Changing Lanes

by Vining, Season

  I feel like a teenager again—butterflies in my stomach and the hottest guy claiming me as his own. Lane is quiet as we climb higher in the sky. When we reach the top, the ride stops to let more riders on. I look out across the town, seeing just the tiniest sliver of glow along the horizon. Orange and red-leafed trees litter my view and far off to my right, the lake reflects the last bit of light from the sky.

  “It’s so beautiful here,” I say, leaning into Lane. When I turn to him, he is there waiting, his lips only inches from mine.

  “It really is.”

  A gust of cold air blows through and Lane slides his palm along my cheek, tilting my mouth to meet his. This kiss is slow and teasing. His warm hand slips down to my neck where his fingers comb through my hair and gently pull. I moan, the sound is only a vibration between the two of us. Lane’s lips and tongue move with mine and it is like they’ve never belonged to anyone else. I am so lost in the moment, that the sound of applause barely registers. Lane’s mouth pulls into a grin against mine before he tilts his head back and laughs.

  It’s only then that I look around and notice that we’ve made our way to the bottom and have an approving audience, including Marley and Chap. My face grows hot and I tuck it into Lane’s neck to hide while people continue to clap and whistle.

  “Oh my god,” I groan, lifting my head to look Lane in the eyes.

  “Hey, it’s not so bad. This is a small town, we were bound to go public sooner or later.” His hand squeezes my knee and moves up the thigh of my jeans.

  “Still, I’m not into performance art,” I say with a chuckle.

  “That’s a shame. I was planning on ravaging you in the hay maze.”

  “My ex-husband refused to show any signs of affection in public. I guess he kind of trained me to dislike it.”

  “Well, what has been trained can be untrained,” he says, his fingers sliding to my inner thigh, his pinky so close to where I’m aching for him. “But I wouldn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

  I cross my legs, trapping his hand between my thighs and he raises an eyebrow in my direction. I shrug and ignore his silent question. I want his hand to stay there and this is my way of ensuring it does.

  “I still can’t believe your name is Lane. Of all the men in all the towns, I had to find another Lane.”

  “And you,” he says. “Everytime I say your name, all I can think about is Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire, shouting it up at that New Orleans balcony. That scene just stays with you. And it made your name famous.”

  “Can you believe no one has ever done that to me? I’ve been on plenty of balconies and there’s been plenty of opportunity, but nada. I’m a little disappointed with every person I’ve ever known right now.”

  He grins. “Well, I’ve heard all the Lane jokes, so every person I’ve ever known has done their duty.”

  The sky is dark now, so when we arc over the top of the ride again, all I can see is a faint outline of the hills in the distance and dots of lights throughout town. The festival below is so loud and chaotic, but up here, there is a peaceful kind of stillness.

  A rhythmic vibration echoes through our seat and Lane removes himself from me to pull his phone from his back pocket. He eyes the screen, takes a deep breath, and lets out a sigh.

  “Something wrong?” I ask.

  Lane silences the phone and tucks it back into his pocket. “Just work stuff. They hate when I ignore them.”

  “When are you finally going to explain to me what you do for a living?” I lay my head on his shoulder and he pulls me into his side.

  “When you have trouble sleeping and need to be bored to death.”

  I laugh. “Come on, it can’t be that bad.”

  “Not for someone like me, who’s passionate about it. But most people find it quite boring or confusing or mundane. Working with,” he pauses and I feel the muscles in his arm tense, then relax, “numbers—and other people’s money—can be tedious, stressful, and sometimes too much pressure. Everyone expects something from you and if you don’t deliver, then there’s hell to pay.”

  I lift my head and turn to look at his handsome profile. Lane’s expression is serious and solemn. It’s the first time I’ve seen him this tense.

  “Hey,” I say softly, reaching up and swiping my thumb across his frowning lips. “No more talk of work then. I’m sorry I pried.”

  “No worries, babe. Sometimes it all just gets to me. It’s one of the reasons I run—stress relief.” Lane looks down and plants a soft peck on my lips just as the ride stops again.

