Well Played

by Jen DeLuca

  It was the best date I’d been on in years.

  * * *

  • • •

  The next morning, while I was bustling around getting ready for day two of Faire, my phone buzzed from where it was charging on my kitchen counter. I nudged Benedick away from my cream cheese–covered bagel on the way to my phone.

  “Not yours,” I chided. But my annoyance at the cat trying to steal my breakfast faded as I picked up my phone.

  Good morning! Thanks for coming over last night.

  I licked cream cheese off my thumb before typing a response. Feed me lo mein and I’m yours forever.

  Is that all it takes? Score.

  I grinned around another sip of coffee. Just leave the sweet-and-sour where it belongs next time. In the trash.

  That got me a couple laughing emojis in response. Well, the guys appreciated it when they got back from the bars, so I got to be a provider for everyone last night.

  Lucky you. But bringing the rest of the band into the conversation brought Dex into the room, into our burgeoning relationship, and I didn’t like the way that made me feel. I wasn’t the kind of person who regretted much. My philosophy was more “What’s done is done, let’s move on.” But for the first time in my life, I wished I’d never hooked up with Dex. Because what was happening with Daniel felt so much more real, so much more substantial that I didn’t want the memory of my fling with his cousin getting in the way.

  So I changed the subject. Are we back to this now? Words on a screen?

  I don’t think I’d say we’re *back* to this. How about “in addition.” Because I love your words on my screen, and I don’t know that I’d want to give them up.

  Fair enough, I texted back. I love your words on my screen too. The words looked intimate when I typed them out, like a confession. I reminded myself not to read too much into it. He wasn’t saying he loved me, he was saying he loved our exchanges. Our communication. There was a difference, and it was far too soon for anything deeper.

  Or was it? Another text from him popped up on my phone while I was thinking. But here’s the great thing. Not only are we texting good morning, but I also get to see you. In person. It’s like a dream come true.

  Whew. So much for not reading too much into it. I like your dreams, I typed. My eyes flicked up to the top of my screen, and I yelped. Speaking of seeing me, I need to get going if I’m going to be on time. Who was I kidding? Being on time was already out of the question. Time to shoot for not being embarrassingly late. I let my phone clatter to the table as I abandoned the last few bites of my bagel, much to Benedick’s delight, to finish getting ready for the day. I grabbed the outer layers of my costume and dashed out the door in little more than my chemise and my boots. I could finish getting dressed at the Hollow.

  The good thing about having worked at this Faire since almost the beginning was that putting on the outer layers of my costume was second nature to me. I was ready in a flash, and right when I’d started looking for Emily to cinch me into my corset, she was looking for me for the same reason.

  “You know, I was thinking,” Emily said.

  “Thinking what? Ooof!” A sharp tug on the corset strings from Emily had me almost losing my balance, and I groped in front of me for one of the posts that held up the stage’s canopy, much like Scarlett O’Hara holding on to the bedpost. “Warn a girl, will you?”

  “Sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry. “How long have you had this outfit, anyway?”

  I shrugged, bracing myself as Emily tugged again. “A few years. Why?”

  “Well, I was thinking we should go shopping this morning.”

  “This morning?” I looked over my shoulder at her. “We kind of have a Ren Faire to work, remember? Besides, I’m not going to the mall dressed like this.”

  “Funny.” She gave my strings a sharp tug, more in rebuke than anything else. “I meant here, before the gates open. I just . . .” There were a few more small tugs as she evened everything up and tied the strings off. Then she sighed. “You were right. We were going to plan new costumes together. And I went and did it without you. I’m so sorry.” She sounded on the verge of tears, as if she thought she’d betrayed our friendship, and that broke my heart.

  “Oh, Em. That’s okay.” And it was. Sure, I’d felt a little stab of hurt yesterday, but in the grand scheme of things it was no big deal. We both had a lot going on. Weddings and long-distance maybe-relationships. And since I’d spent the better part of last night snuggled against Daniel watching bad television, it would have taken a lot to upset me today.

