Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 122097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
It’s so ridiculous. I’ve always thought that the hypnotism thing was an unnecessary exaggeration, but the people eat it up. We draw big crowds for that side story.
Collin is still pulling me. He’s about to head out of the tent grounds, but I pull back. “I can’t leave, Collin. I can’t. I have the booth!”
“Fuck.” He pauses to run his hand through his hair, and all the while, Simon is still preaching in a loud and shriek-y way that is so not like him, I get chills. It’s even coming through the loudspeakers set up around town. I can hear his over-excited words echoing through the hills and off the far river bank.
“It’s just a story. You know this, Collin. It’s just a fiction. You grew up in it. Don’t let any of this get to you.”
“How do I not? I murdered a man. Right here in this town. Right here in your house. And now the story’s about me being a murderer? What the fuck, ya know? What did I ever do to these people?”
I grab both his shoulders and shake him a little. “It’s not real.”
“I know that. But… what the hell? Why do they have to do this? Why can’t they just leave me alone?”
“Why?” I mean, is he really asking me that question?
“Yeah, why?”
“OK.” I pause here. But then I hear people coming and a lot of whispers behind us, so I drag him through the aisles of tents until I find mine, sitting high on the special platform that allows me to see the whole tent grounds, and tug him up the stairs. Once we get there, I take one last look over my shoulder—most of the crowd is still in the tent listening to Simon—and then pull Collin inside, startling the teenagers.
“Miss McBride!” Bonnie says this like I’ve walked in on something.
“Sorry to startle you, girls.”
But just as I say that, Mark says, “Mr. Creed! So nice to meet you.” He walks towards us and extends his hand towards Collin.
Collin looks a little confused, so I quickly explain. “Collin, meet teenagers. Teenagers, meet Collin.”
Collins allows Mark to shake his hand, which Mark does enthusiastically as he speaks. “I was talking to Mr. Parrish last night at the bowling alley, and he says you’re looking for a few new men.” He nudges Matthew. “We’re gonna join up with Edge Security.” Both boys smile at Collin, like they are awestruck.
Collin blows out a breath and withdraws his hand from the shake. “OK.” But that’s all he’s got.
So I take over. “You all are dismissed. Go on. I’ve got it now.”
Lydia and Bonnie both give me a little curtsey, a customary response when talking to adults on a show day, then dart out of the tent. And Mark and Matthew give Collin a little salute.
I pull the flap closed and turn to Collin. “Listen, you’re taking this way too personal. It’s a production. And you… well, I hate to say this, but you asked. Why are they fucking with you? Why are they giving you a leading role? It’s because you walked out, Collin. And for nearly four years, things fell apart around here. Your daddy went nuts. Started preaching shit like that.” I nod my head in the direction of the Revival tent. “It almost ruined everything. And now things are good. Real good. You saw the contracts. We’re making millions here. Tens upon tens of millions each year.”
“So why the hell are they bringing it back? Why would they do that? Why fuck with a good thing?”
“Because they want to punish you.” I shrug. “It’s as simple as that. And you can either freak out like this every weekend until Fourth of July when the story turns, or you can play along and let it go.”
Just as I say that, the tent flaps open and Amon comes in, grinnin’ like a fool. “Wow. That was amazing.”
Collin is still pissed. “What the hell was so amazing, Amon? They’re calling me a murderer. How is this not fucked up on an epic level?”
Amon is still laughing. “Oh, it’s so fucked up. But it’s gold, man. They printed up these new story programs, twenty-five bucks a pop. They are selling like fuckin’ hotcakes out there right now. They can’t get enough of you two.”
I take a step forward. “What are you talking about?”
Amon pulls a rolled-up program out of his back pocket and hands it to me. “Prodigal son comes back to town, has to face the widow—you”—he points to me—“after killing her husband twelve years ago. He’s looking for redemption and has to prove himself to the town.”
I look at Collin, who is already looking at me, and I give him a smug I-told-you-so smile. “What did I tell you?”
“This is fucked up.”
“Collin.” Amon puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “It’s fake, dude. No matter how much you feel this is personal, it’s not. This town loves you.”