after her.
She left, and realizing I was milling about by myself, I returned to the stage to collect my purse and notebook. The meeting punch–fueled adrenaline spike was over, and I suddenly just wanted to crawl into pajamas and eat snacks in bed.
“Need a ride?”
I turned to find Cam standing there, hands in his pockets. Instead of looking at me, he was scanning the room as it slowly emptied.
