Chapter 1

Jarryd

Lights sparkled among the tents, and the scent of buttered popcorn drifted out of the entrance to the Moondance Fairgrounds, accompanied by low chatter and the tinkle of music from a carousel.

“You OK, man?” Luke asked, elbowing me. My buddy, a Clark Gable look-alike without the mustache, wore concern like a badge.

“I’m fine,” I replied and took another swig of beer. “If you looked up ‘fine’ in a dictionary you’d find my picture right underneath it.”

FINE: Jarryd Tombs, 6’4”, dark hair, that hooked nose, bulky as hell and busting out of a suit. See also: HEARTBROKEN.

“There aren’t pictures in dictionaries, Jarryd,” Luke replied.

“You see? This is why I need you around, bud. You’ve always got the inside edge. The information that sets me apart from the other actors.”

“Smartass.” Luke cuffed me on the shoulder, and a bit of beer splashed from my can.

“Now look what you made me do. How am I s’posed to drown my sorrows if you make me spill it?” I forced a half-smile—I couldn’t produce any other kind right now.

“Here, you hold the others. I’ll pay the entry fee.” Luke nodded to the tiny stall nearby and handed me the pack of beers.

I swung the Bud Lights back and forth as we approached the entrance to the fairgrounds, drawn on by the promise of one huge-ass bag of popcorn. “Extra butter,” I muttered.

“What’s that?”

“I said ‘extra butter.’” I didn’t make any sense. but I was allowed this, for once. Tonight, I didn’t have to have it together. Work wasn’t on the agenda. All I had ahead of me was a long night of melancholy, food, and beer.

“Hello? Anybody in there?” Luke tapped on the window in the stall.

“Just a sec.” A scraping, the sound of zipper—what the hell?—and finally, a guy, thin as a rake and sporting a pair of wireframe glasses, scooted around the side of the stall, tugging on his pants. “Hey, there. You want in?”

“Depends on what you mean by that,” I said.

Luke waved me to quiet. “Yes, we want two tickets, please.”

“Two tickets.” The stall guy opened the door then then paused and scanned me. “You look familiar.”

“I’m nobody,” I replied and stifled a beer burp. “An illusion.”

“Is he drunk?” Stall Guy asked. “He looks a little –”

“Just tipsy.”

“Then I can’t let you in, sorry. No alcohol allowed on the property.”

“This isn’t alcohol,” I replied, lifting the Bud Light. “It’s elixir. The stuff of the gods. This is the lifeblood of the ancients.”

“Uhhh.”

Luke rolled his eyes at me. “Actors,” he muttered. “What if we lose the beer?”

“I did not agree to that,” I said.

The forest and the nearby entry to what looked to be an RV Park hazed slightly. Sharp air and those smells. Man, I needed to go on a ride or something, make myself forget.

It shouldn’t be this difficult to get over a woman. People did this every damn day. Shit, that’s a depressing thought. How many people in the world are heartbroken, right now?

“Cut us some slack?” I caught the tail end of Luke’s question.

“I don’t know, man.”

“Look, we’ll leave the beers out here. We’re not that drunk. I’ll pay double for the tickets if I have to.”

Stall Guy wriggled his nose, scratched it.

“This is a special circumstance, you see,” Luke said and lowered his voice. He cast a furtive glance in my direction. “My man here, he’s lost his fiancée.”

“No shit,” Stall Guy said and didn’t sound too bothered.

“He walked in on her with another—”

“That’s enough,” I said, a whip-crack command. “No need to spread it to the locals, Luke.” This was supposed to be a low-key visit to Moondance, and to the fairgrounds.

“All right. I guess I can let you in.” Stall Guy eyed the beers. “But you’ll have to, uh, leave those with me. I’ll confiscate them, yeah.”

Confiscate. Another word in the dictionary, this one with the note See: Drink Greedily underneath it.

“Fine, that’s fine,” Luke said.

We shuffled to the front, while Stall Guy darted inside, opened the window, and clicked on a tiny light inside. It cast weird shadows down his nose. Kind of made him look like an oversized rat.

“Here you go,” he said, handing over the tickets and taking Luke’s cash. He accepted the beers from me then then did a double take. “Wait a second, you’re that guy. You’re that actor. What’s his name?”

“Jarryd Tombs,” Luke said, proudly.

“Nobody. I’m nobody. Like I said, I’m an illusion.” We took our tickets and wandered inside. I made a beeline for the popcorn stall and purchased two massive bags.

The girl beside the machine grinned at me. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” She tipped a striped cap to one side. “Aren’t you Jarryd Tombs?”