  But it still meant something that she wanted to make it up to me. I looked down at my ensemble, really studying it as I adjusted the way my chemise lay under the corset. The movements were automatic after spending so many summers adjusting the same outfit. Maybe Emily had a point. And far be it from me to discourage someone who wanted to go shopping. I looked back up at her, her eyebrows raised in a question, and I grinned at her. “Let’s go shopping.”

  “Yay!” She grabbed my arm and we slipped away from the rest of the cast, still getting dressed and ready for the day, and hurried up the hill to the vendors. They were already set up, after all, and wouldn’t mind making an early sale.

  “What do you think?” Emily took a blue flowing underdress off the rack and held it up to me.

  I shook my head. “With my hair? I’d look like Alice on her way to Wonderland.”

  “Good point.” She replaced the dress and started hunting through the rack. “Who do you want to be?”

  I had to laugh. “That’s the question, isn’t it?” But my hand went to my belt pouch, and I drew out the dragonfly necklace I’d bought the summer before. There was my answer. I wanted to wear something that was deserving of the sparkle in that dragonfly’s eyes. Something that matched the thrill I’d felt yesterday when Daniel had kissed me. “Something to match this.”

  Emily’s smile widened. Maybe she remembered the moment I’d bought it too. “Good call.” She stuck the blue dress back on the rack and rummaged around, while I moved to look at corsets. There were ones in all different sizes and shapes, underbust and overbust styles, as well as simple waist cinchers. I dismissed the cinchers and underbust corsets out of hand: not enough support. I had far too much bosom to go braless, and if I was going to cinch myself into a corset, I shouldn’t have to deal with underwires too. That was just cruel.

  “Here you go.” Emily was back with another dress, and as soon as I saw it, I knew it was a winner. Flowing, gauzy fabric in a color that could only be described as marigold: bright orangey-yellow that would make me look like a blazing sunset come to life. I looked from the dress back to the display of corsets, and reached immediately for a green and brown brocade bodice that was a similar shape to the one I’d stuck Emily in her first couple seasons at Faire. Perfect.

  “No,” Emily said. “Are you sure about that?” She looked disappointed by my choice. “You wear greens and browns now. Isn’t this about getting you something different?”

  “This is different,” I said. I reached behind me for my corset strings and pulled, undoing all the hard work Emily had done just a few minutes ago. “You’ll see. I know what I’m doing.” I took the dress from her and the vendor showed me back to the dressing area, a little space roped off and draped with fabric. On the way I grabbed an overskirt in a matching brown.

  “No!” Emily howled. “Come on! I picked out that gorgeous dress and you’re just going to cover it up with brown!”

  “Oh my God, will you just trust me for five minutes?” I laughed all the way to the dressing area, and once inside I shimmied out of my longtime tavern wench outfit and pulled the sunburst-colored dress over my head. Skirt next, then I shrugged into the bodice and started the work of lacing it up. It was so much easier wearing a costume that laced up the front. I should have done this years ago.

  While I was ge
tting dressed, the vendor and Emily were making small talk on the other side of the curtain.

  “Wedding’s coming up soon now, isn’t it?”

  “Yep!” Emily’s voice was high and chirpy, a sign that nerves were taking over. “A week from today.”

  “And everyone’s okay with the wedding day being on Sunday? I mean, obviously it works best for all of us, but your family and everyone? It’s not the most conventional day for a wedding.”

  “I’m getting married at a Renaissance faire,” Emily said. “I think conventional left the building a long time ago.”

  I had the bodice laced up; now I bent over to adjust everything before I gave it a final tightening up. “Has Simon told you where you’re going on your honeymoon yet?” I tossed the question over the curtain in an effort to change the subject. Maybe reminding her that all of this planning came with a nice vacation at the end would help.

  It didn’t help. “Nope!” The chirpiness in her voice only increased. “All I know is that we’re leaving right after the last day of Faire. He said he’ll tell me what to pack a couple days in advance.”

