Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Lacey adjusted her bedazzled and be-shelled purple push-up bra in the bathroom mirror. There wasn’t a lot to push up. But she was proud of what she’d accomplished on a shoestring budget.
The purple push-up bra she’d had since her early twenties and it had somehow survived every move, escaping the donation bag because it was just too cute to throw away, even if she never wore it. Lacey had sewn and glued on shells, fake pearls, and plastic jewels. Her tits looked like a treasure chest. For her tail, Lacey had thrifted a skintight green wrap skirt for a few dollars, then had added some iridescent organza leftover from the dance studio to the hem, leaving it longer in the back. Then she’d spent the last week hand-stitching sequins in a scale pattern while she watched Bob’s Burgers on repeat.
Less than twenty dollars, and she looked like a mermaid.
Sam was supposed to dress like a sailor, but she’d left his costume up to him. If he showed up looking like he belonged in An Officer and a Gentleman she didn’t know if she’d go weak in the knees or be pissed because she’d look like dollar-store Ariel, minus the red hair, next to him .
“Lacey, darling, are you coming?” Gavin shouted through the bathroom door.
“Almost done!” she called back, fluffing her beach wave curls one more time. She pulled open the door. “How do I look?”
“You’re going to give that boy a heart attack,” Gavin said, looking her up and down. “Should we not wait up tonight?”
“Can you guys even stay up that late?” Lacey teased.
“No, we cannot,” Leo said, putting on his cowboy hat.
After so many years together, they complained that they were scraping the bottom of the barrel for costumes. This year they’d stumbled upon the Night At The Museum movies and decided to go as the cowboy and the Roman soldier.
“Leo, I can’t find my sword,” Gavin complained.
“Is it in our bedroom? Because you were playing with it earlier.”
Lacey stuck her fingers in her ears. “La la la.”
“Oh, stop,” Gavin laughed, giving her a gentle backhanded smack to her arm.
“We’re supposed to be there already,” Leo reminded them, tapping his watch.
Gavin looked at Lacey with fake exasperation. “He should know he needs to lie to us about what time to be ready.”
“Half-hour buffer, minimum,” Lacey agreed.
Leo rolled his eyes and went to find Gavin’s sword.
Lacey didn’t have butterflies walking into Cranberry Brothers. She had a flock of seagulls angrily fighting over a french fry.
What if Sam’s friends took one look at them and knew they were lying? She knew she’d been doing her best on her end of things to be coy whenever anyone asked her about them, trying to build the suspense, but was Sam doing the same? Did they have enough chemistry to be convincing?
Gavin and Leo peeled off to register for the silent auction, leaving Lacey alone in the crowd. She was tall, even taller in her heels, but she stood on her tiptoes anyway to try and find Sam.
They should have come together. The brewery was crowded with adults in costumes, and she felt stupid wandering around like a kid who’d lost their mom at the grocery store.
Where was he?
Her first lap of the lower level yielded no results. She passed Sam’s group of friends but he wasn’t with them, and she was too nervous to approach them alone. For their part, they either hadn’t seen her or were ignoring her because they didn’t say hi or invite her to join them.
Lacey did a second lap, in case Sam had been in the bathroom. Not a sailor in sight. She fished her phone out of her small shell-shaped bag, easily her greatest thrifting find last week. Service sucked, but what else was new in Crane Cove.
Lacey
Where are you? I can’t find you.
There wasn’t an open seat anywhere, so she wiggled her way up to the bar to order a beer while she waited.
“Can I get a pumpkin ale?” Lacey shouted over the din when she got the attention of a short blonde bartender dressed like Tinkerbell.
“Do you want to add it to Sam’s tab?” Tinkerbell asked when she handed Lacey her beer.
“Um, sure?” She frowned. “Do you know where he went? I lost him in the crowd.”
“He’s probably with Sherlock—Connor. You know Connor, right? Tall, blond, should actually be dressed like a lumberjack? ”
Lacey knew exactly who she was talking about, but Sam hadn’t been near that landmark of a man.
“I’ll, um, find him. Thanks for the beer.”
“I’m Mallory, by the way. You’re Lacey, right? Because if you’re not, I’m going to get in trouble for putting random tall blondes on Sam’s tab.”
“My reputation precedes me.” Lacey toasted Mallory with her beer. “Nice to finally meet you. Wait, do you work at Moonies too?”
“I do!” Mallory smiled brightly at her, a lot more pleasant than the classic Disney fairy. “And occasionally the Crane Hotel. I get around.”
“Mal, I need a little less chatty, a little more serve-y,” Chase McMahon chided as he slipped behind her with a full dish bin for the kitchen.
“Or what? You’re going to hit me with your whip?” Mallory shot back, pointing to the coiled whip at his hip. It was truly the necessary finishing touch on any Indiana Jones costume. And while Chase looked nothing like Harrison Ford, it worked on him.
“Do not tempt me, Mallory.”
“It was nice to finally officially meet you, Lacey.” With a final smile, Mallory moved down the bar to the next patron.
Lacey checked her phone. No reply.
Crane Cove had terrible service. That was a fact. Still, it stung that Sam hadn’t even tried to get in touch yet. Was he not worried about where she was?
