Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Absolutely not.”
A carousel churns ahead, the oversized horses painted in iridescent colors and saddled with ornate seats. Several people ride, some individually, others as couples. “I haven’t been on one of those in forever.”
“We can try it later if you want. We have all night.”
I watch the couple closest to us—a pair of jesters wearing fool’s caps. The male leans back in the seat while the female is positioned over him. The way her hips are tilted … “Are they—”
“Fucking? Yes.”
My mouth drops. “That’s allowed here?”
“There isn’t much that isn’t allowed here.”
I feel my nose crinkle beneath the mask. “Do they have wipes to clean the horses?”
Henry laughs. “Come on.” We veer toward the games alley with his arm curled around my back.
This part reminds me of Greenbank’s summer festival, with energetic voices broadcasting scores and bells ringing to announce winners. Small crowds build around the stations, cheering people on.
A smile stretches across my face as I spot a familiar one. “Bucket ball!”
“I haven’t played that in I don’t even know how many years. Fifteen, maybe?” Henry murmurs.
“Last summer for me.”
A female mime wearing a black-and-white-striped jacket, frilly skirt, and strategically positioned suspenders spots us observing her stand and beckons us over with frantic waves of her hands.
“Can we? Please?” I press my body against Henry’s arm as I plead.
His blue eyes stare down at me from behind his mask. “Only if you agree to make it interesting.”
“And what does that mean?”
“Highest points wins. Three points for the top basket.”
“Okay. But, fair warning, I’m a pro. I always beat Jed.” His girlfriend having better aim than him became a sore spot in our teenage years, in a small farming town where every boy played some form of ball. I had better aim than most of the other boys too.
“Anything involving Fuckface sets a low bar, but I’m game.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I say in a singsong voice. “I still have this giant dog from when I was fourteen. It’s two feet …” My voice drifts as we get closer to the booth and I discover there aren’t any stuffed animals hanging on hooks above. Dangling in their place are an array of dildos, vibrators, plugs, and things I can’t identify.
My eyes are wide behind my mask.
“What was that you were saying about a two-foot dog?” Henry hums, pointing at an obscenely long dildo sitting on a display shelf.
“Where would anyone put that?” I exclaim, earning the game host’s soundless laughter.
She bows theatrically and then explains the basic process through a series of gestures, pointing to the triangle of wicker baskets, six in total.
“We’ve got a bet going. Top basket is three points, second row two points, bottom row is one point.” Henry taps his bracelet on a machine. “What does sinking all three balls win you?”
The mime points to the top row of elaborate toys.
“Perfect. Let’s make this really interesting. Winner gets to choose a prize for the loser, and the loser has to use it here, tonight. Sound fair?”
“Of course! I see a plug up there with your name on it,” I tease. That shot, coupled with drinks from earlier tonight, has given me some liquid courage.
“Which one?” he asks casually, unfazed.
“The little one with the silver end. I think that’ll look good in you.” Has Henry ever tried toys on himself? I should know that.
The mime makes a shocked Oh face as she sets out six balls on the counter.
Henry smirks but doesn’t answer. “Alternating shots?”
“Why not.”
He bows and waves his hand, and it’s all the more dramatic in his ringmaster costume. “Ladies first.”
Collecting a ball, I aim for the top, suddenly wishing I’d asked for a practice shot. It’s been a year since I last played. But it’s been fifteen for Henry.
The ball lands in the second row, right basket, circling once before settling.
“Two points for me,” I declare.
The mime jumps up and down, ringing her bell twice.
Henry collects his ball and drops it in top basket with a graceful throw.
Our game host chimes the bell three times with exaggerated glee.
“I think that’s three points to your two, right?” He says.
“Beginners’ luck.”
He smirks. “Your turn.”
I have no choice but to target for the top basket now. I collect my ball, aim, and release with a gentle hand. It swirls several times before settling inside. “Total of five points,” I call out as the bell rings. “Good luck getting the top one again.”
“Did I ever mention that my high school basketball team won the state championship two years in a row?” Henry tosses his ball, and it lands as lightly as the first one did. “And I was the lead scorer?”
I gasp. “You hustled me!”
“No, you assumed I would be terrible at a carnival game, and I didn’t correct you. Excuse me, is that the largest one you have?” he asks the mime, pointing to a strange rainbow-colored toy that reminds me of a unicorn horn.