  “Haven’t you two given enough of a show tonight?” Marley calls out. “Encore! Encore! Encore!” she shouts.

  The ride operator swings the door open and we scoot out just as the crowd joins her in chanting at us. I am mortified, but all I can do is laugh when Lane takes a bow. Everyone breaks into hoots and cheers.

  “Come on, Chap. Let’s leave these two hams to their fans.” I scurry away as fast as my boots can carry me. With the sun completely gone, the temperature has dropped. Wrapping my scarf around my neck and buttoning up my jacket seems to keep me warm enough as I search for a place to escape. I tuck my hands into my pockets, put my head down and make a beeline for the apple cider cart.

  Chap barks and takes off running. “Chap! Come back!” I shout. It’s then I see that he’s found a friend—Lane’s friend, actually—Joshua. “Oh, this can’t be good,” I mumble, but paste a smile on.

  “Hi, Joshua.”

  He stands up after greeting Chap and holds out a hand to shake. “Stella,” he says. “So good to see you again.” Though his words are kind, I feel the tenseness in his tone. His eyes scan our surroundings. “Are you here alone?”

  “No, I—”

  “Joshua!” Marley shouts. He and I groan in unison before sharing a knowing smile. Marley steps up beside me wearing a scheming grin and I want to tell Joshua to just run away, save himself. But I keep quiet. “Fancy running into you here, what with this place being so full of fun—and you being so not.”

  Joshua presses his lips together just as Lane joins us. They greet each other in the standard hand shake, back slap man way before Lane notices that Marley’s already had a go at him.

  “I’ve been known to have my share of fun,” Joshua says.

  “Yes. I’m sure you’re a hit at the molds and spores medical convention, love.”

  “I was just about to get some more cider. Anyone else want some?” I ask, trying to break the tension. The guys nod. I grab Marley by the hand. “Come help me carry.”

  She tries to refuse me at first, but I eventually pull her away. “Why did you do that? You know that’s the first man who’s ever brought me pleasure that didn’t have anything to do with sex?”

  “Yeah. It’s just a shame it has to be at his expense. Would it kill you to be nice?”

  “Oh, go on. It’s just a bit of fun.” I order four ciders and shake my head when the man in the booth shows me his flask again. “Damn shame too. He’s so hot. Can you imagine? I bet he’s not even up for it. Would be like shagging a robot.”

  “You are such a drama llama,” I say, paying the man and grabbing two of the drinks. “Get those two and come on.”

  Marley takes the cups and follows, muttering the whole way. “Llama? Why a llama? Are they famously dramatic or is it only because they happen to rhyme with the word drama? I don’t get you sometimes.”

  “Here you go, boys,” I say, handing one cider to Lane and the other to Joshua. I turn and take one off of Marley’s hands and we all sip in silence for a minute. “We were just gonna take a look at the games, you guys want to join?”

  “Sure,” Lane says immediately. After a few seconds, Joshua nods—whether it’s in agreement or defeat, I’m not sure.

  The four of us wander down the fairway. Lane and I share looks as we place ourselves between Marley and Joshua.

  “So, Josh. Give anymore thought to that whole flat Earth thing?” Marley asks, her lip
s pressed against the edge of her cup in a grin. “I swear, after Australia, you just fall off the edge. I’ve seen it.”

  Joshua sighs and shakes his head. “I know you don’t believe the Earth is flat,” he says. “You just find my frustration entertaining.”

  “Well, if you’d loosen up a bit I could show you other things that are equally entertaining.”

  Joshua chokes on his cider, coughing and sputtering as Lane slaps him on the back.

  “You okay?” Lane asks.

  “I’m fine,” he says, shooting a glance Marley’s way that says there may be something more to this battle between them.

  We pass the ring toss game, the darts, and the impossible task of landing a ping pong ball in a sea of tiny fish bowls. It’s then I see it, the mother of all prizes.

  “It’s a giant corgi!” I squeal, running over and pointing to the stuffed animals hanging from the roof of the booth. “I need it.” I turn to the lady running the game. She’s covered in tattoos and has at least four piercings in her face. She is completely unimpressed with me and my enthusiasm. “How do I win that?”

