Chapter 10
ten
CALLA
I’m dying . Maybe not literally, but I only slept for a few hours. And because I was tipsy when I finally crashed, those hours were not good sleep.
But I put on a brave face this morning because I don’t want to seem like an old lady who needs her routine. Which, let’s be real, is exactly what I am.
In any event, Mount Gemstone is exactly as I remember it from that one YMCA summer camp I went to as a kid. It’s quaint, colorful verging on tacky, and utterly charming in its kitschy, Wild West glory. The ticket booth at the entrance looks like it was plucked straight from an old cowboy movie, complete with peeling paint and crooked signs. I half expect a mustachioed sheriff to pop out and demand to see our gold.
What I don’t expect is the sheer size of Jay’s crew. We’ve barely stepped out of his SUV when a small army of photographers, assistants, and one very harried-looking publicist descends upon us. Jay waves them off with the practiced nonchalance of a man who’s used to being swarmed, but I can see the tension in his shoulders .
This is supposed to be a low-key shoot, yet nothing about it feels low-key. Especially not me. I’ve been mind-numbingly nervous since dawn this morning.
The parking lot is mostly empty, a vast expanse of cracked asphalt and faded lines. On weekends, this place is probably packed with families and school groups. But today is a late Monday morning, so it has the forlorn air of an abandoned amusement park.
We start the long walk to the entrance with Jay’s crew trailing behind us like a procession of ducklings. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and slows his stride to match mine. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, trying to read his expression. He looks calm, but there’s a tightness in his jaw that gives him away.
Jay is as unsettled to have me at his side as I am to be there. Knowing he is also anxious makes me feel less like I’m about to puke, though.
The ticket booth attendant greets us with a grin as wide as the Stetson she’s wearing. “Howdy, partners! Y’all here to strike it rich?”
Jay flashes his trademark grin, the one that’s sold a million yoga mats and protein shakes. “Just here for some nostalgia.”
The woman hands us two tickets and tips her hat. “Enjoy your day at Mount Gemstone, folks.”
We pass through the turnstiles. The park opens up before us in a riot of pastel colors and faux-frontier buildings. It’s beautiful in a gaudy, over-the-top way; sort of like a wedding cake decorated by a drunk cowboy.
The sounds of a makeshift frontier town fill the air. There’s the clatter of a wooden rollercoaster, the tinny notes of a player piano, and the sizzle of frying funnel cakes. I can almost enjoy it. If I close my eyes, I am almost transported back to childhood summers at this park, when life was simpler.
Almost.
I look up at Jay, wondering how he remembers it. For me, that camp was a brief escape from the chaos of home. For him, this whole park is probably layered with happy memories, the kind that can build a person’s foundation.
Part of me wants to open his head and crawl inside so I can know what he sees when he looks up at the Ferris wheel. His expression is unreadable, which only makes my curiosity run deeper.
As we walk toward the main street, Jay takes my hand. I stiffen, but he squeezes it gently and leans in. "Look at the cameras," he whispers, nodding toward two guys with high-end equipment. One of them gives a thumbs-up; the other adjusts a lens.
I force a smile. Jay grins wider, like we're sharing a delicious secret. What it is, I don’t know.
The park is more ramshackle than I remember. The once-vibrant building facades are now faded and chipped. There's a grungy charm to it, reminding me of a beloved toy that's been played with a little too roughly.
We stroll down the main street, hand in hand. I can almost pretend we're a real couple, here for a day of innocent fun. Almost.
Is this what our fake relationship is going to be like?
The Silver Dollar Saloon beckons with the scent of beer and fried food. A neon sign buzzes lazily, casting a pallid glow over the entrance. My stomach growls. But Jay pulls me onward. "We'll come back," he promises. "Maybe."
I work up a smile. “I’m game for anything.”
Jay raises an eyebrow at me. “I’ll keep that in mind for later when we get to the hotel room. ”
I know I’m blushing a deep crimson. I could kill him. But one of the camera guys laughs, making me think that Jay’s words are playing perfectly to his audience. So I work to keep myself from scowling at him.
Appearances are everything.
We walk by Wild Bill’s Saddle Shop & Gifts next. The windows are crammed with paintings of horses, all done in the same gaudy, airbrushed style. I point at one that features a rearing stallion with a rainbow behind it. "That would look amazing in the living room."
Jay laughs. "Only if you help me pick out the frame. Do you like the one with the horseshoes or the lasso around the border?"
“Both!” I declare.
Character actors in fringed vests and calico dresses wander the street, staying just enough in character to be charming, not obnoxious. One tall man in a ten-gallon hat tips it at us and says, "Howdy, lovebirds!"
I blush while Jay waves.
We pass Miss Penny’s Sweets. I spy a display of giant circular lollipops. Barrels overflowing with salt water taffy threaten to spill out the door. The sugar rush just from walking by is almost enough to make me dizzy.
I turn to say something to Jay. What? I’m not sure.