  “Wow. That must be killing you.” I tied off the bodice and ran my hands down my sides. The elaborate brocade felt downright decadent after so many years of wearing simple tavern wench clothes.

  “You have no idea.” Emily sighed. “But I’m trying to be chill about it, let Simon have his fun.”

  “That’s awfully nice of you.” I refastened my brown leather belt around my waist and tied the dragonfly around my neck. “I know how much you like to . . . Wait a second.”

  “What?”

  I pushed the curtain open to glare at her. I wanted to cross my arms over my chest, but the bodice had hiked up the girls sufficiently enough that they were an obstacle. I settled for putting my hands on my hips. “I’m a project, aren’t I?”

  Emily’s eyes went wide. “Holy crap, Stace. That looks amazing. You’re right, I’ll trust you in all wardrobe-related decisions from now on.”

  “Don’t change the subject.” I pointed a finger at her in accusation, but I was smiling too much to look truly angry.

  “What do you mean?” Her brow furrowed. “A . . . a project?”

  “That’s what I said. The wedding’s all planned. You’ve already rearranged the tavern for the summer, so you don’t have anything left to fix up. Except me.” I gestured down at my outfit. “So here you are, fixing me.”

  “No,” Emily said. “That’s silly. Why would I . . .” But she closed her mouth with a snap, her eyes wide as realization took hold. “Well, hell. I made you into a project, didn’t I?”

  “Sure did.” But as I turned to the full-length mirror, I realized that I didn’t care. I looked great. The brown overskirt made the green in the bodice pop, and once I’d gathered it up on the sides, the marigold in the underdress practically blazed to life against the green and brown. The whole thing looked like the sun setting behind the trees, just the way I’d pictured it in my head.

  Behind me in the mirror, Emily smiled. “You look like a wood nymph.”

  I made a noncommittal hmm at that and turned to look at my reflection from the side. Bodices didn’t pull in quite as much as corsets, so my shape in this new outfit was a little different. “Do nymphs come this round?”

  “If they’re in a Rubens painting, they do.” Her smile widened at me in the mirror, and I had to laugh. “We should get you a pair of wings.”

  “Ooh, yes,” said the vendor. She pointed down the lane. “About two spaces down that way, I saw yesterday that she was selling wings. You’d look great.”

  I shook my head with a laugh. “I’d take someone’s eye out.” But I liked this outfit. Emily was right; I did look like a wood nymph. Which was fitting, considering how much I loved spending time in these woods every year. This was definitely an outfit worthy of the dragonfly.

  I paid for my new outfit while the vendor bundled up my old wench’s clothes and promised to keep them until closing gate. I felt lighter as I started my day, as though I really had donned the wings that Emily had suggested.

  We split up to check on our taverns; while Emily peeled off to the tavern by the chess field, I headed up the lane to where the food court section was, to the auxiliary tavern we’d set up last summer. They’d just about finished setting up when I got there, and I was immediately waved away. It was odd to not be needed, and as I turned to go back down the lane again, I realized I didn’t have anywhere to be. It was an unsettling feeling. The front gates had just opened, and I put on my best smile as I greeted patrons, addressing them as lords and ladies and directing them to the shows that started the earliest. It didn’t take long for my smile to feel like the real thing, and for the joy of the day to fully take hold. I was in the woods, after all, and it was Faire season. And I had someone I wanted to say good morning to.

  The glade in front of the Marlowe Stage was quiet, since the Dueling Kilts’ first set wasn’t for another hour or so. I’d picked my way halfway across the rows of empty benches before I noticed Dex, perched center stage on a stool, tuning an acoustic guitar. He was talking to Daniel, who was sitting on the lip of the low stage, his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. I stopped short when I saw them. Dex and I still hadn’t exchanged one word yet this summer, and I wasn’t sure what to say to him. Obviously our yearly hookup wasn’t going to happen. Did he know that already? Did he know about Daniel and me? Did he care?