  “It’s a horse race. You’ve gotta shoot this here water pistol at the target. The more accurate you are, the faster your little horse will run toward the finish line. You’ve got to win three races in a row for the big prize. It’s two dollars per race for each player. And we don’t play until all my seats are filled.”

  Chap lays at Lane’s feet and rests his head on the ground. “Look, Chap! It’s you.” He doesn’t move or acknowledge me at all. Marley, Lane, and Joshua all watch with amusement, but they don’t indulge me. “Come on, guys!”

  Lane finally caves. “Okay,” he says. “If we all play, there’s only one more seat to fill. If we slack off, then she’s only got to beat the extra person. I’ll fund this little endeavor.” He pulls a $50 bill from his wallet and hands it over. “Marley, you’re in charge of filling that seat.”

  I bounce on my toes and clap my hands. I know I’m 38 years old and it’s just a stuffed animal, but the amount of joy I feel right now thinking about owning that giant corgi is immeasurable.

  “Can’t we just buy the dog?” Marley asks the girl behind the counter.

  “Nope. Rules are the prizes have to be won,” the girl deadpans. “Or I’d lose my job. Be out on the streets. Selling my body for money. Someone will have to call my mother and report Lindsey Durnin of Toronto missing. Do you really want that on your conscience?”

  Marley chuckles and looks at the rest of us. “I like her.” With that, she sets to chatting up every person that passes by. After a couple of failed attempts, Marley convinces a young girl to play. She pays her two dollars and everyone is ready to go.

  I grab my pistol and aim it at the small red dot. A loud bell rings and water starts streaming out of our guns. I don’t know what everyone else is doing because I’m concentrating so hard on my target. Lindsey’s monotone voice carries over the microphone as she announces the race.

  “And we’re off,” she says. “Horse One, Crazy for Corgi, takes an early lead, while Hot AF, Nerd Pants, and Sassy Brit stall out at the starting line. Horse Five, Unicorn Sprinkles, is coming up quick on Crazy nearly closing the gap. Meanwhile, the other three horses seem to have fallen asleep. Here comes Unicorn Sprinkles hot in the lane,” she continues, her voice finally showing enthusiasm. “But it looks like Crazy for Corgi wins.”

  The bell sounds again and we all celebrate. The kid gets up from her seat and pulls the hood of her jacket over her head before stomping away.

  “One down, two to go,” I say to Lane. He gives me a grin, which I can’t help but match. I win the next race too, when Marley convinces the pastor of a local church to join us. He nearly takes me at the end, but I hold out for the victory. My three friends aren’t even pretending to play, they just sit and cheer me on like I’m competing for the Olympics or something.

  While Marley works the crowd for our third round, Joshua is busy checking his phone. Lane turns toward me and scoots to the edge of his stool. He grabs my waist and twists, so that my knees are between his. His hands slowly slide down over my hips to my thighs and stop there.

  “I love your hands on me,” I admit.

  “I love having my hands on you,” Lane answers. “I also love how excited you are about this game. You’re full of surprises, Stella. So much fun.”

  “Well, my ex didn’t seem to think so. Of course, that’s because I never wanted to do what he wanted to do, like go hunting or watch NASCAR for hours on end.”

  “What the hell does he know anyway?” Lane asks. His lips meet mine in the space between us and I want to devour him. But the memory of our cheering crowd earlier makes me keep it chaste.

  “I’d say just about all he knows now is that crossing me will get you an empty bank account and a hidden dead fish in the backseat of your truck.”

  Lane’s eyes go wide. “All that, huh?”

  “That’s just the stuff I’ll admit to.”

  Marley finally convinces a teenage boy to play. I can hear her obvious flirting from here as she coaxes him into the spot beside her. The boy hands over his two dollars and we are back in race mode. I grip the gun and point it at the target. The bell rings and my horse takes off.

  “This is the big one, everybody, for all the glory,” Lindsey announces. “And it looks like Crazy for Corgi has some stiff,” she pauses to laugh at her own joke, “competition in Puberty Sucks.” I glance up to see our horses are neck and neck.

