Well Played

by Jen DeLuca

  The week flew by, and before I knew it, it was time to get back in costume for the weekend.

  “Beatrice. A word?” Simon called my name—my Faire name—as we were just about to leave the Hollow to go up the hill to start the next Saturday at Faire.

  Emily and I both turned at his approach, and to my surprise he seemed more interested in me than in his new wife.

  I inclined my head. “Captain,” I said in my Beatrice voice. “What is your will?” Emily raised her eyebrows next to me; she wanted to know too.

  “I need you today.”

  “Captain!” My grin was wide and flirtatious, and it only got wider as Simon looked increasingly uncomfortable. “I’m flattered, sir, I truly am. But I have it on good authority that you are newly wed to this good lass here. Therefore, any needing should be in her direction, aye?”

  “Indeed.” Emily put her hands on her hips and tried to look offended, but amusement danced in her eyes. “Tired of me already, good husband?”

  “That’s not . . .” He swept off his hat—a black leather monstrosity with a large red feather that had been part of his costume since the early days—and raked a hand through his hair before glaring at the both of us. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He’d dropped the accent, which surprised me. That wasn’t like him.

  “Do we?” Emily’s smile widened, and he scowled in response, stepping a little closer, his attention all on Emily now.

  “I’ve a mind to take you home right this moment, and let you know just how very not tired of you I am.” The accent was back, and his voice was a growl. Whoa. He and Emily had always been flirty in character, and later as their real selves, but this was a little more . . . intense than I was used to seeing from him.

  Emily’s eyes flared, then she laughed and shoved him away with one hand planted in the middle of his chest. “Off with you,” she said in her Faire accent. “Beatrice and I have much to do today.”

  Simon had fallen back a step when she pushed him, but now he stepped back to us again, hat still in his hand. “I actually really do need to talk to you a second, Stacey,” he said, his voice all Simon-the-Faire-organizer once again.

  Oh. This was actually serious, and not just character banter. “Sure, Simon,” I said. “What’s up?”

  He shifted his hat from one hand to the other and ran a hand through his hair again, stealing a glance over his shoulder. “Any chance I can get you to sing with the Lilies today?”

  I blinked. Of all the favors I had expected, this was the least of them. “Well. I mean, I haven’t sung since, what, college?” When I’d turned twenty-one I’d shed the Gilded Lilies costume as fast as I could, trading that yellow dress for a wench’s costume. It had felt like a rite of passage—being an adult at last. That summer Simon’s older brother Sean had dubbed me Beatrice, a name that I still held on to in his honor.

  “Not true,” he countered. “You spent a lot of time practicing with Caitlin during rehearsals. I heard you with her at April’s house.”

  “Okay, but that doesn’t count.” I shook my head. “Why do you need me?”

  Simon didn’t answer; he just looked at me and waited for me to get there. And I did, a moment or two later. “Oh.” I put my hands on my hips. “I told you.”

  “You did.” He had the grace to at least look at little shamefaced.

  “I told you.” I all but shook my finger at him. “I told you that Dahlia would flake on you.” Dahlia Martin had been the best singer we’d had try out, and since she was a college student she had that little bit of extra maturity that meant she could lead the Lilies’ rehearsals with minimal supervision. But I’d had a chat with Ms. Howe, who was still teaching and directing the chorus at Willow Creek High, about our crop of Gilded Lilies this year. While she’d approved of the talent we’d chosen, she had warned me that Dahlia in particular was likely to lose interest and stop showing up after a couple weekends.

  And here we were. Simon held up a defensive hand. “You’re right. But she’s a strong singer. I had to give her a chance.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Well, she didn’t show up this morning. I figured she was just running late, but she texted a few minutes ago that she couldn’t come today. Like she’s calling in sick to work. Like . . .” Simon clenched his jaw, and there went that muscle in his cheek again. Poor guy. We all had his back these days, but there were still the occasional moments like this, where it seemed like he carried the whole Faire on his shoulders.