Someone bumped her from behind, and beer sloshed out of her glass.
“Oops. Sorry.”
Lacey bit down on a sigh. She knew that voice. Marianne.
She shook spilled beer off her hand and pasted a smile to her face before turning around. “It’s okay. Accidents happen. ”
“Lacey. Wow. You look….wow.” Not a sincere syllable in the lot. It made Lacey nostalgic for drunk, slurring Marianne. At least that person was nice. Ish. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
“Oh, he’s around somewhere. I wanted a beer.” She held up her glass, which was missing the top inch. “Nice costume.”
Marianne was wearing one of the high school cheerleading uniforms. Lacey wondered if she’d borrowed it from a student or if she’d ordered herself one to relive her glory days.
Over Marianne’s left shoulder, Lacey spotted Sam. She’d never been so relieved to see another person in her entire life.
“I’ve got to catch Sam before he disappears again. Have fun!”
Lacey squeezed past Marianne without waiting for her reply, moving through the crowd like a torpedo. She intercepted Sam, planting herself directly in his path so he couldn’t miss her.
“Where have you been?” she hissed through a fake smile.
“Around.”
She wanted to throttle him, but then she caught the movement of his eyes. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Slowly down. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.
Sam’s voice was tight. “Where’d you find that?”
“This?” Lacey ran her finger over a strand of pearls. “I made it.” She took in his outfit. A t-shirt with horizontal navy stripes and navy pants. “I thought you were going to be a sailor.”
“I am a sailor.”
She sighed. This was a fake relationship so she shouldn’t be so disappointed that he’d put in zero effort.
“Aye aye, cap’n,” Lacey said with a mock salute. “Why do you have a tab open at the bar? You don’t drink.”
“I enjoy the occasional root beer.” Sam stuck his hands in his pockets. “So, now what?”
“I don’t know. We mingle, I guess?” Lacey took a sip of her beer. It was subtle, with hints of pumpkin and nutmeg. A small moan of satisfaction escaped. “This is good.”
“I will take your word for it.” Sam looked over his shoulder.
Open mouth, insert foot. Sam was sober, and the constricting guilt physically hurt.
“I’m sorry, does it bother you if I drink? I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“Huh?” Sam turned back to her. “Does it bother me if…No, not at all. As long as you don’t expect me to drink, we don’t have a problem.”
The guilt dissipated like smoke in the wind and was replaced by burgeoning annoyance. All that avalanche of anxiety, and he didn’t even care. Hell, it seemed like he didn’t even care that she was there at all.
“When did you get here?” she asked.
“Um, like twenty minutes ago?” He looked over his shoulder again.
Twenty minutes. She’d been there for probably ten. Sure, they were both late, but Sam didn’t seem the least bit concerned about where she’d been.
Lacey looked over her shoulder at the area where she’d last seen his friends, but when she looked back, Sam was gone.
Normally when Lacey felt like everyone was looking at her, she could convince herself that nobody was and that everyone was too involved with themselves to even notice her. But she knew Marianne would be watching and waiting, so she stood in her place like Sam hadn’t abandoned her and he’d be back soon.
People moved around her like a rock in a river. And like the river, no one paid her any mind. Lacey avoided these kinds of small-town functions because they reminded her of how alone she was in a place where it was hard to hide.
Where was Sam?
Lacey was done waiting. If Sam wanted to run off, she’d be the Coyote to his Roadrunner. The Tom to his Jerry. She couldn’t think of any more examples, but she was going to focus on that while she weaved through the crowd so she wouldn’t lose her temper.
“Excuse me,” she said, trying to squeeze around a small group of men.
“Shiver me timbers, it’s a ho ho ho.” Mitch wrapped a hand around her bicep. He was dressed like a pirate, complete with a stuffed parrot perched on his shoulder. “If you’re nice, I’ll plunder your booty.”
“You’re disgusting,” Lacey snarled as his friends laughed.
“Oooh, little mermaid has her voice. What did you have to do to get that back?”
“Let go of me,” she demanded. Mitch complied.
“Where’s your boyfriend, Lacey?” Mitch looked around the room casually. “Nowhere to be found?”
Her cheeks were so hot someone could have friend an egg on them.
“He’s around.”
“Look.” Mitch leaned in close and dropped his voice. “Whenever you’re ready to drop this stupid act that you’re dating Sam Shoop, I’ll take you back. No questions asked. You really don’t have to go to these lengths?—”
Lacey turned and left. One of the great things she’d learned recently was that she didn’t have to stand and have a conversation she didn’t want to have. She could leave.
She really wanted to leave.
But she didn’t know where Gavin and Leo were, she didn’t know where Sam was, and she didn’t want to walk home in her heels. Plus, she didn’t have a coat. By the time she got home, she’d look like a mermaid that had just washed up on shore.
Stripes.
It was a flash in the corner of her eye, and Lacey’s hand darted out and grabbed the side of the shirt. The wearer turned, startled, and she saw white face paint. A mime. Not a sailor.
“Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
If this was how fake-dating Sam was going to be, she was going to have no problem making the breakup seem believable.