  “Shit,” I groan, but return my focus to the target.

  “Crazy pulls ahead, but then Puberty is coming up the rear.” At this point Lindsey and everyone else cracks up. I try to keep my focus. When she finally gets her breath back, Lindsey continues. “It’s neck and neck folks, going to be a close one.”

  “Hey kid, want to see my tits?” Marley shouts.

  “Puberty Sucks falls for a booby trap and Crazy for Corgi wins again!” Lindsey yells as the bell rings.

  I exhale in relief and look over to find Marley with her shirt pulled up, facing the boy. He stares, unblinking, his water gun forgotten. A few other passerbys have stopped for the peep show as well, one woman covering her child’s eyes and dragging him away. I laugh when Marley lowers her shirt and our competitor snaps out of his trance.

  Jumping from my chair, I do a little shimmy as Lindsey hands over the oversized plush dog. I can barely wrap my arms around it, but I refuse to let go.

  The teenager stands and points. “You cheated.”

  Marley leans in, a hand on his shoulder, and whispers, “But wasn’t it worth it, love?” A grin spreads across his face before he nods and turns to go. “Congrats, Stella. Don’t say I never did anything for you, mate. That was pure sacrifice.”

  Joshua stands, his face still appearing shocked and somewhat appalled by Marley’s actions. Still, he congratulates me and pats my prize on the head.

  Lane wraps his arms around me and the stuffed corgi, placing a kiss on my cheek. “Now that you’ve won the largest prize at the festival, what are you going to do?”

  I smile up at him. “Go home, take a hot bubble bath, and curl up with my prize.”

  He places a hand over his heart and makes a pained expression. “I’ve never wanted to be an inanimate object more than this very moment.”

  “What are you talking about? I never said I’d be alone.”

  12

  “OH,” BECCA SAYS, as I round the front counter and clock in. “I decided we needed a bit of a uniform.”

  Internally, I groan at the idea of a uniform. The first thing that comes to mind is polo shirts and khaki pants for some reason. Since I’m already not a passenger on the fashion train, I feel like this could condemn me for good.

  “Ta daaaaaa!” she says, holding up a dark green apron with Grace Books embroidered on the front. It’s got a tie for around the waist and two pockets in the front.

  Relieved, I take it from her, tossing it over my head and tying it on. I move my nam
etag from my shirt to the apron and give Becca my best model pose.

  “Well, how does it look?” I ask.

  “I love it,” she says, patting me on the shoulder. “And you can use the pockets to hold labels and pens, or condoms for the next time you and Lane devirginize my storage room.”

  I gasp in mock horror. “Jealousy is not a pretty color on you.”

  Becca laughs and pulls something from under the counter. “All that sass and I have a gift.” She hands over a new Alaina Taylor novel, The Gamble, with a satisfied grin.

  I squeal and snatch it out of her hands, pressing it to my chest in a book to person hug. “Oh my god. I can’t believe it’s here,” I say. I scan the cover and take in the gorgeous man wearing an expensive, fitted suit and flashy cufflinks at the end of a craps table. He’s all chiseled jaw and piercing eyes and I can’t wait to dive in. Flipping through the first few pages, my breath catches in my throat when I spot my name scrawled at the top of the title page.

  “Stella, always bet on love. Xoxo, Alaina Taylor.” I read aloud.

  I exhale in a kind of crazy sounding laugh and feel so overwhelmed. I close the book, check out the cover again, and flip back to my autographed page. “This is unreal. Can I take the day off to read?”

  “Nope,” she says. My excitement wanes, but my smile is constant. “But I don’t mind if you sneak in a bit of reading if we’re slow.”

  Flipping to the back of the book, I study Alaina’s photo and try to memorize her features. I wrack my brain to try and remember if I’ve seen her around town at all, but come up empty. “Thank you so much, Becca. This means the world to me. I’ll be the best employee you’ve ever had, I swear. I owe you big for this.”

  “Nonsense,” she says, leaving the front counter and heading to her office. “You’re already the best employee I‘ve ever had. That’s thanks enough.” She waves a hand in my direction, dismissing me and I know that our conversation is done.