  I sighed. Fine. “But I’m not exactly a teenager anymore. Aren’t the Lilies supposed to be a group of sisters?”

  “Oh, never mind that,” he said. “You know the songs, that’s what’s important. You can be their—”

  “Watch it.” I put my hands on my hips and narrowed my eyes.

  “Their much more beautiful older sister?” His eyes turned pleading, and I had to laugh. He relaxed a little when I did; he knew I was giving in.

  “Their really, really young mom?” Emily supplied.

  “Their fun aunt?” I suggested.

  “There you go.” Simon shrugged. “Work with that.”

  I looked across the tent, where the remaining Gilded Lilies, four high school girls, milled around and played with the ribbons on the front of their yellow dresses. “I don’t have that outfit anymore,” I said. One of those girls was probably wearing the exact dress I’d worn a few years back. We recycled costumes a lot around here. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t have time to go home and change. Opening gate is in like twenty minutes.”

  “You look fine.” Simon waved a hand at my newer, more wood-nymphy outfit. “I mean, that orange is in the same color family, basically, right? It’s good enough.”

  “Good enough?” My eyes went wide. I never thought I’d hear Simon say good enough about anything when it came to his precious Faire. “Wow. Marriage has changed you.”

  Emily snorted from beside me, and a slow smile came over Simon’s face. “Maybe it has,” he said. Could just a smile be TMI? It made me want to get a room. If only to get away from those two.

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll be a Lily.”

  Simon blew out a sigh of relief and settled his pirate hat back on his head. “Thank you.”

  I wasn’t done. “But just for today. Figure something out for tomorrow, and next week.” I’d had very important plans of doing the bare minimum today so I could hang out and play at the Faire with Daniel, so I was not pleased that those plans were getting shunted to tomorrow.

  “I promise.” Simon held up his hands. “I’ll go to Dahlia’s house myself tomorrow morning, stuff her into her costume, and drag her here if necessary.”

  “I one hundred percent believe that,” Emily deadpanned while I snickered.

  Daniel chose that moment to join us; I saw him over Simon’s shoulder, walking up to our little group. Something must have shown in my face because Simon turned around just as Daniel walked up.

  “Hey, good morning.” Daniel inclined his head toward Simon in greeting, but his expression was careful. He met my eyes and raised his eyebrows a fraction. The message was clear: were we public with our relationship? Canoodling at a wedding was one thing, but day-to-day was something else. This was my town, and these were my people. He’d follow my lead in this.

  Well, the hell with that. I stepped up to his side and rose onto my toes, skating a hand around his ribs to steady myself. With me on my toes he only had to bend a little to kiss me, and thankfully he took the hint, brushing his lips over mine. “Morning,” I said around a smile. We were public. We were public as hell.

  Simon coughed. “Morning, Daniel. Everything okay with the Kilts?” Emily elbowed him, and he gave her a what the hell did I do? look.

  “He’s not here on business,” Emily said, and I pressed my lips together hard to keep from laughing.

  Simon blin
ked at Daniel and me, then closed his mouth with a snap. “Right. Of course.” He shook his head. “I knew that.”

  “It’s okay, Captain,” I said. “You’ve been a little busy.”

  “Running Faire, getting married . . .” Daniel laid his hand on the small of my back as he spoke, further cementing the public nature of our relationship. “You’ve got a lot going on.” I felt the heat of his skin through the layers of my costume, and I instinctively leaned into him and his warmth. His hand curved around my back to rest on my waist.

  “True.” Simon adjusted his hat as Emily grasped his arm to pull him up the hill. “Speaking of which, I need to get up front. Beatrice.” He touched his fingertips to his hat. “Thanks again.”

  “Of course.” I waved him off. After they were gone, Daniel turned to me.

  “So.” He leaned down for another kiss, a better one than that quick “people are watching” peck he had given me earlier. His hands explored the defined dip and curve created by the bodice I wore. “You ready for today? I’m thinking we need to hit the ax-throwing first. It seems to get busy quick. Lot of bloodthirsty people in your town.”

