Chapter 5 #2
“What happened?” Margo asked, leaning over the counter.
Their shop was empty once again, this time even more so.
Sundays, Lilian remembered, were a terribly slow day at the faire.
People in the Midwest were usually at church or preparing for the upcoming week—all in the comfort of their air conditioning.
She’d been desperately trying to think of a solution to her Reject Woods problem, but nothing came to her. And now, Alex stood there with another one. The season had barely started, and the pirate king had an unscripted injury.
Alex’s accent dropped for the first time as she explained. “Last Sunday, during one of our big fight scenes, Logan jumped off the stage and landed on his foot wrong.”
The booksellers winced. The Pirate Stage was a grand, sprawling ship, complete with a wooden deck near the audience and a second level where part of the show took place.
It wasn’t a massive drop, but it was more than enough height for someone to get seriously hurt if they landed wrong. “How bad is it?”
“Snapped his ankle.” There wasn’t a hint of remorse in Alex’s voice. Her brows narrowed in clear annoyance. “He didn’t listen to me when I told him the choreography was dangerous, and now… here we are. He can’t get around the faire without a pair of crutches.”
“But he’s still working?” Margo could barely hide her surprise, and Lilian couldn’t blame her. She could only imagine the kind of hell it would be to get those tight leather pants over a foot brace. Not to mention walking around the hilly acreage on crutches.
“Yeah,” Alex said. “We’ve had to cut down our shows, and the tyrant prince is hounding me about how we are going to fill the space.”
“More pirate sing-alongs?” Margo suggested.
Logan’s band of pirates was a band called Counting Crows Nests.
They were a complete ensemble with a drummer, guitarists, Logan on lead vocals, and a single triangle player.
They always made their way around the faire, singing sea shanties and flirting with guests.
After five o’clock, the songs took a deliciously lewd turn that was guaranteed to make even the Viking actors blush.
Logan had a great voice. Now that he was on crutches, she wondered if the singing would have to be done from a single stage.
Alex shook her head. “We made that suggestion. It fills up a little time, but there is still an hour-long slot on Sunday mornings that isn’t filled. Sunday morning!” she repeated in exasperation. “Literally the worst time for a show.”
Lilian and Margo nodded in understanding.
Not only was Sunday already a slow day, but people’s attention spans were at their worst when they first walked into the faire.
All the sights, sounds, and merriment made it difficult to know where to look and which shows to prioritize.
Seasoned faire-goers arrived with a plan, but the casual visitor usually wandered for the first hour or two to get their bearings.
Which meant low attendance for morning shows.
“We’ve had to adjust the story, which Logan is pissed about because it means less stage time for him, but what does he want me to do?
It’s not my fault that he broke his fucking ankle,” Alex continued.
“Hawk is asking me to fill all the open time, and I can’t do that.
It cuts into my interaction with the guests and my breaks.
” Alex leaned over on the wooden counter in a boneless heap, her pirate hat skewed, mussing her perfect hair.
For the first time since Lilian had known the pirate queen, her makeup was smudged around her eyes.
“Maybe we can help,” Margo said, jarring Lilian’s attention away from her book.
“We can?”
“Yeah, I mean, we could fill that slot. At least Lilian can.”
“What are you talking about?” Her mind raced at the implication. Wherever Margo was going with this idea, it was not something she was interested in.
But Margo was looking at her like the suggestion made perfect sense. Even worse, there was a spark of hope in Alex’s eyes.
“Come on,” Margo said. “You’ve been looking for a way to get more people to the shop.
This is it. We’ll put on a show to advertise.
” She gasped suddenly, loud enough that Lilian worried she’d inhaled wrong.
“It could be a medieval bachelorette competition. Get all the hottest guys, and let the audience vote for a winner. It’ll be great. ”
“Oh my god!” Alex snapped upright. “Yes!”
“No.” Lilian stared at her friends, mortified. “Absolutely not. I can’t.”
“What? Why not?” Margo pouted.
“Because I’m a shopkeeper,” Lilian said. “I need to keep the shop. It’s your idea, you do it.”
“I can’t,” Margo said. “I’m not Ms. Bodice. This is your shop. If we want people to come here, they have to see you!”
Lilian bit the inside of her cheek at that. That was a good point… but no. No. Absolutely not. She couldn’t do this. She wasn’t an actress. Not in the same way Alex was. Standing in front of a crowd? Reciting bits and jokes? Interacting with strangers and actors like she knew what she was doing?
