A fair. Right. “I said I would think about it.” He hadn’t had to think about it. He’d known when he’d told her he would that he wouldn’t. He wasn’t going to any county fair. “How long will you be?”
“I’m doing the interview an hour before the concert starts. I want to capture some of his backstage energy before his performance. I don’t have to stay for the entire thing, but I’ll be here for a while yet.”
None of what she’d said sat well with him. “I just completed my biggest contract. I’m over a hundred grand richer, and the bigwigs were practically kissing me over the privilege of paying me. I’m ready to get the party started.”
“We’ll party. It’ll just start a few hours later.”
A few hours?
She was saying, “… because at the last minute, the producer squeezed the interview into tonight’s ten o’clock newscast.”
“Who’s that important? Is the president in town?”
“Better. Bryce Conrad.”
“Who’s that?”
“Only the brightest rising star in country music,” she said, not even trying to conceal her excitement.
“Never heard of him.”
“You have so! I told you that he’s generally camera shy but that he’d granted me an interview. You and I talked about it for ten minutes.” A pause, then, “But I knew you weren’t paying attention.”
“Give me a break, okay? I’ve been focused on work. This was a high-stakes week for me.”
“For me, too, Calder,” she snapped. “If you’d been listening, you’d know that my getting a one-on-one with Bryce Conrad was a coup. A big one. Entertainment Tonight called this afternoon. They’re doing a feature on him over the weekend and may add some sound bites from my interview to it. So, you’re not the only one who had a great day, okay? By the way, thank you for asking.”
If they continued in this vein, the high he was on would crash and burn. He really didn’t want to lose the good buzz he had going to a quarrel over some Johnny-come-lately country singer.
He’d play nice. “Look, I’m sorry. I should have paid closer attention. That’s great about ET.”
Mollified, she said, “Even if they don’t air any of this interview, I’m at least on their radar.”
“All the more reason for us to celebrate tonight. What’s your ETA at home? I’ll have the champagne chilled.”
“Won’t you please come here as planned?”
“To that fair?” He snorted. “Shauna, get serious.”
“It’s a bit of a drive, but—”
“It’s practically in freakin’ Oklahoma.”
“It’s forty-five minutes if you use the express lanes. Please. It’ll be fun.”
“Compared to what? A colonoscopy? Besides, you’ll be working, which will leave me a hanger-on, standing around and playing pocket pool.”
“By the time you get here, I’ll probably be finished with the interview. Come on. It’s a beautiful evening.”
“Shauna—”
“I’ll leave a pass for you at the north gate. There’s reserved parking there, too. Text when you get here, and I’ll tell you where to find me. We’ll stay through a few songs and then leave. I promise.”
“I can’t think of anything I feel less like doing tonight than going to a county fair. Good luck with the interview. I’ll see you at home. Bye.”
Calder clicked off. Anger and resentment had deflated his buoyant mood. He punched up the volume of his car radio, then, irritated by the song selection, switched it off altogether.
Having felt flush with success, he’d anticipated Shauna’s hot body and cold champagne to be waiting for him between silk sheets when he got home. A crowded, gritty fairground was as far removed from that fantasy as you could get. He had every right to be pissed.
But after covering a mile or two on the freeway, he eased off the accelerator and grudgingly acknowledged that it was his fault he’d forgotten her commitment tonight. Obviously getting this interview was important to the furtherance of her career, and she was all about that escalation.
When she did get home, she would be sulky if not silent. He’d get the deep-freeze treatment. Forget about sex. Out of the question.
On the other hand, what if he showed up at the fairground unexpectedly and surprised her? He would say, I acted like an ass. I’m sorry. Which he wouldn’t mean in the depths of his soul, but the apology would, in all probability, create a thaw sufficient to get him laid tonight, which was a priority.
All things considered…
He whipped in front of an eighteen-wheeler, whose driver blasted him with his horn. Calder gave him the finger, gunned the Jag, and aimed it toward the exit.
“Charlie, Charlie, look here. Look at Mommy.”
Using her cell phone camera, Elle managed to capture a slobbery, toothy grin as her son glided past her on the mini carousel. On the next revolution, she got several seconds of video of him waving to her, coached to do so by her friend Glenda, who had graciously offered to take a turn on the ride since this was Charlie’s fifth time.
When the carousel slowed to a stop, Glenda managed to dismount while maintaining her hold on the squirming two-year-old, who was intent on remaining astride the painted pony. She carried him over to Elle, who relieved her of him.
“Thanks for doing that,” Elle said. “If I’d gone one more round, I think I would have barfed.”
Glenda laughed. “Over the spinning or the music?”
“Right. Days from now, I’ll still have an earworm of calliope jingles.”
“Me too, but I wouldn’t have missed going for a ride with my favorite cowboy.” Glenda patted Charlie on the cheek. It was sticky with cotton candy residue, but she laughed off Elle’s apology. “No matter, but I do need to take off. One of the gals texted. They’re here, waiting for me in the beer garden with a pitcher of frozen margaritas that they swear is calling my name.”
“Go,” Elle said as she wrestled Charlie into his stroller. He’d bowed his back and wasn’t cooperating. “I didn’t count on staying this long, but I think I’m on borrowed time. I feel an exhausted-child meltdown coming on.”
She fished Bun, Charlie’s flop-eared rabbit, from the compartment on the back of the stroller and passed it down to him. He tucked the stuffed animal under his arm, momentarily pacified.
Frowning, Glenda said, “I wish you could join us girls and stay for the concert.”
“Ah, well, me too. But this was a spontaneous excursion. Babysitters are hard to come by on short notice.”
That morning, after catching up on laundry and light housekeeping, she’d settled into her home office to work while simultaneously keeping Charlie occupied with toys, books, and his library of Paw Patrol videos.
But as the afternoon wore on, he’d turned whiny, demanding her attention, which he’d deserved for being cooped up all day. So, although she’d been on a creative roll, she’d shut down her computer, lifted her son into her lap, and between pecking kisses onto his face asked if he would like to call Glenda. “This is the last day of the fair. Let’s see if she wants to go.”