“My tattoo is itchy,” is what comes out. Technically, it’s true. The healing tattoo on my wrist does, in fact, itch. I show him my wrist.
Jay looks at it for a second. “That looks a little dry. Have you been putting lotion on it?”
“Am I supposed to?” I scrunch my face up.
“Yeah. You don’t want your skin to dry out.” He flashes me a grin. “Come here.”
He takes my hand and walks me back to Wild Bill’s. We head in, passing the racks of Mount Gemstone cowboy hats and souvenir painted “I Survived Mount Gemstone” rocks. Jay seems to know where he’s going, so I try to act like I don’t feel intensely weird about his hand holding mine.
“Ah! That’s what we need.” He comes to a stop way in the back of the shop, before a small wall of suntan lotion, antacids, and small plastic bandages. He plucks a small tube of intense skin barrier repair lotion. He waves it at me. “Let me see your wrist.”
“I can do it…” I say.
Jay pins me with a glance. “Give me your hand, wife .”
Ah. I can’t see the camera, but I know that it can’t be far away if Jay is calling me his wife. Keeping my face blank, I bare my wrist. He squirts a little lotion onto my skin. As he smooths it over my wrist, I can feel my cheeks heat.
Why in the fuck am I blushing? I’m not even sure. This isn’t exactly sexual. He does make eye contact with me the entire time, though.
When he finishes, he pulls my sleeve down and tucks the tube of lotion in my pocket. “There you go.”
“Thanks.” The word feels clunky rolling off my tongue.
He looks over my shoulder to Wren. “Will you pay for the lotion? We need to get moving.”
Wren nods, brandishing a credit card. “On it.”
Before I can say anything, Jay grabs my hand again. "Come on. We have to ride the rides!"
He’s like an overgrown kid, eyes sparkling with excitement. I let him pull me along and he weaves us through the park’s twists and turns like he does this all the time. The cameras are still on us. But for a moment? I forget to care.
Jay drags me to the Haunted Train Ride first. The exterior is all gothic spires and cobwebs. A giant, grinning skull perches atop the entrance like a macabre cherry .
“Oh god.” I wrinkle my nose. I don’t like anything scary, even things that are more tacky than terrifying. Why would I pay money for someone to make me feel frightened?
"We have to," Jay insists. "It’s tradition."
I don’t bother complaining that it may be his tradition, but it isn’t mine. Instead, I let him pull me into the short line. A wooden sign creaks in the breeze, proclaiming a wait time of five minutes. The paint is so faded it looks like it’s been gnawed on by termites.
We board a rickety train car, the kind that runs on a track set into the floor. It lurches forward with a groan. My heartbeat immediately picks up as we plunge into darkness. I brace myself for the first jump scare. I’m clutching the side of the car so hard my fingers hurt, and my knuckles must be white.
I’ve only been on this train once. I tried it when I went to camp here, fifteen or so years ago, and was so scared that I never tried it again. I’m expecting much of the same experience.
But Jay slides his arm around my shoulders and tugs me close. I focus on his nearness, his warmth, his muscular thigh pressed against mine. Leaning into the embrace, I pretend I’m just acting scared.
Jay squeezes my shoulders. I can do this, I think. It’s not that bad when I’m not alone.
Then the ride ends up being... underwhelming, if I’m honest. Animatronic skeletons creak and sway like retirees at a zombie-themed bingo night. Ghostly figures on wires descend from the ceiling, moving with all the urgency of a Monday morning commute. The whole thing is more corny than scary. It reminds me of a haunted house that my elderly next door neighbors put together every year when I was a kid .
Well-meaning, but completely toothless. Just the way I like it.
I see the red glow of a camera and remember why we’re here. "Aaaaaah!" I scream, as unconvincingly as a bad soap opera actress.
A vampire pops out of a coffin, but its cape catches on a nail. The fabric tears with a pitiful rip. The next thing I know, the vampire’s head lolls to one side. Its eyes are half-closed in eternal, animatronic boredom. Jay loses it, his laughter echoing through the ride like deranged hyena calls. He’s hyperventilating .
"Shhh," I whisper, squeezing his knee. But I’m giggling too. The sheer ridiculousness of it all is contagious.
We round a corner. We can’t even manage to feign surprise when a ghost on a stick slowly wobbles into view.
"Boo," it says, in a voice as flat as week-old soda. "Boo... boo... boo..." It’s stuck on a loop. The monotone "boos" stack up like a pile of unwanted Christmas presents.
I burst out laughing again, the sound explosive as my whoops echo in the confined space. Jay wipes a tear from his eye and points at the ghost. "I might die of fright," he howls.
The train car jerks to a stop at the end. We clamber out of the vehicle and are momentarily blinded by sunlight as we exit the ride. I’m still laughing, dragging in gulps of air. It feels strange but good. Stretching a muscle I’d forgotten I had.
Jay looks at me and his eyes are crinkled with genuine amusement. "That was worth the ten-dollar park entrance fee.”
“It was pretty fun,” I admit.
We step back into the park. I can see the crew setting up for the next shot. The spell breaks .