Margo let out another delighted squeal. “Oh my god! We can call it Ms. Bodice’s search for Mr. Brawn.”
Please no.
“Yes!” Alex beamed. “There are plenty of men around the faire we can solicit for the show. Even Logan can sit on a stage and look pretty. As much as I hate to admit it, it might be good for him. It will keep him busy and stroke his ego.”
“And maybe one of the Viking boys.”
“I’m sure David wouldn’t mind.”
Margo was already grabbing her purse. “I’m going to go scout around and see if I can wrangle up some volunteers.”
“And I'll pitch the idea to management.” Alex beamed.
Lilian’s mouth went dry as the two started for the doorway. This was getting out of control fast. They were really going to do it. Unless she put an end to the crazy idea, now.
“Guys,” she chimed in, “it’s a great idea and all, but I can’t be the one to do it.”
The two paused, their smiles slipping at their friend’s sincere distress. A beat passed where she was sure the two would argue against her, but her own misery at the idea must have shown on her face.
Alex was the first to back down. “You’re right, Lil. Sorry about that, we got carried away. Look, you don’t have to do it. I know not everyone is comfortable getting on stage and talking. But I also want you to know that you would not be doing this alone. I will help you.”
“You already have too much on your plate,” Lilian argued weakly. “I don’t want to add more to it.”
“I’m going to be stressed no matter what. But this way, I’m not starring in another show. And I’m sure Logan will help direct.”
Lilian gritted her teeth as a ball of anxiety bounced off the walls of her stomach. This was her friend asking for help. And Margo was right; they did need some form of advertising.
“All right,” she said slowly, as two identical grins beamed at her. “But I want to do the minimal amount of talking, and you need at least four men to agree—” Lilian’s tirade of conditions was abruptly cut off as two corseted bosoms hugged her tight.
“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Alex sounded like she was on the verge of tears. “Don’t worry. This will be a piece of cake. I’ll be there every step of the way.”
Lilian hugged the two women back, but she wasn’t done yet with her agreement. She continued, “And you have to get the tyrant prince to agree to this as well.”
Something she sincerely doubted Hawk would do. She was a vendor, not one of the actors who had undergone extensive training in character development. Why should she be the bad guy and tell her friends no when Hawk Carlisle would do that for her?
Alex did not look deterred by the conditions. “I’ll ask him. No worries.”
Oh. I’m not worried. Lilian felt confident that by the end of the day, the idea of her “Finding Mr. Brawn” would be dead in the water, and she could focus on her shop in peace.
Except Hawk didn’t kill the idea.
The one time Lilian needed him to be his usual hard-ass self, he decided it would be a good idea to bend the rules (just this once, according to Alex) and let her host the “Finding Mr. Brawn Show” every Sunday.
Alex and Margo were elated, but to Lilian, it was further proof that Hawk Carlisle absolutely hated her.
“I got our main bachelors to agree,” Margo reported at the end of the day. They sat at a picnic table, cool beers in hand. It was quickly becoming a ritual for the three of them to meet at the pirate-themed tavern to unwind after a long day of work.
As far as eateries went, The Grog was one of the more elaborate places the faire had to offer.
It featured a small covered sitting area with plenty of picnic tables.
It almost constituted an actual restaurant, except for the fact that the food was still clearly faire food, deep fried and terrible for you.
But it had the largest bar and an extensive list of beer on tap.
With a mouth full of greasy french fries, Margo listed off the eligible bachelors. “Logan and David agreed easily. I also got Ian from the Viking Camp and Mr. Berscotta from the Highlander group.”
“Wow, that’s actually a pretty good round-up,” Lilian agreed.
Mr. Berscotta was always a hit with the older ladies, and even she had to admit the man was a silver fox with his salt-and pepper-beard and fake Scottish accent.
He usually wandered the grounds dressed like an old Highland warrior.
For a man in his fifties, he was in excellent shape and not afraid to show off the well-sculpted legs under his kilt.
She was less familiar with the Viking. Every year, the Viking crew changed out, but one thing remained the same.
They were always young, in fairly good shape, and stupidly attractive.
Even the women. The Carlisles had a certain image they wanted for their Nordic crew, and they never struggled to find the right actors.