  I sighed. “I have to take a rain check.” I filled him in on the missing Lily situation, and how my plans for the day had changed.

  “Wait. You sing?” A slow grin came over his face. “You never told me that.”

  “I used to sing. Today should be interesting. Wait.” My heart sank as something occurred to me. “I don’t even know what part Dahlia sings. Oh, God, I hope she isn’t the soprano.” I pressed my hands to my bodice-flattened belly, where butterflies had started to churn.

  “You’ll be great.” He slid an arm around my back and held me close, his lips pressed to my forehead in a comforting kiss. “Don’t worry, okay? You’ve got this. I can’t wait to hear you.”

  A nervous laugh bubbled out of me. “Oh, you don’t have to watch us. In fact, please don’t.”

  But he shook his head. “No chance I’m missing this.” He laughed at my defeated groan. “Now go on. Marshal your troops.”

  “Yeah.” I squared my shoulders. The girls were waiting, after all. One more kiss from Daniel, and I went to join the Gilded Lilies. They were still milling around, looking bored and a little lost now that the morning’s meeting was over and everyone else had moved toward their places for opening gate.

  “Hey, Stacey.” Caitlin waved as I approached. “So, Dahlia’s not here. I told Mr. G, and he told us to wait here.” Her face scrunched up in confusion. “But gate’s like really soon. We need to do something, right?”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Dahlia told Simon she can’t be here today.” I stopped short when I realized that Caitlin wasn’t the only one of the Lilies that I knew. “Sydney?”

  “Hey, Stacey.” She gave me a little wave and tugged on the bodice of her dress. “It’s Syd now, actually.”

  “Oh. Of course,” The last time I’d seen Sydney Stojkovic she’d been five years old, sitting in the back of the minivan when Mr. Stojkovic picked Candace and me up from one cheerleading competition or another. Now she was in high school. Time really was passing by too fast.

  “Hey,” I said, still trying to get my mind around Syd not needing a car seat anymore. Then I got my mind back on topic. “So you all know, obviously, that Dahlia’s out today.”

  Syd rolled her eyes. “Dahlia got a new girlfriend a couple weeks ago. Betcha that’s where she is.”

  “Probably.” I brushed that off. “The good news is, I used to do this, so I’ll sing with you all.” I wasn’t sure how this announcement would go over, and I reminded myself that I’d been cool when I was younger, dammit. I’d been a cheerleader. These girls would have been lucky to hang out with me then. Surely they could get through a day with adult-me without rolling their eyes.

  Thankfully, Caitlin was on my side. “Oh, that’s really good!” She nodded vigorously before turning to the others. “Stacey helped me learn the songs this year. And she’s an alto, like Dahlia.”

  Thank God. I tried to not make my relief too visible.

  Syd nodded, but her eyes focused behind me. “Who was that guy you were with just now?”

  “Hmm?” I turned around to see Daniel disappearing up the hill, and I took a second to appreciate the way he looked in a pair of jeans. Denim was really underrated for what it could do for a man’s . . . assets.

  “That’s her boyfriend,” Caitlin said with authority. She was enjoying the fact that she knew me better than the other girls did. Maybe there was something to this Fun Aunt role after all.

  “Is he?” Syd raised her eyebrows at me. “He’s cute.”

  “Yeah.” I smiled. “I think so.”

  It turned out Simon was right. I did know all the songs the Gilded Lilies performed. Those practice sessions I’d had with Caitlin had been practice for me too. I just hadn’t known it. Performing with the girls was like riding a bike, but it was a surreal experience. Like those dreams where you’re suddenly back in high school and it’s finals week, but you haven’t gone to class all year. Performing was familiar, but it wasn’t quite the same. When I’d been a Gilded Lily, we hadn’t had set performance times; we’d just strolled the lanes of the Faire and sung a song or two as we went, adding color to the whole day. Now we were actual performers, setting up mostly on a small stage toward the front of the Faire, near the gate. We hustled to get up there before gate opened, and by the time the first patrons came in we were midway through the first verse of “Greensleeves,” our voices in perfect harmony. The girls were good singers, and I realized almost immediately how much I’d missed winding my voice around others in soaring harmonies. Yep, just like riding a bike. It was even fun. My irritation at not spending the day with Daniel faded, and I let myself relax into the music.

