Page 15

15

ORSON

O rson was more nervous meeting the Fairbanks crew as himself than he had been with the Anchorage office trying to be New Orson, but he didn’t need to worry.

There was a sign on the door. See you at the Midnight Sun Fest!

Alex frowned at her phone. “Oh, Frederica texted me. Most of the staff is on security duty, and they’ll meet us there. The festival is usually low-key, but it’s always smart to have some people in uniforms wandering around to break up fights, round up drunks, and catch stray dogs. I’ll fill you in on the details of our contract.”

“Alex,” Orson said, catching her arm before she could return to the truck. “I can see you’re worried about your position, but I didn’t come here to pull the rug out from under you. You’re doing a bang-up job, and my brothers sent me here because they thought I could coast along on your coattails and stay out of trouble. I…don’t want to be dead weight, but I don’t want to screw this up, either. I just…don’t want to get canned on my first week.”

Alex stared at me. “You’re worried about your job?”

“You’re super competent and intimidating!” Orson said honestly. “You need me like you need an enema.”

“ An ENEMA?! ”

“I tried to think of something uncomfortable you probably don’t need!” Orson protested. “This is why I shouldn’t be in charge of a whole company! Or if I am, I shouldn’t be allowed to speak!”

Alex howled with laughter.

It wasn’t anything like her vapid little giggle, and it wasn’t even her giddy sex laughter. It was a belly laugh, so deep and true that Orson had to laugh with her. She clutched at him like she couldn’t hold herself up on her legs and they clung to each other as they chortled.

She recovered first, wiping her eyes and shoving him away. “Alright, enema-man, we’ve got a festival to crash. You’ll get to see Fairbanks at its party best.”

She told Orson about the festival as them drove to it. “Today is the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. There’s always a downtown party with vendors and beer tents and all the businesses stay open late. It’s twelve hours long, with music, a car show, and a bouncy house.”

“Oo, a bouncy house,” Orson said.

“I’m pretty sure you’re too tall to enter,” Alex said wryly.

“I bet you could get me in with a security badge.”

“What are you going to do? Detain the little kids?”

“Did you ever think about having kids?”

Alex nearly drove into a barricade, slamming on the brakes of the truck at the last moment. “What?!”

“I mean, we didn’t talk about it, and given the birds and the bees, we probably should. Or actually, the bears and the bees...”

“I have an implant,” she said shortly. “Otherwise, I would have made you wear protection.”

It didn’t surprise Orson that Alex would think ahead. She seemed to have everything planned. “Someday, maybe?”

She stared at him, and it was a raw, wondering look. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

She didn’t invite further conversation, pulling past a ‘No Entrance’ sign to slowly drive the truck through a crowd of milling people to a hotel parking lot.

Downtown Fairbanks was significantly smaller than Anchorage, but what it lacked in size, it made up for in enthusiasm. The buildings were splashed with bright murals, and it looked like the entire population of the city had shown up for this event, crowded into the closed-off streets between lanes of vendor tents. Dogs and kids ran screaming through the crowds, chased by harried parents doing parkour with strollers.

Alex wedged the truck into a spot Orson wouldn’t have guessed they’d fit in, and when he opened the doors, there was a wave of smells. Never mind the huge breakfast in Tok, his stomach grumbled audibly in hunger. He’d worked up a mighty appetite the night before.

“What are you in the mood for?” Alex asked, raising one of her eyebrows at his noisy waist.

“What is that smell?” Orson felt like he was being assailed by delicious scents.

Alex put a knowing nose in the air. “Loaded fries, maybe. Or tacos. Could be the rib place.”

They found the row of food trucks easily. Orson ended up with a burger. Alex got a pile of fries topped with smoked pork and sauce, choosing the “My Girlfriend Isn’t Hungry” size platter, which was sized for at least three people.

They wandered as they ate, past booths selling Native crafts and fresh vegetables, information tables about road construction projects and homeschool programs, artists with huge canvases and tiny soapstone carvings, and homemade candies, jams, and bread. Orson was glad his hands were busy with food because he would have been tempted to buy everything .

Music played on two of the three stages. A belly dance troupe danced to electronic Middle Eastern music, competing with some fusion of punk and folk from the opposite side of the fair. A juggler was telling jokes on the third stage.

Alex led Orson to a park overlooking a big river with a view across the water to a historic church. She pointed out landmarks with her fries.

They scored a bench just as a couple got up and sat close together to finish their food.

“Alex…”

“I can’t commit to kids,” she said, staring at the last fries in her box. “I’m not promising that kind of forever.”

Had she been thinking about that conversation like he had? The idea of babies had never enthralled Orson, but he couldn’t help but think they’d make good ones, and he couldn’t imagine anything more important than raising good kids.

“I figured out how to make it work,” Orson said, folding the last bite of his burger into his mouth.

Alex fixed him with a sideways look like one of the ravens from Valdez. “Kids? I’m pretty sure I know how babies are made. That’s not the problem.”

Orson almost choked on his burger as he laughed. “Marry me! Then you’ll own half the business and there’s no weird power dynamic.”

They were sitting so close together that Orson could feel Alex freeze up. “It’s not that simple,” she said quietly.

“Why not?” he asked. “I love you. You’re my destiny!”

The bench was back-to-back with a cluster of older women who had fallen quiet to eavesdrop, and they all applauded, startling both of them.

Alex surged to her feet. “I don’t love you!” she protested, and the clapping died to a spreading awkward silence. “I barely know you! You’re— I can’t— How could you?—?”

Orson was glad she’d finished her fries, because he was pretty sure she would have dumped them on him now if there had been any left. She seemed to gather herself. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, Orson Davison. How dare you make assumptions about my destiny for me? Fuck you and your incredible ego for thinking you can make a proper woman of me with a wedding ring and a fiction about fate. Get over yourself, you…you…pompous ass.”

Then she stormed off, disappearing quickly into the crowd.

Orson sat for a stunned moment, staring after her before a hand patted his shoulder. “You’d better go after her, son.”

The only problem was that he had no idea where she’d gone.