Page 43 of King of Hollywood
When I found the dunk booth I was more than a little shocked to see just how many people had gathered around it. There were at least fifty. Which may not seem like that many—but when your town has a population of five hundred, that’s a pretty decent chunk.
Ten percent of the entire population was crowded around the small see-through glass booth that currently housed Felix Finley, a tiny, masculine madman. They were loud, and smelly. Colorful. Distracting.
Fifty whole entire people.
Fifty.
And yet…my eyes were Felix’s and Felix’s alone.
He looked lovely up there. Which I know is a ridiculous thing to say about someone when they’re dressed in a baggy t-shirt with a charity logo that says “Dunk for Fun-k” on it—but it was true. He was lovely. So incredibly lovely, even with his damn hat and sunglasses on.
He looked like a douchebag wearing sunglasses at night, but somehow that only made him lovelier.
The stars hung in the sky overhead. They were half blocked by the glittering lights of the ferris wheel that climbed toward heaven, framing him through the glass. It lit his pale hair gold, casting refracting, flickering lights on the icy water that sat at the bottom of the small booth. Above the water, with his short legs dangling, Felix sat on what looked to be a repurposed diving board. Said diving board was connected to a mechanism that ran along the outside of the booth where a rather large—too large, if you asked me—target sat mockingly.
There was a line of people already waiting ten or so feet away from the target. The first in line already had his hands inside the large basket that housed the balls that would be thrown at the target—to inevitably send Felix falling into the icy water below.
I’d appreciated his sacrifice before, of course I had.
But I clearly hadn’t appreciated it enough.
Because as I stood there—tall enough I didn’t have to crane my neck to see despite being at the back of the crowd—and stared at him sitting prim and proper on his little rickety red diving board, I was struck with an overwhelming rush of relief.
The idea of this had been hellish.
The execution was worse.
The fact he’d spared me from it was—god.
My heart was racing, my palms slick with nervous sweat. One of my hands gripped tightly to the bouquet of flowers that I’d brought Felix—because I refused to be shown up by a dead man. The thorns from the roses pricked my palm, not hard enough to draw blood—but certainly hard enough that they centered me in the present.
My head was in the stars.
My heart was in that tank with Felix.
The black trousers he wore clung to his muscular, supple thighs like a second skin. He was wearing sneakers that looked far too big for him, and I could only assume they were loaned to him by the booth itself so that he wouldn’t have to ruin his own shoes. I hoped there wasn’t something dangerous inside the water when he fell—like rusty nails at the bottom—or unfinished edges.
If he got hurt I wasn’t sure what I’d do.
Send a very strongly worded email to the city council maybe?
Or cut Barry’s head off with a hacksaw.
Both.
Both were good.
When Felix saw me his face lit up. I was so attuned to him now that I could see it, even with his horribly, shoddy disguise in place. A smile flitted across his lips, rapidly growing by the minute—like the clouds that had obstructed it from view were clearing.
He raised a hand just as the first kid in line raised his own. The ball went sailing as Felix waved, the lovely span of his fingers delectable, even from a distance. Behind him, a cheer went up as a roller coaster’s passengers took a dive, the rattle of the tracks echoing through the crowded space. I raised my hand in return, high enough he could see—despite the fact I felt like an idiot doing so.
Felix had waved at me once before, that night last winter. I’d ignored him then. And I’d come to regret that choice. Now there was no ignoring him. I waved back, more enthusiastically than I’d waved to anyone before.
I looked like an idiot.
Just as idiotic as the teens I’d run into on my way here.
But I didn’t regret the enthusiasm. How could I, when Felix’s eyes widened with delight? Thud, thump. The first ball missed the target, falling to the grass beneath it.