“Yes,” I replied. Much good that it’d done me. Jarryd Tombs, the workaholic actor who’d been engaged to the hottest A-list celebrity in Hollywood. And then you found her fucking someone else.

How long was this weird ache in my chest supposed to last? It’d been two weeks, for god’s sake.

“That’s—wow. It’s so nice to meet you,” the girl gushed, pink-cheeked. She had to be around sixteen years old, with dark brown hair and doe eyes. I’d seen this look hundreds of times. It meant one thing only. “I’m a huge fan. Look, I know you’re here to enjoy yourself, but I wondered if maybe—uh, could I maybe have an autograph?”

“He’s not doing that tonight,” Luke said, firmly.

“No, that’s OK.” I patted my buddy on the shoulder. “I’d be happy to give you one. What’s your name?”

“Felicity,” she said.

Thunk. A stone weight dropped in my stomach. Felicity. The same name as my ex.

“Are you OK? You’ve gone pale.” The girl gave Luke the bags of popcorn and wiped her hands down the front of her striped uniform.

“Fine,” I said. “Do you have a pen?”

“Right here.” She scooped up a pen, the end all chewed up in classic teenager style, and an empty popcorn bag. “Thank you so much!”

“Dear Felicity,” I said, as I wrote out the words, gritting my teeth. “Keep working hard and you’ll achieve your wildest dreams. Love, Jarryd Tombs.”

“Oh, wow.” She took it, reverent. “Wow, wow, wow. Thank you so much. That’s such a nice thing to say. Best autograph ever. My sister’s going to be so jealous! She skipped out on working tonight.”

“It’s my pleasure,” I replied then then glanced around the grounds. “It’s pretty quiet around here. People don’t like fairs?”

“Oh, it’s late, and there are clouds gathering, see? We usually shut earlier on storm days. Most of the stalls are closing up at the moment,” the girl said.

“Is there anything we can do—anything still open?” Luke asked and shoveled a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

I took my bag from him and did the same. “Oh man, this is good,” I said.

“Well, hmm.” Felicity pouted her lips. “The carousel’s still going, but, uh, you might be a little big for that.”

I pictured myself on a carousel horse and managed a chuckle. “What else?”

“What about the Ferris wheel?” Luke asked.

“Already closed, sorry. But there’s a new tent out here.” The girl’s eyes lit up. “I’ve been meaning to go myself. Look there, see, the velvety one? It’s the fortune-teller’s tent.”

“A fortune-teller,” I said, flatly. I’d never bought into that type of thing.

“That’s right. The woman in there is such a sweetheart,” Felicity said. “She read my palm the other day, for fun while she was waiting for her popcorn, and she was so nice about it. And pretty, too.”

“A fortune-teller, eh?” Luke asked. “That’s interesting. Don’t you think that’s interesting, Jarryd?”

“Not particularly.”

“You have to try it,” the girl said. “You’ll like it. And her. She’s so nice.”

I didn’t see myself liking any woman for a long time, not romantically. Ridiculous. That’s not what the kid means. The fortune-teller is probably in her sixties.

“Come on, Jay, do it,” Luke said. “Get out of your comfort zone for once. Maybe she’ll tell you your future.”

I eyed the velvety tent, shrouded in mystery. A purple-lettered sign planted in the ground outside read: Mistress Mystery.

“You won’t regret it,” the teenager said.

I hedged. What harm could it do? Shit, it might even be fun, interesting, and the tent itself gave off an atmosphere of mystery. Candlelight flickered within, and the tent’s flap hung slightly open, providing a glimpse of its interior—a collection of crystals, a bookshelf, and a shadow that shifted along the wall. The silhouette of curvy woman.

“I’ll try it,” I said.

“Have fun,” Luke replied.

“You’re not getting yours done?”

“Nah, I already see my future. A warm bed and a hangover in the morning.” He paused and looked up at the gathering storm clouds. “Besides, you know how I am about storms. You go on ahead, Jay. I’m going to hit the hay. Tell me about it tomorrow, all right?”

I shrugged.

In the distance, thunder rolled, and a cold wind picked up and buffeted the outside of the tent, tugging at my suit jacket. I didn’t look back but hunched over and entered the tent, immersing myself in the scent of flowery incense and something else. Something illusive.

I halted just inside.

A woman with long, raven curls swaying past her shoulders, stood within, back to me. She wore a silken blouse, just transparent enough to hint at the curves beneath it, and a long skirt that swayed each time she moved her ample hips. This was her? This was the fortune-teller?

Damn, I’d come to the right place after all.