Oh… yeah. Suddenly, I remember why we’re here and what we’re doing.
"On to the next ride?" I ask, trying to sound enthusiastic.
Jay nods. "Yep. Let’s go."
We wander through the park. Jay and I are walking closer now, our shoulders almost brushing.
We make it on to two more rides before Jay yells to the crew following us. “I think we’re done for the day. You can go ahead and call it. We’ll see you tomorrow.” He looks at me. “I figured we could do the hotel tonight by ourselves.”
“You’re the boss,” I say with a faux salute.
The crew calls it a wrap, packing up their stuff. I feel a mix of relief and something like disappointment. Jay and I have been playing our parts so well that it's starting to feel... I don't know, natural?
We walk through the park toward the parking lot. I glance back at the Ferris wheel, its neon lights flickering in the early evening haze. "I wish we’d had time for the Ferris wheel. It was my favorite ride as a kid."
Jay stops and looks at me. "I’m not in a hurry. We can still ride it if you want."
I hesitate, but only for a second. "Really?"
"Yeah," he says, shrugging. "Why not? We’re not pressed for time. We can’t check in to the hotel until five anyway."
We get in line. I feel a very slight twinge of guilt. This extends our time together, our make-believe. But it's just a ride, I tell myself. Just one more scene.
The line moves quickly. Soon we’re squeezed into a tiny, rickety bucket seat. The attendant pulls a bar down over our laps and the seat sways back and forth gently as we start our slow ascent. Jay puts his arm around my shoulders. I stiffen, then relax into him.
It feels... comfortable.
I’m at a loss for what to talk about, but Jay doesn’t seem to have the same problem. He chats about the park, about how the day went, about his plans for the week. His voice is smooth and easy. If there was pressure on me to act a certain way, it’s gone the second he opens his mouth. I start to enjoy the moment, the way the park looks from up high, the way his arm feels around me.
Why Jay feels the need to embrace me, I don’t know. It’s not like there are cameras on us. But I don’t exactly protest. It feels nice .
When there is a moment of silence, I speak up. “I remember coming here as a kid. My parents loved the Ferris wheel. They were high school sweethearts, you know. In it for the long haul, compatible in all ways. Friends before anything else."
“Oh yeah?”
"That’s the only way to truly be happy, I figure. Just find your person, date for a hundred years, and marry when you’re ready to have kids.”
Jay laughs, then stops when he sees my face. "Oh. You’re serious?" He shakes his head. "I’ve never been in a partnership like that. Not even with Blake. I don’t even think it’s possible at my age. I’m thirty-three. Looking forward, if I were to date for a hundred years, I’ll be dead by the time I would even think about proposing marriage."
“I guess so.” I frown and consider my next words carefully. "Is stability something you look for in a partner?"
He thinks for a moment, his eyes tracking the horizon. "I’m more interested in someone willing to climb mountains and travel to far-flung destinations with me. An activity partner."
I raise a brow but don’t say anything. Of course he wants a thrill-seeker, someone who can match his pace. Someone, I’m guessing, like Blake. I can’t be that person. But it doesn’t matter. This is all pretend, a temporary arrangement. We’re just faking it.
Still, I can’t help but feel slightly deflated. No one likes hearing that they’re not someone’s type.
The wheel reaches the top and pauses. The park sprawls out beneath us, a glittering patchwork of lights and shadows. Jay shifts. I think he’s going to say something profound, but instead he pulls out his cell phone.
"One last shot for the fans," he says, starting to record. He turns the camera on us, and I put on my best "adoring wife" smile. Then, without warning, he leans in and kisses me.
He catches me dead in the center of my mouth. I’m startled, my body going rigid. The kiss is soft, his lips gentle against mine. I know this is for the camera, for his brand. But it feels awfully… real.
My heart hammers in my chest. Putting my hand onto his chest, I tentatively deepen the kiss, letting myself get lost in it for just a moment.
It’s not hurting anybody for me to enjoy being kissed by Jay. And by God, the man knows how to kiss. Shivers of pleasure course through my veins. I press my thighs together.
Yeah, it’s been a long time since I remember anybody kissing me like that. Jay did on our wedding night, I guess, but it’s all a blur. Right here and now, it seems like Jay wants to tilt my head back, cup my jaw, and devour me whole.
He stops recording, but for some reason we keep kissing. The world around us dissolves into a haze of colors and sounds. When we finally pull away, I see a flicker of something in his eyes. It might be confusion, maybe. Or hesitation? Hard to say.
"We should..." I start, but my voice trails off.
"Yeah," he says, clearing his throat. "We should go."
As the wheel starts its descent, we sit in silence, the weight of what just happened pressing down on us. I don’t know what to say. For once, neither does he.
When we reach the bottom, we make our way to the parking lot, our steps slow and measured. The day has taken on a surreal quality, like a dream that’s starting to fade upon waking.
The Ferris wheel vanishes into the distance, its neon lights spinning like a tiny star in the darkening sky.