  Both men looked up as I approached, and I squared my shoulders. Too late to run away now. Time to face the MacLeans.

  Fifteen

  Hey.” Daniel’s voice was a cool drink of water on a summer’s day. I felt better the moment he spoke. I looked from him to Dex. How had it taken me so long to realize who had really been writing to me? Now that I knew the truth it seemed ludicrous that I’d ever thought otherwise.

  Dex nodded at me. “Stace. What’s up?” He got up from his stool and gave me a quick up-and-down appraisal. “You look different. Change your hair?”

  Daniel’s snort was barely audible, and as his eyes met mine, I pressed my lips together to hide my smile. “She changed her whole costume.” His gaze roamed over me, from my pinned-up hair to my long, full skirts. I basked in his appreciative look like a flower soaking up the summer sun.

  “Oh.” Dex shrugged, clearly losing interest in the conversation. Probably because it wasn’t about him. “Looks good.” The words were a compliment, but there wasn’t a lot of power behind them. He held the guitar by its neck, letting it dangle carelessly. He was comfortable with the instrument, treating it as an extension of his arm. “Where the hell is Freddy, anyway? He’s late.”

  “Getting his drums out of the truck. Todd’s with him.” Daniel looked away from me and frowned as he checked his phone. “They’re not late yet. Not technically. They should be here in a sec.”

  Dex shrugged again. “I’ll go find them.” He handed the guitar to Daniel.

  “Make sure you call him Freddy a few more times. You know he loves that.”

  Dex hopped down off the stage, and without another word to either of us, he was gone. I watched him leave, amazed. This time last year I’d lusted after that man with every fiber of my being. Now, while I could still appreciate him in an aesthetic sense, none of my fibers wanted anything to do with him.

  Instead I turned back to Daniel, and all those fibers went on alert, saying, Yes. We want this one. Before I could speak he spoke first, his nod a little more formal, in keeping with the setting. “Milady Beatrice. Good morrow.” His accent wasn’t bad, but then again the man lived at Renaissance faires. It was to be expected.

  “Good morrow, sir.” I bobbed a little curtsy at him and we shared a warm smile, a place made just for the two of us. “So,” I said. “Freddy?”

  He rolled his eyes as he stowed his phone in his back pocket. “Frederick. Dex’s baby
brother. He plays the hand drum and is never, ever on time. Also, he absolutely hates being called Freddy.”

  “So Dex does it as much as possible.” I nodded sagely.

  “Exactly.” He squinted down at me. “Are you sure you’re an only child? You seem to have a good grasp of sibling dynamics.”

  “Just me, as far as I know.” I grinned back, but something about my voice felt hollow. Like we were making awkward small talk.

  His gaze roamed over me, that peaceful smile still on his face. “Sorry,” he said after a second. He took my hand, threading our fingers together. “It’s just so nice to see you. And to talk to you in person, instead of typing out the things I want to say.”

  I laughed because I’d been thinking much the same thing. “It’s weird, though, right? I worry that I don’t sound smart enough in person. When I’m sending you an email I have time to think about what I want to say, as opposed to just babbling. You can’t backspace conversation.” And here I was babbling, proving my point.

  “Well, if it makes you feel better, we can go back to that.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and waved it at me for emphasis. “We can stand here and text each other.”

  “Nope.” I wagged a finger at him. “No phones at Faire, remember? Simon would have my head if I pulled out a phone while I’m in costume.”

  “Hmmm, good point. But those rules don’t apply to me. I can still text you as much as I want. All day long.” He glanced down at his phone, and his smile vanished. “Okay, now Frederick really is late. I should go find those yahoos.”

  “So this is what you do all day? Wrangle those guys?” It hadn’t seemed like much of a task, but now that I was standing here with him I could see that Daniel was clearly the brains in the family, and his life consisted of herding cats. Hot-looking cats in kilts. There were worse ways to spend a life, but being the sole grown-up in the group had to be exhausting.