After Joshua dropped him off at his studio, Danny fed Curry, put on a pot of coffee, changed his clothes, and slipped gently back into his routine. The Tunnel of Love, the night in the barn, giggling and snorting in the shower with Josh... He should have been exhausted today, but instead he felt strangely energized, as though he had just finished a strenuous cardio workout at the gym. Not so far from the truth, he thought with a chuckle.
He paged through the photos from yesterday's visit to the carnival. He had not used the camera inside the Tunnel of Love -- which was probably just as well -- but he had a good crop of images from the midway. A few dozen pictures would satisfy the terms of his commission from the city.
Josh had work to catch up on at the farm, so for today Danny was going to risk the carnival on his own. What else could happen? he thought with amusement. Could it possibly get any weirder?
Danny went to lunch at Allie Fairweather's diner, planning to go from there to the fairgrounds. He hopped up onto a stool at the counter and placed his order with Michael, Allie's son, a breathtakingly beautiful nineteen-year-old with as much personality as a basket of wet laundry.
"Anything else?"
"No, thank you, Michael. Where's your mother today?"
The boy shrugged. "Out somewhere, I guess."
"Ah. Thanks."
Danny sipped his iced tea and watched Michael's hard little backside as the boy slouched away to place the food order. Such a waste, he thought with a grin.
A bony hand gripped his shoulder. "Danny, Danny, Danny. I thought you were above ogling Michael Fairweather."
Danny turned to face the newcomer. "Hayden! I thought you were in Miami or somewhere doing a book tour."
The novelist folded his lanky six-three frame onto the stool next to Danny's. "I was. Six cities in two weeks. I'm too fucking old for this." He ordered lunch from the sullen archangel behind the counter. "There was some confusion about scheduling on the last two dates so I had the opportunity to call it off and come home early."
"The price of fame. I saw a writeup somewhere of one of the stops."
"I hope it wasn't the Atlanta Herald-Star piece. They barely mentioned my recent books, just went on and one about my various sexual misadventures. They stopped short of calling me an old pervert, but only just."
"If the shoe fit..."
"Et tu, Brute? Anyway, it probably won't hurt sales. Old perverts are big business these days."
Hayden was tall and looked even taller due to his lanky, leggy build. His bony head was mostly mouth and ears, and his short, woolly hair was more salt than pepper. He was Danny's oldest and closest friend in Bancroft, as well as an occasional bedmate.
"You've got a bit of a glow," Hayden commented, munching on crackers from the tiny packets in a bowl on the counter, sprinkling crumbs everywhere. "May I ask who's responsible?" Danny blushed and Hayden chortled. "Oh, my. Tell me, tell me."
"It's not that big a thing. I spent last night in a hay loft with Joshua Bridges."
Hayden's grin was almost wider than his face. "The farm boy? I'm good friends with his mother. Those twins are -- " He made an extravagant gesture of kissing his fingertips. "Such as shame that one of them went to the dark side, although I do love his wife Toni. So you and Josh Bridges, huh? You like him, I can tell. I mean, aside from his obvious charms. In a hay loft, no less! How very Jane Russell of you."
"Hayden, I wish you'd either shut up or go back on tour."
The novelist laughed and patted Danny on the back. "All right, all right. I won't push. He is a lovely man, though, and smarter than he lets on. He's a lot like his mother. I approve."
"He's got me in a bit of a muddle," Danny admitted. "I'm not used to getting so involved with a guy."
"Do you think he's relationship material?"
Danny grimaced. "He might be, but I'm sure as hell not. You know that."
"I don't know 'bout that. Stranger things have happened than you falling for a hot cowboy."
Their food arrived and conversation drifted into more neutral territory.
"Have you heard about the carnival?" Danny asked.
"Max told me something about it when he picked me up at the airport." Max was Hayden's assistant, a mysterious little man born somewhere in Central Asia and reputed to have unusual sexual proclivities, as well as an uncanny ability to know just about everything about everybody in Bancroft at all times, without ever leaving the Hayden's house. "Have you been to see it?"
Danny grinned around his sandwich. "I'm taking pictures every day for a commission from the Mayor's office." He gulped down the food in his mouth and grabbed Hayden's elbow. "I'm on my way there after this. Come with me! Either I'm losing my mind or there's something weird about this carnival."
"Really! You interest me strangely. What's it called, this extravaganza?"
"Goodfellow and Mills."
Hayden's eyes widened. "Goodfellow? No shit?"
"Yes, why? You've heard of them?"
"No. Just the name. Have you forgotten your Shakespeare? 'Either I mistake your shape and making quite,/Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite/Call'd Robin Goodfellow: are you not he/That frights the maidens of the villagery...' It's the other name for Puck, the mischievous little fairy who plays tricks on everybody with a love potion, making all sorts of hot and sweaty mayhem."
"Hmph. I had forgotten about him. Midsummer Night's Dream."
"Exactly."
"Quite a coincidence," Danny added, thinking back over the last couple of days.