  We performed short sets of four or five songs each, leaving us time to wander the lanes. I fell into the role, turning my character of Beatrice into the unlikely guardian of a quartet of sisters. I stopped patrons as they walked, asking the men if they were eligible bachelors. “Would you be interested in a bride? I desperately need to get these girls married off and out of my hair—er, I mean, I want to have their futures secured. Of course that’s what I meant! So are you eligible?” I purposely targeted some obviously married men, who usually laughed and hid behind their wives. Once in a while we found a small clearing or a stage where a show wasn’t taking place, and we performed a song or two. Small crowds gathered whenever we did, and though I kept a wary eye out for a black-clad redhead, so far Daniel hadn’t seen any of our performances. I couldn’t decide whether to be relieved or disappointed.

  By midafternoon we found ourselves near the Marlowe Stage, roughly twenty minutes before the Kilts’ next show. The guys were nowhere to be seen, and the benches for the audience were mostly empty, except for a few people here and there taking a break in the shade. Perfect. We could do a couple songs and be on our way before they got back.

  I led the girls up onto the stage. “Have we done ‘Drunken Sailor’ yet?” I couldn’t remember if I’d practiced that one with Caitlin or not, but it was a standard. The girls should know it.

  Syd gave a slow shake of her head. “That’s . . . That’s not one that we do.”

  “Yeah.” Caitlin nodded emphatically, her eyes wide. “It’s about drinking. We’re too young for that.”

  I felt a jolt in my stomach. Oh no. Was I corrupting the youth? Simon was going to kill me.

  But Janine, the tallest Lily and our highest soprano, broke the mood with a giggle. “They’re messing with you. We did that song a bunch in rehearsals.”

  Caitlin rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but Mr. G said we can’t do it. Too adult.”

  “Well, this isn’t a performance.” I gestured out into the audience, where three people had left and the last two were sitting with their backs to us, clearly not interested. “And Mr. G isn’t here to boss us aroun
d, okay? It’s just for fun.”

  Unselfconsciously, I launched into the song:

  What shall we do with a drunken sailor,

  What shall we do with a drunken sailor,

  What shall we do with a drunken sailor,

  Early in the morning?

  The rest of the girls had joined in with me by the second line, and we started the refrain together:

  Weigh heigh and up she rises

  Weigh heigh and up she rises

  Weigh heigh and up she rises

  Early in the morning

  By the time we’d finished, we weren’t alone. A handful of patrons had settled in the back, giving us a smattering of applause. Meanwhile, the men of the Dueling Kilts, trailed at a slight distance by Daniel with a drink in his hand, had come back to reclaim their stage, and looked amused to find it taken over by a bunch of girls.

  “Don’t let us stop you.” Dex had his guitar slung over his back, and now he swung it forward and picked out the melody, nodding at us to keep going.

  So we did, and soon Frederick and Todd got their instruments from the small backstage area and joined in. Verses of “Drunken Sailor” were tricky, because the song was hundreds of years old and had probably a million verses. But we started with the standards:

  Chuck him in the longboat till he’s sober

  Chuck him in the longboat till he’s sober

  Chuck him in the longboat till he’s sober

  Early in the morning

  Shave his belly with a rusty razor

  (“Ouch,” said Syd, and we all laughed.)

  Shave his belly with a rusty razor

  Shave his belly with a rusty razor

  Early in the morning

  During a round of “weigh heigh and up she rises” I hopped off the stage to where Daniel sat in the empty second row, his legs stretched out on the bench in front of him.