Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 133682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
44
KANGAROO COURT
Wilder
Make no mistake, I can bluff. Have done it plenty of times in business, in countless negotiations.
The second those nasty words fly from Brady’s mouth, I’m ready to deny them and armed with the truth. The evidence too. Fable’s hand in mine, our upcoming date, our very real and very true romance.
But there’s my friend’s wedding, and I don’t want to pull attention from the bride and groom, so I call out in a calm, clear voice, “Enough, Brady. Your cousin’s getting married tomorrow. Let’s talk privately.”
Brady’s fired up and he points like an accuser in a kangaroo court. “You are not a man of your word,” he shouts into his megaphone, letting the whole damn town know.
The mayor clears his throat and climbs the steps, his hands splayed in front of him as if he’s trying to cool this hothead down. “Now, this is best handled privately, young man.”
The sheriff’s heading up the stairs too. “We don’t air our problems in the town square,” Hardick admonishes.
“But maybe you should,” Brady says to him, holding the megaphone above his head, playing keep-away as he moves farther from the pair and speaks into the megaphone again. “Because I competed here in these games in this beloved town. Because I was invited. By that man.” He points at me. “At Thanksgiving. He offered me a chance to pitch him on my business as a stockbroker, my small business, if I won the caroling competition in this lovely town. And I worked hard. So hard. I sang. I practiced. I worked, like all of you hard-working people.” The lies roll off his tongue. Next to me, Fable covers her mouth, clearly mortified at the traffic wreck of her ex on stage. Brady addresses the gathered crowd again, who can’t stop rubbernecking. Why would they? It’s a show, and half the crowd has their phones out, recording it.
“But it was all a trick. Because he said today, he wouldn’t give me that chance I fought for. Why? Because Wilder Blaine likes to trick people. All of us regular people. And ask yourself—if he’d lie to me, if he’d invent a girlfriend during Christmastime, for Rudolph’s sake, how might he be tricking all of you?”
I’d like to rush the stage and tackle the fucker. But that won’t get me anywhere but thrown into jail. I squeeze Fable’s hand tighter. “I’m sorry,” I whisper to her. Then louder, to everyone, I say, “Nothing is fake. I assure you. It’s all real with Fable.” Then to Brady, I try once more. “Let’s discuss this like gentlemen in—”
“No. We’ll discuss it here. How about we have a competition? A new contest in the Evergreen Falls games. We can let everyone decide if you’re a liar!”
Holy shit. Someone is unhinged.
Nearby, Aurora stares at the stage, like she’s unable to look away. The man who runs the North Pole Nook is caught in the tractor beam of Brady’s rant. The three lumberjacks wince, their collective expressions saying better you than me. A few feet away, my best friend stands next his bride-to-be, studying me like he hardly knows me.
Aww shit. Did I mess up by not telling him, after all? Should I have shared the truth about the fake romance and his cousin?
Meanwhile, Fable’s dad is munching on a box of popcorn, popping kernels in his mouth and muttering delightedly, “This day just got better.”
Fable’s eyes flood with regret. She looks so miserable, and this is my fault. But I can’t let Brady ruin this day, this season, this wedding tomorrow. So I won’t stoop to his level. I won’t tell the town he had his dick sucked at my aunt’s house on Thanksgiving. I won’t ruin Leo’s relationship with a family member, even a jackass.
I try again with reason. “Brady, I appreciate that you’re frustrated, but Fable and I are together.” I lift our joined hands like that proves a point. “We’re here together. We’ve been together for a while, and we’ll be together after this.”
Fable shouts angrily at her ex, “We have a date for New Year’s Eve, and he has more manners in his right toe than you will ever have, and he treats me like I matter and like he cares, and he doesn’t—”
“That date?” Brady’s eyes flicker with vengeful delight as he cuts her off with his megaphone. “Let’s talk about that date.”
My hackles rise. What the hell? “I don’t think that’s necessary. Let’s stop this now and discuss it privately.”
“Nope,” he says, popping the word. “Let’s discuss your dates here. Why are you faking it? Because I won the singing competition fair and square?”
My god, he’s as myopic as he is detestable. “This is not a public matter.”
“Brady, that’s enough,” Leo calls out, his tone crisp and firm. He’s clearly done with these shenanigans.